Rickard Hamilton at the Tuskar (1880-86)

The Tuskar. Photo by Richard Cummins

I'm currently researching pre-1900 lightkeepers, which is quite a thankless task, as records are few and far between. It seems that, at most lights, nothing newsworthy happened for many years; as a result, most potted biographies of keepers are along the lines of 'Served on the Fastnet 1871 and 1875. Moved to Loop Head some time before 1880. Transferred to Ardglass about 1883' and so on, which doesn't make for interesting reading, unless the person was your ancestor.
However, I recently came across 'an old friend,' whom I encountered while writing my Eagle Island book, called Rickard Hamilton and detailing an account of a shipwreck on the Tuskar Rock. To be honest, a musical could be written about Rickard alone (though it would be hard to come up with a short, snappy title) but I will confine myself to the six years and four months that he spent on the Tuskar between 1880 and 1886.

Rickard Hamilton (1845-1932) Like my brother Rolf, he probably went through life being called another very similar name

The exact dates have proved elusive but it is probable that Rick first rocked up to the Tuskar on 1st March 1880, as this was the date he was promoted to principal keeper and this promotion was generally, though not always, accompanied by a change of station. He was a Corkman, 14 years in the service, who had already spent many years on the likes of Fastnet and Eagle Island. At the time, the Tuskar's light was produced by the old Argand oil lamps and reflectors and, indeed, the previous year, Trinity House had sanctioned an upgrade to the light which, in Irish Lights' time-honoured way, didn't take place until 1885.
At the time, families lived with the keepers on the tiny rock, which must have been a thankless life. Houses had been built onshore when the light was first illuminated in 1815 but the bad behaviour of the keepers in 1834 had led to them being sold. So Rickard, his wife, Honoria, and their five children took up residence on the rock upon his arrival in Wexford.

The Tuskar c1905. Photo NLI

However, it appears that the family may have taken lodgings, or had access to lodgings in Wexford town because seven became eight in December 1880, when Eliza Josephine was born in New Street.

Unfortunately, the family was reduced again towards the end of 1882. On the 28th October, Rickard jnr, six years old, succumbed to a 14 day bout of whooping cough in a house in The Faythe. Horrifically, he was followed less than a week later, when one-year-old Eliza died of the same ailment, after being diagnosed four days previously. Rickard was present at both deaths

On 15th December 1882, less than six weeks later, the barque, Langrigg Hall, which had left Liverpool bound for Calcutta with a cargo of salt, founded on the Chicken Rocks, less than 200 yards from the Tuskar, with the loss of 24 of the crew of 26, plus one very unlucky stowaway. Rickard sent rockets up to lighten the vessel and also to attract the lifeboat at Carnsore. The subsequent inquest agreed that the lightkeepers had done all they could but were critical of the tardiness of the Carnsore lifeboat.

Daniel Joseph Hamilton was born in the Faythe on 12th September 1883. This time, it was Honoria who gave the birth cert information. Again, the inference is that this was just a temporary arrangement, as Honoria was back on the rock on Christmas Eve for the Blue Jacket disaster. Like his two older brothers, David and Jack, Daniel would in time also become a keeper.

Tuskar landing place c1904. Photo NLI

The Blue Jacket was one of those clippers with a million sails that was originally owned by the White Star line. After transporting passengers to Australia for many years, she was sold to the Merchant Trading Company of Liverpool in 1868 and renamed The White Star. On the last day of July 1883, she left Calcutta bound for Liverpool with 2,000 tons of jute. As she passed the south Wexford coast on the morning of 24th December, a thick fog descended and, seeing no light nor fog rockets from the Tuskar, assumed themselves to be much further out to sea. They then crashed onto Mahoon, one of the rocks in the Tuskar archipelago. All hands were saved but the ship was wrecked.

At the inquest in Liverpool, the following year, at which Rickard and AK Patrick D'Arcy gave evidence, much was made of the fact that the captain of the White Star stated categorically that there was a dense fog at the time and no rockets were seen. The lightkeepers said that no rockets were seen because there was no fog that night and the light of the Tuskar could be seen for eight miles. They did agree that fog rolled in later.

Rickard stated that he had been on watch from 3.42pm on the 23rd to 4.20am on the 24th, and he had gone for a rest from 4.20am to 4.55am. Even at that time, he said, the fog was not bad enough to require the use of the rockets. The inquest came down heavily on the side of the captain and crew and 'found it hard to believe that the Tuskar light could have been seen from seven miles on that morning' and that 'the rockets should have been used.' They also said that 13 hours was too long for a keeper to be expected to keep a keen look-out for dangers at sea.

The White Star/Blue Jacket in its Blue Jacket days. Photo Wikipedia

Rickard had made a statement to the Wexford People which was published on January 5th 1884 regarding the rescue of the men after the crew had taken to the lifeboats:

The first boat hailed the rock at 6.30am; it was quite dark; sea breaking heavily. I told him to run for a fire that was lighted at best landing. The boat did not do so but returned to the ship for more hands. When she returned, she ran, and we saved her, as by a miracle, and landed the men. The crew could not get her out to go back to the ship. The officer in charge of the boat gave me charge of her. I succeeded in getting her clear of the rock, and directed the second boat coming to the rock what to do. She also landed her load of hands safely, and got back to the ship with me. She was in charge of one of the mates. She got stores the next time. Therefore, the saving of all left then remained to me, which was done by 12 noon; but as the tide was rising, also the sea, the boat could not be saved, or could the crew be landed after 9 o'clock, except by a person acquainted with the rock and tides; and, also at a great risk to those in the boat. I could not even land one man without the assistance of my own men on the rock.

So, hero or villain? Hero and villain? Whatever, he was some boyo.

Al Hamilton, who most Irish keepers will remember, has a relation called PLH McSweeney, who wrote a wonderful narrative of the family history. Regarding the 1883 wreck and inquest, he says the story passed down anecdotally was contained in a letter written around 1989/90. Apparently, Rick and another keeper (possibly D'Arcy) managed to rig a line across to the White Star, enabling the crew to scramble to the boat. As Honoria was the only woman on the rock, it was she who fed, dried and generally took care of the survivors. When the wind eventually died down, Rick and the captain rowed back to the wreck to see if anything could be salvaged. So Rick got a silver soup tureen and cutlery as a mark of the crew's appreciation, the tureen still being in the family, albeit in Australia.

The soup tureen. Photo from Family History and Lore by PLH McSweeney

After the inquest, apparently, the shipping company presented Rick and Patrick with £5 each, with which they proceeded to go on the mother of all binges. After three or four weeks, Irish Lights eventually located them in a Liverpool jail and had them released. On their arrival at Kingstown (Dun Laoghaire), D'Arcy was barefoot and Rick had only one shoe. Captain Boxer, the inspector, wanted them dismissed, but Honoria begged for mercy and they got away with a severe reprimand.

It is interesting to note that, in 1901, after the latest in a number of alleged misdemeanours committed by Rickard, R. Deane, the Inspector of Irish Lights, wrote that Rickard 'appears from correspondence dated back to 25th December 1893 (the day after the White Star wreck) to be unreliable and, in consequence, unsuitable for taking charge of any lighthouse.'

1885 was a big year for the Tuskar, as that is when the proposed upgrade, decided on six years previously, finally took place. As the work largely concerned the lantern and balcony, it was decided to extinguish the light and place a temporary light-vessel one mile away. Work started in the summer and the new light was exhibited on 20th November but not before there was a bit of a scare regarding the weather. As the Wexford People reported on 2nd September :-

The new light had a first-order bi-form lens, each lens with a multi-wick oil lamp supplied by Edmundsons. The original dome, lantern and granite blocking were replaced by the contemporary material of the day, cast iron, and cast iron plates covered the original granite balcony. The top floor windows were replaced too. It became a red and white revolving light on that date. Before this though another Hamilton boy, Richard, was born in the Faythe.

If we take Irish Lights' own records as gospel, and Rickard served six years and four months at the Tuskar, then we may deduce that he left that station in July 1886. Before he did so, however, Rickard received an unexpected visit from Lord Randolph Churchill, who was a bigwig MP in England and had been out cruising in his yacht. Randy was allegedly surprised to see a woman of the female persuasion on the rock and assumed she was a day-visitor, until Rickard introduced her as his wife. He was so shocked that families were expected to live on that tiny, barren rock that, on returning home, he immediately petitioned the government to make the station relieving. This they did, but by the time the four keepers' houses were erected overlooking Rosslare harbour in 1890, the Hamiltons were long gone. 

Of course, it wouldn't be Irish Lights if Rick had not been connected to other lightkeeping families. His sister, Elizabeth, had married Manus Ward, prior to Rick's joining up; his son, Jack married Katie Rohu; and his daughter Mary married keeper Thomas Murphy.

My sincere thanks to Al Hamilton for his customary helpfulness and patience in preparing this piece

Family portrait in later years