Life on the Fastnet, 1956 style

The Fastnet and the little Fastnet (aw, isn't he cute?)

A blast from the past from the Irish Examiner 7th January 1956. The author of the piece is Youghal attendant Andrew Coughlan. There were Coughlans on the Fastnet almost from the very start in 1854.

 

1906 Accessing the Fastnet (NLI)

Like a Roundstone cowboy

 

The old cowboy in the corner of the Roundstone saloon spat in the vague direction of the spittoon and drained his whuskey.

"The round stone?" he asked. "What would a feller like you be wanting with the round stone?"

I explained that I researched lighthouses and navigational beacons and I had heard legends about an old round stone in this part of Connemara.

"Ah, I could tell you all about the round stone," my newly-found friend whispered hoarsely, "but my throat is desperate dry."

After I had replenished his beverage, he began his tale.

"Here in Roundstone, we talk about Before Nimmo and After Nimmo. Alexander Nimmo, came over from Scotland. Couldn't understand a word he said and he had no Gaelic, not even Scot's Gaelic. Before he came, there was only a few houses dotted up and down the coast and a bit of a harbour for the boys to fish out of..."

"He built the lighthouse at Dunmore East too," I interjected.

"That he did, and a lot of roads and piers and bridges around the country too, though mainly in Galway and Mayo. Didn't build a lighthouse here, though. Could've done with one. Fierce hardworking man. I remember passing him by and he digging out foundations for the pier here, all on his lonesome, and the sweat dripping off him."

"That would have been around 1822 to 1824," I said, somewhat doubtfully. 

"Aye, you could be right, about that time. Great man he was too."

"And the round stone?"

"I'm coming to that. Before Nimmo, you see, there was nothing except rocks and islands and inlets. The lads'd go out fishing and when they were coming in again, they couldn't tell one place from another, so they'd end up in Glynsk or Letterfrack or anywhere. One lad ended up with three different families all along the coast. Every time he put out to sea, he couldn't find his way back and ended up settling in another spot..."

"That's all by the way until in 1678, a man by the name of Roderic O'Flaherty came here. He was a bit like you, baldy-headed and not very good-looking but he could read and write like the duvvle."

"You remember him, I suppose?" I asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"Little Roddy? Yes, course I do. Fierce nice chap except when you needed a drink. Anyway, Roddy noticed there was a big round stone at the entrance to Roundstone Bay. Not on the Inishnee side, mind, on the western end. And he was in this very saloon one night and he says out loud, 'Boys, when yous are coming back from fishing, why don't you look for the big round stone at the entrance of the harbour? That way, you'd know where you were.' He said it in Irish, mind - Cuan na cloiche runta, the bay of the round stone. And the boys looked at him like he was Elijah coming down from the mountain. And that's how the town got its name."

"I thought it was Cloch na Rón, the rock of the seal?"    

"Ah, so they say, but they weren't there at the time."

"And what happened to this round stone?" I enquired.

"Ah, its still there. Sure, who's going to move it? Go down to the monastery and on the right you'll see a gate. Follow the monastery wall until you come out in a field with a herd of cows in it ready to be driven up to Wyoming and you'll see the round stone just offshore. Now there was talk of another drink but sure ..."

1st edition OS Map

Last edition OS map

Cape Clear light and some of its keepers

On far Cape Clear did George Halpin a copper dome erect,

but frequent mischt and dreary cloud ensured its beam was fecked.

So began the first draft of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's epic poem Xanadu, which eventually deteriorated into some tat about Kubla Khan and his summer palace.

The lighthouse was established here in 1818 to ensure that transatlantic ships knew where the southwestern corner of Ireland was and didn't attempt to continue their voyages overland. It was very much a twin of the lighthouse on Inis Mor, the largest of the Aran Islands in Galway Bay. Both were built in the same year; they look remarkably similar; both had a keeper called Richard Wilson for many years; both were built too high; and both were eventually extinguished in 1854 when a light was established on a nearby offshore island.

With such an early demise, we don't really know very much about the light, except that the outside still looks in remarkably good condition after 170 years. Thankfully, we have a description of it written in 1835, or halfway through its lifespan, by the son of the keeper, also called Richard Wilson.

It is a circular tower of cut granite, he wrote, in the Dublin Penny Journal of 7th March 1835, the workmanship of which is remarkably well executed. It is about 36 feet high from the base to the balcony which surrounds the lantern and, from high-water mark, 448 feet. On the inside are three flights of winding stone steps. The floors are very curiously constructed, being formed of large stones - the centre one, which is circular, supported by those adjacent, into which it is grooved and lead in the interstices.

In the upper part, or lantern, are 64 panes of the best plane glass, of near a quarter of an inch in thickness; the frame in which the glass is placed, is metal, with copper screwed over. The cupola, or roof, is copper, painted white and ornamented with a weather-cock.

The light is produced by 21 lamps, which are placed in the foci (focuses) of large parabolic reflectors. They are of copper with silver fronts, the whole of which are supported by a branch which revolves by machinery, much resembling a clock but on a large scale. This is enclosed in a brass-pannelled case and put in motion by a metal of three hundredweight.

The light appears once in every two minutes and is seen at a distance of six or seven leagues. From its brightest point, it gradually becomes less luminous until it is eclipsed.. On average 750 gallons of spermaceti oil are consumed.

Annexed to the tower by a corridor, or hall, is a square tower which was formerly occupied by a naval lieutenant and a midshipman with a party of soldiers. The assistant lightkeeper resides in it at present and the principal is in a dwellings built by the Ballast Board convenient to the tower. There are out-houses and yards  and the whole is enclosed by a perimeter wall with a gate opening to the road that leads to South Harbour.

From the description above, I would suggest that the lighthouse in Cape Clear, before its lantern was removed, looked remarkably like the lighthouse above. The only difference is possibly that Wicklow Head High lighthouse (also established in 1818) might have an extra storey - four winding staircases, rather than the three mentioned above. It even seems to have a corridor joining the tower to the dwellings, like Cape Clear.

As for the keepers promised in the title, well, records for keepers get scarcer and scarcer the further back in time you go and the first half of the nineteenth century is a veritable desert of blank squares on my XL spreadsheet. But we have a couple!

I have written about the aforementioned Robert Wilson in two posts, the second of which describes his time on Cape Clear. He was there in 1828 and was still there in 1854 when the light was extinguished and also in 1858 when he died. As I have no keepers listed for the first ten years of the light, every other keeper must have been his assistant.

This naturally includes poor Carty who, it seems from the reports, appears to have been bullied by Wilson into changing from catholic to protestant. He was definitely there in 1845 and probably there in 1843. I wonder if he ever found his first name.

Anthony Hicks was stationed there in the first half of the 1830s. In his early years, he had been a printer in Dublin. By 1858, he was coming to an end and would retire if he could, he said. He was probably one of the first keepers on Eagle Island when it opened in 1835, though he was transferred to Inishowen in 1837, where he spent 25 years.

The Calwell lists - the lists that keep on giving - indicate that John Butler's first posting was to Cape Clear around 1834 or 1835. Quite possibly, he took over when Anthony Hicks left for Eagle. Born with the century, Cape Clear was his first posting and then went to Inis Mor on the Aran Islands, possibly in 1840 when the two keepers there were drowned. He later served at Ferris Point before moving to Greenore in late 1861. He retired in March 1867, aged about 67.

George Brownell was also at Cape Clear some time early on in his lighthouse career. He started a dynasty of lightkeepers that continued well into the twentieth century. He would later serve at Duncannon, Haulbowline, the Maidens, Kinsale, Roancarrig, Poolbeg, Beeves and South Rock.

Many thanks to Elizabeth Doyle for maintaining and protecting this historic building in the face of enormous apathy from the council, government and Irish Lights down through the years. It is eight years since I was there last. Time for another visit, I reckon.

Rotten Island Rotten Horse

 

Rotten Island lighthouse (photo John Hamilton)

Back in the dim and distant past, it was a problem for lighthouse families at certain stations to access services such as shops and church because of their remoteness from anywhere remotely civilised. If you lived at Mine Head or Ballyglass or Mizen Head, for example, it was quite a trek to do the messages of a Saturday or attend Mass on a Sunday, so a local contractor was hired, on contract, to bring them here and there. This was often the same contractor who ferried the keepers out to the lighthouse at offshore stations.

I admit I don't know what the story was for Rotten Island in Donegal regarding dwellings and tenders. Maybe somebody can enlighten me. There were obviously dwellings on the rock in the 1800s and they were inhabited at least up to 1910, as Florence Connell, daughter of keeper JF Connell was born on the island then. But I'm assuming that some time shortly thereafter, the family moved ashore and obviously, from the letter below, not into Killybegs itself.

My own photo, as can be guessed by the greyness of the sky

The letter is written by the Secretary of Irish Lights in Dublin to one Mrs. McGill. It is dated 7th January 1926.

Mrs. McGill,

With reference to your contract to supply a suitable horse and outside car for conveying Keepers to the nearest place of worship every 3rd Sunday for the sum of 7/6 - 

You are informed that the keepers have, for some time past, complained of the unsuitability of your horse for this work. The following extract from a report dated 24/11/25 is forwarded for your information and explanation please:

A lovely blue-sky Rotten Island (photo Helen Gallagher)

The horse provided by the Contractor is in such a state of emaciation that it is unfit to travel the distance without any passengers on the car at all. It took the animal 4 hours to perform the return journey (a distance of about 7 miles) on Sunday, and then the passengers were compelled to alight when about half way home and wait until the horse was rested before attempting the latter portion of the journey. This is a great hardship on women, some of whom had been fasting from the previous night.The whole journey took from 9.30am until 4.15pm with an interval of about 45 minutes in Church.

More grey sky but, as it was taken in 1905, the sky was always grey then (NLI)

In reply to an enquiry as to whether an improvement has taken place, the Principal Keeper states, under date 5/1/26, that there is no improvement in either horse or car, except on the 2nd last trip, a borrowed horse was used, but on the occasion of the last trip, the usual difficulty was experienced.

You may remember that in June last when you were asked whether you would supply a motor car? You replied that 'you were not in fitting circumstances to do so at present.'

In replying to this letter, you will please bear in mind that if you are unable to provide a horse and car to suit the requirements of the keepers, the question of motor attendance will again have to be taken into consideration.

Looks like a young lightkeeper in the making in the gateway. John Hamilton photo in the still-grey 1950s. Who says the weather was better in the old days?

Unfortunately, I don't have Mrs. McGill's reply, nor indeed, the horse's.

More Beer

Following on from a recent post about coming across Fanad Farmyard Beer in Lidl, I idly wondered if any other Irish lighthouses were used in the advertisement of beers. And sure enough, Mr. Google was able to provide a few examples.

Detroit Liquid Ventures is a company in Detroit who produce three different varieties of their Old Head range - a Red (above), an Extra Pale, and a Milk Chocolate Stout. I'm loving the representation of the Old Head lighthouse with dwellings and perimeter wall on the cans.

According to their website, the range is in tribute to those who came to settle in the Old Head of Kinsale 6000 years ago, our traditional style Celtic ales are inspired by recipes from the Emerald Isle, and those who integrated themselves into Detroit’s rich Irish culture.

The Dungarvan Brewing Company have produced a Mine Head American Pale Ale and it features the top half of the lighthouse (or maybe a little less) on all its products. Other products from this company, who are obviously proud of their local heritage, include Helvick Gold Blonde Ale, Copper Coast Red Ale, Black Rock Irish Stout etc.

As there is nothing else on the Fastnet except the lighthouse, I'll include this draught craft ale here. It is to be found in the Fastnet pub, a 'traditional Irish pub' in Newport, Rhode Island. The connection to the lighthouse is unclear but the website does feature a representation of the lighthouse : 

The Fastnet Force Ten is of course a reference to the terrible sailing tragedy of 1979.

Much in the same vein as Dungarvan, the Bridewell Brewery in Clifden has a range of local beers named after local landmarks. Pilot and Navigator are named for Alcock and Brown, who crash landed nearby after their famous transatlantic flight; Mullarkey's is named after a local hotel and the Light Keeper Pilsner, well, it is explained  above. I reckon the lighthouse is a pretty good representation of Slyne Head too.

I'm intrigued though how a local brewery might use the Spit lighthouses at Cobh and Passage East in their marketing. Or indeed Rotten Island. I'll have a pint of Spit, please, innkeeper? Two pints of Rotten lager please?

The very shy Achillbeg lighthouse

 

All photos by Joe McCabe

To all intents and purposes, there are only two real differences between the lighthouse on Achillbeg and the one on the Sheep's Head in Cork.

The Sheeps Head has a red handrail leading up the steps to its door, whereas Achillbeg appears to be quite handrail-less.

Most people of moderate walking abilities can walk right up to the Sheeps Head and give it a hug. With Achillbeg, people may have seen it as a small dot from Clare Island but not many have got much nearer. Naturally, the reason for the first lies in the second.

All photos except the top one are by Joe McCabe 

A light was established on the western point of Clare Island in 1806 to mark the entrance to Clew Bay and Westport but, unfortunately, like many of those old lights - Wicklow, Inis Mor, Cape Clear etc - they thought that the higher they put them, the further the light could be seen. Which was true on a clear day but hills attract the mischt and Clare Islaned light was often rendered useless. Now, the Irish lighthouse authorities were regarded as the ultimate procrastinators but they excelled themselves in this instance. 155 years to rectify the blunder and establish the light on Achillbeg instead!

To paraphrase Father Ted, this lighthouse is small but this lighthouse is far away. Achillbeg's tower is 9m tall, though it doesn't really look that big. Work started in 1964 with the raw materials being landed by boat and then donkeys and a tractor were used to haul them up to the precarious spot on whch she now sits.

Another difference between Achillbeg and Sheeps Head (actually, now I think about it, they're not very similar at all) is that the Mayo light has three red sectors. And one of them is a high intensity light to warn of the dangers of the Bills Rocks, nine miles to the west.

The light was powered by electricity, though there was always a back-up generator in case of power cuts.

Clare Island was finally turned off on the 28th September 1965 and, at sunset that evening, the new light on Achillbeg shone forth for the first time. In attendance were Ernest Benson, the Chair of Irish Lights, Michael Keane of Blacksod who had been in charge of construction and Patrick Kilbane from Cloghmore, the first attendant of the new station. In those early days, the attendant monitored the lighthouse via a UHF link to his home, but in 1991, it was hooked up to Dun Laoghaire instead.

Boatbuilder John O'Malley of Currane, Achill, spent forty years as the attendant of the lighthouse, making frequent trips out from his mainland home to the island. Sometimes, when the Commissioners were in town, he would have to don his lightkeeping uniform when making sure that everything ran smoothly.

In the 1841 Census, 178 people were resident on the island. The last people left just a few days after the lighthouse was established. The lights of the twenty five cottages were replaced by the red and white lights of the beacon.

Achillbeg doesn't really go in for self-publicity. Undoubtedly, it has issues in that regard, sitting as it does under the frowning gaze of the lighthouse it replaced. Its like breaking into the County team but the old guy you've replaced with seven All-Irelands still thinks he can cut the mustard. And he's there all the time, glaring at you.

Except when the mischt is down, of course.

Knocking down the North Wall Quay light

The elusive North Wall Quay lighthouse on the Liffey

Ireland doesn't really have a great record when it comes to ships ramming lighthouses. The Spit light at Cobh has been hit, as has the North Bank light on the Liffey. Belfast had to completely do away with its pile lights because ships were treating them like skittles. Lough Mahon light was carried away in the late 1920s too.

But all of these had one thing in common. They were all built on stilts in busy waterways. Off the top of my head, I can only think of one Irish lighthouse that was built on terra firma and was destroyed by shipping. 

The North Wall of the River Liffey used to end where the roundabout for the East Link bridge now stands. There was a Watch House there, according to old maps, about where the Point is and this was possibly converted into a lighthouse in the early part of the nineteenth century.

The lighthouse (Dublin Penny Journal 1834)

It is difficult to follow the many changes pertaining to the North Wall light, as the North Wall Quay extension gradually, well, extended. 

1862 - a wrought iron tower with a cast-iron lantern and a domed top replaced the stone tower, whose lantern and upper portions were removed. The new light was 29 feet above high water, displayed a fixed light and was painted a grey/stone colour

1867 - the 'metal lighthouse' fell into the Liffey after being undermined by excavators working on the pier extension. A temporary light was then exhibited.

1874 - the lighthouse was replaced by a new one 200 feet eastwards of its old position

1881 - a new light was built when work on the pier extension was suspended. The description of this light was a temporary wooden structure with a fixed white 5th order light and a fog bell every ten seconds

1903 - the lighthouse was swept away in a storm after being hit by a ship

1904 - the current structure was built

1937 - the current structure was moved to its current location when the pier extension was finally completed.

Detail from an 1864 sketch in the Illustrated Times - the metal lighthouse

So, the night of the 26th or the morning of the 27th February 1903 delivered the 'worst storm in living memory' to Dublin. The belfry of the Catholic church in Ranelagh came down. The factory chimney of a woollen mill in Athlone was destroyed. A tree crashed through the window of a hospital in Limerick. The roof of a railway terminus in Belfast came off and all along the Dublin docks, huts and storehouses were reduced to rubble and twisted girders.

In the docks, the Forrest (or Forest) Hall, a Liverpool steamer, arrived with a cargo of grain from Portland, Oregon and moored on the North Wall Quay. At around 4am, at the height of the tempest, it came loose from its moorings, and rammed a small boat called the Olive, which had Government stores onboard. The foremast of the Olive was carried away by the spars of the Forrest Hall and her funnel was bent and twisted out of shape. Gleefully leaving the Olive in her wake, the Forrest Hall then rammed the end of the pier, causing a chunk of it to come away and bringing down the lighthouse with her spars. This was the 'temporary' wooden structure built in 1881. The fog bell was also sent to the depths in the same incident. Fortunately the man in the hailing station and the lightkeeper had seen her coming and had cleared out.

Photo from the book Proceedings 1888 by the Institution of Mechanical Engineers, which Spielberg should really buy the film rights to. To be fair, not only is the lighthouse 'a temporary wooden structure,' but it is also sitting on 'a temporary wooden end-of-pier'

The Forrest Hall finally became stuck on a sandbank below the breakwater pier in sight of Clontarf. There had been only six people on board, Captain Logan, the watchman and two others, as well as the Captain's wife and small son, the rest of the crew having been sent ashore due to the forecasted storm. The captain later declared it to have been the worst storm he had ever encountered and he had been around the world.

In a subsequent action, the Dublin Port and Docks Board sought to recover the cost of the damage, claiming that the windlass of the steamer was faulty, and the boat had been moored negligently, allegations vigorously refuted by the owners of the Forrest Hall. The judgement went for the plaintiff.

Looking for eggs on the Bull Rock 1892

 

This post only touches on the Bull Rock lighthouse in an incidental sort of a way but it gives a flavour of the bird life the keepers would have encountered when this post was written in 1892. It comes from The Field and was written by A.R.C. Newburgh, appearing in print on 2nd July that year. I reprint it more or less in full.

We cast off from the pier at Berehaven on May 11 at 5am, and with smooth water and just enough wind to create a draught on our furnace and a strong ebb tide in our favour, we were soon alongside the Bull Rock, a small islet lying about two and a half miles N.W. of Dursey Island and 292 feet high. This is the most southerly breeding haunt of the gannet on the Irish coast.
There is deep water close to the rock and in fine weather a small steamer may lie close in to a remarkable arched hole worn by the action of the sea through the island. A good view of the buildings on the east side may be obtained and the effect of the view under the almost perpendicular cliff is somewhat heightened by the probability that some of the loose stones, which jut out here and there from the face of the rock, will one day fall from their places into the abyss below.       

                      

After landing a few tons of coal for the use of the lightkeepers, I took one of the men with me and went ashore in search of sea birds’ eggs. The ascent is not difficult, there being concrete steps built all the way up to the lighthouse, but the moment we arrived at the summit, a cold, clammy wind blew in our faces, with a fine rain that penetrated our clothing and made our foothold very slippery and difficult. A thick fog prevailing at the time, the watchman on the look-out station was busy with the fog-signal – charges of gun cotton, which he fired at short intervals – the concussion from which was very considerable at close quarters. We were informed by one of the keepers that the nearest way to the gannets’ nesting places was close past the signal station. Just as we were passing it, one of the charges was fired, and within a few feet of us; the concussion was so great that it nearly knocked us down. I shall never forget the look of dismay on Pat’s face as he crossed himself and said “Oh Blessed Virgin, but they’ll blow us into smithereens. For the love of God, sor, come away out of this.”

The weather now cleared up and became beautifully fine and warm, and we were able to obtain a good view from the summit. The lightkeepers’ dwellings, with the lighthouse, signal station and gasometer, with thousands of seafowl, some circling overhead, but the majority sitting on their nests, gave the rock a very homely and animated appearance compared to what it was when I visited it some years ago, before these buildings were erected.

During the breeding season the birds are very tame. The puffins seem to have no fear whatever, though wary enough when on the water and away from their nests. We captured several of them with a landing net, but let them go again. I have sat for hours within a few feet of these birds, making sketches of them and no better place could an artist find for studying the habits and attitudes of sea birds than this wild, rocky isle off the Irish coast.

The puffins and razorbills seem to keep on friendly terms enough with one another but will not permit the gannets or seagulls to associate with them. I have watched the puffins and razorbills sitting side by side in the most friendly manner. The puffins, with their furrowed and painted beaks, remind one strongly of the highly coloured pasteboard noses of preponderous shape and size which decorate the windows of the toy shops at Christmas time; this, with their look of utter indifference, strike one as very laughable. For pugnacity and impudence, a town-bred cock-sparrow is difficult to beat, but for a look of thorough contentment and utter indifference to all surroundings, commend me to a puffin on the Bull Rock.

We made a good collection of eggs, the gannet, puffin, razorbill and kittiwakes being very plentiful, but difficult to get at; one has to stick as close to the rock as a limpet when creeping along the narrow ledges of the precipices, only a few inches wide. This is very dangerous work to one not accustomed to it, as a false step, or a loose stone, will end your egg-collecting days forever in this world. It was only a few weeks ago one of the light-keepers on the Tearaght, one of the Blasket group of islands off the Kerry coast, lost his life while collecting ‘sea-parrot’s’ eggs. He was on a very dangerous part of the rock at the time, and was in the act of taking a puffin’s egg, when the bird, which happened to be in the hole at the time, bit his finger and, in suddenly pulling back his hand, he overbalanced himself and fell backwards, rolling down some 50 feet of the sloping part of the rock, and then disappeared over the precipice some 400ft into the sea below. His body was never recovered.

The death of George Halpin Snr

George Halpin's 1830s Tory Island lighthouse (photo by Aiden Behan)

In the history of lighthouses in Ireland, there is one name that stands out. Of course, George Halpin was the name of two of the Ballast Board's Inspector of Works and Inspector of Lighthouses, father and son, so that first fact is not surprising. But this post is about the death of George Halpin Snr, who ostensibly handed over the reins of the job to Junior in July 1854, upon his expiration, though it is likely that Junior had already assumed control long before that, as Dad was either 75 or 79 at the time.

Another Halpin beauty - Mutton Island in Galway

Little is known for certain of George's upbringing though he was possibly born in the Bridge Tavern in Wicklow Town, wherein I downed many pints in the late seventies and early eighties, before heading up to the Forge, Paddy O'Connors or Fitzpatricks. He joined the Corporation for Preserving and Improving the Port of Dublin, usually (and thankfully) shortened to the Ballast Board and, when this body was given control of all the lighthouses around the country in 1810, he dragged a dark-coasted Ireland out of its lethargy and started building lighthouses all around the coast. Some of the most beautiful lighthouses, most of them still standing, are his work, even though he never formally trained as an engineer - the Tuskar, Mutton Island, St. John's Point x 2, Haulbowline, Fanad, Tory - the list goes on.

Curiously, not an image seems to exist of George Senior. If there is one, it has never come to light. We have an image of Junior, who was appointed assistant to Dad in 1830 and eventually took over, but not one of the founding father of Irish lighthouses.

George Halpin junior

Anyway, Irish Lights whom the Ballast Board morphed into in the late 1860s, have always insisted that George Halpin died on 8th July 1854 while on a tour of inspection of lighthouses on the south coast of Ireland. And to be fair, they should know. This fact has been so widely accepted that it is widely repeated. But, as Irish Lights is the go-to research source for those writing and talking about lighthouses, it is not really surprising that everybody is singing from the same hymn sheet. When I broached to Frank Pelly the possibility that he died in Dublin, Frank - who was and is the highest authority on all things Irish Lights - was adamant that the story was true and that he died at a lighthouse on the south coast. But even Frank couldn't name the lighthouse.

There are a couple of reasons that I doubt this universally-held wisdom.

• The newspapers at the time state he was in his 80th year. Genealogical sources suggest he was 75 years old. Now, bearing in mind that 75 in 1854 was like being 100 today, would George really have been undertaking inspection tours of lighthouses on the southern coast? Far more likely that George, the son, would have taken over all of that business. Could it be that George Junior was conducting such an inspection when his father died, and some future researcher mixed up the two? 
• Every newspaper at the time states that he died at his residence in Dublin. I accept the fact that a story like this was syndicated around to different papers and they all carry the same few words verbatim. "We regret to have to announce the death of G. Halpin, Esq, Inspector of Irish Lighthouses. Mr. Halpin died at his residence in Dublin on Saturday morning." 
• No newspaper carries a mention of his sad return from the south coast, probably by boat, if it had occurred.
• Saunders Newsletter carries a bit more information on the unfortunate event. As you can see, it quotes its source as being The Advocate.

The clipping doesn't actually mention the location of the post-breakfast tragedy but it is lifted word for word from the Advocate. Now, the Advocate was a Dublin paper that only came out on Wednesday and Saturday evenings and the report in the paper came out on the evening of George's death, Saturday 8th July. I am very doubtful whether news from the south coast could have reached Dublin in time to make the evening papers. Whereas Mr. Halpin, who lived on the North Wall in the heart of the dockland that he had done so much to create, would easily have made the evening papers in Dublin, if he had died at home.

This ends the case for the prosecution.

George's final resting place in Mt. Jerome Cemetery, Dublin. Not really a miniature lighthouse, as I had expected.