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.

The life and wonderful death of Sam Long, Lightship Master

 

I have to acknowledge Simon Veasey for getting in touch and asking if I knew anything about his great-grandfather, Samuel 'Sam' Long from Ballywalter, who had been on the lightships. I hadn't, but a little bit of research resurrected a very interesting life. 

A very Spanish Sam Long as a young man. Simon says this was in his Navy days. All photos of Sam Long courtesy Simon Veasey

Samuel James Long was born 21/2/1877, the son of Edward Long, who was a gardener at Newtownpark, one of the 'big houses' in Stillorgan. At aged 15, he enlisted in the Royal Navy as a 2nd Class Boy, when he was described as being 5ft 2 inches tall, brown hair, brown eyes and dots tattooed on each hand. He would rise (literally) to being 5ft 5 inches at age 18. He served on many ships during his 13 years in the navy and sailed the world, giving himself a thousand stories which he would relate later on in life.

A young Sam Long in the Royal Navy

In 1899, Samuel married Margaret Mates, whose father was also a gardener. He came out of service in the middle of the first decade and seems to have joined No.1.dredger in Kingstown harbour. Dredgers were kept busy on the east coast of Ireland as the whole shoreline is a mass of shifting, drifting sandbanks. 

He was very late going into the lightships, as he was 30 years old when he joined on 1st December 1907.  He was given the Lightship number 14 which indicates that the service number system operating in the lighthouse service wasn't quite the same as on the ships.
Poor Maggie Mates seems to have died of septicemia in 1910 and the two kids moved in with Samuel's sister Eleanor and her husband Henry Moore and their family. In 1913, Samuel was a fogsignalman on the Kish lightship at the entrance to Dublin bay. His fellow crew were N. Duffy, Master; M.Crowe, Mate; J. Day, Carpenter: J. Pluck, G. Warren, J. Langan, lamplighters; MB Wall, G. Connor, C.R.Easton, R.Roche, ABs.

The Kish 1908

A Protestant, Samuel doubtless stoked up a certain amount of controversy during WW1 by flying the Union flag from the window of his house in Kingstown. With all other lightship-

men, he would have received the Mercantile Marine medal and ribbon and the British medal ribbon, for service on the seas at the conclusion of hostilities with the Germans.

He married Jennie Thompson from Dunboyne in 1915 and had two children with her, William (1916) and Ethel (1918). Sadly Ethel died of pneumonia in May 1920. Her mother, Jennie, had died in the February of TB at their home in Northcote Terrace, Kingstown.

I have been unable to find where Sam served between 1913 and 1927, though being domiciled in Kingstown, he probably remained at the Kish or possibly North Arklow. He joined Skulmartin on promotion to Mate on April 1st 1927; joined South Rock on promotion to Master for one year only 1933 - 34 and then back to Skulmartin, where he finished off his career, retiring on his 60th birthday in 1937. In those last ten years, the lightvessels themselves were the Seagull and the Cormorant. According to Irish Lights, he was disciplined only once, for the dreadful crime of allowing a junior lamplighter to go ashore to get an infected tooth removed.

c.1905

One of Simon's female ancestors told a story of going out to the vessel in Skulmartin, probably in the late thirties. "She said she was eight or nine," he says, "and remembers this bunch of old guys and kids making loads of lace. Mum said the lace was then sold to dealers back in town to fund their end of tour session!! It figures, but she said she was always amazed that these rough, haggard old sea dogs could produce such beautiful work."

Family lore says he was a typical sailor with a woman in every port. This was probably in his Navy days as, naturally, there wouldn't be many different ports working on the lightships! He was always a great man for the baur, telling stories of his travels and adventures. In his retirement, he was the Vicar's churchwarden in Ballywalter. And he was also fond of a drink or two.

Sam with his third wife

Around Christmas 1958, Sam's third wife died and in mid-1959, Sam took one of his occasional holidays to Nuneaton in Warwickshire to see family. He was 82 years old at the time. On the trip over, he met up with some Navy lads and went on the mother of all sessions. Practically comatose, the lads put him on the train to Nuneaton, telling the guard to put him off there!

A couple of days later, he was in the middle of telling one of his humorous stories in the bar of the George Eliot Hotel in Nuneaton, when he had a huge heart attack and died instantly. The family story is that he simply 'switched off,' and didn't even spill his drink!

Way to go, Sam.