thirty-four years passed away, and still rudyerd’s lighthouse stood firm as the rock on which it was founded. true, during that period it had to undergo occasional repairs, because the timber uprights at the base, where exposed to the full violence of the waves, had become weather-worn, and required renewing in part; but this was only equivalent to a ship being overhauled and having some of her planks renewed. the main fabric of the lighthouse remained as sound and steadfast at the end of that long period as it was at the beginning, and it would in all probability have remained on the eddystone rock till the present day, had not a foe assailed it, whose nature was very different indeed from that with which it had been built to contend.

the lighthouse was at this time in charge of teddy maroon: not the teddy who had bewailed his fate so disconsolately in the french prison in days gone by, but his youngest son, who was now getting to be an elderly man. we may, however, relieve the mind of the sympathetic reader, by saying that teddy, senior, was not dead. he was still alive and hearty; though bent nearly double with extreme age; and dwelt on the borders of one of the irish bogs, at the head of an extensive colony of maroons.

one night teddy the younger ascended to the lantern to trim the candles; he snuffed them all round and returned to the kitchen to have a pipe, his two mates being a-bed at the time. no one now knows how the thing happened, but certain it is that teddy either dropped some of the burning snuff on the floor, or in some other way introduced more light into his lantern that night than it had ever been meant to contain, so that while he and his mates were smoking comfortably below, the lighthouse was smoking quietly, but ominously, above.

on shore, late that night, an elderly gentleman stood looking out of the window of a charmingly situated cottage in the village of cawsand bay, near plymouth, which commanded a magnificent prospect of the channel.

“father,” he said, turning to a very old man seated beside the fire, who, although shrunken and wrinkled and bald, was ruddy in complexion, and evidently in the enjoyment of a green old age, “father, the lighthouse is beautifully bright to-night; shall i help you to the window to look at it?”

“yes, tommy: i’m fond o’ the old light. it minds me of days gone by, when you and i were young, martha.”

the old man gave a chuckle as he looked across the hearthstone, where, in a chair similar to his own, sat a very stout and very deaf and very old lady, smoothing the head of her grandchild, a little girl, who was the youngest of a family of ten.

old martha did not hear john potter’s remark, but she saw his kindly smile, and nodded her head with much gravity in reply. martha had grown intellectually slow when she partially lost her hearing, and although she was not sad she had evidently become solemn. an english dictionary and the bible were the only books that martha would look at now. she did not use the former as a help to the understanding of the latter. no one knew why she was so partial to the dictionary; but as she not unfrequently had it on her knee upside down while poring over it, her grandchild, little nora, took up the idea that she had resolved to devote the latter days of her life to learning to read backwards! perhaps the fact that the dictionary had once belonged to her son james who was wrecked and drowned on the norfolk coast, may have had something to do with it.

with the aid of his son’s arm and a stick old john managed to hobble to the window.

“it is very bright. why, tommy,” he exclaimed, with a start, “it’s too bright: the lighthouse must be on fire!”

at that moment, “tommy’s” wife, now “fat, fair, and fifty” (or thereabouts), entered the room hurriedly, exclaiming, “oh, tom, what can be the matter with the lighthouse, i never saw it so bright before?”

tom, who had hastily placed his father in a chair, so that he could see the eddystone, seized his hat, and exclaiming, “i’ll go and see, my dear,” ran out and proceeded to the shore.

“what’s the matter?” cried mrs potter in a querulous voice, when little nora rushed from her side.

nora, senior, went to her at once, and, bending down, said, in a musical voice that retained much of its clearness and all its former sweetness: “i fear that the lighthouse is on fire, grandma!”

mrs potter gazed straight before her with vacant solemnity, and nora, supposing that she had not heard, repeated the information.

still mrs potter made no reply; but, after a few moments, she turned her eyes on her daughter-in-law with owlish gravity, and said; “i knew it! i said long ago to your father, my dear, i had a settled conviction that that lighthouse would come to a bad end.”

it did indeed appear as though old martha’s prophecy were about to come true!

out at the lighthouse teddy maroon, having finished his pipe, went up to the lantern to trim the candles again. he had no sooner opened the hatch of the lantern than a dense cloud of smoke burst out. he shouted to his comrades, one of whom, henry hall, was old and not fit for much violent exertion; the other, james wilkie, was a young man, but a heavy sleeper. they could not be roused as quickly as the occasion demanded. teddy ran to the store-room for a leathern bucket, but before he could descend to the rock, fill it and re-ascend, the flames had got a firm hold of the cupola. he dashed the water into the lantern just as his horrified comrades appeared.

“fetch bucketfulls as fast as ye can. och, be smart, boys, if iver ye was,” he shouted, while perspiration streamed down his face. pulling off his coat, while his mates ran down for water, teddy dashed wildly into the lantern, and, holding the coat by its arms, laid about him violently, but smoke and fire drove him but almost immediately. the buckets were long of coming, and when they did arrive, their contents were as nothing on the glowing cupola. then teddy went out on the balcony and endeavoured to throw the water up, but the height was too great. while he was doing this, wilkie ran down for more water, but hall stood gazing upwards, open-mouthed with horror, at the raging flames. at that moment the leaden covering of the roof melted, and rushed down on hall’s head and shoulders. he fell, with a loud shriek. while teddy tried to drag him down to the room below, he exclaimed that some of the melted lead had gone down his throat! he was terribly burned about the neck, but his comrades had to leave him in his bed while they strove wildly to check the flames. it was all in vain. the wood-work around the lantern, from years of exposure to the heat of twenty-four large candles burning at once, had become like tinder, and the fire became so fierce that the timber courses composing the top of the column soon caught. then the keepers saw that any further efforts would be useless. the great exertions made to carry up even a few bucketsfull of water soon exhausted their strength, and they were driven from room to room as the fire descended. at last the heat and smoke became so intense that they were driven out of the lighthouse altogether, and sought shelter in a cavern or hollow under the ladder, on the east side of the rock. fortunately it was low water at the time, and the weather was calm. had it been otherwise, the rock would have been no place of refuge.

meanwhile mr thomas potter (our old friend tommy—now, as we have said an elderly gentleman) went off in a large boat with a crew of stout fishermen from cawsand bay, having a smaller boat in tow. when they reached the rock, a terrific spectacle was witnessed. the lighthouse was enveloped in flames nearly to the bottom, for the outside planking, being caulked and covered with pitch, was very inflammable. the top glowed against the dark sky and looked in the midst of the smoke like a fiery meteor. the eddystone rock was suffused with a dull red light, as if it were becoming red hot, and the surf round it appeared to hiss against the fire, while in the dark shadow of the cave the three lighthouse keepers were seen cowering in terror,—as they well might, seeing that melted lead and flaming masses of wood and other substances were falling thickly round them.

to get them out of their dangerous position was a matter of extreme difficulty, because, although there was little or no wind, the swell caused a surf on the rock which absolutely forbade the attempt to land. in this emergency they fell upon a plan which seemed to afford some hope of success. they anchored the large boat to the westward, and veered down towards the rock as far as they dared venture. then three men went into the small boat, which was eased off and sent farther in by means of a rope. when as near as it was possible to approach, a coil of rope was thrown to the rock. it was caught by teddy maroon, and although in extreme danger and anxiety, the men in the boat could not help giving vent to a ringing cheer. teddy at once tied the end of the rope round the waist of old henry hall, and half persuaded, half forced him into the surf, through which he was hauled into the boat in safety. wilkie went next, and teddy followed. thus they were rescued, put on board the large boat, and carried on shore; but no sooner did the keel grate on the sand, than wilkie, who had never spoken a word, and who appeared half stupefied, bounded on shore and ran off at full speed. it is a curious fact, which no one has ever been able to account for, that this man was never more heard of! as it is quite certain that he did not cause the fire, and also that he did his utmost to subdue it, the only conclusion that could be come to was, that the excitement and terror had driven him mad. at all events that was the last of him.

another curious fact connected with the fire is, that henry hall actually did swallow a quantity of melted lead. he lingered for twelve days after the accident, and then died. afterwards his body was opened, and an oval lump of lead, which weighed upwards of seven ounces, was found in his stomach. this extraordinary fact is authenticated by the credible testimony of a respectable medical man and several eye-witnesses.

meanwhile, the lighthouse continued to burn, despite the most strenuous efforts made to save it. had a storm arisen, the seas would speedily have quenched the fire, but unfortunately the weather continued fine and comparatively calm for several days, while the wind was just strong enough to fan the fury of the flames, and at the same time to cause a surf sufficiently high to render a landing on the rock impossible. but, indeed, even if this had been effected, the efforts that could have been made with the small fire-engines at that time in use, would have been utterly useless. the fire gradually descended to the different courses of solid timber, the well-hole of the staircase assisting the draught, and the outside timbers and inside mast, or wooden core, forming a double connecting link whereby the devouring element was carried to the very bottom of the building, with a heat so intense that the courses of cornish moor-stone were made red hot.

admiral west, with part of the fleet, happened to be at that time in plymouth sound. he at once sent a sloop with a fire-engine to the rock. they attempted to land in a boat, but could not. so violent was the surf, that the boat was at one time thrown bodily upon the rock by one wave and swept off again by the next. the escape on this occasion was almost miraculous, the men therefore did not venture to make another attempt, but contented themselves with endeavouring to work the engine from the boat, in doing which they broke it, and thus all hope of doing anything further was gone. but indeed the engine they had would have availed nothing, even though it had been twice as powerful, against such a mighty conflagration. as well might they have tried to extinguish vesuvius with a tea-kettle!

for four days and nights did that massive pillar of fire burn. at last it fell in ruins before the most irresistible element with which man or matter has to contend, after having braved the fury of the winds and waves for nearly half a century.

thus perished the second lighthouse that was built on the eddystone rock, in december of the year 1755, and thus, once again, were those black reefs left unguarded. once more that dread of mariners, ancient and modern, became a trap on the south coast of england—a trap now rendered doubly dangerous by the fact that, for so long a period, ships had been accustomed to make for it instead of avoiding it, in the full expectation of receiving timely warning from its friendly light.

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