BOOK V.THE AUXILIARIES OF LIGHTHOUSES.CHAPTER I.FLOATING LIGHTS: LIGHTSHIPS.LLighthousesform thefirstline of the coast defences which man raises for his protection against the fury of the ocean. But there are many parts of the coasts of every maritime country which are unsuitable for their construction, whether they be built of stone or iron, and which, nevertheless, stand greatly in need of illumination. In England, especially, these points are numerous. Among others, we may refer to the Goodwin Sands—that fatal tract off the shore of Kent which has been the destruction of so many “tall ships” and “adventurous mariners,” whose name has for centuries been associated with the memory of the most deplorable disasters. On the entire coast of England there is probably no other locality so fatally connected with dismal stories of human suffering, and yet it was long impossibleto warn the sailor from it by any certain agency. Lighthouses could not be stationed on its shifting sands; and it seemed as if this one wild waste must of necessity be abandoned to the pitiless winds and not more compassionate seas. However, towards the close of the last century, the idea occurred to one Robert Hamblin of substituting floating lights for fixed lights—a lightshipfor a lighthouse.Robert Hamblin was an experienced and reputable barber of Lynn, who had married the daughter of a shipowner of that busy little seaport, and in due time had become master of a vessel. He was engaged in the coasting trade—in carrying coal from Newcastle to other ports—and was thus well enabled to judge of the inadequate manner in which the eastern coast was lighted. Accident, after a time, introduced him to a man whose brain was full of grand projects, but who was cruelly hampered by poverty—David Avery; and the two, combining their resources—the one finding the money, the other the intellect—established at the Nore a floating light on board a ship, and assumed a right of levying tolls for the maintenance of this new pharos (A.D.1732).It was impossible that the Trinity House could regard this assumption as other than an infraction of their legal privileges, though they were compelled to own that the lightship was successful, and that it proved of great assistance in the navigation of the intricate estuary of the Thames. Encouraged by the triumphant issue of his experiment, Avery boldly announced his design of placing a similar vessel among the waters of the Scilly Islands. Thecorporation of the Trinity House, in their capacity of protectors of British commerce, then laid a complaint before the Lords of the Admiralty; who, however, were either unwilling or unable to act. They next addressed themselves to the Crown, representing that it was illegal for any private individual to levy a tax on the mercantile marine; and acted with so much energy as to obtain a royal proclamation prohibiting the light at the Nore. Avery, whose schemes of acquiring almost boundless wealth were thus rudely broken up, appeared in person before the Board, and proposed to treat with them in reference to the Nore light. He asserted that he had expended a sum of £2000; and his offer was, that all right and title to the floating ship should remain for ever in the hands of the Trinity House, but that the tolls should be levied by him and his heirs for a period of sixty-one years, on payment of a yearly sum of £100. These terms were accepted.[56]Such, briefly told, was the origin ofLightships.The lightship, be it understood, is not employed only to indicate the position of a sand-bank, but as a beacon against perfidious currents, submarine whirlpools, or reefs which are hidden at certain hours by the high tide. We borrow from the lively pages of M. Esquiros a sketch of this most useful vessel:—“When first seen, and especially if seen from a distance, a lightship closely resembles during the day an ordinary barque. But if examined from a nearer point of view, a very great difference between the two is readily discernible. The lightship floats, but it does not move; its short stoutmasts are without sails, and surmounted by large balls. Other ships represent motion; this, immobility. We ask of vessels, as a rule, that they shall obey the wind and the wave; we ask of the lightship that it shall resist them. What, indeed, would happen if it drifted before the gale? Like a meteor, the wandering light would deceive the pilot, instead of warning him. A ship which does not navigate—a fixed and fettered ship;—such is the ideal which the builder of the light-vessel keeps ever before his mind; and this ideal has naturally troubled the imagination of naval architects in more than one direction.The form of the lightship varies according to its locality: in Ireland the hull is more elongated than in England; but in all cases the object to be attained is the same—resistance to the force of the winds and waves. It is desired that in the most violent tides, in the midst of the angriest billows, and in situations the most exposed to the influence of the currents, it shall drag as little as possible upon its anchor. That it may at all times and in all conditions preserve the same maritime position, it is securely moored. Like a galley-slave, riveted to an iron chain, it can move neither to the right nor to the left. The length of its cable is, of course, regulated by circumstances: at the Seven Stones, where it rides in 240 feet deep of water, it measures upwards of a third of a mile in length. Some years ago it was found that the addition of certain ingenious shackles (so to speak) controlled its movements; and by various improvements in its construction, the result has been obtained that, slave though it be, it shall weigh as little as possible on its mooring-chains. Usually, the moorings consist of a chain lying along the sea-bed for1260 feet, with an anchor of 32 cwt., in the shape of a mushroom at either end, and a swivel in the centre, to which is attached a veering cable of 630 feet of chain.THE LIGHTSHIP.Few instances are on record of a lightship having broken loose from its moorings, and none of its having suffered shipwreck. Each vessel carries, for emergencies, two bower anchors of 20 cwt. and 15 cwt.; and cables respectively 1260 and 900 feet long. Nor is it known that the crew have, on any occasion, or whatever the fury of the tempest, voluntarily changed their position. If, however, the ship should be driven from its place by the irresistible force of the elements, so that its light may become a source of danger to the mariner, they hoist a red signal and fire a gun, and generally it is soon restored to its normal situation. The peril of drifting, and the presence of mindwhich the necessary manœuvres require in such an event, are evidences, nevertheless, of the courage and resolution of the men who live, day and night, exposed to the caprice of the seas. As it is necessary to prepare for every accident, a spare vessel is always held in readiness at the headquarters of each district; owing to the telegraphic network which now surrounds our shores, the slightest mishap is soon made known to the authorities; and often before sunset the reserve ship, towed by a powerful steam-tug, occupies the place of the vessel which the storm has driven from its moorings. The lightships of the Trinity House are paintedred; those of Ireland,black. Experiment has shown that red and black are the two colours which most vividly contrast with the prevailing hue of the sea. The name of the vessel is inscribed in large letters on its sides. A flag, bearing a cross quartered with four ships, waves at the stern. These are the arms of the Trinity House.Our British and Irish lightships numbered fifty-nine in 1870. Each, like the lighthouse on shore, is distinguished by its own peculiar aspect—by certain differences which assist the navigator in recognizing it, and, consequently, in recognizing the particular danger he is called upon to avoid. Some have one light, some two lights, some three lights. Of these lights many are fixed, many revolving, many coloured. The building and equipment of one of these vessels[57]will cost from £2000 to £3000. Its maintenance, including the cost of oil, the wages and provisions of the men, amounts to about £1200 per annum.The United States stand next to Great Britain in the number of lightships which they support in the interests of commercial enterprise. At one time, however, their organization was very indifferent; but of later years the system followed in England has been adopted with a few unimportant modifications. The American ships are painted in longitudinal stripes of varied colours. In very bad weather they frequently quit their posts, and return into harbour.France has fewer lightships than either Great Britain or America, and onlyfivewhose burthen exceeds seventy tons.Let us now say a few words in reference to the resolute crews who man these vessels.The crew of an English lightship consists of a master, a mate, and nine men. Three out of the nine are intrusted with the service of the lamps; the six others, who always include among them a good carpenter, attend to the order and cleanliness of the vessel. It must be remembered, however, that the nine men are never all on board together; one-third are always enjoying an interval of rest on shore. Experience has proved that a perpetual sojourn on board a ship of this kind is too much for the moral and physical forces of human nature. The crushing monotony of the same scenes, the eternal spectacle of foam-crested waters rolling wherever the eye is turned, the ceaseless noise of the winds, the everlasting murmur of the ocean—swelling at times into so terrible a roar that it renders inaudible the human voice—could not fail to exercise a depressing influence on the mind. But even allowing forthe occasional vacation spent upon land, the life is so uniform and unexciting that it is wonderful any man can be found to endure it; and the crews of our lightships may assuredly be ranked among the curiosities of civilization.To mitigate the rigours of so strange a profession, the Trinity Board provides that each man shall pass one month on shore for every two months he spends on board; while the captain and the mate change places every month. But grim old Neptune does not always permit this system of reliefs to be regularly carried out. It often happens in winter that the storm and the tide are opposed to every kind of disembarkation; and between the lightship and the Scilly Islands, for instance, weeks elapse before the communication can be re-established. The men ashore are occupied in cleaning cables, painting buoys, filling the oil tins, and similar duties. We know not whether what was acknowledged by an old lightship “hand” is true of all; that all the time he was on land, he dreamed of the sea; all the time he was on board the lightship, he dreamed of the land.The visitor of an English lightship cannot fail to be struck with its admirable condition, and with the fine appearance of its crew. Sun-tanned and weather-beaten, they are models of English sailors: frank, self-reliant, unassuming, obedient, nimble, vigorous, and resolute. They seem well-contented with their lot, and if they complain at all, it is of the quantity and quality of their provisions. The ration of bread (seven pounds a week) is not quite sufficient for hearty men, and I confess, from my own experience, that the sharp air to which they are exposed is well adapted to whet one’s appetite. When theyare at sea, their food is supplied by the Trinity House; when on shore, they receive instead one shilling and threepence a day. Their wages are fifty-five shillings per month; the master receives £80 per annum.Two men at a time are charged with the care of the lamps, the third being on shore; one of these two performs for a month the functions of a cook. Formerly, if we may believe public rumour, the lightship crews, isolated by continual tempests which rendered the sea impracticable, have been reduced to the extremest necessities, have even perished of hunger. To prevent the recurrence of such calamities, a steamboat or a good stout sailing-vessel regularly visits the lightship once a month. In the worst weather the communication is never interrupted for a longer period than six weeks, and the stock of provisions is always sufficient to last the crew for even a longer time.The lanterns in which the lamps are fixed are hung round the mast; during the day they are lowered on deck that they may be cleaned, and supplied afresh with oil; at night, this crown of lights is raised to its conspicuous position by means of a pulley. The ship is also provided with some small cannon and a gong. But, unfortunately, these signals are not always comprehended by foreign ships.The crew of the Scilly lightship, says Esquiros, have witnessed but two shipwrecks; in the one instance, they saved a single life; in the other, all the passengers, with the exception of the wife of a missionary. It is not, however, a part of their duty to go to the rescue of vessels in danger; and if the authorities admire, for obvious reasons they do not encourage such acts of heroism. Their sole and all-absorbing duty is to take care of the light. Thediscipline to which they are subjected is severe, and no man may quit his post under any pretence whatever. A sailor, in 1854, having been informed of his wife’s death, deserted the lightship, and repaired to London to attend her funeral. He was reprimanded, and it was only in consideration of the motive which had induced his absence that the authorities refrained from discharging him. The lightship of the Seven Stones, off the Scilly Islands, is the most exposed of all the vessels on the British coast;[58]its captain, however, considers that it rides much more easily on its anchors in a sea where waves are long and regular, than those ships which are moored in seas with short and contrary waves. He will tell you that his gallant barque is always ready for the tempest. And yet its deck is sometimes washed by the waves, and when the sea strikes against its broadside, the roar is like the discharge of a piece of artillery.On board every lightship the life of the crew is much the same. On Sunday, at dawn, the lantern is lowered, and the lamp-lighter cleans and prepares his lamps for the next night’s work. At eight o’clock everybody must be on the alert; the hammocks are hung up, and breakfast is served. Afterwards, the men wash and put on their uniform, of which they are very proud, for on its buttons figure the arms of the Trinity House. At half-past ten they assemble in the cabin, and the captain or mate performs divine service. At sunset the lighted lantern is hoisted up—the real standard of the vessel—and the crewagain meet together for prayer and the reading of the Scriptures. With the exception of the morning and evening services, the week-days close resemble the Sundays. Wednesday and Friday are the chief cleaning days, and the ship then shines with cleanliness. To watch over, and maintain in due order, the lighting apparatus; to keep watch on deck; to note seven times in every twenty-four hours the conditions of the wind and atmosphere; to attend to the condition of the mooring-chains;—such is the almost invariable circle of their occupations. Their leisure time, which is not inconsiderable, they employ in reading. A library is always kept on board, and the books are circulated from hand to hand, and ship to ship. Under such circumstances how miserable would be the condition of a man who could neither read nor write! Yet such is sometimes the case with a few on first entering the service; but whether it be the force of example, or the necessity of overcoming the oppressive ennui of idle hours, it generally happens that, with the assistance of the captain or mate, they more or less repair this absolute want of education. One of the best officers of the company is a man who taught himself reading and writing in order that he might obtain an engagement on board a lightship. The seamen also devote their leisure to all kinds of ingenious manual work, and some of them set to work as shoemakers, joiners, tailors, wood-carvers, and the like.
BOOK V.THE AUXILIARIES OF LIGHTHOUSES.
L
Lighthousesform thefirstline of the coast defences which man raises for his protection against the fury of the ocean. But there are many parts of the coasts of every maritime country which are unsuitable for their construction, whether they be built of stone or iron, and which, nevertheless, stand greatly in need of illumination. In England, especially, these points are numerous. Among others, we may refer to the Goodwin Sands—that fatal tract off the shore of Kent which has been the destruction of so many “tall ships” and “adventurous mariners,” whose name has for centuries been associated with the memory of the most deplorable disasters. On the entire coast of England there is probably no other locality so fatally connected with dismal stories of human suffering, and yet it was long impossibleto warn the sailor from it by any certain agency. Lighthouses could not be stationed on its shifting sands; and it seemed as if this one wild waste must of necessity be abandoned to the pitiless winds and not more compassionate seas. However, towards the close of the last century, the idea occurred to one Robert Hamblin of substituting floating lights for fixed lights—a lightshipfor a lighthouse.
Robert Hamblin was an experienced and reputable barber of Lynn, who had married the daughter of a shipowner of that busy little seaport, and in due time had become master of a vessel. He was engaged in the coasting trade—in carrying coal from Newcastle to other ports—and was thus well enabled to judge of the inadequate manner in which the eastern coast was lighted. Accident, after a time, introduced him to a man whose brain was full of grand projects, but who was cruelly hampered by poverty—David Avery; and the two, combining their resources—the one finding the money, the other the intellect—established at the Nore a floating light on board a ship, and assumed a right of levying tolls for the maintenance of this new pharos (A.D.1732).
It was impossible that the Trinity House could regard this assumption as other than an infraction of their legal privileges, though they were compelled to own that the lightship was successful, and that it proved of great assistance in the navigation of the intricate estuary of the Thames. Encouraged by the triumphant issue of his experiment, Avery boldly announced his design of placing a similar vessel among the waters of the Scilly Islands. Thecorporation of the Trinity House, in their capacity of protectors of British commerce, then laid a complaint before the Lords of the Admiralty; who, however, were either unwilling or unable to act. They next addressed themselves to the Crown, representing that it was illegal for any private individual to levy a tax on the mercantile marine; and acted with so much energy as to obtain a royal proclamation prohibiting the light at the Nore. Avery, whose schemes of acquiring almost boundless wealth were thus rudely broken up, appeared in person before the Board, and proposed to treat with them in reference to the Nore light. He asserted that he had expended a sum of £2000; and his offer was, that all right and title to the floating ship should remain for ever in the hands of the Trinity House, but that the tolls should be levied by him and his heirs for a period of sixty-one years, on payment of a yearly sum of £100. These terms were accepted.[56]
Such, briefly told, was the origin ofLightships.
The lightship, be it understood, is not employed only to indicate the position of a sand-bank, but as a beacon against perfidious currents, submarine whirlpools, or reefs which are hidden at certain hours by the high tide. We borrow from the lively pages of M. Esquiros a sketch of this most useful vessel:—
“When first seen, and especially if seen from a distance, a lightship closely resembles during the day an ordinary barque. But if examined from a nearer point of view, a very great difference between the two is readily discernible. The lightship floats, but it does not move; its short stoutmasts are without sails, and surmounted by large balls. Other ships represent motion; this, immobility. We ask of vessels, as a rule, that they shall obey the wind and the wave; we ask of the lightship that it shall resist them. What, indeed, would happen if it drifted before the gale? Like a meteor, the wandering light would deceive the pilot, instead of warning him. A ship which does not navigate—a fixed and fettered ship;—such is the ideal which the builder of the light-vessel keeps ever before his mind; and this ideal has naturally troubled the imagination of naval architects in more than one direction.
The form of the lightship varies according to its locality: in Ireland the hull is more elongated than in England; but in all cases the object to be attained is the same—resistance to the force of the winds and waves. It is desired that in the most violent tides, in the midst of the angriest billows, and in situations the most exposed to the influence of the currents, it shall drag as little as possible upon its anchor. That it may at all times and in all conditions preserve the same maritime position, it is securely moored. Like a galley-slave, riveted to an iron chain, it can move neither to the right nor to the left. The length of its cable is, of course, regulated by circumstances: at the Seven Stones, where it rides in 240 feet deep of water, it measures upwards of a third of a mile in length. Some years ago it was found that the addition of certain ingenious shackles (so to speak) controlled its movements; and by various improvements in its construction, the result has been obtained that, slave though it be, it shall weigh as little as possible on its mooring-chains. Usually, the moorings consist of a chain lying along the sea-bed for1260 feet, with an anchor of 32 cwt., in the shape of a mushroom at either end, and a swivel in the centre, to which is attached a veering cable of 630 feet of chain.
THE LIGHTSHIP.
THE LIGHTSHIP.
Few instances are on record of a lightship having broken loose from its moorings, and none of its having suffered shipwreck. Each vessel carries, for emergencies, two bower anchors of 20 cwt. and 15 cwt.; and cables respectively 1260 and 900 feet long. Nor is it known that the crew have, on any occasion, or whatever the fury of the tempest, voluntarily changed their position. If, however, the ship should be driven from its place by the irresistible force of the elements, so that its light may become a source of danger to the mariner, they hoist a red signal and fire a gun, and generally it is soon restored to its normal situation. The peril of drifting, and the presence of mindwhich the necessary manœuvres require in such an event, are evidences, nevertheless, of the courage and resolution of the men who live, day and night, exposed to the caprice of the seas. As it is necessary to prepare for every accident, a spare vessel is always held in readiness at the headquarters of each district; owing to the telegraphic network which now surrounds our shores, the slightest mishap is soon made known to the authorities; and often before sunset the reserve ship, towed by a powerful steam-tug, occupies the place of the vessel which the storm has driven from its moorings. The lightships of the Trinity House are paintedred; those of Ireland,black. Experiment has shown that red and black are the two colours which most vividly contrast with the prevailing hue of the sea. The name of the vessel is inscribed in large letters on its sides. A flag, bearing a cross quartered with four ships, waves at the stern. These are the arms of the Trinity House.
Our British and Irish lightships numbered fifty-nine in 1870. Each, like the lighthouse on shore, is distinguished by its own peculiar aspect—by certain differences which assist the navigator in recognizing it, and, consequently, in recognizing the particular danger he is called upon to avoid. Some have one light, some two lights, some three lights. Of these lights many are fixed, many revolving, many coloured. The building and equipment of one of these vessels[57]will cost from £2000 to £3000. Its maintenance, including the cost of oil, the wages and provisions of the men, amounts to about £1200 per annum.
The United States stand next to Great Britain in the number of lightships which they support in the interests of commercial enterprise. At one time, however, their organization was very indifferent; but of later years the system followed in England has been adopted with a few unimportant modifications. The American ships are painted in longitudinal stripes of varied colours. In very bad weather they frequently quit their posts, and return into harbour.
France has fewer lightships than either Great Britain or America, and onlyfivewhose burthen exceeds seventy tons.
Let us now say a few words in reference to the resolute crews who man these vessels.
The crew of an English lightship consists of a master, a mate, and nine men. Three out of the nine are intrusted with the service of the lamps; the six others, who always include among them a good carpenter, attend to the order and cleanliness of the vessel. It must be remembered, however, that the nine men are never all on board together; one-third are always enjoying an interval of rest on shore. Experience has proved that a perpetual sojourn on board a ship of this kind is too much for the moral and physical forces of human nature. The crushing monotony of the same scenes, the eternal spectacle of foam-crested waters rolling wherever the eye is turned, the ceaseless noise of the winds, the everlasting murmur of the ocean—swelling at times into so terrible a roar that it renders inaudible the human voice—could not fail to exercise a depressing influence on the mind. But even allowing forthe occasional vacation spent upon land, the life is so uniform and unexciting that it is wonderful any man can be found to endure it; and the crews of our lightships may assuredly be ranked among the curiosities of civilization.
To mitigate the rigours of so strange a profession, the Trinity Board provides that each man shall pass one month on shore for every two months he spends on board; while the captain and the mate change places every month. But grim old Neptune does not always permit this system of reliefs to be regularly carried out. It often happens in winter that the storm and the tide are opposed to every kind of disembarkation; and between the lightship and the Scilly Islands, for instance, weeks elapse before the communication can be re-established. The men ashore are occupied in cleaning cables, painting buoys, filling the oil tins, and similar duties. We know not whether what was acknowledged by an old lightship “hand” is true of all; that all the time he was on land, he dreamed of the sea; all the time he was on board the lightship, he dreamed of the land.
The visitor of an English lightship cannot fail to be struck with its admirable condition, and with the fine appearance of its crew. Sun-tanned and weather-beaten, they are models of English sailors: frank, self-reliant, unassuming, obedient, nimble, vigorous, and resolute. They seem well-contented with their lot, and if they complain at all, it is of the quantity and quality of their provisions. The ration of bread (seven pounds a week) is not quite sufficient for hearty men, and I confess, from my own experience, that the sharp air to which they are exposed is well adapted to whet one’s appetite. When theyare at sea, their food is supplied by the Trinity House; when on shore, they receive instead one shilling and threepence a day. Their wages are fifty-five shillings per month; the master receives £80 per annum.
Two men at a time are charged with the care of the lamps, the third being on shore; one of these two performs for a month the functions of a cook. Formerly, if we may believe public rumour, the lightship crews, isolated by continual tempests which rendered the sea impracticable, have been reduced to the extremest necessities, have even perished of hunger. To prevent the recurrence of such calamities, a steamboat or a good stout sailing-vessel regularly visits the lightship once a month. In the worst weather the communication is never interrupted for a longer period than six weeks, and the stock of provisions is always sufficient to last the crew for even a longer time.
The lanterns in which the lamps are fixed are hung round the mast; during the day they are lowered on deck that they may be cleaned, and supplied afresh with oil; at night, this crown of lights is raised to its conspicuous position by means of a pulley. The ship is also provided with some small cannon and a gong. But, unfortunately, these signals are not always comprehended by foreign ships.
The crew of the Scilly lightship, says Esquiros, have witnessed but two shipwrecks; in the one instance, they saved a single life; in the other, all the passengers, with the exception of the wife of a missionary. It is not, however, a part of their duty to go to the rescue of vessels in danger; and if the authorities admire, for obvious reasons they do not encourage such acts of heroism. Their sole and all-absorbing duty is to take care of the light. Thediscipline to which they are subjected is severe, and no man may quit his post under any pretence whatever. A sailor, in 1854, having been informed of his wife’s death, deserted the lightship, and repaired to London to attend her funeral. He was reprimanded, and it was only in consideration of the motive which had induced his absence that the authorities refrained from discharging him. The lightship of the Seven Stones, off the Scilly Islands, is the most exposed of all the vessels on the British coast;[58]its captain, however, considers that it rides much more easily on its anchors in a sea where waves are long and regular, than those ships which are moored in seas with short and contrary waves. He will tell you that his gallant barque is always ready for the tempest. And yet its deck is sometimes washed by the waves, and when the sea strikes against its broadside, the roar is like the discharge of a piece of artillery.
On board every lightship the life of the crew is much the same. On Sunday, at dawn, the lantern is lowered, and the lamp-lighter cleans and prepares his lamps for the next night’s work. At eight o’clock everybody must be on the alert; the hammocks are hung up, and breakfast is served. Afterwards, the men wash and put on their uniform, of which they are very proud, for on its buttons figure the arms of the Trinity House. At half-past ten they assemble in the cabin, and the captain or mate performs divine service. At sunset the lighted lantern is hoisted up—the real standard of the vessel—and the crewagain meet together for prayer and the reading of the Scriptures. With the exception of the morning and evening services, the week-days close resemble the Sundays. Wednesday and Friday are the chief cleaning days, and the ship then shines with cleanliness. To watch over, and maintain in due order, the lighting apparatus; to keep watch on deck; to note seven times in every twenty-four hours the conditions of the wind and atmosphere; to attend to the condition of the mooring-chains;—such is the almost invariable circle of their occupations. Their leisure time, which is not inconsiderable, they employ in reading. A library is always kept on board, and the books are circulated from hand to hand, and ship to ship. Under such circumstances how miserable would be the condition of a man who could neither read nor write! Yet such is sometimes the case with a few on first entering the service; but whether it be the force of example, or the necessity of overcoming the oppressive ennui of idle hours, it generally happens that, with the assistance of the captain or mate, they more or less repair this absolute want of education. One of the best officers of the company is a man who taught himself reading and writing in order that he might obtain an engagement on board a lightship. The seamen also devote their leisure to all kinds of ingenious manual work, and some of them set to work as shoemakers, joiners, tailors, wood-carvers, and the like.