"If I remember rightly, it was sometime in October of 1879, when the steam tender landed four men with drills, hammers, and such like, to say nothing of provisions, fuel, a stove, an' some canvas for them to make a shanty of. There those poor, wretched creeters hung to the rock like starfish, not able to do much of anything more than keep themselves from tumbling off into the water. It was three days before they got five other men an' a small derrick on to that blessed rock, an' for near to two weeks they had nothin' to shelter them from the rain and the spray but that 'ere square of canvas they had carried out."

"I wonder it didn't blow away," Sidney said thoughtfully.

"Ay, so it would, lad, if their first work hadn't been to put ring-bolts in the rock, an' lash it down to them."

"Didn't they do anything all those two weeks, except cling to the rock, sir?"

"Oh, yes, they managed to chisel out a kind of a hole at one side where they could bolt some timbers to the solid foundation, an' cover them with canvas. That was enough to give 'em a place to crawl into when the sea ran too high; but look you, lad; I ain't certain that I'm tellin' this story straight, so supposin' we go back to the watch-room, an' I'll give it to you set down in print, the same as I read it, then there won't be any mistake."

It was not pleasant to be scrambling about on the ledge while the fog was yet so dense as to be very nearly like rain, and Sidney was well pleased to accede to the proposition.

When they were come to the watch-room Captain Eph gave to the lad the book in which the remainder of the story of Tillamook Rock light could be found, and Sidney read the following, as it had been written by Mr. Johnson, chief clerk of the Light-House Board:

"After setting up the main derrick and cutting a pathway up the face of the rock, they opened a bench around it by suspending the workmen on staging supported by bolts let into the rock's crest. The bench once formed, the reduction was pushed to the center. The outer surface of the rock was easily removed with moderate charges of black powder, but the nucleus was hard and firm, and giant powder was necessary to open the mass, when large charges of black powder acted satisfactorily.

"The working party, in spite of their rude, uncomfortable quarters, worked diligently through the winter with good results. But the work was much delayed by spells of weather so bad that little could be done. The coast was visited by a tornado in January, which caused the waves, reflected from the rock, to be carried by the wind over its crest, so that for many days continuously the receding floods poured over the eastern slope, making work impossible.

"On one such day this cataract carried away the supply-house, and even endangered the quarters of the working party. For more than two weeks at this time it was impossible for the steam-tender which supplied their wants to cross the bar at the mouth of the Columbia River to go to their assistance; when, after sixteen days, communication was reopened, the party was found to be safe, but much in want of fresh provisions. These were supplied by an endless line running between the mast of the supply-vessel and a ring-bolt driven into the top of the rock, in water-tight casks suspended from a traveler by slings, which was made to move along the line.

"In May the top of the rock was leveled and a foundation made about 88 feet above the sea, and, on the 31st, three masons, four derricks, a small engine, and the appliances for laying the masonry, were landed. The stone, a fine grained, compact basalt, quarried near Portland and cut to dimensions by contract, was delivered at Astoria and shipped to the rock on the tender. The first cargo was landed on June 17; on the 22nd the corner-stone was laid, and then the rest of the material was shipped to the rock as the weather permitted.

"The light is forty-eight feet above the base of the tower and 136 feet above sea-level. It was shown for the first time on February 1, 1881. If it had been finished a month earlier it would possibly have saved the English iron bark Lupata of 1,039 tons burden, which was dashed to pieces on the main shore, not a mile from the light-house, with a loss of the vessel, its freight, and every one of the twenty persons on board. The bark came so near the rock that the creaking of the blocks and the voices of the officers giving orders were distinctly heard, but the night was so dark that nothing could be seen except her lights. The superintendent of construction had a bon-fire built on the rock as soon as possible, but the vessel was probably lost before the signal could be seen. It was on this night that the working party lost their supply-house and came so near losing their quarters, if not their lives."

"Of course I have seen a good many light-houses," Sidney said as he finished reading that which has been set down; "but I never understood before how much labor must be done, and how many dangers met before the lamps can be in position to point out the way to sailors."

"There's a good deal to this business that those ashore don't give heed to," Captain Eph replied. "After the lamps are ready for lightin' there must be men hired to take care of 'em, an' if you'll look a bit further back in that book, you'll see that the Board don't pick up anybody as keeper who is loafin' around out of a job."

The old man turned the leaves until having found the matter to which he referred, and then said as if announcing some important discovery:

"Jest read that 'ere, an' then you'll know more about the kind of men who have charge of lights in this country than you ever did before," and Sidney read aloud:

"The class of men from whom keepers are selected is so good that the punishment of dismissal is infrequently inflicted. But it follows swiftly in two cases. A keeper found intoxicated is not only summarily dismissed the service, but he is instantly ejected from the station; and a keeper who allows his light to go out is dismissed without regard to his excuse or his previous good conduct.

"The Board considers it the duty of every light keeper to stand by his light as long as the light-house stands, and that for him to desert it when in danger is as cowardly as for a soldier to leave his guns on the advance of an enemy.

"His failure to keep his light burning, especially in time of danger, may cause the wreck of vessels looking for it, and result in the loss of much property and many lives.

"Keepers are trained to consider the care of the light and the light-house property their paramount duty, beyond any personal consideration; and the esprit de corps is such that instances have happened where the keepers on duty have, as in the case of the first light on Minot's Ledge, gone down with their light-house and died at their post; others, where the keeper has saved his lens, letting his family shift for themselves; and there are repeated instances where the keeper has saved his light-house property and lost his own.

"An instance of heroism is that of the keepers of Sharp's Island light-house, in Chesapeake Bay. It was lifted from its foundations, thrown over on its side, and carried away by ice early in February, 1881. The keeper and his assistant clung to the fallen house, and, although one of their boats remained uninjured, they were adrift in the bay sixteen and a half hours without fire or food, always in imminent danger, as the heavy floating ice often piled up against and threatened to swamp the house. It grounded, however, on an island shortly after midnight, at high tide, and was full of water.

"Being satisfied that it would not float off again, the two keepers went ashore in their boat, and when the tide had fallen they returned, saved and took to the shore the lens, its pedestal, the oil, and library, much damaged by water, and even the empty oilcans, and then reported the facts through their inspector to the Board.

"Meantime the keepers of another light-house, fearing the ice, had deserted their post, and gone on shore. The fact that no vessels could have needed their lights while the ice remained unbroken, and that they returned to their post when the danger had passed, did not avail them. So soon as the fact of their desertion was determined they were dismissed the service, and the two keepers who had spent those terrible hours afloat in Sharp's Island light-house, and then saved its apparatus, were highly complimented by a letter direct from the Board itself, and then were appointed to the deserters' places.

"The appointment of light-house keepers is restricted to persons between the ages of eighteen and fifty, who can read, write, and keep accounts, are able to do the requisite manual labor, to pull and sail a boat, and have enough mechanical ability to make the necessary minor repairs about the premises, and keep them painted, whitewashed, and in order. After three months of service, the appointee is examined by an inspector, who, if he finds that he has the qualities needed at that especial station, certifies that fact to the Light-House Board, when, upon its approval, the full appointment is issued by the Treasury Department.

"Although but one grade of keeper is recognized by law, usage has divided keepers into a number of grades, with different pay as well as different duties, and with promotion running through the various grades. At one light-house there may be but one keeper; at another, a principal keeper and an assistant; and there is a station where there is a principal keeper with four assistants, the fourth having the lowest grade and the lowest pay, and the others having been appointed at that grade, and promoted as merit was shown and vacancies occurred; or they may have been transferred and promoted from another station.

"Although persons are appointed to the service and assigned to a given station, they are frequently transferred from one station to another, as the interest of the service may demand, and while it is usual to consult a keeper's wishes in his assignments, there is nothing in the regulations to prevent the transfer of a man appointed in Maine to a station in Georgia; and occasionally keepers are, with their own consent, transferred from one district to another at a great distance. Young men who have seen some sea service are preferred as assistants at the larger stations; and at stations requiring but one keeper, retired sea captains or mates who have families are frequently selected.

"Keepers are forbidden to engage in any business which can interfere with their presence at their stations, or with the proper and timely performance of their light-house duties; but it is no unusual thing to find a keeper working at his station as a shoemaker, tailor, or in some similar capacity, and there are light keepers who fill a neighboring pulpit, who hold commissions as justice of the peace, and there are still others who do duty as school teachers without neglecting their light-houses.

"The Board has done much to make keepers comfortable. They are furnished with quarters for themselves, and in certain cases for their families, and when so far distant from market as to make its carriage equal or exceed its cost, with fuel and rations. Suitable boats are furnished stations inaccessible by land; and at those stations on shore, distant from markets, barns are built for their cattle and horses. Something also has been done for the intellectual needs of the keepers and their families by supplying them with libraries. These are arranged in cases so constructed that they make rather a neat appearance when set upright on a table, and they need only to be closed and locked to be ready for transportation. They contain on an average about fifty volumes each. One of these libraries is left at a station for some three months, when it is exchanged and passed on to another station. This is usually done when the inspector makes his quarterly inspection; so each of the stations to which libraries are furnished sees some two hundred different books each year."

"Now you can see that we keepers must have some backbone to us, else we couldn't get the appointment, or, getting one, wouldn't hold it very long," Captain Eph said in a tone of satisfaction when Sidney ceased reading, and the lad, at a loss for reply to such a remark, asked:

"Are you all sailormen here?"

"Ay, lad, an' have all been soldiers – there's no need of tellin' you that much in Sammy's case. I've been cap'n of a fisherman nigh to ten years, an' my last cruise Uncle Zenas sailed with me as cook, while Sammy gave an imitation of bein' mate. We went inter the army together, an' have grown up amongst each other, so to speak, till we're jest like three Siamese twins. You won't ever hear any yippin' or scoldin' from us, for – "

"Ahoy there!" came in angry tones from the kitchen. "Are you goin' to let a good dinner go to waste jest because you're too lazy to come down an' eat it? I don't count on keepin' the table set a great while longer, for I want things kind'er ship-shape in case Sonny's father should tumble in on us unexpected-like!"

"That's Uncle Zenas," Captain Eph said in a whisper. "You might think, to hear him howl, that he'd lost his temper; but bless you, lad, he's as mild as a suckin' dove."

"I suppose we ought to go down as soon as we can," Sidney suggested timidly, "for even if he is mild, it sounds as if he was growing angry every minute."

Uncle Zenas was shouting to Mr. Peters, speaking more sharply than he had to the keeper, and Captain Eph said with a feeble attempt at a smile:

"I reckon we'll mosey along, lad, jest to keep him from worryin'," and the cook's superior officer made all haste to gain the kitchen, Sidney following close at his heels.