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. The corporation 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] [56] The second light-vessel established off the British coast was the _Dudgeon_ (Lincolnshire), in 1736. Such, briefly told, was the origin of Lightships. 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 stout masts 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.