Of course these lightships are not as useful as lighthouses; but it is pretty certain that to do what Gawen Smith wanted to do in the days of Queen Bess—reclaim the Goodwins and build a lighthouse on them—is practically impossible. Projects for doing this came before the Trinity House in plenty during the first half of the present century, one being to enclose that part of the Sands called ‘Trinity Bay’ and form it into a harbour of refuge; and, according to the author of _Memorials of the Goodwin Sands_, the Trinity House itself, at the close of the seventeenth century, made trial borings, to great depths, to see if a solid bottom could be reached: it could not. But although it may be impossible to build a lighthouse on the Goodwin Sands, it must not pass unnoticed that between 1840 and 1850 at least two temporarily successful attempts were made to erect what their inventors termed ‘refuge beacons’ on the Goodwins: one of these was a mast forty feet high, sunk into the sand in a strong frame of oak, on which mast was fitted a gallery—never less than sixteen feet above high-water mark. This gallery, so its inventor stated, was capable of holding thirty or forty persons. In it a supply of food and drink could be left in a properly protected case, and a flag, which the shipwrecked persons who availed themselves of the refuge could immediately hoist, and thus acquaint the coastguard on the mainland of their presence there. The gallery could be reached by means of a chain ladder from the sands, and a ‘basket chair’ was kept in readiness in the gallery, in which might be placed persons too exhausted to ascend the ladder; this would be easily lowered and hauled up again to the top. This wonderful erection stood for nearly three years and then disappeared—whether run down or washed away nobody knows. It would be interesting to learn if during that period the wonderful paraphernalia was ever put in operation, if any shipwrecked mariners availed themselves of the refuge gallery, and if so, whether or not they found a comfortable meal awaiting them! On the whole, then—though it is perhaps dangerous to predict that anything is impossible—it may be stated as exceedingly improbable that the Goodwin Sands will ever be turned into _terra firma_, or that a lighthouse will be built upon them; and without penetrating into the secrets of the official breast, it may be taken as correct that such is the opinion of the present Trinity Board. Could such a work be carried out, its advantages would be, of course, enormous. As a fortification and place of defence of the Downs and Channel its value is incalculable, and that, as some of us may remember, was the opinion of our great commander, the Duke of Wellington. CHAPTER IX DUNGENESS LIGHTHOUSE