The charm of danger weaned Whiteside from his love of the gentle art of fiddle-making, and he practised it no more, but became the Quaker’s lighthouse keeper at the Smalls. He managed it profitably for his master—let us hope he did it efficiently; but he burned in his lamps on the average only 200 gallons of oil during the year. The dues soon brought the Quaker in a handsome income, and with that he was satisfied: he took no personal interest in the lighthouse or its management, all which he left to a care-taker who lived hard by St. David’s Head. Knowing, as this man must have known, how uncertain was the communication with the Smalls, he should certainly have taken care that his men on the rock were well provided with materials for maintaining the light and with provisions for their own support. But there is evidence that he did neither one nor the other, and that Whiteside and those with him undoubtedly felt the neglect. Still, though the wind might rock their dwelling, and drive the spray far above it, and though they might sometimes regard their lot as hard and complain of it as solitary, they seem, during the first twelve months of their residence, to have been but once in actual alarm for their personal safety. Whiteside’s letter, and his men’s postscript, written on that occasion, will best describe their feelings, their evident anticipation of a fate similar to that which, some seventy years before, had befallen the inmates of the Eddystone:— ‘FROM THE SMALLS, ‘_February 1, 1777._ ‘SIR, ‘Being now in a most dangerous and distressed condition upon the Smalls, do hereby trust providence will bring to your mind this, which prayeth for your immediate assistance to fetch us off the Smalls, before the next spring [tides], or we fear we shall perish, our water near all gone, our fire quite gone, and our house in a most melancholy manner. ‘I doubt not but you will fetch us from here as fast as possible. We can be got off at some part of the tide, almost any weather. I need say no more, but remain your distressed humble servant, ‘HY. WHITESIDE. ‘_Postscript._ We were distressed in a gale of wind upon January 13, since which we have not been able to keep any light; but we could not have kept any light above sixteen nights longer for want of oil and candles, which makes us murmur and think we are forgotten. We doubt not that whoever picks up this will be so merciful as to cause it to be sent to Thos. Williams, Esq. Trelethin, near St. David’s, Wales.’