The ocean made an attempt to defeat the workmanship and skill of the engineers in the very winter following the opening of the lighthouse. On the lee side of the tower there is a copper lightning-conductor, 1 inch thick by 1½ inches wide, which is let into a channel cut in the stonework, so that it comes flush with the face of the building. This conductor is fixed at intervals of 5 feet in a substantial manner. The winter storms of 1872 tore some 10 feet out of this channel near the base of the structure, and wrenched the screws from their sockets; while at the kitchen window level, which is 92 feet above high-water, the rod was similarly disturbed for some distance. It will be seen that the waves which assail Dhu-Heartach are by no means to be despised. CHAPTER IX THE FASTNET, THE OUTPOST OF EUROPE Four and a half miles out to sea, separated from Cape Clear, the most south-westerly point of Ireland, by a treacherous channel, rises the jagged, formidable shape of the Fastnet. To mariners the rock, with its brilliant shaft of light by night, has developed into more than a mere beacon. It is the first and last light of the Old World on the eastward and westward passages across the Atlantic. All passing vessels are “spoken” from this point to London, New York, and elsewhere. It was in the early fifties of the past century that the engineer conceived the idea of planting a light upon this lonely crag. Maritime interests had agitated for a beacon for many years previously, since, although a warning gleam was thrown from the station on Cape Clear, this ray often was invisible, or partially obscured, owing to the wreaths of cloud and mist which draped the summit of the headland. The builder was Mr. George Halpin, engineer to the Port of Dublin Corporation, which was responsible at that time for the illumination of the shores of Ireland. His task was not to be despised. The Fastnet itself is merely a pinnacle, rising precipitously to a height of about 100 feet above low-water, but it is the centre of many dangers. It is flanked on all sides by needle-points and ridges; the currents run strongly, and the tides are wicked, rendering approach uncertain even in the smoothest weather. The indefatigable engineer attacked his task boldly. He chose the highest point of the rock as the site for his tower, which was a cast-iron cylindrical building, 91 feet in height. The lantern was equipped with a revolving apparatus which threw a flash of 38,000 candle-power for fifteen seconds once every two minutes from an elevation of 148 feet, rotation being obtained through a belt and a weight-driven clock. Its erection was a tedious undertaking; although a start was made in 1848, it was not until January 1, 1854, that the light first cast its welcome rays over the wastes of the Atlantic, by which time £20,000, or $100,000, had been spent upon the undertaking. [Illustration: _From the “Scientific American.”_