Obviously, the task of erecting a lighthouse varies considerably with the situation. On the mainland construction is straightforward, and offers little more difficulty than the building of a house. The work assumes its most romantic and fascinating form when it is associated with a small rocky islet out to sea, such as the Eddystone, Skerryvore, or Minot’s Ledge; or with a treacherous, exposed stretch of sand, such as that upon which the Rothersand light is raised. Under such conditions the operation is truly herculean, and the ingenuity and resource of the engineer are taxed to a superlative degree; then he is pitted against Nature in her most awful guise. Wind and wave, moreover, are such formidable and relentless antagonists that for the most momentary failure of vigilance and care the full penalty is exacted. Then there are the fiercely scurrying currents, tides, breakers, and surf, against which battle must be waged, with the odds so overwhelmingly ranged against frail human endeavour that advance can only be made by inches. The lighthouse engineer must possess the patience of a Job, the tenacity of a limpet, a determination which cannot be measured, and a perseverance which defies galling delays and repeated rebuffs. Perils of an extreme character beset him on every hand; thrilling escape and sensational incident are inseparable from his calling. The first step is the survey of the site, the determination of the character of the rock and of its general configuration, and the takings of levels and measurements for the foundations. When the rugged hump is only a few feet in diameter little latitude is afforded the engineer for selection, but in instances where the islet is of appreciable area some little time may be occupied in deciding just where the structure shall be placed. It seems a simple enough task to determine; one capable of solution within a few minutes, and so for the most part it is--not from choice, but necessity--when once the surface of the rock is gained. The paramount difficulty is to secure a landing upon the site. The islet is certain to be the centre of madly surging currents, eddies, and surf, demanding wary approach in a small boat, while the search for a suitable point upon which to plant a foot is invariably perplexing. Somehow, the majority of these bleak, wave-swept rocks have only one little place where a landing may be made, and that only at certain infrequent periods, the discovery of which in the first instance often taxes the engineer sorely. Often weeks will be expended in reconnoitring the position, awaiting a favourable wind and a placid sea. Time to the surveyor must be no object. He is the sport of the elements, and he must curb his impatience. To do otherwise is to court disaster. The actual operations on the rock may only occupy twenty minutes or so, but the task of landing is equalled by that of getting off again--the latter frequently a more hazardous job than the former.