This narrow escape so terrified the men that on the following day the engineer found only eight of his staff of thirty-two, who were willing to venture upon the rock again. When this gang returned in the evening, their safety appeared to restore courage to their companions, so that next day all expressed their readiness to resume their tasks. The fitful character of the work did not leave its mark so distinctly as might be supposed. Whenever there was a chance, the men worked with an amazing will and zeal; and although the first stone of the tower was not laid until July 10, 1808, three courses of masonry were completed when the undertaking was suspended at the end of November for the winter. The succeeding season’s toil saw the addition of about 27 feet more of the tower, which was finally completed by the close of 1810. The building was 120 feet in height, and the light was shown for the first time on February 1, 1811. In view of the difficulties which had to be surmounted, this “ruddy gem of changeful light,” as it is described by Sir Walter Scott, was not particularly costly. By the time it was brought into commission, £61,330, or $306,650, had been expended. In 1902, after nearly a century’s service, the tower was provided with a new light-room, so as to bring it into conformity with modern practice. While the Bell Rock tower stands as a monument to the engineering ability of Robert Stevenson, the Skerryvore, on the western coast, is a striking tribute to the genius of his son, Alan. For forty years or more previous to 1844 one ship at least had been caught and shattered every year on this tumbled mass of gneiss. From the navigator’s point of view, the danger of this spot lay chiefly in the fact that it was so widely scattered. The ridge runs like a broken backbone for a distance of some eight miles in a west-south-westerly direction, and it is flanked on each side by isolated rocks which jut from a badly-broken sea-bed. The whole mass lies some distance out to sea, being ten miles south-west of Tyree and twenty-four miles west of Iona. In rough weather the whole of the rocks are covered, and the waves, beating heavily on the mass, convert the scene into one of indescribable tumult.