The Last of the South African Lighthouse Keepers: Unexpected Guests 1

 

A series by Suzanne-Jo Leff Patterson

Cape Recife Lighthouse (1851)

The squabble

Latitude - 34° 01' 44’’ S       Longitude - 25° 42' 04 '' E

As essential as the stars which glide across the night skies are guiding beacons to the mariner, so too are the sweeping beams from lighthouses as they guide mariners safely along their coastal paths to their ports of destination. Many a captain, on sighting a lighthouse after hours of darkness, wild weather and high seas, would have felt a profound sense of relief in knowing that the lighthouse was manned by a vigilant Lighthouse Keeper.

Christmas-time was no different, as mariners went about their business and Lightkeepers maintained their routines of performing their duties. 

Japie Greeff spent a number of Christmas seasons stationed at Cape Recife Lighthouse on the southern tip of Algoa Bay in the Eastern Cape. The Head Lightkeeper on Christmas Day would often allow Keepers to lunch with their families and sometimes spend the rest of their shift at their cottages, but they knew they would always have to remain watchful to shipping movements.

Prior to the establishment of the manned light and often bathed in swirling mists and ghostly atmosphere, Cape Recife has claimed many victims on the deadly spine of rocks of Thunderbolt Reef, named after the steam-driven man o’ war, HMS Thunderbolt, which ran onto the reef in 1847.

During its lifetime, Cape Recife Light appears to have been an ill-fated Lighthouse and after Lighthouse Keeper G Feather resigned in 1855, a strange pattern emerged.  Subsequent to his departure, Lighthouse Keepers up until 1870 were appointed  . . .  then dismissed. Lighthouse Keeper A. Thompson resigned in 1871 and the Lightkeeper in 1872 absconded.  A number of Light Keepers between 1949 and 1972 died at the Lighthouse.  Added to this intrigue, although the date is unclear, but thought to be in the 1900s, three Lighthouse Keepers had a squabble whilst working on hoisted scaffolding and two of them fell to their deaths from the balcony of the tower.

Japie Greeff tells us of his own personal experiences whilst stationed at Cape Recife Lighthouse from 1986 – 1990. 

‘During my nightshift and after my hourly inspection had been completed around the buildings, I went back to my office and sat down in my chair to relax when I was startled by a loud bang.  I got up to investigate the origin of the noise and noticed the galvanised dustbin lid lying right across the other side of the building.  The dustbin itself was dancing from side-to-side, as if someone was trying to tip it over. I stood there in absolute disbelief. There was no explanation to account for this strange occurrence.  Suddenly, I was struck by the thought of those two Lighthouse Keepers who had died at Cape Recife, having fallen from a scaffold.  Could this be the two Keepers still squabbling?  I called their names out loud and said, ‘Leave me alone!  I am here to do my job as Lighthouse Keeper and I have no part in your difference of opinion.  If you wish to continue to be quarrelsome, go elsewhere!’  All was quiet for the rest of the shift!

The next day I told my colleague about the night’s disturbances and he just smiled and said that he would often go out and tell them to shut up!

I soon became familiar with this ‘ghost business’ as these two could not settle down to each other.’

Will we ever know what caused the dissatisfaction?  Why were these two still in a state of quarrelsome disagreement?

Just perhaps, this Christmas, it may come to pass that these two Lighthouse Keepers will put their history behind them and find harmony and agreement, or perhaps, they are already well on their way to resolving their discord by amicably agreeing to disagree in the mistiness of Cape Recife Lighthouse.

Celebrating lightkeepers

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcIXFra4_x8   Lightkeeper's Song

Lady lightkeeper

Unknown lighthousekeeper

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDqhQ9wlQxQ missing lightkeepers

My lighthousekeeper ancestor

When my great grandfather, Thomas Gadsden, arrived in Natal on the barque Priscilla in 1863, there was no lighthouse on the Bluff – the wooded promontory which sheltered the harbour of Port Natal, later named D’Urban.

Despite numerous shipwrecks in the area, especially during the settler ship era of the 1850s, and the pleas of the town’s inhabitants, no beacon had yet been erected as an aid to navigation. Whether Thomas noticed the lack of a light on the Bluff in the early days of his arrival is not recorded, and in any case his priority at that stage was to find gainful employment. He acquired the position of turnkey at the Durban gaol, probably not a well-paid occupation and certainly without much job satisfaction. It seems likely that Thomas would look around in the hope of more suitable employment.

The British colonial government finally overcame its reluctance to provide a lighthouse for the Port and the foundation stone was laid on 22 November 1864. However, with various delays impeding progress, it wasn’t until two years later that the structure was completed in October 1866. During that time, Thomas had undoubtedly become acquainted with the famous Port Captain, William Bell, whose daughter Eliza Ann would later be Thomas’s wife, and there must have been many an unofficial discussion on the topic of the new lighthouse.  Whether Thomas went through normal bureaucratic government channels, making application for the position of lightkeeper, with his father-in-law to be putting in a good word for him, or whether Bell had more influence in the matter, is uncertain. There’s no question that Thomas’s future looked much brighter: he would have a reasonable and regular salary and an extra perquisite in the shape of a keeper’s cottage.

Opening of the Bluff Lighthouse 1866

As far as we know, Thomas had no experience of lighthousekeeping, though he may have had some maritime knowledge which would come in handy. His mother Mary Ann Gadsden had been part-owner of at least one vessel, the Susan, which is on record as having been involved in a collision with another ship on a voyage between Liverpool and Waterford, Ireland, in the 1830s.  In any case, as soon as Thomas was appointed as keeper of the Bluff lighthouse he would be given very detailed instructions as to what was expected of him. He would soon discover that lighthousekeeping was no sinecure.

At that time, Natal was a fledgling colony, its population diminished in numbers since a downturn in the economy during the 1860s had led to some of the settlers of the Byrne years leaving for fresh pastures in Australia, or even returning to England. The town was still a straggle of unpaved streets and most houses were of wattle and daub, tough some public buildings, such as the Court House, were of stone.

The Bluff was sparsely populated, densely wooded and inaccessible other than by boat across from the Point or via a track constructed by Richard Godden for conveying building materials. Therefore, the lighthousekeeper would not be in easy reach of such civilization as existed below in the town of Durban. Provisions of all kinds would have to be brought by boat and then hauled up the steep hill to be offloaded at the lighthouse. Another serious matter was the lack of fresh water, which also had to be carried in barrels for the use of the keeper and his family. Thomas wrote to the authorities in some distress concerning the water problem. It would not be completely resolved for some time and would have drastic results for one of Thomas’s children, Phillip, who died in infancy of typhoid (a water-borne disease rife in the Colony until well into the twentieth century).

Hunting was good, the Bluff being home to various species of buck as well as monkeys, birds and other wildlife. The sea was at Thomas’s doorstep and like most keepers he would have spent some of his spare time fishing.

View of Durban and the Bay from the Bluff, as Thomas Gadsden would have seen it.

Unfortunately, Thomas left us no written record of his years as keeper, though gradually a picture has been built up of what his life must have been like. It was in many ways idyllic, looking out over the beautiful Bay with its continual stream of shipping, happy with his lovely wife and their growing children and kept busy with his duties. His brother-in-law, Douglas Bell, became Assistant Keeper for some years. The keepers worked in shifts and there was plenty for them both to do, keeping the equipment maintained and everything shipshape and well-polished. Failure to keep the light burning throughout each night would result in instant dismissal.

How Eliza Ann adjusted to the somewhat isolated life, near the town but not of it, is not clear. The shock of losing her eldest child, Phillip, must have been severe, though infant mortality at the time was generally high. She had two further sons and two daughters, but like most mothers never forgot her lost first-born.  We know of his existence only through his baptismal record in the St Paul’s register. From the time of Phillip’s death Eliza Ann’s health slowly deteriorated and Thomas, anxious about her, began to suffer from stress.

The constant night watches took their toll on Thomas's own health and he made several applications to be removed from his lighthouse duties and be given other employment.

After an argument with the then Port Captain, Alexander Airth (William Bell had died in 1869) Thomas was dismissed from his post. He pleaded to be reinstated, writing that he and his wife and children were reduced to living in a tent on the Bluff.

His plea went unheard. This disaster took a further toll on Eliza Ann’s health. Eliza Ann’s widowed mother was in no position to assist the little family as she had been left in straitened circumstances after Bell’s death: George Cato, Bell’s old friend from Cape sailing days, continued to pay Bell’s salary to his widow until her own death.

Records show that Thomas’s position changed to that of Timekeeper for the Harbour Board and he remained in that post until his death on 25 October 1893 at the age of 54.

Eliza Ann survived him by seven years. Their eldest son William married, had a daughter and died of enteric at Verulam in 1900 in his early twenties. Of the other siblings Faith and Hope both married, and Sydney Bartle was the only one of Thomas's children to continue the Natal Gadsden line, with the appearance in 1910 of William Bell Gadsden, named for Eliza Ann's father, the Port Captain. 

The lighthouse remained as Thomas Gadsden knew it until July 1922, when improved optical apparatus was introduced. Some ten years later came the installation of electricity, and the iron tower, considered by then to be unsafe, was encased in concrete. After seventy three years in service, the old Bluff Light shone for the last time on 15 October 1940 and the following June the lighthouse was demolished. 

'Their task to Keep the Light ...' 2

Cape Agulhas Lighthouse

I was delighted to read the article written by Peter-John Hannabus.  My father, D M Stewart, was a lighthousekeeper at Cape Agulhas at the time Peter-John was born, and in fact, if I recall correctly, my mother helped with his delivery. The nearest hospital was in Bredasdorp -25 miles of rough gravel road away. In those days (1954), Agulhas was still  pretty remote.

At the time, I attended the Rhenish Girls' High School in Stellenbosch as a boarder and came home on holidays every school quarter That in itself was a whole day's travel by train, and then from Bredasdorp station a road trip by grain truck to Agulhas.

My sister was born at Cape Point, and I was born at Cape St Francis, and  as children we lived around the coasts of Kommetjie, Dassen Island, Danger Point and Cooper Light on the Bluff in Natal. Our school holidays were quite unique and the envy of our school friends. 

While stationed on Dassen Island, we were brought by tug from Cape Town docks to Hout Bay where we anchored and from there, believe it or not, by long boat to the jetty - us still in our navy and white school uniforms and hats, among the food supplies, equipment, spares etc. What wonderful holidays those were. We fished, collected penguin eggs and were never bored for a minute..

As Peter-John so correctly states, it is indeed the end of a great era and how fortunate we were to be part of it.

Helen Pfell

Acknowledgement:
Suzanne Jo-Leff Patterson, researcher

Umhlanga Lighthouse, Natal

Umhlanga Rocks Lighthouse Panorama

Click to Zoom*

The original site selected for the Umhlanga light was in the vicinity of the swimming pool at the Oyster Box Hotel, but in January 1953 there was a torrential downpour, sixteen inches of rain falling in less than 24 hours, leaving behind heavy erosion at the proposed site. It was decided to build the tower lower down nearer the sea on a solid rock foundation.

The lighthouse was commissioned a year later on 25 October 1954, a delay caused by the necessity of importing certain equipment from England. There were no festivities for the opening of the Umhlanga Rocks Lighthouse: it came into operation without the customary three months' notice to mariners being issued internationally. Warnings were broadcast from the local maritime radio stations informing shipmasters of the introduction of this new aid.

This lighthouse is fully automatic and unattended. The cost of the installation at Umhlanga Rocks was R23 838. It is now a widely-known and recognised beacon on the north coast of Natal, both to mariners and to landlubbers.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcIXFra4_x8   Lighthousekeeper Song

Lighthousekeeper Ancestors in South Africa

'To Guard This Light From all Eclipse'


Was your ancestor a lighthousekeeper in South Africa? If so, the chances are good that you could find out more about him by using a combination of research sources.

Danger Point Lighthouse, Gansbaai

Published sources save time, and the first step is to check the lists of lightkeepers offered at the back of Harold Williams's volume Southern Lights, a comprehensive study of lighthouses in South Africa. Williams, a lighthouse engineer whose own career began in 1947, spent many years of research before publishing his book in 1993. It's a must-read for anyone interested in lighthouses, and particularly for those with ancestors in the South African lighthouse service. A detailed history of lighthouses in this country is given, illustrated with excellent photographs.

An appendix lists lightkeepers with beginning and ending dates of their employment, as well as category ('senior', 'assistant' or 'relief') and where they were stationed. Sometimes additional detail reveals the reason for the keeper leaving the service, 'resigned', 'deceased', 'retired' or, occasionally, 'dismissed'. The keepers' initials are usually given, but there are some first names, too. These are all useful indicators and can provide a starting point for the family historian.

However, Williams's register is not all-inclusive, as the author himself admits. Despite the wide variety of primary and secondary sources used, such as civil service lists, official visitors' books, directories and letters, there are gaps in the information. The blame for such omissions can be laid partially at the door of bureaucracy: before the declaration of the Union of South Africa in 1910, lighthouses were under the control of the colonial authorities in the relevant provinces. After Union, the SA Railways & Harbours department took over, and there were subsequent changes leading up to the eventual transfer of lighthouse administration to Portnet in 1990. Regrettably, with each successive alteration in the administrative structure, valuable material which should have been preserved was lost.

During my search for information on my great grandfather, Thomas Gadsden, who was keeper of the Bluff Light, Durban, from the late 1860s to early 1880s, I found no mention of his name in Williams's register, which shows keepers at this lighthouse from the mid-1880s onwards. The Bluff Lighthouse was officially opened in January 1867, and there were certainly keepers serving there from that date. Their names appear in the Natal Almanac & Yearly Directory, which lists staff employed in various capacities by the Port Office. In 1870, for example, G Salmon is shown as Lightkeeper, with T Gadsden '2nd ditto'. Later in the decade, the Almanac reveals that T Gadsden was promoted to Head Lightkeeper (at an annual salary of £125), with D W Bell - who was, incidentally, Thomas's brother-in-law - as his assistant (salary £100). So, should your ancestor's name not appear on Williams's book, local directories for the period are an avenue worth bearing in mind, as are civil service lists.

The Bluff Lighthouse, Durban,
with Signal Station and signalman's quarters, plus tent, ca 1900s

NAAIRS (the SA National Archives Index) offers references to lighthouses as well as to the keepers. A search on the ancestor's surname plus the word 'lightkeeper' or the name of the lighthouse (if you know where he was stationed) could bring interesting results. Whether he was applying for employment, requesting leave of absence from duty, asking for a salary increase, going on pension or leaving the service for some other reason, these events would have generated memos, correspondence and other records.

For example, we find W W Ritchie applying to the Natal Harbour Department for a post as lightkeeper in 1906, that F B Shortt, Head Lighthousekeeper at the Bluff, makes application for three weeks leave from 10 May 1904, and C G Johnson, lightkeeper at Green Point, Natal, asks for an increase in pay in 1906. In the same year, the 2nd lightkeeper at Green Point (Natal), Laird, states that he wishes to dismantle the storeroom and use the materials to build quarters for African employees. Another reference reveals that J H Laird had taken his Oath of Allegiance as 2nd lightkeeper at Green Point in 1905, so evidently he hadn't long been in the situation before wanting to make improvements.

These events may not be particularly riveting, but they help to place the ancestor in context, giving date parameters which can be used to build up a chronology of his career. There are more startling examples, such as an enquiry into a lightkeeper reported to be 'drunk and violent', or a request for replacement of a '3rd lightkeeper' who had ended up in jail. Fortunately, such transgressors were in the minority. Most men showed the dedication and devotion to duty which is the keynote of the lighthouse service, and they complied with its strict regulations. Each lightkeeper was furnished with a copy of these and any breach of the rules could result in dismissal.


Some index references give an insight into the nuts and bolts of 19th century and early 20th century lighthousekeeping: reports on materials which were found not to be up to standard or had worn out and needed to be replaced, returns for oil, wicks, lenses etc. A keeper at the Aliwal Shoal Light in 1896 requests that an urgent cable be sent to Messrs. Chance Brothers 'to send at once glass chimneys'. It can't have been easy coping with bureaucratic delays, compounded by communication problems. Just acquiring some red paint to spruce up the exterior of a lighthouse generated a series of memos.

Other more personal details emerge, like the education of a certain keeper's children - a difficulty when living in a remote place far from any available schools. And a lightkeeper applying for a horse insurance proposal form in 1904, not long after the end of the Anglo-Boer War, reminds us that though the railways had arrived in SA, the horse was still vital for everyday transport.

Among archival files you may be fortunate enough to find examples of correspondence in the ancestor's own handwriting. These reveal the day-to-day events of a lightkeeper's life, and provide a unique and tangible link to the man himself.

It's also worth searching NAAIRS  for general references to the lighthouse at which your ancestor worked, as these will give background information. Even if he isn't mentioned by name in connection with that particular lighthouse, you could deduce from Williams's lists that the 'assistant lightkeeper' at a certain date was in fact your ancestor.

Lighthouse, The Hill, Port Elizabeth, after
tower extended

Once you've gleaned the references to your ancestor which relate specifically to his lightkeeping activities, you can spread the net wider and search the index for his deceased estate file - if he died in South Africa, that is. Estate records are informative and include the Death Notice.



Returning to published sources, the works of Lawrence Green offer fascinating anecdotes about keepers: in South African Beachcomber he tells of John Allen of Cape Point lighthouse, who found that a mantle of the wrong size had been supplied. 'It meant that the automatic flashing apparatus could not be used. However, he rigged up a six hundred candlepower electric light with a hand switch. Each keeper in turn sat with a stop watch before him, switching on for two seconds, off for eight seconds. They had to remain at this weary task for three nights until the correct mantle reached them. Try it for only half an hour and you will understand the strain involved'.

In a fitting tribute given at a ceremony on 1 March 1949 to mark the occasion of 100 years of the Cape Agulhas Lighthouse, the General Manager of SA Railways, W Marshall Clark, said:

'The Lighthouse Service has developed very considerably in recent years, but neither the men who staff the lighthouses nor the work they do is very well known. Their work confines them to the loneliest spots - like Pelican Point near Walvis Bay, Cape Columbine, Cape St Lucia and others ... As long as they keep their light shining across the seas, to guide mariners in all weathers, they are left alone, and since failure is practically unheard of, the lighthouses are taken for granted.' 

Now the human element has been replaced by technology, lighthouses have lost much of their romantic attraction, but we can revisit the past via the keepers' stories.

North Sand Bluff Lighthouse, Natal