Lighthouses have always fired the human imagination. Jules Verne was inspired by them for his adventure story “Le Phare du bout du monde”, Virginia Woolf for her virtuoso novel “To the Lighthouse”. It is true that modern navigation technology has meanwhile made the navigation signs visible from afar, not infrequently a masterpiece of engineering, almost superfluous. But the fascination that emanates from them is unbroken.
Especially when they are at the end of the world and harbor a secret. Like the windswept and often foggy Flannan Isles Lighthouse on Eilean Mòr. Part of the Outer Hebrides, the Flannan Isles comprise a series of rugged islets formerly known to locals as ‘The Seven Hunters’ – countless ships once smashed against the craggy, sea-lashed rocks. The largest of these is Eilean Mòr, whose name means “Big Island” in Gaelic, although it is only a few hundred meters long.
The isolated island in the North Atlantic with its lighthouse, completed in 1899 by David Alan Stevenson, a cousin of the writer Robert Louis Stevenson, harbors the second greatest mystery in Scotland after Nessie: three lighthouse keepers disappeared here without a trace in December 1900 under circumstances that are still unclear to this day. Since then, people have racked their brains over what happened back then in the dark winter days to the only residents James Ducat, Tom Marshall and Donald MacArthur, and dedicated dramatic ballads to the mysterious events (Wilfrid Wilson Gibson: “Flannan Isle”, 1912), Pop songs (Genesis: “The Mystery of the Flannan Isle Lighthouse”, 1968), chamber operas (Peter Maxwell Davies: “The Lighthouse”, 1980), films (Kristoffer Nyholm: “Keepers”, 2018) and novels (Emma Stonex: “Die Lighthouse Keeper”, 2021).
When the relief arrives, she finds the lighthouse empty
On the night of December 15, 1900, the steamer comes Archtor passed the archipelago on his way to Leith and almost ran aground as the Flannan Isle lighthouse failed to send any signals. Although the captain reports this anomaly to the responsible authorities, but because of the bad weather, hesperusthe Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) supply ship, Eilean Mòr only on Boxing Day.
The ship sounds its horn, launches a flare. But Ducat, Marshall and MacArthur do not answer. Finally, Joseph Moore, who was supposed to replace one of the lighthouse keepers after a two-week stay on land, crossed over to the island and set off on the steep path to the approximately 23-meter-high, white lighthouse.
When he arrives, he finds the doors locked. When he finally managed to gain entry, he was standing in a clean, tidy room. A sight very different from what is described in most newspaper articles. Afterwards, Moore reportedly saw a set dining table and an overturned chair as a sign of a hasty departure. A description that can already be found in Wilfrid Wilson Gibson’s ballad.
The reports by Joseph Moore and Robert Muirhead, who led the official investigations as inspector of the Northern Lighthouse Board at the time, prove that all of this is free embellishment, which can be read on the NLB homepage. As Muirhead writes in his report of January 8, 1901: “The pots and pans had been cleaned and the kitchen tidied up…”
Contrary to regulations, the three men had exited the tower together
The log book supposedly kept by Tom Marshall can also be relegated to the realm of legend, from which an American magazine quoted for the first time in 1920, and in which it says under the date of December 12 that Ducat was calm and otherwise a tough dog described MacArthur wines. The entries finally end on December 15 with the cryptic words: “Storm ended. Sea calm. God is above all.”
Whether the logbook is a forgery or not, whether Moore found the lighthouse untidy or tidy – the question remains as to what fate befell the lighthouse keepers on December 15, 1900. Harvie, the captain of the hesperus, assumes in his telegram, which he sent on the day of his arrival on December 26, that the “poor fellows” must have been blown over the cliffs. Robert Muirhead, on the other hand, assumes in his final report that the men were victims of a monster wave while trying to secure a wooden box with ropes at the western landing site.
What seems obvious at first glance, however, raises questions on closer inspection. There were signs of a severe storm. Railings had been demolished and a stone block weighing more than 1000 kilograms had come loose. But why did all three keepers set off, even though according to regulations, one of them always had to stay behind in the lighthouse? And why did Donald MacArthur obviously not wear an oil coat like his colleagues, but only went outside in a shirt in the bitter cold? Which is known because Joseph Moore found MacArthur’s coat unused when he inspected it.
It is inconsistencies like these that fuel Eilean Mòr’s lighthouse myth over and over again and over time have led to more, sometimes less abstruse attempts at explanations. Perhaps one of the guards went mad because of the cramped conditions and became a murderer before he killed himself? Fantastic: Were they kidnapped by pirates or foreign spies? Even more fantastic: from extraterrestrials? Or did they become the prey of a giant seabird, a gigantic sea serpent? We’ll probably never know.