But in spite of danger and difficulty and hindrance the great work went on, though slowly still surely. By the end of the second year the building had risen thirty-five feet high--out of reach of the heavy dash and thud of the waves. Gradually one above another rose the rooms for the light-keepers--their walls twenty-six inches thick to stand against the fearful onslaught of the wind as it blew up the Channel from the Atlantic. For in a gale the place shook and the doors slammed and the windows rattled with such terrific force that the new and unaccustomed keepers earnestly wished themselves at Land's End or anywhere else, so that it meant land.
To say that as it neared the finish it was much in the great builder's thoughts is to draw but a faint picture of how day and night it lay upon his heart. How when on land the early morning found him out betimes on the Hoe, at Plymouth, telescope in hand, gazing out to sea. If a storm raged and the spray flew high for a moment it seemed to his sinking heart that it was Winstanley's lighthouse over again and that there was no Eddystone!
Again his heart leaped in gratitude a moment afterwards when the upright column--strong, firm, immovable--pointing black and clear against the sky, came to view, and a deep "Thank God!" would burst from his lips.
And now the months flew by and the great work neared its end. Smeaton himself chose the last details--the iron railings--the glass for the lantern. In the upper storeroom directly beneath the ceiling he had the motto carved--"Except the Lord build the house they labor in vain that build it." And the mason's last work was a "Laus Deo" in stone.
Towards the end Smeaton could not leave it. With his own hands he fitted the windows in their sashes--fixed the gilt ball on the top--no easy matter--but he had ever filled the post of danger himself. He asked no one to put himself where he was not willing too to go. Expert as any skilled mechanic, he himself gave his great work its finishing touches. Twenty-four candles in a chandelier formed the light. The lightning-conductor was fixed--the rooms finished. The magnificent column towered to seventy feet, the lantern and gilt ball twenty-eight inches higher, and on October 16th, 1759, the work was done.
