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From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Flannan Isles (Scottish Gaelic: Na h-Eileanan Flannach, pronounced [nə ˈhelanən ˈflˠ̪an̪ˠəx]) are a small island group in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland, approximately 32 kilometres (20 mi) west of the Isle of Lewis. They may take their name from St Flannan, the 7th-century Irish preacher and abbot. The islands have been devoid of permanent residents since the automation of the lighthouse in 1971. They are the location of an enduring mystery which occurred in December 1900, when all three lighthouse keepers vanished without trace.

Lighthouse
Designed by David Alan Stevenson, the 23 metres (75 ft) tower was constructed for the Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) between 1895 and 1899 and is located near the highest point on Eilean Mòr. Construction was undertaken by George Lawson of Rutherglen at a cost of £6,914 inclusive of the building of the landing places, stairs, railway tracks etc. All of the materials used had to be hauled up the 150 ft (45 metre) cliffs directly from supply boats, no trivial task in the ever-churning Atlantic. A further £3,526 was spent on the shore station at Breasclete on the Isle of Lewis. It was first lit on 7 December 1899. In 1925 it was one of the first Scottish lights to receive communications from the shore by wireless telegraphy. On 28 September 1971, it was automated. A reinforced concrete helipad was constructed at the same time to enable maintenance visits in heavy weather. The light is produced by burning acetylene gas and has a range of 20 miles (32 kilometres). It is now monitored from the Butt of Lewis and the shore station has been converted into flats. Other than its relative isolation it would be a relatively unremarkable light, were it not for the events which took place just over a year after it was commissioned.

Mystery of 1900

Discovery
The first hint of anything untoward on the Flannan Isles came on 15 December, 1900. The steamer Archtor on passage from Philadelphia to Leith passed the islands in poor weather and noted that the light was not operational. This was reported on arrival at Oban although no immediate action seems to have been taken. The island lighthouse was manned by a three man team, with a rotating fourth man spending time on shore. The relief vessel, the lighthouse tender Hesperus, was unable to set out on a routine visit from Lewis planned for 20 December due to adverse weather and did not arrive until noon on Boxing Day (26 December). On arrival the crew and relief keeper found that the flagstaff was bare of its flag, none of the usual provision boxes had been left on the landing stage for re-stocking and, more ominously, none of the lighthouse keepers were there to welcome them ashore. Jim Harvie, captain of the Hesperus, gave a strident blast on his whistle and set off a distress flare, but no reply was forthcoming.

A boat was launched and Joseph Moore, the relief keeper, was put ashore alone. He found the entrance gate to the compound and main door both closed, the beds unmade and the clock stopped. Returning to the landing stage with this grim news he then went back up to the lighthouse with the Hesperus’s second-mate and a seaman. A further search revealed that the lamps were cleaned and refilled. A set of oilskins was found, suggesting that one of the keepers had left the lighthouse without them, which was surprising considering the severity of the weather. The only sign of anything amiss in the lighthouse was an overturned chair by the kitchen table. Of the keepers there was no sign, either inside the lighthouse or anywhere on the island.

Moore and three volunteer seamen were left to attend the light and the Hesperus returned to the shore station at Breasclete. Captain Harvie sent a telegram to the Northern Lighthouse Board dated 26 December, 1900 stating:

A dreadful accident has happened at the Flannans. The three keepers, Ducat, Marshall and the Occasional have disappeared from the Island. The clocks were stopped and other signs indicated that the accident must have happened about a week ago. Poor fellows must have been blown over the cliffs or drowned trying to rescue a crane or something like that.

The men remaining on the island scoured every corner for clues as to the fate of the keepers. At the east landing everything was intact, but the west landing provided considerable evidence of damage caused by recent storms. A box at 33 metres (110 ft) above sea level had been broken and its contents strewn about; iron railings were bent over, the iron railway by the path was wrenched out of its concrete, and a rock weighing over a ton had been displaced above that. On top of the cliff at over 60 metres (200 ft) above sea level turf had been ripped away over 10 metres (33 ft) from the cliff edge. However, the keepers had kept their log until 9 a.m. on 15 December and this made it clear the damage had occurred before the writers’ disappearance.

Speculations and misconceptions
No bodies were ever found and the loneliness of the rocky islets may have lent itself to feverish imaginings. Theories abounded and resulted in “fascinated national speculation”. Some were simply elaborations on the truth. For example, the events were commemorated in Wilfrid Wilson Gibson’s 1912 ballad, Flannan Isle. The poem refers to a half-eaten meal on the table, indicating that the keepers had been suddenly disturbed.

Yet, as we crowded through the door,
We only saw a table spread
For dinner, meat, and cheese and bread;
But, all untouched; and no-one there,
As though, when they sat down to eat,
Ere they could even taste,
Alarm had come, and they in haste
Had risen and left the bread and meat,
For at the table head a chair
Lay tumbled on the floor.

However, Nicholson (1995) makes it clear that this does not square with Moore’s recorded observations of the scene which states that: “The kitchen utensils were all very clean, which is a sign that it must be after dinner some time they left.”

Other rumours, such as that one keeper had murdered the other two and then thrown himself into the sea in a fit of remorse, that a sea serpent (or giant seabird) had carried the men away, that they had been abducted by foreign spies, or that they had met their fate through the malevolent presence of a boat filled with ghosts were less plausible. The baleful influence of the ‘Phantom of the Seven Hunters’ was widely suspected locally.

Northern Lighthouse Board investigation
On 29 December, Robert Muirhead, an NLB superintendent, arrived to conduct the official investigation into the incident.

The explanation offered by Muirhead is more prosaic than the fanciful rumours suggested. He examined the clothing left behind in the lighthouse and concluded that James Ducat and Thomas Marshall had gone down to the landing stage, and that Donald McArthur (the ‘Occasional’) had left the lighthouse in heavy rain in his shirt sleeves. (Whoever left the light last and unattended was in breach of NLB rules). He also noted that some of the damage to the west landing was “difficult to believe unless actually seen”.

From evidence which I was able to procure I was satisfied that the men had been on duty up till dinner time on Saturday the 15 December, that they had gone down to secure a box in which the mooring ropes, landing ropes etc. were kept, and which was secured in a crevice in the rock about 110 ft (34 m) above sea level, and that an extra large sea had rushed up the face of the rock, had gone above them, and coming down with immense force, had swept them completely away.

Whether this explanation brought any comfort to the families is unknown. The deaths of Thomas Marshal, James Ducat (who left a widow and four children) and Donald McArthur (who left a widow and two children) cast a shadow over the lighthouse service for many years.

Later theories and interpretations
Nicholson (1995) offers an alternative idea for the demise of the keepers. The coastline of Eilean Mòr is deeply indented with narrow gullies called geos. The west landing, which is situated in such a geo, terminates in a cave. In high seas or storms, water would rush into the cave and then explode out again with considerable force. Nicholson speculates that McArthur may have seen a series of large waves approaching the island, and knowing the likely danger to his colleagues, ran down to warn them, only to succumb himself as well. This theory has the advantages of explaining the over-turned chair, and the set of oilskins remaining indoors, although not perhaps the closed door and gate.

Haswell-Smith (2004) attributes the origins of the theory to Walter Aldebert, a keeper on the Flannans from 1953–1957. Aldebert believed one man may have been washed into the sea, that his companion rushed back to the light for help but that both would-be rescuers were themselves washed away by a second freak wave.

The event remains a popular issue of contention among those who are interested in paranormal activity. Inevitably perhaps, modern imaginations speculate about abduction by aliens. A fictional use of this idea is the basis for the Doctor Who episode Horror of Fang Rock. The mystery was also the inspiration for the composer Peter Maxwell Davies’s modern chamber opera The Lighthouse (1979). The British rock group Genesis wrote and recorded “The Mystery of Flannan Isle Lighthouse” in 1968 while working on their first album, but it was not released until 1998 in Genesis Archive 1967-75. Angela J. Elliott wrote a novel about the disappearance of the lighthouse keepers. Published in 2005 it is called Some Strange Scent of Death, after a line from Gibson’s poem.

Working as a Manager for Uhaul, when I do get spare time I sit with my ouija board, do as many paranormal investigations as I can, and research everything and anything paranormal. I am also very interested in railroads and model trains in general.

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