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Without question, many of the sacrifices, hardships, violent storms, and tragedies that occurred at many of the world’s lighthouses have been well documented. However, without question, there are literally hundreds of these types of stories that have never been written about, or others that have simply been forgotten about, waiting to be rediscovered or stumbled upon by someone researching lighthouse history. Such is the bizarre story of the tragic events at Bird Rock Lighthouse which was described in 1898 as the loneliest lighthouse station in the British dominion, even though it is only a few hundred miles east from Key West, Florida.
Built in 1876, the Bird Rock Lighthouse was an architectural marvel, beautifully designed with a wide veranda that was supported by columns around the entire base of the structure. The tower rises up from a mass of desolate rock that juts abruptly from the Caribbean Sea in the path of vessels bound to and from the Bahama Islands.
The lighthouse was in its prime when, in the late 1800s, two Brits, John Brock, and his cousin, Stephen Brock, secured positions as the keepers of Bird Rock Lighthouse. Both had recently been married to women who had been childhood friends, John to Annie and Stephen to Mabel. When the four of them departed England via ship on their voyage to the far away outpost, their hearts were filled with the spirit of adventure.
They had been forwarded that Bird Rock was so isolated, and the approach to it so dangerous because of the waves that dash against its steep sides, that supply vessels would only arrive twice a year. But the two couples believed they were totally prepared for their new life. They brought with them books, games, cards, needle-work, a guitar, and a violin; they also brought packets of seeds of bright English flowers, which they hoped to grow and liven up the barren and rocky island.
What happened next might well have been lost to history, as many lighthouse memories and stories have been, if it were not for Anna Randall Diehl, a late 1800s writer, who met Annie Bock and recorded the tragic events that changed their lives forever. The story appeared in the March, 1898 edition of the short-lived The Half Hour magazine published by George Munro’s Sons. Because of the low circulation of the magazine and the fact that very few copies remain in existence today, the story was almost lost again - until now. The following story is derived from that account.
After their long journey across the ocean, the two couples finally saw the lighthouse in the distance that was soon to be their home, and it rose larger and larger the closer and closer that they got. They were amazed by its greatness and their hearts pounded with excitement.
Anchoring off shore from the island, they departed the large ship in a dory loaded with their personal belongings. As they inched closer to the island, they saw three people with their belongings waiting to depart in the same boat that the new keepers and their wives were arriving in. One was a woman seated in a roller chair, who they soon learned was the widow of one of the keepers who had been killed when he was struck by lightning; apparently she had never been the same since her husband’s death. The man, the only surviving keeper, was leaning on a crutch and suffering from severe rheumatism. The other woman looked in good enough condition, but her face was drawn and her eyes look distant and tired, probably for good reason. She had been the only one left on the island to do all the lightkeeping duties as well as cooking and cleaning for the others. As the boat departed the island with its three former inhabitants, there was a gleam of joy that could be seen in their eyes. This should have been a sign to the newcomers, but they paid little heed to it, believing they were ready to handle any problem that this new phase of their lives might encounter.
For a while all went well with the young lighthouse families. The men tended to lighthouse chores, maintaining the four lamps in the tower, fished for food, and shooting birds for meals. The women busied themselves with housework, cooking, and knitting. They tried to grow flowers from the seeds they had brought along, and they had some minor success with flower boxes. But after the newness wore off and they played every one of their games over and over, the days started to drag on monotonously.
Early on they had discovered that the lighthouse storeroom was equipped with various items that were to be used for just about any occurrence or emergency that might beset them. However, in a closet by the coal room is where Mabel Brock made an ominous and ghastly discovery. It was an empty coffin, ready for use in case someone on the island should die. On the floor next to the coffin were lead weights and instructions that said that the lead weights were to be used to weigh the coffin down, should it be necessary to use it, and that it should be lowered into the sea from a rocky outcropping that projected itself over the water.
One day the coffin came up in conversation when Annie said that the coffin was meant for one of them. She said, “I dreamed last night that I saw it let down from the rock into the sea. Two men were holding the ropes, and one woman stood by them – only one –so that, if dreams come true, the coffin is for Mabel or me.”
Annie’s husband, John immediately dismissed the dream, saying that dreams do not come true, that foolishness like that should never be talked about, and that every remote lighthouse like this had a coffin or two with lead weights around, just in case. After all, there was no place to bury anyone on the rocky island. He held her tight and said, “But it will not be you, my red-cheeked little wifey, that will need a coffin, I am sure. God grant it may not be.”
Soon the conversation about the coffin was forgotten and life went on. Finally their first six months had passed and the supply ship came with new provisions, fresh fruit, and stacks of magazines and even some new books; life on the island was good.
Then it happened. Mabel grew ill and became bedridden. The government had left a medicine room full of medications of all kinds with instructions on each kind and how to administer them. During the next three weeks, her husband, Stephen, never left her bedside for more than an hour. But it was all to no avail. As the two men lowered the weighted-down coffin with Mabel’s body into the sea, with Annie watching silently, they must have remembered the story about Annie’s dream. Annie certainly did.
Strangely, Stephen did not shed any tears, nor did he in the days that passed. He remained silent, uttering only an occasional few words, and seemed to ignore the consoling that John and Annie tried to give him. As the days passed to weeks, they became increasingly worried about him.
Two months after Mabel’s death it was decided to take a few flowers from the window box and, in memory of Mabel, toss them into the sea at the spot where the coffin had been lowered. That’s when everything changed forever. Glaring at John, with a crazed look in his eyes, Stephen suddenly screamed, “You are gloating over her in her coffin down there! It was you who did it! I heard you pray that it might not be your wife! And your prayer was granted! She was left and mine was taken! You both will pay, you for your prayer and her for her dream! You put a curse on her and now you will lie where she does!” With that he lunged at John and a terrible fight ensued. Annie said the struggle was terrible, especially because Stephen’s strength was that of a maniac. Annie jumped in to try and help, but the fight only stopped when Stephen finally dropped to the ground from exhaustion.
Thereafter there was no peace or safety for John and Annie Brock. They lived their lives in constant danger and fear. John had managed to secure all the firearms, but Stephen had a large knife that he constantly spent time sharpening. In performing any duties, John and Annie performed them together, always taking a weapon with them. But Annie was pregnant, and before long she was unable to climb the tower to accompany her husband. Annie was forced to lock herself in the house with gun at hand when John went to light the beacon in the tower. She was always fearful of what might happen to John when he was gone, or to herself when John was not there to help defend the keeper’s quarters.
Nearly every night was the same. John and Annie would lie in their bed as Stephen beat upon their door as he screamed blood curling threats. Their lives turned into a living hell. Annie said that it was worse than trying to guard against the attacks of a savage animal. Often times John considered shooting Stephen to relieve himself and his wife from the danger of this madman who was turning into a beast.
Apparently, more than once John pointed the gun at Stephen with the intent to pull the trigger. But each time he did, Stephen stopped the screaming and looked at John in silence. And then, with a sudden change of mood, he would drop to his knees and begin to sob pitifully. And each time Stephen’s compassion caused him to lower the gun.
As day after day passed, the couple kept hoping and praying that Stephen would eventually come to his senses. They also kept watching the horizon in hopes of seeing a ship that might come close enough to see their distress flag flying from the top of the tower.
In late October they thought that perhaps at least one of their prayers had been answered when Stephen quieted down for a full two days. John saw Stephen sitting peacefully on “Sunset Rock,” the spot they had named for the projecting ledge from which Mabel’s coffin had been lowered into the sea. John thought it was safe enough to go light the tower, so he left with a gun in his hand and instructed Annie to lock herself in the keeper’s quarters as they had done before. A storm was looming overhead, and with black clouds above, the sea was churning itself up with waves crashing up and over the rocks up to the base of the lighthouse.
As Annie waited in silence, she was suddenly seized with anxiety and fear, a premonition of danger, and her heart started pounding fast. She decided to make a bold move and leave the safety of her quarters. With a gun in hand, she walked quietly to the base of the spiraling steps that led to the top of the lighthouse. She heard her husband’s footsteps in the tower. Everything else was quiet. She heard him open the door to the outer walkway and step outside, which he did every night to scan the horizon in hopes of seeing a passing ship.
Then she heard a blood curling scream from the madman who had apparently been crouching outside on the platform, lying in wait. Then she heard her husband scream. Nearly breathless and heavy with child, she reached the landing and saw her husband, who was bleeding profusely, in a tight grip with his maniacal cousin. Annie readied her gun, but as she started out the door onto the platform, the two men, gripped together in their life and death struggle, went over the railing of the platform and disappeared from sight.
Annie rushed to the railing and looked over the side, hoping to see a miracle, but all she saw below were the mangled bodies on the rocks below. However, in an instant, the bodies were gone, having been seized by a wave that had seemingly reached up like a giant monster from the depths of the sea and consumed them. Then sight and sense failed her, and she fainted and dropped to the floor.
When Annie awoke, she thought at first that it had been a terrible dream. She called out for her husband, but there was no response. For the next hour, and into the coming morning, she stayed at the top of the tower with wild thoughts going through her mind. What was she to do? She was alone now, with no other human on the island and she was heavy with child, soon to give birth. By morning as the sun tried to peak though the heavy cloud cover, she finally made the decision to jump from the top of the lighthouse, telling herself that she would land in the same spot where her husband had been lost and join him in eternity.
Annie said one final prayer, asking for God’s forgiveness. As she began to pull herself up and over the railing, she heard a voice speak to her inner soul that said, “Remember and live.” She knew at once it was John’s voice speaking to her. Annie remembered the child she was carrying. And then she was flooded with the memories of when their life was happy together. Yes, she must live she thought to herself - yes, she had the sacred charge of raising John’s child.
The days passed and Annie struggled with the loneliness, the memories, and the fear, but she also continued to have hope as each night she struggled to make the climb to the top of the tower and light the four lamps, as her husband had done so often before her. But one night as the storm clouds loomed and the thunder echoed over the island and flashes of lightening lit up the sky, she knew this would be her last night of lighting the lamps. The baby was due.
The next morning Annie’s labor pains started and the storm built in intensity. As nightfall loomed and Annie’s labor pains intensified, in the back of her mind she still worried about the light and wondered if there had been enough oil left after burning throughout the day to last into the night. Yes, even during labor, she prayed to God that the lamps would stay lit to save those at sea.
As fate would have it, there indeed was a ship out there that had lost its way, and it soon smashed up against a rock and quickly began to take on water. The captain called for the lifeboats and gave the order to abandoned ship. But one sailor did not make it into the lifeboats. At the last minute he had gone below deck, and when he returned, the lifeboats had suddenly disappeared into the storm-tossed darkness of the sea and the night.
That young sailor, whose name was Allison, realized that he would be sucked down with the ship when it went under. To save himself, he threw a wooden chair into the water and jumped in after it. For what seemed like countless hours, he clung to the chair as the swells of the ocean carried him up and down. Suddenly he was washed up by an island and he saw a chain attached to an anchor that been thrown upon the island. He grabbed the chain and dragged himself up and onto the rocky ledge.
When the gray dawn came, the fury of the storm had abated, and, with his strength somewhat restored, the young sailor looked about and saw the lighthouse. He knew he was saved. He hollered, but got no answer. With his stiffened limbs, he made his way to the lighthouse and threw open the door. He hollered again, but again there was no answer. “The place must be deserted,” he said to himself. Then he heard a sound. “It couldn’t be,” he thought to himself. Then he heard it again; it sounded like a baby crying. He followed the direction of the sound and opened a door. By the light of a lamp so dimly lit by its oil supply nearly exhausted, he saw a woman lying on a bed with a baby clutched in her arms. She was pale white as if she was dead. He grabbed her wrist and soon discovered a feeble but weak pulse. He took her hands, one at a time, and began to rub them briskly. Her eyes opened up and with a joyful yell she said, “John, John, You’re alive! I thought you were dead.” Then she looked again and said, “You’re not John; who are you?” As Allison heated up some soup for her, he explained that he was a shipwrecked sailor, but all she kept saying was “I have no one, my life is over,” to which John replied, “You have a baby and it wants you.”
Allison turned away and put his hand on his forehead as he recalled his own memories. A few years earlier, he had lost his young wife and their child. It was that loss that caused this man with a gentle heart to take to the life of a sailor at sea. About that time the baby uttered a cry and Annie drew the baby close to her; tears gushed from her eyes and a gleam of tenderness softened her face. She smiled and dozed off from exhaustion. Allison took the small baby and cleaned it up. He then saw the condensed canned milk on a nearby table and heated some up, fed the baby, and gently placed it back in its mother’s arms.
Before long Annie had regained her strength and the baby that had been born under such adverse conditions was doing extremely well. In the meantime, following Annie’s instructions, Allison attended faithfully to the lamps in the lighthouse and ministered to the wants of his newly adopted family until the day that the relief ship finally arrived. It was then that he learned that the crew and the passengers of his wrecked vessel had been rescued after two days and two nights of dreadful danger and hardship in the open boats. “My prayer was granted!” exclaimed Annie as she gratefully continued, “I prayed – the last time I attended to the lamps – that if they went out, no lives might be lost because of it.”
Two of the crew of the relief vessel were found who were willing to take care of the lighthouse until the Governor of the Bahamas could arrange for new permanent keepers.
So it came to be that that Annie and her baby took a vessel, on which Allison had secured a job, back to England. Sympathy and companionship had made a strong tie of friendship between them, and a year after their arrival back in England they were married to become companions for life.
Editor’s Note: Was this story passed down through generations of family members, or did it get forgotten over time? Are there any descendants around today? What was Allison’s last name? What was the name of baby who was born on the island? If it was a boy, was it perhaps named John? Are there any photographs somewhere of Annie, Allison, or the child who was born on the island? Can some of that information be found in the notes taken by Anna Randall Diehl when she interviewed the couple? Probably, but most likely those notes were eventually thrown out. Or, could those notes still be tucked away somewhere? And then, for those who love to question history; was this entire story true? Or did something entirely different actually happen on the island? Was this story concocted to cover up other even more sinister events? That is highly unlikely, but then again . . . At some point in the future, some historian will be able to find more facts associated with this event that happened well over 100 years ago - but then again, maybe not.
This story appeared in the
May/Jun 2014 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.
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