Beautiful, historic Watch Hill Light
In 1873, Watch Hill Lighthouse keeper Jared Crandall, along with nine other brave men, was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal for his role in a harrowing rescue mission. He deserved it.
Watch Hill beacons have stood at the entrance to Fishers Island Sound since colonial days. The area was called Watch Hill because, well, it was a good spot to watch for enemy vessels during the French and Indian conflicts and the Revolutionary War. In 1745, Rhode Island erected a pole and crossbeam there; the structure held a bucket that could be filled with burning pitch, serving as more of a warning device than a navigational aid. A violent storm in 1781 ripped it down.
A conventional lighthouse was built there in 1807, authorized by President Thomas Jefferson. That structure fell victim to erosion and had to be closed in 1855; it was rebuilt the next year, this time further back from the bluff. Although severely damaged by the ‘38 Hurricane, that’s the breathtakingly beautiful lighthouse you can still see today. Constructed of granite and brick and standing 45 feet tall, it has a commanding presence on a magnificent site overlooking the sea.
Lighthouses can’t tell stories about the countless wrecks they’ve prevented, but the maritime disasters they can’t prevent make riveting reading, at least after the fact. Among the many wrecks off Watch Hill, the sinking of the USS Revenge is a notable example. In 1811, Oliver Hazard Perry was commanding the Revenge on assignment to chart safe anchorages between Newport and New Haven. In the foggy, stormy weather, the ship struck a reef in the Watch
Hill Passage; the crew was saved but the schooner was destroyed.
Court-martialed but acquitted, Perry went on to a distinguished naval career that is best remembered for his success against the British on Lake Erie during the War of 1812.
Another, even more dramatic, catastrophe was the one for which Jared Crandall got his medal. It happened in August 1872 when the steamship Metis sank about four miles off the coast.
She was on her way from New York to Providence carrying a cargo of cotton, along with about 155 passengers and crew members.
The day had started out rainy and blustery, but by the time the ship was off Rhode Island, conditions had deteriorated badly. In the confusion of the storm, a schooner, bringing a load of lumber down from Maine, collided with the Metis. The schooner was damaged but managed to limp into New London for repairs; however, the collision had punched a hole in the Metis’s supposedly water-tight hull — a fact that went unnoticed for a critical amount of time.
When the engines flooded and the pumps failed, the situation devolved into chaos. The hull separated from the hurricane deck and plunged to the sea floor. The deck, where many passengers huddled in their night clothes, was propelled into the waves, tossing around like a large toy raft. When the deck was finally driven up on shore, the breakers smashed it to pieces, flinging bodies dozens of feet into the air, according to eyewitnesses. Other passengers, crammed into overcrowded life boats that often capsized, didn’t fare any better. Some people clung desperately to floating mattresses and bales of cotton; one man somehow survived by riding a wooden ice box onto the beach. And of course many drowned.
East Beach onlookers, hoping to help, watched the unfolding scene in horror. A group of young men tethered themselves together with ropes and waded into the surf to retrieve a few victims. Lighthouse keeper Jared Crandall and four other men launched a nearby lifeboat into the maelstrom. They saved 17 people before turning back when their own craft was in danger of sinking. Five other men in a small fishing boat rescued 15 more people and recovered 6 lifeless bodies. A revenue cutter came out of Stonington to assist. Still, the death toll was appalling.
One man who lost his wife in this tragedy later recalled, “When a rough sea caused our (life) boat to tip over, all were thrown into the water. It was a terrible moment — there were few of us who could swim. … People drowned in our sight. Their upturned faces … will haunt me to my dying day.”
The event drew national and international attention. Who knows what lasting impact it may have had on Jared. He died in 1879 at age 56. (His widow, Sally, became the new keeper.)
As the federal government, under the National Historic Lighthouse Preservation Act, offers lighthouses to qualified applicants, both the Watch Hill Lighthouse Keepers Association and advocates for the town of Westerly were seeking ownership. However, just recently, the property has been awarded to the Keepers Association. Regardless of who has the honor of preserving this national historic landmark, I think it is a treasure that belongs to all of us.