A Popular History of Unpopular Things

The Eilean Mòr Lighthouse Mystery

• Kelli Beard • Season 1 • Episode 70

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Join Kelli as she goes over the mystery of the Eilean Mòr lighthouse.

In December of 1900, the three men keeping the lighthouse on the Flannan Isles - James Ducat, Thomas Marshall, and Donald McArthur - vanished without a trace. The light was out for about two weeks. When a fourth keeper came to relieve one of the men and bring more supplies, he stumbled upon a dark island with an empty lighthouse - and no signs of distress.

Let's go over the history of the Eilean Mòr lighthouse, the primary sources of those who were there to see it, and some of the theories as to what happened. Then, we'll apply Occam's Razor and determine the most likely scenario.

Sources referenced in the episode:

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The Eilean Mòr Lighthouse Mystery
Intro
Welcome to A Popular History of Unpopular Things, a podcast that covers… unpopular stories from history - stories about disease, death, and destruction. I like learning about all things bloody, gross, mysterious, and weird.

On December 26th, 1900, an assistant lighthouse keeper named Joseph Moore sailed to Eilean Mòr, the largest of the Flannan Isles, part of Scotland’s Outer Hebrides. He was there to replace one of the keepers - men (or women!) who maintain the lighthouse, making sure its light is bright and visible so incoming ships can navigate around the coast. Among other duties.

But when Joseph Moore arrived, he felt something was… off. There was no light. He wouldn’t have known this, but there hadn’t been a light for about two weeks by that point. And, curiously, nobody was there to greet the new lighthouse keeper. Moore would later note that he felt, quote, “an overwhelming sense of foreboding on his long walk up to the top of the cliff.”

And when Moore finally reached the lighthouse - the three men who kept the lighthouse had disappeared without a trace.

In today’s episode, we’re going to go over the case of the Eilean Mòr Lighthouse. There have been plenty of books and articles written about this mystery - even a 2018 film starring Gerard Butler and Peter Mullan called “The Vanishing!” Though the film is just based on the real events, it’s not meant to be an accurate retelling of what happened. 

But the real story reminds me of the Ghost Ship Mary Celeste, perhaps even the hikers who died on the Dyatlov Pass. Because what really happened… nobody will ever know. All we have to go on are a handful of clues left behind when the three men disappeared.

So as we normally do on the APHOUT podcast, we’ll begin with the historical context - is there anything we need to know about that lighthouse or that location in particular that might help shed some light on the story? Then, we’ll go over the types of things lighthouse keepers do. Once we’ve got all the background and information we need to understand what they do, then we’ll try to understand what happened to the lighthouse keepers on Eilean Mor.

So let’s get started!
Historical Context
So before we take a look at the scene, let’s get a good understanding of the history of the lighthouse of Eilean Mòr. Because curiously, the lighthouse was only built about one year before the men disappeared. 

Eilean Mòr and the other Flannan Isles are in northwest Scotland, as I said in the intro, part of the Outer Hebrides. Now if the Outer Hebrides themselves are considered remote, then the Flannan Isles are even more so, since they’re even further northwest than the rest of the islands. This whole region faces the full might of the Atlantic Ocean. And while the seas are reportedly blue and clear, they can be unpredictable. There are strong currents, whipping winds, and rapid weather changes.

My husband is a veteran of the Royal Navy, and he spent time training and conducting operations in Scotland.. Here’s what he has to say about the northwestern seas:

Hello! I’m Kelli’s husband, also known as Nedric, the musician behind APHOUT’s intro and outro song. So yeah, like she said, I served in the Royal Navy. 

*Describe the condition of the seas and the most dangerous parts of sailing there*


Well, there you have it. 

So if the seas are rough, the weather unpredictable, and the islands themselves pretty remote… it’s understandable why they’d want a lighthouse in the area. The man who designed the lighthouse, David Alan Stevenson, noted that there was a dark spot, if you will, in this area; the nearest lighthouse was 46 miles south south-west, so any ships passing anywhere close to the Flannan Isles and nearby Lewis had no visibility. 

Ooh, fun fact. David Alan Stevenson was from a family of lighthouse engineers. And his cousin was the author Robert Louis Stevenson, best known for writing Treasure Island and the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s completely irrelevant to the story, but you know I love my random tangents.

The Eilean Mòr lighthouse was built between 1895 and 1899 by the Northern Lighthouse Board, or NLB, the authority responsible for the construction and upkeep of lighthouses in Scotland and the Isle of Man. I’ll be talking about them a lot today, so just remember… Northern Lighthouse Board… NLB. It was completed and lit for the first time on December 7th, 1899. In addition to the lighthouse itself, a shore station was installed on the Isle of Lewis. If you look at a map of Scotland and zoom in on the Outer Hebrides, the Isle of Lewis is the large one at the northern end of the chain, where Stornoway is. Among a lot of other towns, of course. Stornoway just always stands out to me because my brother and I used to play a board game at our grandparent’s house, The Great Game of Britain, where we’d strand each other out on Stornoway. 

Sorry. That’s irrelevant.

Now the shore station is where the lighthouse keepers’ families would live; this particular one was about 20 miles east of the actual lighthouse, across the water of course.

The lighthouse itself is 75 feet tall, or 23 meters, and sits near the highest point of Eilean Mor. As such, building it was a pain; builders had to haul and lift the materials up the cliff, an imposing 148 feet, or 45 meters. They later built a cable-hauled railway to shift supplies from the coast to the lighthouse.

At the top of the lighthouse was a rotating lamp that would emit two flashes every 30 seconds. The light source was a simple kerosene lamp, but the light emitted was magnified by what’s known as a fresnel lens. Without getting too deep into the physics of it, because I’m not a physicist, a lens is divided into a series of grooved rings all acting like prisms. As the light passes through them, it refracts at a specific angle, concentrating the light into a powerful beam. The yellowish light from a kerosene lamp isn’t going to do much, right? But by using lenses to concentrate that light into a focused beam, it could be seen up to 20 miles away. Which is pretty neat.

Did you watch The Lighthouse? The 2019 Robert Eggers black-and-white arthouse film with Willem DaFoe and Robert Pattinson? That had some good close ups of a fresnel lens. I liked that movie; every time I watch it, I get a different interpretation of what it means. A lot of people like to say that it’s based on what happened at Eilean Mor, but I heavily disagree. It’s more like the murders at the Smalls Lighthouse in 1801. Maybe a story for another day.

But anyways, the fresnel lens wouldn’t rotate on its own. At least not in 1899. It had what’s known as a weight-driven clockwork mechanism, and someone would need to wind it up periodically; I’ve read anywhere from every 30 minutes to every two hours or so. And that’s where the lighthouse keepers come in. 

In addition to keeping the mechanism wound so the lens would rotate, a lighthouse keeper would be responsible for replenishing the kerosene fuel, trimming the wick used in the lamp, cleaning both the lamp and lens, as well as any other glass the light passes through, performing repairs to the light mechanism or lighthouse structure, and of course making sure the light rotated at the correct speed.

And since these earlier models of lighthouses needed tending so frequently, lighthouse keepers worked in pairs or triples to make sure everything was monitored properly. There would be the principal lightkeeper, and one or two assistant lightkeepers under him. Some stations also had what was known as an occasional lightkeeper, normally a local trained to assist when needed, like in cases of emergency or for holidays.

But lighthouses, by their very nature, are sometimes in very hard-to-reach places. The lighthouse at Eilean Mor, for example, was in a pretty remote place, and the Flannan Isles were not heavily populated. So, as a backup, the NLB would sometimes pay non-Keepers to observe the light. And if for whatever reason the light wasn’t on, or if the Keepers put out any emergency signals, that person would send a telegram to the NLB so they could come help. It makes sense; a backup system in case something goes wrong with the lighthouse and the Keepers can’t send for help. 

With all these precautions, it’s clear that the NLB took their lighthouses seriously. To let the light go out without reason was to fail at your job, which would also mean your dismissal. And the lighthouse was more than just a job, it was also your home; remember that keepers and their families would live at the nearby shore station.

So when the light went out on December 7th, 1900, and it didn’t come back on, it was clear that there was something seriously wrong at the Eilean Mòr lighthouse.

The Eilean Mòr Lighthouse Keepers
At the time of the incident, there were four men hired to keep the Eilean Mòr lighthouse: James Ducat, the Principal Keeper; Thomas Marshall, the Assistant Keeper; Donald McArthur, an Occasional Lightkeeper who was substituting for another man on sick leave; and Joseph Moore, another assistant keeper who was on shore leave at the time. This was normal; three men would keep the lighthouse at a time, and the fourth remained at the shore station. Then they’d rotate out.

James Ducat became a lighthouse keeper when he was 22, first serving as an assistant in various lighthouses. He was promoted to Principal Keeper after about 18 years. By the time he arrived at Eilean Mòr, he had worked as a keeper for 22 years, so he was very experienced.

Thomas Marshall had nearly 5 years of experience. The occasional keeper, Donald McArthur, had only just joined the NLB that year and only had about 26 nights’ training. So, essentially, he was a total newbie.

The three would have been working together to manage the lighthouse, each pulling four hour shifts - 6 pm to 10 pm, 10 pm to 2 am, then 2 am to 6 am. The light would be turned off at sunrise, and the group would eat and do maintenance work.

But in December, something went horribly wrong at the Eilean Mòr lighthouse, and the men disappeared. Let’s start with what we know before we speculate on what might have happened.

The NLB paid a man named Roderick Mackenzie to be an observer, the person who kept an eye out for any troubles but wasn’t a Keeper. He had last seen the light on December 7th, 1900. According to a report filed by Robert Muirhead, a Superintendent with the NLB who investigated what happened, quote, 
“The Commissioners appointed Roderick MacKenzie… to look out daily for signals that might be shown from the Rock, and to note each night whether the light was seen or not seen… the Tower itself was not seen, even with the assistance of a powerful telescope, between the 7th and the 29th December. The light was, however, seen on 7th December, but was not seen on the 8th, 9th, 10th and 11th. It was seen on the 12th, but not seen again until the 26th [when Joseph Moore arrived].”

End quote.

By the way, you can find all of these sources through the Northern Lighthouse Board website, by the way. Which is pretty cool. I’ve linked it in the episode’s description.

On December 15th, 1900, Captain Francis Holman on board the SS Archtor passed by the Flannan Isles on route from Philadelphia to Leith [leeth], a port that served Edinburgh. He had made this trip many times; it was a regular run for his cargo ship. But he knew something was wrong this time; based on his calculations and position, he knew he was near the Eilean Mòr lighthouse. It was a clear night, but there was no light. When he arrived in Leith, Captain Holman reported it to his company, the ones who owned his ship. But in the two days between noticing the absence of light and arriving in Leith, the Archtor had struck a rock, sustained damage, and was taking on water. So, of course, there were other important things to deal with. And despite the fact that Captain Holman told his superiors, they didn’t pass on the information to the NLB until December 28th. But by that point, the NLB had found out on their own that something was asmiss.

Periodically, a ship named the Hesperus would bring new supplies to various lighthouses in the area. And in addition to supplies, on this trip, it would also bring back Joseph Moore, the fourth Keeper on shore leave. It was meant to arrive on the 20th of December, but because of bad weather, it didn’t arrive until the 26th. So if we take a look at that chronology, it had been about two weeks since anyone saw a light; Roderick MacKenzie claims to have seen the light on the 12th, but that was the last time. 

So let’s follow Joseph Moore along as he arrives back to the lighthouse on the 26th. I’m going to read from the letter he wrote on December 28th, because in this case, I think it’s best to hear from the man who was actually there. I made a few adjustments for readability, but I left most of it as is. Quote!

It was with deep regret I wish you to learn the very sad affair that has taken place here during the past fortnight; namely the disappearance of my two fellow lightkeepers Mr Ducat and Mr Marshall, together with the Occasional Keeper, Donald McArthur from off this Island.

As you are aware, the relief was made on the 26th. That day, as on other relief days, we [arrived at the] Flannan Islands, and not seeing the Lighthouse Flag flying, we thought they did not perceive us coming. The steamer’s horn was sounded several times, still no reply. At last [the] Captain… deemed it prudent to lower a boat and land a man if it was possible. I was the first to land, leaving [the rest] in the boat till I should return from the lighthouse. I went up, and on coming to the entrance gate I found it closed. I made for [the]... kitchen and store room… On entering the kitchen I looked at the fireplace and saw that the fire was not lighted for some days. I then entered the rooms in succession, found the beds empty just as they left them in the early morning.

I did not take time to search further, for I only too well knew something serious had occurred. I darted out and made for the landing. When I reached there I informed [the others] that the place was deserted. [They] came up [with me the] second time, so as to make sure, but unfortunately the first impression was only too true. [We] proceeded to the lightroom where everything was in proper order. The lamp was cleaned. The fountain full. Blinds on the windows, etc. We left and proceeded on board the steamer. [The] Captain… ordered me back again to the island accompanied [by some other men] who were to do duty with me till timely aid should arrive. We went ashore and proceeded up to the lightroom and lighted the light in the proper time that night and every night since. The following day we traversed the Island from end to end but still nothing to be seen to convince us how it happened. Nothing appears touched at East landing to show that they were taken from there. Ropes are all in their respective places in the shelter, just as they were left after the relief on the 7th.

On [the] West side it is somewhat different. We had an old box halfway up the railway for holding West landing mooring ropes and tackle, and it has gone. Some of the ropes it appears, got washed out of it, they lie strewn on the rocks near the crane. The crane itself is safe.

The iron railings along the passage connecting [the] railway with [the] footpath to [the] landing [were] broken in several places, also [the] railing around [the] crane, and [the] handrail for making mooring rope fast for [the] boat, is entirely carried away. Now there is nothing to give us an indication that it was there the poor men lost their lives, only that Mr Marshall had his seaboots on and oilskins, also Mr Ducat had his seaboots on. He had no oilskin, only an old waterproof coat, and that is [gone]. Donald McArthur [left his coat behind] which shows, as far as I know, that he went out in shirt sleeves. He never used any other coat on previous occasions, only the one I am referring to.

Mr J. Moore,
Assistant Lightkeeper,
Flannan Islands Lighthouse
28 December 1900

End quote.

So if we simplify this letter, we know that Joseph Moore arrived and found nothing obviously wrong with the inside of the lighthouse, but noted that the West side suffered some kind of damage; the box that held mooring ropes and tackle was gone, some of the railings were damaged, and there was some debris on the rocks below.

Now according to the book Rock Lighthouses of Britain by Christopher Nicholson, there was an uneaten meal of cold meat, pickles, and boiled potatoes still on the table, and one of the chairs was upturned. However, the two primary sources from the men who actually explored the scene, Joseph Moore and superintendent Robert Muirhead, don’t mention food on the table, so this was added after the fact, likely to make the story even juicier. 

Moore noted that there hadn’t been a fire in a while, and though the light obviously wasn’t operating, the machinery itself was fine. Other than the damage to the west side of the island… nothing.

The Captain of the Hesperus sent a telegram to the NLB immediately, explaining how they saw no signs of life. He noted in that telegram that, quote,
“The clocks were stopped and other signs indicated that the accident must have happened about a week ago. Poor fellows… must been blown over the cliffs or drowned trying to secure a crane or something like that.”

End quote.

Very curious. Well, we know that lighthouse keepers kept logs, so was there anything in the logs that might shed some light on what happened? Pun absolutely intended! Well, when superintendent of the NLB Robert Muirhead arrived to investigate what happened, he did a very thorough search, including through the logbooks. And here’s what he found.

On December 12th, assistant keeper Thomas Marshall wrote that the winds were the worst he’s seen in twenty years. And he also wrote that principal Keeper Ducat had been very quiet, and occasional keeper McArthur had been crying. Very strange. 20 miles over in Lewis, the men reported that there wasn’t any bad weather. But as anyone who’s spent time in Britain will tell you, it can rain in one town and be sunny in the next one over. So if there was bad weather, winds, and waves affecting the Flannan Isles, it’s very possible that the Isle of Lewis didn’t see the same thing. I’d trust the logbooks; no reason to lie.

Now logs from the 13th state that the storm had gotten worse, and all three were praying for their safety.

In the final log entry, dated December 15th, principal Keeper Ducat noted that they had set up for the nighttime duty. They filled the lamp, trimmed the wick, cleaned the lens and machinery, and were ready to go. Curiously, this was the same day that the Archtor passed by and noted the light was out. 

Now some also claim that there was an entry that said “Storm ended, sea calm. God is over all.” But according to Lucy Davidson over at History Hit, a later investigation proved this was falsified. Just an attempt to sensationalize the story. Muirhead never mentioned anything like that, so if we can’t find it in a primary source, if we don’t have concrete evidence that line exists in the logbook, then we have to assume it’s fictionalized. Or at the very least exaggerated.

Like Moore, Muirhead also noticed that one of their coats was left hung up, so only two of them were dressed properly for the rough, cold, December weather. It was also against regulation for the lighthouse to be unattended at any time, so Muirhead was struck by that too. What must have happened for all three men to leave the lighthouse, one of them not dressed properly?

Their bodies were never recovered. Based on the clues left behind, both Moore and Muirhead came to one solid conclusion, which I agree with. Occam’s razor - the simplest explanation is usually the best one. But just for fun, before we reveal the likely story, let’s go over some of the more outlandish explanations that have cropped up over the years.
Fun Theories About What Happened
So in researching for this episode, I came across all kinds of fun theories about what might have happened to James Ducat, Thomas Marshall, and Donald McArthur. One suggested that a sea monster got them.

Scottish folklore is no stranger to sea creatures. For example, the Kelpie - a Scottish water spirit that often takes the form of a horse. Kelpies live in lakes and rivers. Humans are drawn to them like a siren, and after they hop on the horse in an attempt to claim it, the Kelpie goes back into the watery depths and drowns its victim.   

Then there’s the blue men of the Minch, also known as storm kelpies. The Minch is the strait and channel that separates the Outer Hebrides from the Scottish mainland. Unlike traditional kelpies, the blue men appear to look, well, like blue men. They can create storms and sink ships. Sure, the Flannan Isles are on the other side of the Outer Hebrides, but… you never know.

There are also stories of mermaids and mermen, water monsters, fairies… and all the lovely creatures of Celtic folklore. In 1882, a German ship near Lewis even reported seeing a sea serpent.

And while it would certainly be cool to have an Eldritch horror rising from the deep, tentacles poised to attack these unsuspecting men and drag them down to the deep… we know that these men weren’t gobbled up by a sea creature. It doesn’t fit the facts. 

I’ve even read theories that a giant sea bird came and scooped them up as well. But that’s highly unlikely; they’d have to be the Great Eagles of Middle Earth.

And outside of the supernatural explanations, there are some more realistic ones as well.

One prevailing theory is that the occasional keeper, Donald McArthur, might have gotten into a fight with Ducat and Marshall, and the three fell over the cliff’s edge. Nicholson’s book on Lighthouses, notes that, quote,
“Amongst the more colorful [of the rumors] was that one of the keepers killed his two companions and disposed of their bodies over the cliffs. He was then overcome with remorse and  took his own life in similar fashion.”

End quote.

But there’s no real proof to support this claim. Author Keith McCloskey in his book, The Lighthouse: The Mystery of the Eilean Mor Lighthouse Keepers, writes that, quote,
“While this is certainly a possibility as there is nothing to contradict the theory, none of the circumstances seem to support such a theory… There was nothing in the local press reports or local rumor saying that either of the men were in any way unpleasant characters. However, it is certain that if there was anything untoward, it would have surfaced after the tragedy.”

So, there you go. It’s not likely we have a Willem DaFoe, Robert Pattison Lighthouse situation, where tensions boiled over and the men became violent.

So what really happened to the lighthouse keepers at Eilean Mòr?
The Likely Story
If we apply Occam's razor here, we get a pretty simple explanation of what happened. The men disappeared on the afternoon of the 15th. James Ducat filled out the logs around 9am that morning, but the Archtor didn’t see the light that night. So some time during the day, the three men disappeared.

Since the machinery inside the lighthouse was still intact, there wasn’t anything like a leak, or explosion, or anything like that. The only real thing out of place was the West side of the island, where the iron railings, ropes, and other infrastructure had been washed away. Some were just gone, but others were visible on the rocks below. Which means that some combination of wind and water hit the west side of the island, the side facing the might of the Atlantic Ocean, breaking the railings. The men, probably the two dressed for the weather - Ducat and Marshall - went out to deal with the damage. Perhaps something happened to one of them, and the occasional keeper - Donald McArthur - was called over in a rush. Sensing the urgency, he ran out of the lighthouse without the proper clothing on. And perhaps, in their attempts at rescuing their fallen companion, the three of them were swept off the cliff’s edge by waves or strong winds. Considering there was nothing left behind - no blood, no drag marks, no weapons… nothing to indicate foul play - the most likely explanation is that wild weather took them. It’s supported by what was written in the logbooks about horrifying weather, the worst in 20 years if we take what Ducat said at face value.

So perhaps not the most fantastical answer to the mystery, but it’s likely the correct one.

Over the years, the story of the lighthouse keepers of Eilean Mòr has gone far beyond local legend and folklore. 

In 1912, Wilfrid Wilson Gibson wrote a poem titled “Flannan Isle,” and of course it’s all about the lighthouse mystery. Here are some stanzas from the poem, quote,
“THOUGH three men dwell on Flannan Isle
To keep the lamp alight,
As we steered under the lee, we caught
No glimmer through the night."

A passing ship at dawn had brought
The news; and quickly we set sail,
To find out what strange thing might ail
The keepers of the deep-sea light.

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.

End quote

There’s a lot more to the poem, but I wanted to stop there because that’s probably where the rumor about food on the table, and a toppled over chair, came from. It was added to make the mystery more appealing for his poem, but over time it’s been assumed as fact instead of fiction.

In the end, this story, though technically unsolved, is a testament to the dangers of working in some of the world’s most remote locations. Though there are still some that tend to lighthouses, for the most part they have become modernized and automated. The era of 2-3 men keeping the lighthouse, living together, and battling the elements has ended. And though we don’t 100% know what happened to James Ducat, Thomas Marshall, and Douglas McArthur, their names have lived on, and their story is still told to this day.
Outro
Thanks for joining me for this episode of A Popular History of Unpopular Things! My name is Kelli Beard, and I hope you’ve enjoyed this episode. Thank you for supporting my podcast, and check out some of the other ones if you want more!

If you want to support the show, I’ve got a link in the description for Buy Me A Coffee, a site for fans to fund the creative works of small creators like me, but without having to open up an account and do all of that.

Be sure to like and follow my podcast, available wherever you listen, so you know when new episodes are dropped. And stay tuned to get a popular history of unpopular things.

Sources
Primary Sources from the NLB website: https://www.nlb.org.uk/history/flannan-isles/

Christopher P. Nicholson, Rock Lighthouses of Britain. 1983. https://archive.org/details/rocklighthouseso0000nich/page/179/mode/1up?q=flannan+isles

Keith McCloskey, The Lighthouse: The Mystery of the Eilean Mor Lighthouse Keepers, 2014. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HSFUK1S/ref=kinw_myk_ro_title






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