Thrt *oi iHe sc«e»-pilc lighibouic ot Soulhwcit
Point. Royol Shoal, in Pamlico Sound, token by
en itinefont photographer from
о
polling boot.
By looking cloiely you con distinguish the light¬
house keeper, who hoi come out on the "porch"
to turn the mefol cronk which ringi the warning
bell.
Life Aboard a Screw-Pile Lighthouse
There were never many off fliein. anil Kelly
Robinson may be the only living* Tar Heel
who grew up on one.
K»/ M. M ASO\ II AMKLS
Before the days of screw-pile light¬
houses (cottages) on Pamlico Sound.
North Carolina, the dangerous reefs of
Royal Shoal were marked by light-ves¬
sels. By an act of Congress March 3.
1826. vessels were stationed at several
points, with their forty-foot light burn¬
ing until 1862, when rebels sank them
all to barricade N'cuse River against the
Union soldiers.
By still another act of Congress, sev¬
eral screw - pile lighthouses were
erected, similar to the one at South¬
west Point, Royal Shoal (sec photo¬
graph). This family cottage, white with
brown roof and green shutters, cost
SI 5. 1 25. Its tower was lighted for the
first time on April 30. 1867 and op¬
erated until August I. 1880. Boatmen
pressed so hard for a warning light
that it was “reexhibiled Sept. 15,
1887.”
According to U. S. Archives records.
three years of storms caused so much
erosion below water, that in December
1890, 425 cubic yards of riprap stone
were put around the pilings to strength¬
en them.
Appointed as keepers of two screw-
pile lighthouses, five miles apart, at
opposite ends of Royal Shoal, were the
Keeler brothers from Connecticut.
They had been in the Union Army,
stationed at New Bern, where they
met two McCotter sisters from Pamli¬
co County. Returning a few years after
the war. the Keeler men married the
McCotter women, who. meantime, had
received the best formal education New
Bern had to offer.
Some thirty years later. Charles
Keeler and his Annie, childless and
lonely, at Southwest Point lighthouse,
took a little orphan boy of nearby
Portsmouth to live with them.
Kelly Robinson, born Oct. 24, 1891,
likes to tell of his childhood aboard
the lighthouse.
Kelly’s Story
Most boats, he recalls, moved under
sail, and the keeper acknowledged their
mournful fog-horn salute by turning a
metal crank to ring the bell. In thick,
foggy weather, the ailing Mr. Charlie
rang the bell day and night to keep the
boats from running through his house.
Mrs. Annie and Kelly relieved him,
alternately, at the crank.
The cottage, having four large rooms
on the first floor and one upstairs, was
adequate for its day. Pipes carried rain¬
water from big indoor tanks to the
kitchen pump, and cooking was done
on a wood- burning range.
In the living-dining room, which had
starched, white, ruffled window cur¬
tains. Mrs. Annie kept her reed or-
THE STATE. NOVEMBER I. 1970
t 9 1
