could be had for them.

Upon this rock (which was called the Eddystone, from its situation)
the famous Mr. Winstanley undertook to build a lighthouse for the
direction of sailors, and with great art and expedition finished
it; which work--considering its height, the magnitude of its
building, and the little hold there was by which it was possible to
fasten it to the rock--stood to admiration, and bore out many a
bitter storm.

Mr. Winstanley often visited, and frequently strengthened, the
building by new works, and was so confident of its firmness and
stability that he usually said he only desired to be in it when a
storm should happen; for many people had told him it would
certainly fall if it came to blow a little harder than ordinary.

But he happened at last to be in it once too often--namely, when
that dreadful tempest blew, November 27, 1703. This tempest began
on the Wednesday before, and blew with such violence, and shook the
lighthouse so much, that, as they told me there, Mr. Winstanley
would fain have been on shore, and made signals for help; but no
boats durst go off to him; and, to finish the tragedy, on the
Friday, November 26, when the tempest was so redoubled that it
became a terror to the whole nation, the first sight there seaward
that the people of Plymouth were presented with in the morning
after the storm was the bare Eddystone, the lighthouse being gone;
in which Mr. Winstanley and all that were with him perished, and
were never seen or heard of since. But that which was a worse loss
still was that, a few days after, a merchant's ship called the
Winchelsea, homeward bound from Virginia, not knowing the Eddystone