A Lighthouse on Fire

South Florida was a dangerous place for a lighthouse keeper to work in 1836.  Not only was there deprivation and loneliness at the remote sites of lighthouses, but also severe storms and heat.  In addition, Seminoles troubles were escalating.  Angry about plans for confinement on a reservation in the Midwest, the Seminoles attacked and burned Florida homesteads and outwitted military strategists.  Ultimately, they set their sights on the most obvious local symbol of the U.S. Government – the lighthouse on Key Biscayne.

Following the murder by Seminoles of a family in what is present-day Miami, Cape Florida Light’s principle keeper, James Dubose, moved his family to Key West to keep them safe.  He was there in July 1836, visiting his wife and children, when the lighthouse on Key Biscayne was attacked.

Alone in the keeper’s quarters that afternoon was the assistant keeper, John Thompson, and an elderly black named Henry Aaron Carter.  They were resting, taking refuge from the intense afternoon heat, when the Seminoles approached in their canoes.  The men fled to the lighthouse with rifles and barred the door.  Minutes later they heard the crackle of fire outside and knew the Indians had torched the station.  The blaze soon reached the wooden door.  Realizing the cans of oil and ammunition in the base of the lighthouse would ignite, the keepers fled up the wooden stairs, carrying a keg of gunpowder.

At the top of the lighthouse the keepers exchanged gunfire with the Seminoles, but a greater threat soon occupied them.  Fire broke through to the base of the lighthouse, reached the oil supply, and exploded in a fury that engulfed the wooden stairway.  The tower’s hollow interior acted like a flue, fanning the flames.  Thompson and Carter grabbed an axe and attempted to chop the blazing stairway loose, but the incredible heat forced them back. Before long, the iron lantern was frying pan hot.

 In Thompson’s own words:  “The lantern was now full of flame, the lamps and glasses bursting and flying all directions, my clothes on fire, and to move from the place where I was would be instant death from their rifles.  My flesh was roasting…”

The men crawled to the edge of the catwalk to escape the horrible inferno, but were greeted by a hail of gunfire from the Seminoles.  In agony, Carter stood up to jump from the tower and was shot.  Thompson retreated inside the lantern enclosure, but his clothes were now on fire.  Screaming and writhing with pain, he spied the keg of gunpowder he had carried to the top of the lighthouse.  Thinking to end the horrid ordeal, he rolled the keg toward the access hole in the lantern floor and closed his eyes, expecting the entire lighthouse to explode.

The concussion of the blast rocked the tower and threw Thompson against the catwalk railing, but the tower was not destroyed, nor was he killed.  Nearby lay Carter with five bullets in his body.  He murmured something to Thompson and died.  The explosion had caused the burning stairs to collapse to the bottom of the lighthouse, snuffing out the flames.  Dazed and badly burned, Thompson lapsed into unconsciousness.  Thinking both men were dead, the Seminoles looted the house, stole Thompson’s boat, and departed.

For hours, Thompson lay inert on the top of the tower as the fire smoldered in its base.  He was burned over much of his body, and several fingers and toes had been shot off in the gunfight.  When night came, the lantern cooled but hordes of mosquitoes descended to feast on his tortured flesh.  With no way to get down, he resigned himself to a slow death. 

At dawn he woke to the buzzing of flies and the awful scene of Carter’s bloated, bullet-riddled body a few feet away.  Scanning the horizon with red, swollen eyes, he saw no sign of help – only a trackless expanse of sea canopied by a clear blue sky and brutally hot sun.  Around noon, Thompson roused and saw a ship offshore.  He tore a piece of unburned cloth from Carter’s trousers and waved it in hopes of being seen.  After a few minutes exertion, he collapsed again.

Sometime later he heard voices on the ground below.  Pulling himself to the edge of the catwalk, he peered down cautiously, worried the Seminoles might have returned.  But the voices did not belong to Indians.  The ship had anchored, and men in blue uniforms were searching the ruins.  Thompson knew he was saved.  Feebly, he waved an arm and called out for help. 

The seamen of the USS Motto looked up at the charred lantern in disbelief.  The tormented soul who greeted them had no clothing, no hair, and bloody stumps were many of his fingers and toes should have been.  His skin was blistered and raw as a smoked ham.  They had heard the explosion of the gunpowder keg the day before and found the sloop adrift.  Smoke from the burning lighthouse had led them to Cape Florida.

Excitedly, the seamen made plans to rescue Thompson.  They tried several ways of getting a line to him, including throwing it with a ball of shot and flying it up on a kite.  For twelve hours, they tried unsuccessfully.  Thompson was growing weaker and had all but given up on his rescuers.  Finally, one sailor devised a ramrod attached to twine and fired it onto the lantern.  Cheering loudly, the men encouraged Thompson to pull up a lifeline, which he did after much effort.  A man climbed the rope and brought down the near-dead keeper.

Thompson was taken to Key West and hospitalized.  The Collector of Customs for the town sent a letter to Stephen Pleasanton, who administered U.S. lighthouses from Washington, D.C.: “Thompson was brought to this place & is in a fair way to do well.  Indeed his recovery is deemed certain, but it is feared he will be a cripple for life.  He being a seaman…I have thought it equitable to extend the agreed aid to sick and disabled seamen.”

Following his recovery, Thompson moved to Charleston, South Carolina, where it is believed he took up duties at another lighthouse.  His story was told around the world, and as an old man it is said he made money telling of his ordeal.

The Cape Florida Lighthouse, gutted and scarred by the conflagration, stood dark for a decade until Seminole troubles died down. Over two-hundred bullet holes were found in the lantern, and it was discovered the original builder had defrauded the government by constructing hollow walls, thus saving half the cost of bricks.  No such shortcut was used for the new tower.  It was repaired and strengthened, and relighted in 1846.

Today, Cape Florida Lighthouse is handsome and kept in great shape. It's a popular park and museum on Key Biscayne. The old keepers' house has been rebuilt to house exhibits.

      All photos are from the collection of the author.