The Battery and the Boiler: Adventures in Laying of Submarine Electric Cables by - (top 100 novels TXT) 📕

commander of the monster ship, and it was pleasant to see the almost childlike glee with which, taking the captain by the hand, he threaded his way through the crowd, introducing him right and left to his friends. Not less pleasant was it to observe the lively interest with which the natives regarded the captain when they learned who he was.

At this point in the evening’s proceedings, a gentleman in civilian costume came up to Sam Shipton, and asked him if he were acquainted with Mr Davis—one of the petty officers of the Great Eastern.

“I know him slightly,” said Sam.

“He has got into trouble, sir,” said the stranger, “and begged me to find you, if possible, and take you to him. I have been on board the Great Eastern looking for you, and was directed here.”

“That’s strange,” returned Sam, “I have seldom spoken to the man. Are you sure he did not send you for some one else—one of his mess-mates?”

“Quite sure, sir. And he bade me urge you to go quickly, else you may be too late.”

“Well—lead the way. Come, Robin, I’m sorry to quit this gay and festive scene—especially before supper—but it can’t be helped. You’ll go with me, and we can return together.”

The stranger seemed to hesitate a moment, as if annoyed at Robin being thus asked to go, but, as if quickly making up his mind, led them out of the Rajah’s residence, and, after a smart walk, conducted them into one of the poorer districts of the city.

“What sort of trouble has the man got into?” asked Sam as they went along.

“I really do not know. He will tell you when you see him, I suppose. I am only a casual acquaintance of his, and came on this errand to oblige him, solely because he seemed in great mental distress and was very urgent.”

Soon the conversation turned upon cable-laying, and, finding that Robin had been at the laying of the Atlantic cable of 1856, the stranger inquired about the attempts that had been made to injure that cable.

“Tell me, now, would you think it a sin,” he said, with a peculiar look at Sam, “to drive a nail into the cable so as to destroy it, if you were offered the sum of ten thousand pounds?”

“Of course I would,” said Sam, looking at his conductor with surprise. “I wonder that you should ask the question.”

“Why should you wonder,” returned the man with a smile, “at any question which aims at the investigation of that great enigma styled the human mind? I am fond of the study of character, and of those principles of good and evil which influence men. Under given circumstances and conditions, the commission of a certain sin is greatly more blameworthy than the commission of the same sin under different conditions and circumstances. Do you not think so?”

“Of course I do,” said Sam. “The man who, having been born and brought up among pickpockets, and under strong temptation commits a theft, is not nearly so guilty as the man would be who, having been trained under refined and Christian influences, should commit a similar theft; but I do not see the application of your argument, for your question did not refer to the relative depth of guilt, but to the sinfulness or innocence of a certain dastardly act for a tempting sum of money.”

“I may not have put my question very philosophically,” returned the stranger, “but I would like to have your opinion as to whether you think, under any circumstances of distress—poverty, for instance, with those dependent on one dying of hunger—a man would be justified in destroying the power of a telegraph cable for a sum of money—part, let us suppose, paid in advance, and the remainder after the deed had been accomplished.”

“My opinion is that no circumstances whatever would justify such an act,” said Sam with indignation. “Don’t you agree with me, Robin?”

“Of course I do,” said Robin with even greater indignation.

“And I quite agree with you, gentlemen,” said the stranger, with a wider smile than before; “but I like to have my opinions corroborated or combated by other minds. We have now reached our destination; please follow me, and stoop a little, for the ceiling of the passage is rather low, and the poor people here cannot afford to light it.”

The recent discussion had diverted Sam’s mind from the character of the place into which he had been led, but a suspicion which had been growing now assailed him forcibly.

“Keep your stick handy,” he whispered to Robin, at the same time grasping more firmly a stout cudgel which he carried.

These precautions seemed needless, however, for the stranger, opening with a latch-key a door at the further end of the dark passage, ushered them into a dimly lighted room, where about a dozen men were seated round a table drinking and smoking.

The men rose on the entrance of the visitors and received them with courtesy.

“Mr Davis will be glad to see you, sir,” said one; “he has been in much anxiety, but here he comes and will speak for himself.”

A door at the other end of the room opened, and a tall slightly-built man entered. Sam saw at once that he was not Davis.

“Fool!” growled the man, with a savage look at the stranger who had conducted them there, “you have brought the wrong man!”

“I had already begun to suspect as much,” returned the other, with a light laugh.

Swallowing his disgust, apparently with an effort, the slim man turned to Sam and said, “A mistake has been made, sir. One or two of my friends here will conduct you to any part of the city you may wish to go to.”

“I require no assistance,” said Sam, flushing with sudden indignation. “I believe that you are conspirators, and will take particular note of your dwelling, in order that I may spoil your game.”

He was about to turn and quit the room, when he was suddenly seized from behind by two powerful men, who seemed to have come on the scene by rising through the floor! At the same moment Robin was similarly secured. They did not, however, submit tamely. Both were strong-bodied as well as high-spirited, and Sam was large as well as strong.

But what were their powers against such odds! For a few seconds they struggled furiously. Then, feeling that their efforts were fruitless, they ceased.

“It is as well to go quietly, my fine fellows,” said the slim man in a slightly sarcastic tone. “We are not only more than a match for you, but we happen to belong to a class of gentlemen who don’t allow trifles to stand in their way. At the same time we object to murder when we can get along without it. Some of us will therefore conduct you to another part of the city. Now, I give you fair warning, if you struggle or try to make a noise on the way, we will silence you in a manner that will effectually keep you quiet for ever. Just have your knives handy, men, and don’t exercise forbearance if these gentlemen turn out to be fools.”

A prick in their necks by the point of some sharp instrument emphasised these words to Robin and Sam, and, at the same time, proved that the subordinates were quite ready, perhaps even anxious, to obey their superior. They suffered themselves, therefore, to be blindfolded, and led out of the house.

Of course once or twice they both thought of making a sudden struggle and endeavouring to throw off their captors, but the vice-like strength of the fingers that held them, and the recollection of the sharp instruments near their necks induced discretion; besides, the absence of the sound of footsteps told them that they could not count on aid from passers-by, even if the dwellers in such a region had been willing to assist them, which was not probable.

After passing quickly along several streets, the men who led them stopped and relaxed their hold.

“Now, you stand quiet for half a minute,” said one of them gruffly; “there’s a knife close to each of your spines at this moment.”

Thus warned, the captives stood still for nearly a minute. Then Sam lost patience.

“Well,” he said, angrily, “how long do you mean to keep us here?”

Receiving no reply, he suddenly pulled the handkerchief from his eyes and assumed the pugilistic attitude with the celerity of one whose life may depend on his action, but the only enemy to be seen was Robin, who, having also pulled down the handkerchief, stood staring at his comrade in mute surprise.

“They’re gone!” cried Sam, bursting into a fit of laughter. “The villains! The scoundrels! But who can they be? I fear there can be little doubt as to what mischief they are up to.”

“We have not the smallest clue to trace them by,” said Robin, with a vexed expression.

“Not the smallest. I don’t even know what quarter of the town we are in now,” returned Sam.

“The handkerchiefs!” exclaimed Robin with sudden animation.

“Well, what of them?”

“They—they may have names in the corners.”

Again the risible Sam burst into a loud laugh, as the idea of scoundrels possessing any handkerchiefs of their own at all, much less having their names marked in the corners; and poor Robin, whose memories of maternal care had prompted the thought, felt some degree of confusion, which was deepened when he discovered that the kerchiefs, with which their eyes had been bound, were their own.

They were startled by a gruff voice demanding to know what they were laughing at and kicking up such a row at that time of the morning!

It was one of the guardians of the night, who became very polite on drawing nearer and being informed, in a mild voice, by Sam that they had lost their way and would be much indebted for guidance, for Sam thought it best to say nothing about their adventure until they had had ample time to think it over and decide what was best to be done.

Having been directed how to go, having lost themselves a second time, and been directed again by another guardian, they found themselves at last in the neighbourhood of the port, and here the sound of loud voices, as if engaged in some nocturnal orgies, was heard in the distance.

“As we seem in for a night of adventure,” said Sam, “we may as well accept our fate, and go see what it’s all about.”

“Agreed,” said Robin.

Hurrying forward, they came upon a remarkable and picturesque scene. The engineers of the Great Eastern had chosen the previous day for the laying of the mile of land-line with which the cable was to be connected. The burying of it in its appointed home had commenced at half-past six in the evening and had continued all through the night. It was about 2 a.m. when our adventurers came upon the scene. The trench was cut through ground on which a number of soldiers were encamped, whose white tents looked ghostlike in the feeble star-light, and lines of naked natives were seen, waving lanterns, pushing along the mysterious cable, or, with hands and feet busily pressing down the loose soil that covered the buried portion.

The whole operation was conducted with a superabundance of noise, for the burying of a rope in a trench three feet deep was in itself such a tremendous joke to the coolies, that they entered upon it with much excitement as a sort of unusual piece of fun. That they were in some degree also impressed with the mysterious and important object of their work might have been gathered from their chant:— “Good are the cable-wallahs, great are their names; good are the cable-wallahs, wah! wah! wah! great are the cable-wallahs, wah!” which they continued without intermission all through the night, to their own intense delight and to the annoyance no doubt of the military unfortunates who were encamped on the ground.

Besides the naked fellows who, in their excitement