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

The laying of this thick shore-end of the cable was an important point in the great work.

By that time Robin and cousin Sam had been regularly installed as members of the expedition, and were told off with many others to assist at the operation.

The Chiltern carried the great coil in her tanks. After rounding Colaba Point into Back Bay, she found a barge waiting to receive some two-and-a-half miles of the cable, with which she was to proceed to the shore. The barge resembled a huge Noah’s Ark, having a canvas awning to protect the cable, which was very sensitive to heat.

A measure of anxiety is natural at the beginning of most enterprises, and there were some who dreaded a “hitch” with superstitious fear, as if it would be a bad omen. But all went well.

“Now then, boys—shove her along; push her through,” said an experienced leader among the cable-hands, who grasped the great coil and guided it. The men took up the words at once, and, to this species of spoken chorus, “shove her along, push her through,” the snaky coil was sent rattling over the pulley-wheels by the tank and along the wooden gutter prepared for it, to the paying-out wheel at the Chiltern’s stern, whence it plunged down into the barge, where other experienced hands coiled it carefully round and round the entire deck.

It is difficult to describe the almost tender solicitude with which all this was done. The cable was passed carefully—so carefully—through all the huge staples that were to direct its course from the fore-tank to the wheel at the stern. Then it was made to pass over a wheel here and under a wheel there, to restrain its impetuosity, besides being passed three times round a drum, which controlled the paying-out. A man stood ready at a wheel, which, by a few rapid turns, could bring the whole affair to a standstill should anything go wrong. In the fore-tank eight men guided each coil to prevent entanglement, and on deck men were stationed a few feet apart all along to the stern, to watch every foot as it passed out. Three hours completed the transfer. Then the barge went slowly shoreward, dropping the cable into the sea as she went.

It was quite a solemn procession! First went a Government steam-tug, flaunting flags from deck to trucks as thick as they could hang. Then came the barge with her precious cargo. Then two boats full of cable-hands, and an official gig pulled by a Chinaman, while the steam-launch Electric kept buzzing about as if superintending all.

When the tug had drawn the barge shoreward as far as she could with safety, the smaller “Electric” took her place. When she also had advanced as far as her draught allowed, a boat carried to the shore a hawser, one end of which was attached to the cable. Then the cable-hands dropped over the sides of the barge up to waist, chest, or neck, (according to size), and, ranging themselves on either side of the rope and cable, dragged the latter to the shore, up the trench made for its reception, and laid its end on the great stone table, where it was made fast, tested by the electricians, as we have said, and pronounced perfect.

A few more days had to pass before the insatiable Great Eastern was filled with coal and reported ready for sea. Then, as a matter of course, she wound up with a grand feast—a luncheon—on board, at which many of the leading authorities and merchants of Bombay were present, with a brilliant company which entirely filled the spacious saloons.

“Owing to circumstances,” said Sam to Robin that day, “over which we have no control, you and I cannot be included among the guests at this approaching feast.”

“I’m sorry for that, Sam,” said our hero.

“Why so, Robin? Does a morbid devotion to chicken and ham, or sweets, influence you?”

“Not at all, though I make no pretence of indifference to such things, but I should so much like to hear the speeches.”

“Well, my boy, your desire shall be gratified. Through the influence of our, I might almost say miraculous, friend, Frank Hedley, we shall be permitted to witness the proceedings from a retired corner of the saloon, in company with crockery and waiters and other débris of the feast.”

At the appointed time the company assembled, and enjoyed as good a luncheon as money could procure.

“How some people do eat!” murmured Robin from his corner to Sam, who sat beside him.

“Yes, for it is their nature to,” replied Sam.

After the first toast was drunk the company braced themselves to the mental work of the afternoon, and although, as a matter of course, a good deal of twaddle was spoken, there was also much that threw light on the subject of ocean telegraphy. One of the leading merchants said, in his opening remarks: “Few of those present, I daresay, are really familiar with the history of ocean telegraphy.”

“Ah!” whispered Robin to Sam, “that’s the man for me. He’s sure to tell us a good deal that we don’t know, and although I have been ransacking Bombay ever since I arrived, for information, I don’t yet feel that I know much.”

“Hold your tongue, Robin, and listen,” said Sam.

“Mind your foot, sir,” remonstrated one of the steward’s assistants, who had a lugubrious countenance.

Robin took his foot out of a soup tureen, and applied himself to listen.

“When I reflect,” continued the merchant, “that it is now fourteen years since the first ocean telegraph of any importance was laid,—when I remember that the first cable was laid after an infinity of personal effort on the part of those who had to raise the capital,—when I mention that it was really a work of house-to-house visitation, when sums of 500 pounds to 1000 pounds, and even 10,000 pounds were raised by private subscription, with a view to laying a telegraph cable between England and America, when I reflect that the Queen’s Government granted the use of one of its most splendid vessels, the Agamemnon (Hear! hear! and applause), and that the American Government granted the use of an equally fine vessel, the Niagara—” (Hear! hear! and another round of applause, directed at the American Consul, who was present.)

(“Five glasses smashed that round,” growled the lugubrious waiter.)

“When I reflect,” continued the merchant, “that the expedition set out in 1857 with the greatest hopefulness, but proved a total failure—that the earnest men (Hear! hear!) connected with it again set to work the following year, and laid another cable (Applause), which, after passing through it a few messages of great importance to England and America (Hear!) also ceased communication, which so damped the courage of all concerned, that for seven or eight weary years nothing was attempted—no, I should not say nothing, for during that period Mr Cyrus Field,” (thunders of long-continued applause, during which the lugubrious waiter counted the demolition of six glasses and two dessert plates), “without whose able and persevering advocacy it is a question whether to this day we should have had ocean telegraphy carried out at all—during that period, I say, Mr Cyrus Field never gave himself rest until he had inspired others with some of the enthusiasm that burned so brightly in himself, which resulted in the renewed effort of 1865, with its failure and loss of 1213 miles of cable,—when I think of the indomitable pluck and confidence shown by such men as Thomas Brassey, Sir Samuel Canning, Sir James Anderson, Sir Daniel Gooch, Sir Richard Glass, Mr George Elliot. Mr Fender, Captain Sherard Osborn, and others—men of mind, and men of capital, and men who could see no difficulties—and I like men who can see no difficulties,” (Hear! hear! and loud applause.)

(“You’ll see more difficulties than ye bargain for, if ye go through life makin’ people smash crockery like that,” growled the lugubrious waiter.)

“When I think of these men, and of the formation of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company (Applause), and the successful laying of the 1866 cable, and the picking-up and completion of the old cable,” (Loud cheers),—(“Hm! a decanter gone this time. Will you take your foot out of the soup tureen, sir,” from the lugubrious man, and an impatient “hush!” from Robin.)

“When I think of all these things, and a great deal more that I cannot venture to inflict on the indulgent company (Go on!) I feel that the toast which I have the honour to propose deserves a foremost place in the toasts of the day, and that you will heartily respond to it, namely, Success to the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, for that Company has laid scores of cables since its formation, and has now successfully commenced, and will doubtless triumphantly complete, the laying of the cable which we have met to celebrate to-day—the fourth great enterprise, I may remark, which the Company has undertaken—the cable that is soon to connect India with England.”

The merchant sat down amid thunders of applause, during which the reckoning of breakages was lost, and finally abandoned by the lugubrious waiter.

At first Robin and Sam listened with great interest and profound attention, and the former treasured in his memory, or made pencil notes of, such facts and expectations as the following:— That only nine months previously had they commenced the construction of the cable which was now about to be laid; that Captain Halpin in the Great Eastern had laid the French Atlantic cable; that in a few weeks they hoped to connect Bombay with Malta, and two months later with England; that, a few months after that, England would be connected with the Straits of Malacca and Singapore. “In short,” said one gentleman at the close of his speech, “we hope that in 1871 India will be connected, chiefly, by submarine telegraph, with China, Australia, Europe, and America, and that your morning messages will reach home about the same hour at which they are sent from here, allowing, of course, for the difference in time; and that afternoon and evening messages from Europe will be in your hands at an early hour next morning.”

At this point the heat and unpleasant fumes around him began to tell upon Robin, and he suggested that they had better go on deck for a little fresh air.

“I’ll not budge,” said Sam, positively. “Why, the best is yet to come.”

Saying this, to the surprise of Robin, Sam rose, went forward to the table, and asked permission to make a few remarks.

“Who is he?—what? eh!” exclaimed the chairman. “Turn him out,” cried one. “Sit down,” cried another. “No, no, let him speak,” cried a third. “Don’t you know it is Samuel Shipton, the great electrician?”

“Bravo! go on! speak out!” cried several voices, accompanied by loud applause.

“Gentlemen,” began Sam in his softest voice, “I regard this as one of the greatest occasions of—of—my life,” (Hear! hear! from a fussy guest; and Hush! hush! and then we shall hear here better, from an angry one). “I little thought,” continued Sam, warming apparently with his subject—or the heat, “little thought that on this great occasion