DAVY JONES’S LOCKER.—SUBMARINE CABLES.
The First Channel Cable—Nowadays 50,000 Miles of Submarine Wire—A
Noble New Englander—The First Idea of the Atlantic Cable—Its
Practicability Admitted—Maury’s Notes on the Atlantic Bottom—Deep
Sea Soundings—Ooze, formed of Myriads of Shells—English Co‐
operation with Field—The First Cable of 1857—Paying Out—2,000
Fathoms down—The Cable Parted—Bitter Disappointment—The Cable Laid
and Working—Another Failure—The Employment of the _Great
Eastern_—Stowing Away the Great Wire Rope—Departure—Another
Accident—A Traitor on Board—Cable Fished up from the
Bottom—Failure—Inauguration of the 1866 Expedition—Prayer for
Success—A _Lucky_ Friday—Splicing to the Shore Cable—The
Start—Each Day’s Run—Approaching Trinity Bay—Success at Last—The
Old and the New World Bound Together.
In the year 1850 a copper wire, insulated with gutta‐percha, was submerged
between England and France, and that connecting link between the two
greatest countries of Europe was the first considerable success of its
kind. To‐day Great Britain is connected with the European continent by a
dozen cables, and there are over 50,000 miles of submerged wires silently
conveying their messages over the face of the globe. Thirty years of
practical scientific labour has united the whole world. You can telegraph
or “wire” your commands to distant China or Japan; you can ask the market
rates of wheat in the farthest west of the New World; you can correspond
with your wife in England if you are at the Antipodes. Puck’s idea of
putting the “girdle round the earth” has been more than accomplished. The
story of the successes won at the very bottom of the ocean would take long
to tell; here we can only follow the story of one of the grandest—that of
the Atlantic cable.
In the month of November, 1819, a noble American, whose career deserves to
be put on record, first saw the light. Cyrus W. Field has deservedly
earned an honourable and honoured name in two worlds for indomitable
perseverance and pluck.(31)
The New Englander has to‐day, and has always had, many of the best
qualities of the Old Englander. In Field they were conspicuously
displayed. In his “bright lexicon” there was—
“No such word as _fail_,”
for the worst disappointment only stirred him to fresh exertion.
“’Tis not in mortals to command success;
But we’ll do more, Sempronius—we’ll deserve it.”
Field was born in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, a rural village nook which
lies calmly and peacefully cradled among the green Berkshire hills, a spot
which would delight the eyes of a true artist. He was the son of a country
pastor, who, in spite of a paltry stipend of a hundred and fifty pounds a
year, and thanks to the scholastic advantages offered to every one in the
United States, gave nine children a superior education. Several of these
children distinguished themselves in after life, but none more than the
subject of this sketch.
While to this energetic man is due the actual success, it is to Professor
Morse, who had said that “telegraphic communication might with certainty
be established across the Atlantic Ocean,” and to an excellent Roman
Catholic bishop, that the idea is to be fairly credited. Bishop Mullock,
of Newfoundland, while lying becalmed in his yacht off Cape North, the
extreme point of the province of Cape Breton, bethought himself how his
poor neglected island might reap some advantage from being taken into the
track of communication between Europe and America, for he saw that Nature
had provided an easy approach to the mainland for a cable. Fired with the
idea, he wrote to one of the St. John’s papers, and his letter is to‐day a
model of lucid explanation. About the same time Mr. Frederick N. Gisborne,
a practical telegraph operator, promulgated the idea of connecting St.
John’s with the mainland, and one evening interested Mr. Cyrus Field, then
just retired from business on a competency, in his scheme. “After he
left,” writes his brother, “Mr. Field took the globe which was standing in
the library, and began to turn it over. It was while thus studying the
globe that the idea first occurred to him that the telegraph might be
carried further still, and be made to span the Atlantic Ocean.” Maury, the
distinguished marine scientist, and Professor Morse, had also come to the
same conclusion, and at about the same time as had others in England. The
history of the financial difficulties and ultimate triumphs connected with
the inauguration of the first cable would not interest the reader; suffice
it to say that half‐a‐dozen New York millionaires subscribed the first
capital—a million and a half dollars. The cable across the Gulf of St.
Lawrence was successfully laid in 1856, after one previous failure.
And now Field began to clear the way by consulting the highest scientific
authorities on both sides of the Atlantic. Was it possible to carry a
cable across the ocean? If laid, would it be able to convey messages? The
first query related to mechanical difficulties only, such as the depth of
the ocean, the nature of the ocean bed, the influence of currents and
winds. The second referred to pure science and the conditions under which
the electric fluid acts—Would the lightning flash from shore to shore
across an intervening waste of sea? The answer to the first question was
supplied by Maury, who pointed out that between Ireland and Newfoundland
the bottom of the sea formed a plateau, or elevated table‐land, which, as
he said, seemed to have been placed there especially for the purpose of
supporting the wires of an electric telegraph, and protecting them from
injury. Its slope, he said, was quite regular, gradually increasing from
the shores of Newfoundland to the depth of from 1,500 to 2,000 fathoms as
you approach the Irish coast. It was neither too deep nor too shallow:
deep enough to protect the cable from danger by ships’ anchors, icebergs,
and currents; shallow enough to secure that the wires should be readily
lodged upon the bottom. From Professor Morse an equally satisfactory
answer was obtained. He declared his faith in the undertaking as a
practicable one: that it might, could, and would be achieved.
The Company undertook to make a series of careful soundings to ascertain
the exact nature of the ocean bottom over which the cable connecting
Newfoundland with Ireland would have to be laid. Mr. Field applied for
this purpose to the American Government, who immediately despatched the
_Arctic_, under Lieutenant Berryman, on this useful and most necessary
service. She sailed from New York on the 18th of July, 1856; and on the
following day Mr. Field left in the steamship _Baltic_ for England, to
organise the Atlantic Telegraph Company. The _Arctic_ proceeded to St.
John’s, and thence went on her way across the deep, in three weeks
reaching the coast of Ireland, and clearly demonstrating, as the result of
her survey, the existence of a great plateau under the ocean, extending
all the way from the New World to the Old. To make assurance doubly sure,
Mr. Field solicited the British Admiralty “to make what further soundings
might be necessary between Ireland and Newfoundland, and to verify those
made by Lieutenant Berryman.” In response to this appeal the Admiralty
sent out the _Cyclops_, under Lieutenant Dayman, a very capable officer,
who executed his task with great zeal and success. He showed that the
depth of the water on the so‐called telegraphic plateau—the elevated
table‐land which Providence had raised between the two continents—nowhere
exceeded 2,500 fathoms, or 15,000 feet. Such a depth is almost trivial
compared with the enormous depths in other parts of the Atlantic, where
you might hide from all human eyes the loftiest snow‐clad peak of the
Himalayas, yet no inconsiderable depth if you reflect that the peak of
Teneriffe, were it here “cast into the sea,” would sink out of sight,
island, mountain, and all; and even the coloured crest of Mont Blanc would
rise but a few hundred feet above the waves. The single exception to this
uniform depth occurs about 200 miles off the Irish coast, where within an
area of about a dozen miles the depth sinks from 550 to 1,750 fathoms. In
14° 48’ W., says Dayman, we have 550 fathoms rock, and in 150° 6’ W. we
have 1,750 fathoms ooze. In little more than ten miles of distance a
change of depth takes place amounting to fully 7,200 feet. It was supposed
that this tremendous declivity would be the chief point of danger in
laying down the cable; and to remove, if possible, the anxiety which
existed, Lieutenant Dayman made a further survey. The result showed that
the dip was not a sudden one; the precipitous bank or submarine cliff
turned out to be a gradual slope of nearly sixty miles. Over this long
slope, said a writer in the _Times_, the difference between its greatest
height and greatest depth is only 8,760 feet, so that the average incline
is, in round numbers, about 145 feet per mile. A good gradient on a
railway is now generally considered to be 1 in 100 feet, or about 53 feet
in a mile; so that the incline on this supposed bank is only about three
times that of an ordinary railway. It was found upon these surveys that
the ocean bed consisted of a soft ooze, as soft as the moss which clings
to old damp stone on the river’s brink. And of what does this ooze
consist? The microscope revealed the astonishing fact that it is made up
of myriads of shells, too minute to be discovered by the naked eye, yet
each perfect in itself, unbroken and uninjured. These organisms live near
the surface of the water, but in death sink down to the bottom, and there
find a calm and peaceful resting‐place. Well has it been said that a
mighty work of life and death has for ages been going on in the tranquil
bosom of ocean. Myriads upon myriads, ever since the morning of creation,
have been falling—falling like snow‐flakes, till their remains cover with
a thick stratum of beautiful organisms the ocean bed. “The bearing of this
discovery,” says Dr. Field, “on the problem of a submarine telegraph was
obvious. For it, too, was to lie on the ocean bed, beside and among those
relics that had so long been drifting down upon the watery plain. And if
these tiny shells slept there unharmed, surely an iron cord might rest
there in safety. There were no swift currents down there; no rushing waves
agitated that sunless sea. There the waters moved not, and there might
rest the great nerve that was to pass from continent to continent. And so
far as injury from the surrounding elements was concerned, there it might
remain, whispering the thoughts of successive generations of men, till the
sea should give up its dead.” Everything showed that the project of an
Atlantic cable was feasible. All that remained was to raise the capital
necessary for its development. But this could be done only by the
formation of a large and influential company, the enterprise having
outgrown the resources of Mr. Field and his little band of New York
merchants. While engaged in submitting his scheme to the consideration of
the capitalists of London, Mr. Field found counsel and encouragement from
many men distinguished in the world of science, and among his principal
supporters had the good fortune to rank Glass and Elliot, now so well
known as manufacturers of sea‐cables, and the celebrated engineers whose
names are associated with the scientific marvels of the age—Brett, Bidder,
Robert Stephenson, and Brunel. The last‐named was then building the
colossal ship afterwards called the _Great Eastern_; and one day taking
Mr. Field down to see her gigantic hull as it lay in the yard at
Blackwall, he exclaimed—and, as results have proved, prophetically—“There
is the ship to lay your Atlantic cable!”
[Illustration: SECTION OF THE FIRST ATLANTIC CABLE.]
The Atlantic Telegraph Company was formed; and 2,500 miles of cable were
manufactured and stowed on board the English naval vessel _Agamemnon_ and
the United States ship _Niagara_. It was on the evening of August 7th,
1857, that the squadron sailed; and according to arrangement the _Niagara_
at once began to pay out the cable very slowly; but before five miles had
been accomplished the heavy shore end of the cable got entangled with the
machinery through the carelessness of one of the men in charge, and
parted. The _Niagara_ put back, and the cable was “under run” the whole
distance. At last the end was raised from the water and “spliced” to the
gigantic coil, and as it dropped safely to its resting‐place among the
“salt sea ooze” the noble ship once more went on her way. Saturday, we are
told, was a day of beautiful weather. The squadron made good progress at a
rate of from four to five miles an hour, and the cable was paid out at a
speed somewhat exceeding that of the ship, to allow for any irregularities
of surface on the bottom of the sea. Meantime a constant communication was
kept up with the land. Every moment the electric fluid flashed between
ship and shore. Not only did the electricians wire back to Valentia the
progress they were making, but the officers on board sent messages to
their friends in America to go out by the steamer from Liverpool. The very
heavens seemed to regard the enterprise with favour. All went merrily as a
marriage bell. Without a kink the coil came up from the vessel’s hold, and
unwinding easily, passed over the stern into the sea. Once or twice,
however, a momentary alarm was caused by the cable being thrown off the
wheels, an accident due to the insufficient width and depth of the sheaves
and to the fact that they were filled with tar, which hardened in the air.
This defect was remedied in later expeditions. Still it worked well, and
as long as the terrible brakes withheld their iron grasp might work
through to the end. On the following day, Sunday, the course of affairs
was not less smooth; and on Monday the expedition was upwards of 200 miles
from land. The shallow water of the coast had been safely traversed. The
ships had passed over the submarine declivity which has been already
described, and had reached the deeper waters of the Atlantic, where the
cable sank to a depth of not less than 2,000 fathoms. Still the iron cord
buried itself in the profound silence, and every instant the flash of
light in the telegraph room recorded the continuous passage of the
mysterious electric current. About four o’clock on Tuesday morning,
however, a sudden interruption occurred. It seems from the published
narrative that the cable was running cut fully at the rate of six miles an
hour, while the ship was making only four. To check this waste, the
engineer applied the brakes very firmly, with the effect of stopping the
machine. Hence a heavy strain told on the submerged portion of the cable.
The stern of the ship was down in the trough of the sea, and as it rose
upward on the swell the pressure became too great, and the cable parted.
Instantly a cry of grief and dismay ran through the ship. She was checked
in her onward career, and in five minutes all gathered on deck with
feelings which can be better imagined than described. One who was present
wrote:—“The unbidden tear started to many a manly eye. The interest taken
in the enterprise by all—every one, officers and men—exceeded anything I
ever saw, and there is no wonder that there should have been so much
emotion at our failure.” Captain Hudson says:—“It made all hands of us
through the day like a household or family which had lost their dearest
friend, for officers and men had been deeply interested in the success of
the enterprise.” The cable broke in 2,000 fathoms water, when about 330
nautical miles were laid, at a distance of 280 miles from Valentia. This
was the first of a series of disappointments, ending, however, in eventual
triumph.
The same vessels sailed again in June of the next year, and as arranged
before starting, reached a point of junction in mid‐stream, where the ends
of the two cables were spliced, and the ships parted, the _Agamemnon_
steering for Valentia, and the _Niagara_ for Trinity Bay, Newfoundland.
Both vessels arrived at their ports of destination on August 5th, and the
fact of the completion of the enterprise was for the first time “cabled”
under the wide Atlantic two days later, to the great rejoicing, it may
fairly be said, of two worlds. Congratulatory messages were flashed from
either end, and success seemed secured. Alas! less than a month later all
communication ceased; the electric current would not pass through the
great wire‐rope; there was a leakage somewhere. But it had been shown
conclusively that messages _could_ be transmitted under the given
conditions. This was something.
Passing over all the financial arrangements connected with a new attempt,
which was not made till 1865, we find Brunel’s prediction fulfilled. The
largest ship in the world was chartered to lay another cable.
[Illustration: EXTERIOR AND SECTION OF THE 1865 ATLANTIC CABLE.]
The work of stowing away the cable on board the _Great Eastern_, where it
was coiled up in three immense tanks—one aft, one amidships, and one
forward—began in January and was not completed until June. It will give
the reader an idea of the enormous size and capacity of the _Great
Eastern_ when he is told that though the cable measured 2,700 miles, a
visitor to the mammoth ship was at first unaware of its being on board!
Here is the account given by a writer who went to see the ship and its
novel cargo. Its details are interesting. “It is time,” he says, after a
general survey of the wonders of the huge vessel—“it is time we should
look after what we have mainly come to see—the telegraph cable. To our
intense astonishment we beheld it—nowhere, although informed that there
are nearly 2,000 miles of it already on board, and that the remaining
piece, which is long enough to stretch from Land’s End to John o’ Groat’s,
is in course of shipment. We walk up and down on the deck of the _Great
Eastern_ without seeing this chain which is to bind together the Old World
and the New, and it is only on having the place pointed out to us that we
find out where the cable lies.” The writer then describes the process of
taking it on board:—“On the side opposite to where we landed, deep below
the deck of our giant, is moored a vessel surmounted by a timber structure
resembling a house, and from this vessel the wonderful telegraph cable is
drawn silently into the immense womb of the _Great Eastern_. The work is
done so quietly and noiselessly, by means of a small steam‐engine, that we
scarcely notice it. Indeed, were it not pointed out to us, we would never
think that that little iron cord, _about an inch in diameter_, which is
sliding over a few rollers and through a wooden table, is a thing of
world‐wide fame—a thing which may influence the life of whole nations,
nay, which may affect the march of civilisation. Following the direction
in which the iron rope goes, we now come to the most marvellous sight....
We find ourselves in a little wooden cabin, and look down over a railing
at the side into an immense cavern below. This cavern is one of the three
‘tanks’ in which the two‐thousand‐mile cable is finding a temporary home.
The passive agent of electricity comes creeping in here in a beautiful
silent manner, and is deposited in coils, layer above layer. It is almost
dark at the immense depth below, and we can only dimly discern the human
figures through whose hands the coil passes to its bed. Suddenly, however,
the men begin singing. They intone a low, plaintive song of the sea,
something like Kingsley’s
“Three fishers went sailing away to the west,
Away to the west, as the sun went down,”
the sounds of which rise up from the dark deep cavern with startling
effect, and produce an indescribable impression. We move on; but the song
of the sailors who are taking charge of the Atlantic telegraph cable is
haunting us like a dream. In vain that our guide conducts us all over the
big ship, through miles of galleries, passages, staircases, and
promenades; through gorgeous saloons full of mirrors, marbles, paintings,
and upholstery, made ‘regardless of expense’; and through buildings
crowded with glittering steam apparatus of gigantic dimensions, where the
latent power of coal and water creates the force which propels this
monster vessel across the seas. In vain our attention is directed to all
these sights; we do not admire them; our imagination is used up. The echo
of the sailors’ song in the womb of the _Great Eastern_ will not be
banished from our mind. It raises visions of the future of the mystic iron
coil under our feet: how it will roll forth again from its narrow berth;
how it will sink to the bottom of the Atlantic or hang from mountain to
mountain far below the stormy waves; and how two great nations, the
offspring of one race and the pioneers of civilisation, will speak through
this wonderful coil, annihilating distance and time. Who can help dreaming
here on the spot where we stand? For it is truly a marvellous romance of
civilisation, this _Great Eastern_ and this Atlantic telegraph cable. Even
should our age produce nothing else, it alone would be the triumph of our
age.”
[Illustration: THE PAYING‐OUT MACHINERY ON BOARD THE “GREAT EASTERN.”]
The _Great Eastern_ left the Thames on July 13th, 1865. After sundry
mishaps, she turned her mighty prow towards the sunset, and proceeded on
her stately way. All went well until the 29th of July, when a little after
noon a new cry of alarm was raised. And well it might be, for the
insulation was completely destroyed and the electric current overflowing
uselessly into the sea. As the faulty piece had gone overboard, it was
necessary once more to reverse the vessel’s course, and haul in the cable
until the defective part was recovered. This was a difficult task, for
they were in water two miles deep. Difficulties did not, however, daunt
the pioneers of this great enterprise, and after working all the
afternoon, the injured cable was got on board about ten o’clock at night.
It was at once stowed away, and the next morning, Sunday, was welcomed
with an eager feeling of relief and delight after the suspense of the
preceding four‐and‐twenty hours. On Monday the miles of cable which had
been hauled up and were coiled in huge heaps upon the deck were closely
examined to discover the origin of the mischief. This was soon detected.
Near the end a piece of wire was thrust through the very core, as if
driven into it. The recurrence of such a mishap actually suggested
suspicions of treachery. It was observed that the same gang of workmen
were in the tank as at the time of the first fault. Mr. Canning sent for
the men, and showing them the cable and the wire, asked for an
explanation. All replied that it must have been done intentionally, and
regretted that there was a traitor among them—the unknown traitor, of
course, being one of those who thus expressed their sorrow. It seemed
difficult to believe that any person could be base enough to plot in this
stealthy way against the success of a beneficent enterprise, but such a
thing had been done before in a cable in the North Sea, when the
perpetrator of the crime was discovered and punished. In the present case
there were not wanting motives to prompt the commission of such an act.
The fall in the stock, we are told, on the London Exchange, caused by a
loss of the cable, could hardly be less than half a million sterling. It
was, however, found impossible to fix the deed on any one, for nothing was
proved; and the instigator and the perpetrator both remaining unknown, of
course a painful feeling of suspicion was left in the minds of Mr. Field
and his colleagues. They saw that they must be on their guard; and it was
agreed, therefore, that the gentlemen on board should take turn in keeping
watch in the tank. The _Great Eastern_ continued her voyage, and for three
days, during which they accomplished 500 miles, no further trouble
occurred. A few days later, however, a defect was found in the cable, and
it became necessary to haul in a short portion of that last paid out.
Unfortunately the machinery proved too weak for the purpose, and a breeze
springing up, the cable chafed until it snapped right asunder. With one
bound it flew through the stoppers, and plunged into the sea. “The shock
of the instant,” Dr. Russell tells us, “was as sharp as the snapping of
the cable itself,” so great was the disappointment felt on board.
The apparently wild attempt was immediately made to _recover_ the cable.
It was settled that the _Great Eastern_ should steam to windward, and
eastward of the position she occupied when the cable went down, lower a
grapnel, and slowly drift across the track in which the lost treasure was
supposed to be lying. So the leviathan ship stood away some thirteen or
fourteen miles, and then lay‐to in smooth water. The grapnel consisted of
two five‐armed anchors, of several hundredweight, one of which was
shackled and secured to wire rope, of which there were five miles on
board, and committed to the deep. “Away slipped the rope, yard after yard,
fathom after fathom; ocean, like the horse‐leech’s daughter still crying
for ‘more’ and ‘more,’ still descending into the black waste of waters.
One thousand fathoms—still more! One thousand five hundred fathoms—still
more! Two thousand fathoms—more, still more! Two thousand five hundred
fathoms (15,000 feet)—aye, that will do; the grapnel has reached the bed
of the Atlantic; the search has commenced.” Next morning these efforts
bore fruit, for the great sea‐serpentine cable was caught, and raised
seven hundred fathoms (4,200 feet), towards the surface, unhappily to
again fall to the bottom. A second attempt resulted in raising it a mile
and a half, when a swivel gave way, and it again sank to the bottom. These
experiments had used up a considerable quantity of the wire rope, and
every expedient had to be adopted to patch up and strengthen the fishing
apparatus, which gave full employment to the mechanics on board. Great
forge‐fires were made on deck, which at night illumined the ocean for a
distance round, and helped to make a striking and effective scene. A third
and fourth attempt was made to raise the cable; but in spite of the
indomitable perseverance of Field and his associates, without success, and
the bows of the great ship were sorrowfully directed towards home.
In spite of these failures no abatement of public confidence in the
eventual success of the enterprise was shown on the return of the
expedition to England. Nearly a quarter of a million pounds sterling was
subscribed _privately_ towards the next attempt, and when the subscription
books were thrown open to the public, the whole capital required was
furnished in a fortnight. Some minor improvements were introduced in the
successful 1866 cable; among other points, it was galvanised.
When the day arrived for the final great effort, the undertaking was
inaugurated solemnly by special prayer and supplication. Dr. Field says of
that moment:—
“Was there ever a fitter place or a fitter hour for prayer than here, in
the presence of the great sea to which they were about to commit their
lives and their precious trust? The first expedition ever sent forth had
been consecrated by prayer. On that very spot, nine years before, all
heads were uncovered and all forms bent low at the solemn words of
supplication; and there had the Earl of Carlisle—since gone to his
honoured grave—cheered them on with high religious hopes, describing the
ships which were sent forth on such a mission as ‘beautiful upon the
waters as were the feet upon the mountains of them that publish the gospel
of peace.’
“Full of such a spirit, officers and directors assembled at Valentia on
the day before the expedition sailed, and held a religious service. It was
a scene long to be remembered. There were men of the closet and men of the
field, men of science and men of action, men pale with study and men
bronzed by sun and storm. All was hushed and still. Not a single gun broke
the deep silence of the hour, as, with humble hearts, they bowed together
before the God and Father of all. They were about to ‘go down to the sea
in ships,’ and they felt their dependence on a higher Power. Their
preparations were complete. All that man could do was done. They had
exhausted every resource of science and skill. The issue now remained with
Him who controls the winds and waves. Therefore was it most fit that
before embarking they should thus commit themselves to Him who alone
spreadeth out the heavens and ruleth the raging sea.
“In all this there is something of antique stamp, something which makes us
think of the sublime men of an earlier and better time: of the Pilgrim
Fathers kneeling on the deck of their little ship at Leyden, as they were
about to seek a refuge and a home in the forests of the New World, and of
Columbus and his companions celebrating a solemn service before their
departure from Spain. And so with labour and with prayer was this great
expedition prepared to sail once more from the shores of Ireland, bearing
the hopes of science and of civilisation, with courage and skill looking
out from the bows of the ship across the stormy waters, and a religious
faith, like that of Columbus, standing at the helm.
“On Friday the 13th of July, 1866, the fleet finally bade adieu to the
land. Was Friday an unlucky day? Some of the sailors thought so, and would
have been glad to leave a day before or after. But Columbus sailed on
Friday, and discovered the New World on Friday; and so this expedition put
to sea on Friday, and, as a good Providence would have it, reached land on
the other side of the Atlantic on the same day of the week! As the ships
disappeared below the horizon, Mr. Glass and Mr. Varley went up on their
watch‐tower, not to look, but to listen for the first voice from the sea.
The ships bore away for the buoy where lay the end of the shore line, but
the weather was thick and foggy, with frequent bursts of rain, and they
could not see far on the water. For an hour or two the ships went sailing
round and round, like sea‐gulls in search of prey. At length the _Medway_
caught sight of the buoy tossing on the waves, and firing a signal gun,
bore down straight upon it. The cable was soon hauled up from its bed, 100
fathoms deep, and lashed to the stern of the _Great Eastern_; and the
watchers on shore, who had been waiting with some impatience, saw the
first flash, and Varley read, ‘Got the shore‐end all right; going to make
the splice.’ Then all was still, and they knew that that delicate
operation was going on. Quick, nimble hands tore off the covering from a
foot of the shore‐end and of the main cable till they came to the core,
then swiftly unwinding the copper wires they laid them together as closely
and carefully as a silken braid. Then this delicate child of the sea was
wrapped in swaddling clothes, covered up with many coatings of gutta‐
percha and hempen rope and strong iron wires, the whole bound round and
round with heavy bands, and the splicing was complete. Signals are now
sent through the whole cable on board the _Great Eastern_ and back to the
telegraph house at Valentia, and the whole length, 2,440 nautical miles,
is reported perfect, and so with light hearts they bear away. It is nearly
three o’clock. As they turn to the west, the following is the ‘order of
battle’: the _Terrible_ goes ahead, standing off on the starboard bow, the
_Medway_ is on the port, and the _Albany_ on the starboard quarter. From
that hour the voyage was a steady progress. Indeed, it was almost
monotonous from its uninterrupted success. The weather was variable,
alternating with sunshine and rain, fogs and squalls; but there was no
heavy sea to interrupt their course, and the distance run was about the
same from day to day, as the following table will show:—
Distance Run. Cable Paid Out.
Miles. Miles.
Saturday, 14th 108 116
Sunday, 15th 128 139
Monday, 16th 115 137
Tuesday, 17th 117 138
Wednesday, 18th 104 125
Thursday, 19th 112 129
Friday, 20th 117 127
Saturday, 21st 121 136
Sunday, 22nd 123 133
Monday, 23rd 121 138
Tuesday, 24th 120 135
Wednesday, 25th 119 130
Thursday, 26th 128 134
Friday, 27th 100 104.”
This table shows the speed of the ship to have been exactly according to
the “running time” fixed before she left England. On the last voyage it
was thought that she had once or twice run too fast, and thus exposed the
cable to danger. It was therefore decided to go slowly but surely. Holding
her back to this moderate pace, her average speed from the time the splice
was made until they saw land was a little less than five nautical miles an
hour, while the cable was paid out at an average of not quite five and
half miles. Thus the total slack was about eleven per cent., showing that
the cable was laid almost in a straight line, allowing for the swells and
hollows at the bottom of the sea. “Friday, July 27.—Shortly after 2 p.m.
yesterday two ships, which were soon made out to be steamers, were seen to
the westward; and the _Terrible_, steaming on ahead, in about an hour
signalled to us that H.M.S. _Niger_ was one of them, accompanied by the
_Albany_. The _Niger_, Captain Bunce, sent aboard to the _Terrible_ as
soon as he came up with her. The _Albany_ shortly afterwards took up her
position on our starboard quarter, and signalled that she spoke the
_Niger_ at noon, bearing E. by N., and that the _Lily_ was anchored at the
station in the entrance of Trinity Bay, as arranged with the Admiral. The
_Albany_ also reported that she had passed an iceberg about sixty feet
high. At twenty minutes after 4 p.m. the _Niger_ came on our port side,
quite close, and Captain Bunce, sending the crew into the rigging and
manning the yards, gave us three cheers, which were heartily returned by
the _Great Eastern_. She then steamed ahead towards Trinity Bay. The
_Albany_ was signalled to go on immediately to Heart’s Content, clear the
N.E. side of the harbour of shipping, and place a boat with a red flag for
Captain Anderson to steer to for anchorage. Just before dinner we saw on
the southern horizon, distant about ten miles, an iceberg, probably the
one that the _Albany_ had met with. It was apparently about fifty or sixty
feet in height. The fog came on very thickly about 8 p.m., and between
that and 10 we were constantly exchanging guns and burning blue lights
with the _Terrible_, which, with the _Niger_, went in search of the _Lily_
station‐ship. The _Terrible_ being signalled to come up and take her
position, informed us that they had made the _Lily_ out, and that she bore
then about ENE., distant about four miles. Later in the night Captain
Commerell said that if Captain Anderson would stop the _Great Eastern_ he
would send the surveyor, Mr. Robinson, R.N., who came up in the _Niger_,
aboard of us; and about 3 the engines were slowed, and the _Terrible_
shortly afterwards came alongside with that officer. Catalina Light, at
the entrance of Trinity Bay, had been made out three hours before this,
and the loom of the coast had also been seen. Fog still prevailing!
According to Mr. Robinson’s account, if they had got one clear day in
seven at the entrance of Trinity Bay they considered themselves fortunate.
Here we are now (6 a.m.) within ten miles of Heart’s Content, and we can
scarcely see more than a ship’s length. The _Niger_, however, is ahead,
and her repeated guns tell us where we are with accuracy. Good fortune
follows us, and scarcely has 8 o’clock arrived, when the massive curtain
of fog raises itself gradually from both sides of Trinity Bay, disclosing
to us the entrance of Heart’s Content, the _Albany_ making for the
harbour, the _Margaretta Stevenson_, surveying vessel, steaming out to
meet us, the pre‐arranged pathway all marked with buoys by Mr. T. H. Kerr,
R.N., and a whole fleet of fishing boats fishing at the entrance. We could
now plainly see that Heart’s Content, so far as its capabilities
permitted, was prepared to welcome us. The British and American flags
floated from the church and telegraph station and other buildings. We had
dressed ship, fired a salute, and given three cheers, and Captain
Commerell, of H.M.S. _Terrible_, was soon on board to congratulate us on
our success. At 9 o’clock, ship’s time, just as we had cut the cable and
made arrangements for the _Medway_ to lay the shore end, a message
arrived, giving us the concluding words of a leader in this morning’s
_Times_: ‘It is a great work, a glory to our age and nation, and the men
who have achieved it deserve to be honoured amongst the benefactors of
their race.’ ‘Treaty of peace signed between Prussia and Austria!’ It was
now time for the chief engineer, Mr. Canning, to make preparations for
splicing on board the _Medway_. Accompanied by Mr. Good, M.P., Mr.
Clifford, Mr. Willoughby Smith, and Messrs. Temple and Deane, he went on
board; the _Terrible_ and _Niger_ having sent their paddle‐box boats to
assist. Shortly afterwards the _Great Eastern_ steamed into the harbour
and anchored on the NE. side, and was quickly surrounded by boats laden
with visitors. Mr. Cyrus Field had gone on shore before the _Great
Eastern_ had left the offing, with a view of telegraphing to St. John’s to
hire a vessel to repair the cable unhappily broken between Cape Ray, in
Newfoundland, and Cape North, in Breton Island. Before a couple of hours
the shore end will be landed, and it is impossible to conceive a finer day
for effecting this our final operation. To‐morrow Heart’s Content will
awaken to the fact that it is a highly‐favoured place in the world’s
esteem, the western landing‐place of that marvel of electric communication
with the eastern hemisphere which is now happily, and we hope finally,
established.” The foregoing simple record tells the great story of this
memorable voyage. In England the progress of the expedition was known from
day to day, but on the American side of the ocean all was uncertainty.
Some had gone to Heart’s Content hoping to witness the arrival of the
fleet, but not so many as the year before, for the memory of the last
failure was too fresh, and they feared another disappointment. But still a
faithful few were there who kept their daily watch. The correspondents of
the American papers reported only a long and anxious suspense till that
morning when the first ship was seen in the offing. And now the hull of
the _Great Eastern_ looms up all glorious in that morning sky. They are
coming! Instantly all was wild excitement on shore. Boats put off to row
towards the fleet. The _Albany_ was the first to round the point and enter
the bay. The _Terrible_ came close behind. The _Medway_ stopped an hour or
two to join on the heavy shore end, while the _Great Eastern_, gliding
calmly in as if she had done nothing remarkable, dropped her anchor in
front of the telegraph house, having trailed behind her a chain of two
thousand miles, to bind the Old World to the New. That same afternoon, as
soon as the shore end was landed, Captain Anderson and the officers of the
fleet went in a body to the little church of Heart’s Content to render
thanks for the success of the expedition. A sermon was preached on the
text, “There shall be no more sea,” and all joined in the sublime prayers
and thanksgivings of the Church of England. Thus the voyage ended as it
began.
[Illustration: THE “GREAT EASTERN” LAYING THE ATLANTIC CABLE.
(_From Cassell’s “Illustrated History of England.”_)]
Although the expedition reached Newfoundland on Friday the 27th, yet as
the cable across the Gulf of St. Lawrence was broken, the news was not
received in New York until the 29th. It was early Sunday morning, before
the Sabbath bells had rung their call to prayer, that the tidings came.
The first announcement was brief—“Heart’s Content, July 27th.—We arrived
here at nine o’clock this morning. All well. Thank God the cable is laid,
and is in perfect working order.—CYRUS W. FIELD.” Soon followed the
despatch to the Associated Press, giving the details of the voyage, and
ending with a just tribute to the skill and devotion of all who had
contributed to its success. Said Mr. Field: “I cannot find words suitable
to convey my admiration for the men who have so ably conducted the
nautical, engineering, and electrical departments of this enterprise,
amidst difficulties which must be seen to be appreciated; in fact, all on
board of the telegraph fleet, and all connected with the enterprise, have
done their best to have the cable made and laid in a perfect condition.”
Other despatches followed in quick succession, giving the latest events of
the war in Europe. All this confirmed the great triumph, and filled the
breasts of many with wonder and gratitude that Sabbath day as they went up
to the house of God and rendered thanks to Him who is Lord of the earth
and sea.