The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph

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 in 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. It left the shores of Ireland with prayers wafted after it as a benediction. And now, safely landed on the shores of the New World, this gallant company, like Columbus and his companions, made it their first thought to render homage to the Being who had borne them safely across the deep.

But though their voyage was ended, there was still a work to be done. Having crossed the Atlantic, the first thing was to open communication with the cities of the United States. And now Mr. Field was extremely mortified to find that there was a large gap in the line this side of the ocean. His first question to the Superintendent, who came out in a boat to meet him, was in regard to the cable across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, which had been interrupted the year before; and it was a bitter pang to hear that it lay still broken, so that a message which came from Ireland in a moment of time, was delayed twenty-four hours in its way to New York. Of course the public grew impatient, and there were many sneers at the want of foresight which had failed to provide against such a contingency; and, as he was the one chiefly known in connection with the enterprise, these reproaches fell upon him. He did not tell the public, what was the truth, that he had anticipated this very trouble long ago, and entreated his associates to be prepared for it. Months before he left for England, he urged upon the Company in New York the necessity of rebuilding their lines in Newfoundland, which had been standing over ten years, and of repairing the old cable, and also laying a new one across the Gulf of St. Lawrence. But this would cost a large sum of money, and as their faith and purses had been sorely tried by repeated disasters, they were not willing to spend more in the uncertainty of the future. They wished to see the result of this new expedition, before advancing further capital. We do not blame them, but only mention the fact to show that Mr. Field had foreseen this very thing, and endeavored to guard against it.

But regrets were idle. What could he do to repair the injury? "Is there a steamer," he asked, "to be had in these waters?" "The Bloodhound is at St. John's." "Telegraph instantly to charter her to go around to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and fish up the old cable and repair it. But that may take several weeks. Is there nothing else that can serve in the mean time to carry despatches across the Gulf?" "There is a little steamer, called the Dauntless." "Well, telegraph for her too. Secure her at all hazards; only see that the work is done." All this was the work of a few minutes. The answers came back quickly, and in a day or two came the steamers themselves. The arrangement was immediately carried out. The Dauntless took her place in the Gulf, where she made her regular trips from Port au Basque, in Newfoundland, to Aspee Bay, in Cape Breton, keeping up daily communication with the States. The Bloodhound, which had a more difficult task, first took on board eleven miles of cable from the Great Eastern, to repair that which was broken. The expedition was put in charge of Mr. A. M. Mackay, the indefatigable Superintendent of the Company in Newfoundland, who had had the care of their lines for ten years. He sailed for Aspee Bay, and made short work of the business, dragging the Gulf and raising the cable, which he found had been broken by an anchor, in water seventy fathoms deep, a few miles from shore. This was spliced out with a portion of the new cable, and the whole was as perfect as ever, giving a fresh proof that cables well made are likely to be permanent, if not indestructible.

Meanwhile, owing to this interruption of the cable across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, the news of the success of the expedition, which reached Newfoundland on Friday, the twenty-seventh, did not reach New York till the twenty-ninth. 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 27. – 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; and He who rules the winds and the waves has crowned their united efforts with perfect success."

Other despatches followed in quick succession, giving the latest events of the war in Europe, which startled the public just reading news a fortnight old. All this confirmed the great triumph, and filled every heart with wonder and gratitude on the Sunday morning, as they went again to the little church and rendered thanks to Him who is Lord of the earth and sea.

While the Great Eastern was lying in the harbor of Heart's Content, she was overrun with visitors. The news of her arrival had spread over the island, and from far and near the people flocked to see her. Over the hills they came on foot and on horseback, and in wagons and carts of every description; and from along the shore in boats and fishing-smacks, and sloops and schooners. They came from the most remote parts of the island – a distance of three hundred miles – and even from the province of New Brunswick. Several parties made the excursion in steamers from St. John's. The wondering country folk climbed up the sides of the ship, and wandered for hours through its spacious rooms and long passages. All were welcomed with hearty sailor courtesy.

As soon as communication was opened with New York, and other cities, congratulations poured in from every quarter. Friendly messages were exchanged – as eight years before – between the sovereign of England and the head of the Great Republic. The President also, and Mr. Seward, Secretary of State, sent their congratulations to Mr. Field – greetings that were repeated from the most distant States. Among others was a message from San Francisco, which was put into his hand almost at the same moment with one from M. de Lesseps, dated at Alexandria in Egypt! What a meeting and mingling of voices was this, when a winged salutation flying over the tops of the Rocky Mountains, reached the same ear with a message which had been whispered along the Mediterranean and under the Atlantic: when the farthest East touched the farthest West – the most ancient of kingdoms answering to the new-born empire of the Pacific.

CHAPTER XVII.

RECOVERY OF THE LOST CABLE

Though the Great Eastern was still lying in the little harbor of Heart's Content, casting her mighty shadow on its tranquil waters, she was not "content" with her amazing victory, but sighed for another greater still. Though she had done enough to be laid up for a year, still she had one more test of her prowess – to recover the cable of 1865, which had been lost in the middle of the Atlantic. So eager were all for this second trial of their strength, that in less than five days two of the ships – the Albany and the Terrible – the vanguard of the telegraphic fleet, were on their way back to mid-ocean. Though it was only Friday, the 27th of July, that they reached land, they left early Wednesday morning, the first day of August. The Great Eastern was detained a week longer. She had to lay in immense supplies of coal. Anticipating this want, six ships had been despatched from Cardiff, in Wales, weeks before, to await the arrival of the fleet. One of these foundered at sea; the others arrived out safely, and hardly had the Great Eastern cast anchor before they were alongside, ready to fill her bunkers. So ample was the provision, that, when she went to sea a few days after, she had nearly eight thousand tons of coal on board.

At the same time she had to receive some six hundred miles of the cable of 1865, which had been shipped from England in the Medway. The latter was now brought alongside, and the whole was transferred into the main tank of the Great Eastern, from which it was to be paid out in case the lost end were recovered.

At length all these preparations were completed, and on Thursday, the 9th of August, the Great Eastern and the Medway put to sea. The Governor of Newfoundland, who had come around from St. John's and been received with the honors due his rank, accompanied them in the Lily down the broad expanse of Trinity Bay, and then bore away for St. John's while the Great Eastern and Medway kept on their course to join their companions in the middle of the Atlantic. They had a little over six hundred miles to run to the "fishing ground," and made it in three days. On Sunday noon they came in sight of the appointed rendezvous, and soon with glasses made out the Albany and the Terrible, which had arrived a week before and placed buoys to mark the line of the cable, and then, like giant sea-birds with folded wings, sat watching their prey. The sea was running high, so that boats could not come off, but the Albany signalled that she had not toiled for nothing; that she had once hooked the cable, but lost it in rough weather. The history of this first attempt, though brief, was cheering.

When the Albany left Heart's Content, Captain Moriarty went in her. He had been in the Great Eastern the year before, and saw where the cable went down, and had had his eye on the spot ever since. He claimed, with Captain Anderson, that he could go straight to it and place the ship within half a mile of where it disappeared. At this old sailors shook their heads, and said, "They'd like to see him do it;" "No man could come within two or three miles of any given place in the ocean." Yet the result proved the exactness of his observations. With unerring eye he went straight to the spot, and set his buoys as exactly as a fisherman sets his nets.

In the Albany, also, had gone Mr. Temple, of Mr. Canning's staff. The ship had been fitted up with a complete set of buoys and apparatus for grappling; and he was full of ambition to recover the cable before the Great Eastern should come up. In this he had nearly proved successful. They had caught it once, and raised it a few hundred fathoms from the bottom, and buoyed it, but rough weather came on and tore away the buoy, so that the cable went down again, carrying two miles of rope.

This was a disappointment, but still, as their first attempt was only a "feeler," the result was encouraging. It showed that they had found the right place; that the cable was there; that it had not run away nor been floated off by those under-currents that exist in the imagination of some wise men of the sea; nor that it was so imbedded in the ooze of the deep as to be beyond reach or recovery. All this was cheering, but as it promised to be a more difficult job than they had supposed, they were glad when the Great Eastern hove in sight that Sunday noon.

The next morning Captain Moriarty and Mr. Temple came on board, and after reporting their experience, the chief officers of the Expedition held a council of war before opening the campaign. The fleet was all together, the weather was favorable, and it was determined at once to proceed to business.

As the attempt is now to be renewed on a grand scale, the reader may wish some further details of the means employed to insure success. As nothing in this whole enterprise has excited such astonishment, nothing merits a more careful history. When it was first proposed to drag the bottom of the Atlantic for a cable lost in waters two and a half miles deep, the project was so daring that it seemed to be almost a war of the Titans upon the gods. Yet never was anything undertaken less in the spirit of reckless desperation. The cable was recovered, as a city is taken by siege – by slow approaches, and the sure and inevitable result of mathematical calculation. Every point was studied beforehand – the position of the broken end, the depth of the ocean, the length of rope needed to reach the bottom, and the strength required to lift the enormous weight. To find the place was a simple question of nautical astronomy – a calculation of latitude and longitude. It seemed providential that, when the cable broke on the second of August, 1865, it was a few minutes after noon; the sun was shining brightly, and they had just taken a perfect observation. This made it much easier to go back to the place again. The waters were very deep, but that they could touch bottom, and even grapple the cable, was proved by the experiments of the year before. But could any power be applied which should lift it without breaking, and bring it safely on board? This was a simple question of mechanics. Prof. Thomson had made a calculation that in raising the cable from a depth of two and a half miles, there would be about ten miles of its length suspended in the water. Of course, it was a very nice matter to graduate the strain so as not to break the cable. For this it had been suggested that two or three ships should grapple it at once, and lifting it together, ease the strain on any one point – a method of meeting the danger that was finally adopted with success.

With such preparations, let us see how all this science and seamanship and engineering are applied. The ships are now all together in the middle of the Atlantic. The first point is achieved. They have found the place where the broken cable lies – they have laid their hands on the bottom of the ocean and "felt of it," and know that it is there. The next thing is to draw a line over it, to mark its course, for in fogs and dark nights it cannot be traced by observations. The watery line is therefore marked by a series of buoys a few miles apart, which are held in position by heavy mushroom-anchors, let down to the bottom by a huge buoy-rope, which is fastened at the top by a heavy chain. Each buoy is numbered, and has on the top a long staff with a flag, and a black ball over it, which can be seen at a distance. Thus the ships, ranging around in a circuit of many miles, can keep in sight this chain of sentinels. The buoy which marks the spot where they wish to grapple has also a lantern placed upon it at night, which gleams afar upon the ocean. Having thus fixed their bearings, the Great Eastern stands off, north or south according to the wind or current, three or four miles from where the cable lies, and then, casting over the grapnel, drifts slowly down upon the line, as ships going into action reef their sails, and drift under the enemy's guns.

The "fishing-tackle" is on a gigantic scale. The "hooks," or grapnels, are huge weapons armed with teeth, like Titanic harpoons to be plunged into this submarine monster. The "fishing-line" is a rope six and a half inches round, and made of twisted hemp and iron, consisting of forty-nine galvanized wires, each bound with manilla, the whole capable of bearing a strain of thirty tons. Of this heavy rope there are twenty miles on board the ships, the Albany carrying five, and the Great Eastern and the Medway seven and a half miles each. Of course it is not the easiest thing in the world to handle such a rope. But it is paid out by machinery, passing over a drum; and the engine works so smoothly, that it runs out as easily as ever a fisherman's line was reeled off into the sea. As it goes out freely, the strain increases every moment. The rope is so ponderous, that the weight mounts up very fast, so that by the time it is two thousand fathoms down, the strain is equal to six or seven tons. The tension of course is very great, and not unattended with danger. What if the rope should break? If it should snap on board, it would go into the sea like a cannon-shot. Such was the tension on the long line, that once when the splice between the grapnel-rope and the buoy-rope "drew," the end passed along the wheels with terrific velocity, and flying in the air over the bow, plunged into the sea. But the rope is well made, and holds firmly an enormous weight. It takes about two hours for the grapnel to reach the bottom, but they can tell when it strikes. The strain eases up, and then, as the ship drifts, it is easy to see that it is not dragging through the water, but over the ground. "I often went to the bow," says Mr. Field, "and sat on the rope, and could tell by the quiver that the grapnel was dragging on the bottom two miles under us."

And thus, with its fishing line set, the great ship moves slowly down over where the cable lies. As the grapnel drags on the bottom, one of the engineer's staff stands at the dynamometer to watch for the moment of increasing strain. A few hours pass, and the index rises to eight, ten, or twelve tons, sure token that there is something at the end of the line – it may be the lost cable, or a sunken mast or spar, the fragment of a wreck that went down in a storm that swept the Atlantic a hundred years ago. And now the engine is set in motion to haul in. As the rope comes up, it passes over a five-foot drum, every revolution bringing up three fathoms. Thus it takes some hours to haul in over two miles' length, perhaps at last to find nothing at the end!

Success in hooking the cable depends on the accuracy of their observations. These were sometimes verified in a remarkable manner. When the nights were very dark and thick with fog, so that they could not see the stars above nor their lights on the ocean, they had to go almost by the sense of feeling. Yet so exactly had they taken their bearings, that they could almost grope over the ground with their hands. A singular proof of this was given one night, when, just as the line began to quiver, showing that the cable had been hooked, one of the buoys – which had not been seen in the darkness – thumped against the side of the ship. So exactly had it been placed over the prescribed line, that the ship struck the buoy just as the grapnel struck the cable! The accident, which startled them at first, when it occurred in the gloom of night, furnished the strongest proof of the accuracy of their observations; and the officers were very proud of it, as they well might be, as a victory in nautical astronomy!

These different experiments revealed some secrets of the ocean. Its bottom proved to be generally ooze, a soft slime. When the rope went down, one or two hundred fathoms at the end would trail on the sea floor; and when it came up, this was found coated with mud, "very fine and soft like putty, and full of minute shells." But it was not all ooze at the bottom of the sea, even on this telegraphic plateau. There were hidden rocks – perhaps not cliffs and ledges, but at least scattered boulders, lying on that mighty plain. Sometimes the strain on the dynamometer would suddenly go up three or four tons, and then back again, as if the grapnel had been caught and broken away. Once it came up with two of its hooks bent, as if it had come in contact with a huge rock. At one time it brought up in the mud a small stone half the size of an almond; and at another a fragment as large as a brick. This was a piece of granite.

Friday, August 17th, was a memorable day in the expedition, for the cable was not only caught, but brought to the surface, where it was in full sight of the whole ship, and yet finally escaped. The day before the line had been cast over, at about two o'clock, and struck the ground a little before five. After dragging a couple of hours, the increasing strain showed that they had grappled the prize, and they began to haul in, but soon ceased, and held on till morning. Then the engine was set in motion again, and slowly but steadily the ponderous rope came up from the deep. By half-past ten o'clock, Friday morning, twenty-three hundred fathoms had come on board, and but fifteen or twenty remained. Then was the critical moment, and they paused before giving a last pull. Such was the eagerness of all, that the diver of the ship, Clark, begged to be allowed to plunge down twenty fathoms, to lay his hand on the prize, and be sure that it was there. But patience yet a few minutes! A few more strokes of the engine, and the sea-serpent shows himself – a long black snake with a white belly. "On the appearance of the cable," says Deane, in his Diary of the Expedition, "we were all struck with the fact that one half of it was covered with ooze, staining it a muddy white, while the other half was in just the state in which it left the tank, with its tarred surface and strands unchanged, which showed that it lay in the sand only half embedded. The strain on the cable gave it a twist, and it looked as if it had been painted spirally black and white. This disposes of the oft-repeated assertion, that we should not be able to pull it up from the bottom, because it would be embedded in the ooze."

The appearance of the cable woke a tremendous hurrah from all on board. They cheered as English sailors are apt to cheer when the flag of an enemy is struck in battle. But their exultation came too soon. The strain on the cable was already mounting up to a dangerous point. Capt. Anderson and Mr. Canning were standing on the bow, and saw that the strands were going. They hastened men to its relief, but it was too late. Before they could put stoppers on it to hold it, it broke close to the grapnel, and sunk to the bottom. It had been in sight but just five minutes, and was gone. Instantly the feeling of exultation was turned to one of disappointment, and almost of rage, at the treacherous monster, that lifted up its snaky head from the sea, as if to mock its captors, and instantly dived to the silence and darkness below.

It was a cruel disappointment. Yet when they came to think soberly, there was no cause for despair, but rather for new confidence and hope. They had proved what they could do. But this detained them in the middle of the Atlantic for two weeks more.

It were idle to relate all the attempts of those two weeks. Every day brought its excitement. Whenever the grapnel caught, there was a suspense of many hours till it was brought on board. Several times they seemed on the point of success. Two days after that fatal Friday, on Sunday, August 19th, they caught the cable again, and brought it up within a thousand fathoms of the ship, and buoyed it. But Monday and Tuesday were too rough for work, and all their labor was in vain. Thus it was a constant battle with the elements. Sometimes the wind blew fiercely and drove them off their course. Sometimes the buoys broke adrift and had to be pursued and taken. Once or twice the boatswain's mate – a brave fellow, by the name of Thornton – was lowered in ropes over the bow of the ship and let down astride of a buoy; and though it spun round with him like a top, and his life was in danger, he held on and fastened a chain to it, by which it was swung on board.

The continued bad weather was the chief obstacle to success. Engineers had often grappled for cables in the North Sea and the Mediterranean; but there they could look for at least a few days when the sea would be at rest; but in the Atlantic it was impossible to calculate on good weather for twenty-four hours. For nearly four weeks that they were at sea, they had hardly four days of clear sunshine, without wind. Often the ocean was covered with a driving mist, and the ships, groping about like blind giants, kept blowing their shrill fog-trumpets, or firing guns, as signals to their companions that they were still there. Occasionally the sun shone out from the clouds, and gave them hope of better success. Once or twice we find in the private journal kept by Mr. Field, that it was "too calm;" there was not wind enough to drift the ship over the cable, so that the rope hung up and down from the bow, without dragging. One Sunday night he remembered, when the deep was hushed to a Sabbath stillness, the moon was shining brightly, and the ships floating over a "sea of glass," that suggested thoughts of a better world than this. Such times gave them fresh hopes, that might be disappointed on the morrow.