‘Birkenhead: April 18,
1858.
‘Well, you should know, Mr. — having a contract to
lay down a submarine telegraph from Sardinia to Africa failed
three times in the attempt. The distance from land to land
is about 140 miles. On the first occasion, after proceeding
some 70 miles, he had to cut the cable—the cause I forget;
he tried again, same result; then picked up about 20 miles of the
lost cable, spliced on a new piece, and very nearly got across
that time, but ran short of cable, and when but a few miles off
Galita in very deep water, had to telegraph to London for more
cable to be manufactured and sent out whilst he tried to stick to
the end: for five days, I think, he lay there sending and
receiving messages, but heavy weather coming on the cable parted
and Mr. — went home in despair—at least I should
think so.
‘He then applied to those eminent engineers, R. S.
Newall & Co., who made and laid down a cable for him last
autumn—Fleeming Jenkin (at the time in considerable mental
agitation) having the honour of fitting out the Elba for
that purpose.’ [On this occasion, the Elba has
no cable to lay; but] ‘is going out in the beginning of May
to endeavour to fish up the cables Mr. — lost. There
are two ends at or near the shore: the third will probably not be
found within 20 miles from land. One of these ends will be
passed over a very big pulley or sheave at the bows, passed six
times round a big barrel or drum; which will be turned round by a
steam engine on deck, and thus wind up the cable, while the
Elba slowly steams ahead. The cable is not wound
round and round the drum as your silk is wound on its reel, but
on the contrary never goes round more than six times, going off
at one side as it comes on at the other, and going down into the
hold of the Elba to be coiled along in a big coil or
skein.
‘I went down to Gateshead to discuss with Mr. Newall the
form which this tolerably simple idea should take, and have been
busy since I came here drawing, ordering, and putting up the
machinery—uninterfered with, thank goodness, by any
one. I own I like responsibility; it flatters one and then,
your father might say, I have more to gain than to lose.
Moreover I do like this bloodless, painless combat with wood and
iron, forcing the stubborn rascals to do my will, licking the
clumsy cubs into an active shape, seeing the child of
to-day’s thought working to-morrow in full vigour at his
appointed task.
‘May 12.
‘By dint of bribing, bullying, cajoling, and going day
by day to see the state of things ordered, all my work is very
nearly ready now; but those who have neglected these precautions
are of course disappointed. Five hundred fathoms of chain
[were] ordered by—some three weeks since, to be ready by
the 10th without fail; he sends for it to-day—150 fathoms
all they can let us have by the 15th—and how the rest is to
be got, who knows? He ordered a boat a month since and
yesterday we could see nothing of her but the keel and about two
planks. I could multiply instances without end. At
first one goes nearly mad with vexation at these things; but one
finds so soon that they are the rule, that then it becomes
necessary to feign a rage one does not feel. I look upon it
as the natural order of things, that if I order a thing, it will
not be done—if by accident it gets done, it will certainly
be done wrong: the only remedy being to watch the performance at
every stage.
‘To-day was a grand field-day. I had steam up and
tried the engine against pressure or resistance. One part
of the machinery is driven by a belt or strap of leather. I
always had my doubts this might slip; and so it did,
wildly. I had made provision for doubling it, putting on
two belts instead of one. No use—off they went,
slipping round and off the pulleys instead of driving the
machinery. Tighten them—no use. More strength
there—down with the lever—smash something, tear the
belts, but get them tight—now then, stand clear, on with
the steam;—and the belts slip away as if nothing held
them. Men begin to look queer; the circle of quidnuncs make
sage remarks. Once more—no use. I begin to know
I ought to feel sheepish and beat, but somehow I feel cocky
instead. I laugh and say, “Well, I am bound to break
something down”—and suddenly see. “Oho,
there’s the place; get weight on there, and the belt
won’t slip.” With much labour, on go the belts
again. “Now then, a spar thro’ there and six
men’s weight on; mind you’re not carried
away.”—“Ay, ay, sir.” But evidently
no one believes in the plan. “Hurrah, round she
goes—stick to your spar. All right, shut off
steam.” And the difficulty is vanquished.
‘This or such as this (not always quite so bad) occurs
hour after hour, while five hundred tons of coal are rattling
down into the holds and bunkers, riveters are making their
infernal row all round, and riggers bend the sails and fit the
rigging:—a sort of Pandemonium, it appeared to young Mrs.
Newall, who was here on Monday and half-choked with guano; but it
suits the likes o’ me.
‘S. S. Elba, River
Mersey: May 17.
‘We are delayed in the river by some of the ship’s
papers not being ready. Such a scene at the dock
gates. Not a sailor will join till the last moment; and
then, just as the ship forges ahead through the narrow pass, beds
and baggage fly on board, the men half tipsy clutch at the
rigging, the captain swears, the women scream and sob, the crowd
cheer and laugh, while one or two pretty little girls stand still
and cry outright, regardless of all eyes.
‘These two days of comparative peace have quite set me
on my legs again. I was getting worn and weary with anxiety
and work. As usual I have been delighted with my
shipwrights. I gave them some beer on Saturday, making a
short oration. To-day when they went ashore and I came on
board, they gave three cheers, whether for me or the ship I
hardly know, but I had just bid them good-bye, and the ship was
out of hail; but I was startled and hardly liked to claim the
compliment by acknowledging it.
‘S. S. Elba: May
25.
‘My first intentions of a long journal have been fairly
frustrated by sea-sickness. On Tuesday last about noon we
started from the Mersey in very dirty weather, and were hardly
out of the river when we met a gale from the south-west and a
heavy sea, both right in our teeth; and the poor Elba had
a sad shaking. Had I not been very sea-sick, the sight
would have been exciting enough, as I sat wrapped in my oilskins
on the bridge; [but] in spite of all my efforts to talk, to eat,
and to grin, I soon collapsed into imbecility; and I was heartily
thankful towards evening to find myself in bed.
‘Next morning, I fancied it grew quieter and, as I
listened, heard, “Let go the anchor,” whereon I
concluded we had run into Holyhead Harbour, as was indeed the
case. All that day we lay in Holyhead, but I could neither
read nor write nor draw. The captain of another steamer
which had put in came on board, and we all went for a walk on the
hill; and in the evening there was an exchange of presents.
We gave some tobacco I think, and received a cat, two pounds of
fresh butter, a Cumberland ham, Westward Ho! and
Thackeray’s English Humourists. I was
astonished at receiving two such fair books from the captain of a
little coasting screw. Our captain said he [the captain of
the screw] had plenty of money, five or six hundred a year at
least.—“What in the world makes him go rolling about
in such a craft, then?”—“Why, I fancy
he’s reckless; he’s desperate in love with that girl
I mentioned, and she won’t look at him.” Our
honest, fat, old captain says this very grimly in his thick,
broad voice.
‘My head won’t stand much writing yet, so I will
run up and take a look at the blue night sky off the coast of
Portugal.
‘May 26.
‘A nice lad of some two and twenty, A— by name,
goes out in a nondescript capacity as part purser, part telegraph
clerk, part generally useful person. A— was a great
comfort during the miseries [of the gale]; for when with a dead
head wind and a heavy sea, plates, books, papers, stomachs were
being rolled about in sad confusion, we generally managed to lie
on our backs, and grin, and try discordant staves of the
Flowers of the Forest and the Low-backed Car.
We could sing and laugh, when we could do nothing else; though
A— was ready to swear after each fit was past, that that
was the first time he had felt anything, and at this moment would
declare in broad Scotch that he’d never been sick at all,
qualifying the oath with “except for a minute now and
then.” He brought a cornet-à-piston to
practice on, having had three weeks’ instructions on that
melodious instrument; and if you could hear the horrid sounds
that come! especially at heavy rolls. When I hint he is not
improving, there comes a confession: “I don’t feel
quite right yet, you see!” But he blows away
manfully, and in self-defence I try to roar the tune louder.
‘11:30 p.m.
‘Long past Cape St. Vincent now. We went within
about 400 yards of the cliffs and light-house in a calm
moonlight, with porpoises springing from the sea, the men
crooning long ballads as they lay idle on the forecastle and the
sails flapping uncertain on the yards. As we passed, there
came a sudden breeze from land, hot and heavy scented; and now as
I write its warm rich flavour contrasts strongly with the salt
air we have been breathing.
‘I paced the deck with H—, the second mate, and in
the quiet night drew a confession that he was engaged to be
married, and gave him a world of good advice. He is a very
nice, active, little fellow, with a broad Scotch tongue and
“dirty, little rascal” appearance. He had a sad
disappointment at starting. Having been second mate on the
last voyage, when the first mate was discharged, he took charge
of the Elba all the time she was in port, and of course
looked forward to being chief mate this trip. Liddell
promised him the post. He had not authority to do this; and
when Newall heard of it, he appointed another man. Fancy
poor H— having told all the men and most of all, his
sweetheart. But more remains behind; for when it came to
signing articles, it turned out that O—, the new first
mate, had not a certificate which allowed him to have a second
mate. Then came rather an affecting scene. For
H— proposed to sign as chief (he having the necessary
higher certificate) but to act as second for the lower
wages. At first O— would not give in, but offered to
go as second. But our brave little H— said, no:
“The owners wished Mr. O— to be chief mate, and chief
mate he should be.” So he carried the day, signed as
chief and acts as second. Shakespeare and Byron are his
favourite books. I walked into Byron a little, but can well
understand his stirring up a rough, young sailor’s
romance. I lent him Westward Ho from the cabin; but
to my astonishment he did not care much for it; he said it smelt
of the shilling railway library; perhaps I had praised it too
highly. Scott is his standard for novels. I am very
happy to find good taste by no means confined to gentlemen,
H— having no pretensions to that title. He is a man
after my own heart.
‘Then I came down to the cabin and heard young
A—’s schemes for the future. His highest
picture is a commission in the Prince of Vizianagram’s
irregular horse. His eldest brother is tutor to his
Highness’s children, and grand vizier, and magistrate, and
on his Highness’s household staff, and seems to be one of
those Scotch adventurers one meets with and hears of in queer
berths—raising cavalry, building palaces, and using some
petty Eastern king’s long purse with their long Scotch
heads.
‘Off Bona; June 4.
‘I read your letter carefully, leaning back in a Maltese
boat to present the smallest surface of my body to a grilling
sun, and sailing from the Elba to Cape Hamrah about three
miles distant. How we fried and sighed! At last, we
reached land under Fort Genova, and I was carried ashore
pick-a-back, and plucked the first flower I saw for Annie.
It was a strange scene, far more novel than I had imagined: the
high, steep banks covered with rich, spicy vegetation of which I
hardly knew one plant. The dwarf palm with fan-like leaves,
growing about two feet high, formed the staple of the
verdure. As we brushed through them, the gummy leaves of a
cistus stuck to the clothes; and with its small white flower and
yellow heart, stood for our English dog-rose. In place of
heather, we had myrtle and lentisque with leaves somewhat
similar. That large bulb with long flat leaves? Do
not touch it if your hands are cut; the Arabs use it as blisters
for their horses. Is that the same sort? No, take
that one up; it is the bulb of a dwarf palm, each layer of the
onion peels off, brown and netted, like the outside of a
cocoa-nut. It is a clever plant that; from the leaves we
get a vegetable horsehair;—and eat the bottom of the centre
spike. All the leaves you pull have the same aromatic
scent. But here a little patch of cleared ground shows old
friends, who seem to cling by abused civilisation:—fine,
hardy thistles, one of them bright yellow, though;—honest,
Scotch-looking, large daisies or gowans;—potatoes here and
there, looking but sickly; and dark sturdy fig-trees looking cool
and at their ease in the burning sun.
‘Here we are at Fort Genova, crowning the little point,
a small old building, due to my old Genoese acquaintance who
fought and traded bravely once upon a time. A broken cannon
of theirs forms the threshold; and through a dark, low arch, we
enter upon broad terraces sloping to the centre, from which rain
water may collect and run into that well. Large-breeched
French troopers lounge about and are most civil; and the whole
party sit down to breakfast in a little white-washed room, from
the door of which the long, mountain coastline and the sparkling
sea show of an impossible blue through the openings of a
white-washed rampart. I try a sea-egg, one of those prickly
fellows—sea-urchins, they are called sometimes; the shell
is of a lovely purple, and when opened, there are rays of yellow
adhering to the inside; these I eat, but they are very fishy.
‘We are silent and shy of one another, and soon go out
to watch while turbaned, blue-breeched, barelegged Arabs dig
holes for the land telegraph posts on the following principle:
one man takes a pick and bangs lazily at the hard earth; when a
little is loosened, his mate with a small spade lifts it on one
side; and da capo. They have regular features and
look quite in place among the palms. Our English workmen
screw the earthenware insulators on the posts, strain the wire,
and order Arabs about by the generic term of Johnny. I find
W— has nothing for me to do; and that in fact no one has
anything to do. Some instruments for testing have stuck at
Lyons, some at Cagliari; and nothing can be done—or at any
rate, is done. I wander about, thinking of you and staring
at big, green grasshoppers—locusts, some people call
them—and smelling the rich brushwood. There was
nothing for a pencil to sketch, and I soon got tired of this
work, though I have paid willingly much money for far less
strange and lovely sights.
‘Off Cape Spartivento: June
8.
‘At two this morning, we left Cagliari; at five cast
anchor here. I got up and began preparing for the final
trial; and shortly afterwards everyone else of note on board went
ashore to make experiments on the state of the cable, leaving me
with the prospect of beginning to lift at 12 o’clock.
I was not ready by that time; but the experiments were not
concluded and moreover the cable was found to be imbedded some
four or five feet in sand, so that the boat could not bring off
the end. At three, Messrs. Liddell, &c., came on board
in good spirits, having found two wires good or in such a state
as permitted messages to be transmitted freely. The boat
now went to grapple for the cable some way from shore while the
Elba towed a small lateen craft which was to take back the
consul to Cagliari some distance on its way. On our return
we found the boat had been unsuccessful; she was allowed to drop
astern, while we grappled for the cable in the Elba
[without more success]. The coast is a low mountain range
covered with brushwood or heather—pools of water and a
sandy beach at their feet. I have not yet been ashore, my
hands having been very full all day.
‘June 9.
‘Grappling for the cable outside the bank had been voted
too uncertain; [and the day was spent in] efforts to pull the
cable off through the sand which has accumulated over it.
By getting the cable tight on to the boat, and letting the swell
pitch her about till it got slack, and then tightening again with
blocks and pulleys, we managed to get out from the beach towards
the ship at the rate of about twenty yards an hour. When
they had got about 100 yards from shore, we ran round in the
Elba to try and help them, letting go the anchor in the
shallowest possible water, this was about sunset. Suddenly
someone calls out he sees the cable at the bottom: there it was
sure enough, apparently wriggling about as the waves
rippled. Great excitement; still greater when we find our
own anchor is foul of it and has been the means of bringing it to
light. We let go a grapnel, get the cable clear of the
anchor on to the grapnel—the captain in an agony lest we
should drift ashore meanwhile—hand the grappling line into
the big boat, steam out far enough, and anchor again. A
little more work and one end of the cable is up over the bows
round my drum. I go to my engine and we start hauling
in. All goes pretty well, but it is quite dark. Lamps
are got at last, and men arranged. We go on for a quarter
of a mile or so from shore and then stop at about half-past nine
with orders to be up at three. Grand work at last! A
number of the Saturday Review here; it reads so hot and
feverish, so tomblike and unhealthy, in the midst of dear
Nature’s hills and sea, with good wholesome work to
do. Pray that all go well to-morrow.
‘June 10.
‘Thank heaven for a most fortunate day. At three
o’clock this morning in a damp, chill mist all hands were
roused to work. With a small delay, for one or two
improvements I had seen to be necessary last night, the engine
started and since that time I do not think there has been half an
hour’s stoppage. A rope to splice, a block to change,
a wheel to oil, an old rusted anchor to disengage from the cable
which brought it up, these have been our only obstructions.
Sixty, seventy, eighty, a hundred, a hundred and twenty
revolutions at last, my little engine tears away. The even
black rope comes straight out of the blue heaving water: passes
slowly round an open-hearted, good-tempered looking pulley, five
feet diameter; aft past a vicious nipper, to bring all up should
anything go wrong; through a gentle guide; on to a huge bluff
drum, who wraps him round his body and says “Come you
must,” as plain as drum can speak: the chattering pauls say
“I’ve got him, I’ve got him, he can’t get
back:” whilst black cable, much slacker and easier in mind
and body, is taken by a slim V-pulley and passed down into the
huge hold, where half a dozen men put him comfortably to bed
after his exertion in rising from his long bath. In good
sooth, it is one of the strangest sights I know to see that black
fellow rising up so steadily in the midst of the blue sea.
We are more than half way to the place where we expect the fault;
and already the one wire, supposed previously to be quite bad
near the African coast, can be spoken through. I am very
glad I am here, for my machines are my own children and I look on
their little failings with a parent’s eye and lead them
into the path of duty with gentleness and firmness. I am
naturally in good spirits, but keep very quiet, for misfortunes
may arise at any instant; moreover to-morrow my paying-out
apparatus will be wanted should all go well, and that will be
another nervous operation. Fifteen miles are safely in; but
no one knows better than I do that nothing is done till all is
done.
‘June 11.
‘9 a.m.—We have reached
the splice supposed to be faulty, and no fault has been
found. The two men learned in electricity, L— and
W—, squabble where the fault is.
‘Evening.—A weary day in a hot broiling
sun; no air. After the experiments, L— said the fault
might be ten miles ahead: by that time, we should be according to
a chart in about a thousand fathoms of water—rather more
than a mile. It was most difficult to decide whether to go
on or not. I made preparations for a heavy pull, set small
things to rights and went to sleep. About four in the
afternoon, Mr. Liddell decided to proceed, and we are now (at
seven) grinding it in at the rate of a mile and three-quarters
per hour, which appears a grand speed to us. If the
paying-out only works well! I have just thought of a great
improvement in it; I can’t apply it this time,
however.—The sea is of an oily calm, and a perfect fleet of
brigs and ships surrounds us, their sails hardly filling in the
lazy breeze. The sun sets behind the dim coast of the Isola
San Pietro, the coast of Sardinia high and rugged becomes softer
and softer in the distance, while to the westward still the
isolated rock of Toro springs from the horizon.—It would
amuse you to see how cool (in head) and jolly everybody is.
A testy word now and then shows the wires are strained a little,
but everyone laughs and makes his little jokes as if it were all
in fun: yet we are all as much in earnest as the most earnest of
the earnest bastard German school or demonstrative of
Frenchmen. I enjoy it very much.
‘June 12.
‘5.30 a.m.—Out of sight
of land: about thirty nautical miles in the hold; the wind rising
a little; experiments being made for a fault, while the engine
slowly revolves to keep us hanging at the same spot: depth
supposed about a mile. The machinery has behaved
admirably. Oh! that the paying-out were over! The new
machinery there is but rough, meant for an experiment in shallow
water, and here we are in a mile of water.
‘6.30.—I have made my calculations and find the
new paying-out gear cannot possibly answer at this depth, some
portion would give way. Luckily, I have brought the old
things with me and am getting them rigged up as fast as may
be. Bad news from the cable. Number four has given in
some portion of the last ten miles: the fault in number three is
still at the bottom of the sea: number two is now the only good
wire and the hold is getting in such a mess, through keeping bad
bits out and cutting for splicing and testing, that there will be
great risk in paying out. The cable is somewhat strained in
its ascent from one mile below us; what it will be when we get to
two miles is a problem we may have to determine.
‘9 p.m.—A most
provoking unsatisfactory day. We have done nothing.
The wind and sea have both risen. Too little notice has
been given to the telegraphists who accompany this expedition;
they had to leave all their instruments at Lyons in order to
arrive at Bona in time; our tests are therefore of the roughest,
and no one really knows where the faults are. Mr. L—
in the morning lost much time; then he told us, after we had been
inactive for about eight hours, that the fault in number three
was within six miles; and at six o’clock in the evening,
when all was ready for a start to pick up these six miles, he
comes and says there must be a fault about thirty miles from
Bona! By this time it was too late to begin paying out
to-day, and we must lie here moored in a thousand fathoms till
light to-morrow morning. The ship pitches a good deal, but
the wind is going down.
‘June 13, Sunday.
‘The wind has not gone down, however. It now (at
10.30) blows a pretty stiff gale, the sea has also risen; and the
Elba’s bows rise and fall about 9 feet. We
make twelve pitches to the minute, and the poor cable must feel
very sea-sick by this time. We are quite unable to do
anything, and continue riding at anchor in one thousand fathoms,
the engines going constantly so as to keep the ship’s bows
up to the cable, which by this means hangs nearly vertical and
sustains no strain but that caused by its own weight and the
pitching of the vessel. We were all up at four, but the
weather entirely forbade work for to-day, so some went to bed and
most lay down, making up our leeway as we nautically term our
loss of sleep. I must say Liddell is a fine fellow and
keeps his patience and temper wonderfully; and yet how he does
fret and fume about trifles at home! This wind has blown
now for 36 hours, and yet we have telegrams from Bona to say the
sea there is as calm as a mirror. It makes one laugh to
remember one is still tied to the shore. Click, click,
click, the pecker is at work: I wonder what Herr P— says to
Herr L—,—tests, tests, tests, nothing more.
This will be a very anxious day.
‘June 14.
‘Another day of fatal inaction.
‘June 15.
‘9.30.—The wind has gone down a deal; but even now
there are doubts whether we shall start to-day. When shall
I get back to you?
‘9 p.m.—Four miles from
land. Our run has been successful and eventless. Now
the work is nearly over I feel a little out of spirits—why,
I should be puzzled to say—mere wantonness, or reaction
perhaps after suspense.
‘June 16.
‘Up this morning at three, coupled my self-acting gear
to the brake and had the satisfaction of seeing it pay out the
last four miles in very good style. With one or two little
improvements, I hope to make it a capital thing. The end
has just gone ashore in two boats, three out of four wires
good. Thus ends our first expedition. By some odd
chance a Times of June the 7th has found its way on board
through the agency of a wretched old peasant who watches the end
of the line here. A long account of breakages in the
Atlantic trial trip. To-night we grapple for the heavy
cable, eight tons to the mile. I long to have a tug at him;
he may puzzle me, and though misfortunes or rather difficulties
are a bore at the time, life when working with cables is tame
without them.
‘2 p.m.—Hurrah, he is
hooked, the big fellow, almost at the first cast. He hangs
under our bows looking so huge and imposing that I could find it
in my heart to be afraid of him.
‘June 17.
‘We went to a little bay called Chia, where a
fresh-water stream falls into the sea, and took in water.
This is rather a long operation, so I went a walk up the valley
with Mr. Liddell. The coast here consists of rocky
mountains 800 to 1,000 feet high covered with shrubs of a
brilliant green. On landing our first amusement was
watching the hundreds of large fish who lazily swam in shoals
about the river; the big canes on the further side hold
numberless tortoises, we are told, but see none, for just now
they prefer taking a siesta. A little further on, and what
is this with large pink flowers in such abundance?—the
oleander in full flower. At first I fear to pluck them,
thinking they must be cultivated and valuable; but soon the banks
show a long line of thick tall shrubs, one mass of glorious pink
and green. Set these in a little valley, framed by
mountains whose rocks gleam out blue and purple colours such as
pre-Raphaelites only dare attempt, shining out hard and
weird-like amongst the clumps of castor-oil plants, cistus, arbor
vitæ and many other evergreens, whose names, alas! I know
not; the cistus is brown now, the rest all deep or brilliant
green. Large herds of cattle browse on the baked deposit at
the foot of these large crags. One or two half-savage
herdsmen in sheepskin kilts, &c., ask for cigars; partridges
whirr up on either side of us; pigeons coo and nightingales sing
amongst the blooming oleander. We get six sheep and many
fowls, too, from the priest of the small village; and then run
back to Spartivento and make preparations for the morning.
‘June 18.
‘The big cable is stubborn and will not behave like his
smaller brother. The gear employed to take him off the drum
is not strong enough; he gets slack on the drum and plays the
mischief. Luckily for my own conscience, the gear I had
wanted was negatived by Mr. Newall. Mr. Liddell does not
exactly blame me, but he says we might have had a silver pulley
cheaper than the cost of this delay. He has telegraphed for
more men to Cagliari, to try to pull the cable off the drum into
the hold, by hand. I look as comfortable as I can, but feel
as if people were blaming me. I am trying my best to get
something rigged which may help us; I wanted a little difficulty,
and feel much better.—The short length we have picked up
was covered at places with beautiful sprays of coral, twisted and
twined with shells of those small, fairy animals we saw in the
aquarium at home; poor little things, they died at once, with
their little bells and delicate bright tints.
‘12 o’clock.—Hurrah, victory! for the
present anyhow. Whilst in our first dejection, I thought I
saw a place where a flat roller would remedy the whole
misfortune; but a flat roller at Cape Spartivento, hard, easily
unshipped, running freely! There was a grooved pulley used
for the paying-out machinery with a spindle wheel, which might
suit me. I filled him up with tarry spunyarn, nailed sheet
copper round him, bent some parts in the fire; and we are
paying-in without more trouble now. You would think some
one would praise me; no, no more praise than blame before;
perhaps now they think better of me, though.
‘10 p.m.—We have gone
on very comfortably for nearly six miles. An hour and a
half was spent washing down; for along with many coloured polypi,
from corals, shells and insects, the big cable brings up much mud
and rust, and makes a fishy smell by no means pleasant: the
bottom seems to teem with life.—But now we are startled by
a most unpleasant, grinding noise; which appeared at first to
come from the large low pulley, but when the engines stopped, the
noise continued; and we now imagine it is something slipping down
the cable, and the pulley but acts as sounding-board to the big
fiddle. Whether it is only an anchor or one of the two
other cables, we know not. We hope it is not the cable just
laid down.
‘June 19.
‘10 a.m.—All our alarm
groundless, it would appear: the odd noise ceased after a time,
and there was no mark sufficiently strong on the large cable to
warrant the suspicion that we had cut another line through.
I stopped up on the look-out till three in the morning, which
made 23 hours between sleep and sleep. One goes dozing
about, though, most of the day, for it is only when something
goes wrong that one has to look alive. Hour after hour, I
stand on the forecastle-head, picking off little specimens of
polypi and coral, or lie on the saloon deck reading back numbers
of the Times—till something hitches, and then all is
hurly-burly once more. There are awnings all along the
ship, and a most ancient, fish-like smell beneath.
‘1 o’clock.—Suddenly a great strain
in only 95 fathoms of water—belts surging and general
dismay; grapnels being thrown out in the hope of finding what
holds the cable.—Should it prove the young cable! We
are apparently crossing its path—not the working one, but
the lost child; Mr. Liddell would start the big one first
though it was laid first: he wanted to see the job done, and
meant to leave us to the small one unaided by his presence.
‘3.30.—Grapnel caught something, lost it again; it
left its marks on the prongs. Started lifting gear again;
and after hauling in some 50 fathoms—grunt, grunt,
grunt—we hear the other cable slipping down our big one,
playing the selfsame tune we heard last night—louder,
however.
‘10 p.m.—The pull on
the deck engines became harder and harder. I got steam up
in a boiler on deck, and another little engine starts hauling at
the grapnel. I wonder if there ever was such a scene of
confusion: Mr. Liddell and W— and the captain all giving
orders contradictory, &c., on the forecastle; D—, the
foreman of our men, the mates, &c., following the example of
our superiors; the ship’s engine and boilers below, a
50-horse engine on deck, a boiler 14 feet long on deck beside it,
a little steam winch tearing round; a dozen Italians (20 have
come to relieve our hands, the men we telegraphed for to
Cagliari) hauling at the rope; wiremen, sailors, in the crevices
left by ropes and machinery; everything that could swear
swearing—I found myself swearing like a trooper at
last. We got the unknown difficulty within ten fathoms of
the surface; but then the forecastle got frightened that, if it
was the small cable which we had got hold of, we should certainly
break it by continuing the tremendous and increasing
strain. So at last Mr. Liddell decided to stop; cut the big
cable, buoying its end; go back to our pleasant watering-place at
Chia, take more water and start lifting the small cable.
The end of the large one has even now regained its sandy bed; and
three buoys—one to grapnel foul of the supposed small
cable, two to the big cable—are dipping about on the
surface. One more—a flag-buoy—will soon follow,
and then straight for shore.
‘June 20.
‘It is an ill-wind, &c. I have an unexpected
opportunity of forwarding this engineering letter; for the craft
which brought out our Italian sailors must return to Cagliari
to-night, as the little cable will take us nearly to Galita, and
the Italian skipper could hardly find his way from thence.
To-day—Sunday—not much rest. Mr. Liddell is at
Spartivento telegraphing. We are at Chia, and shall shortly
go to help our boat’s crew in getting the small cable on
board. We dropped them some time since in order that they
might dig it out of the sand as far as possible.
‘June 21.
‘Yesterday—Sunday as it was—all hands were
kept at work all day, coaling, watering, and making a futile
attempt to pull the cable from the shore on board through the
sand. This attempt was rather silly after the experience we
had gained at Cape Spartivento. This morning we grappled,
hooked the cable at once, and have made an excellent start.
Though I have called this the small cable, it is much larger than
the Bona one.—Here comes a break down and a bad one.
‘June 22.
‘We got over it, however; but it is a warning to me that
my future difficulties will arise from parts wearing out.
Yesterday the cable was often a lovely sight, coming out of the
water one large incrustation of delicate, net-like corals and
long, white curling shells. No portion of the dirty black
wires was visible; instead we had a garland of soft pink with
little scarlet sprays and white enamel intermixed. All was
fragile, however, and could hardly be secured in safety; and
inexorable iron crushed the tender leaves to atoms.—This
morning at the end of my watch, about 4 o’clock, we came to
the buoys, proving our anticipations right concerning the
crossing of the cables. I went to bed for four hours, and
on getting up, found a sad mess. A tangle of the six-wire
cable hung to the grapnel which had been left buoyed, and the
small cable had parted and is lost for the present. Our
hauling of the other day must have done the mischief.
‘June 23.
‘We contrived to get the two ends of the large cable and
to pick the short end up. The long end, leading us seaward,
was next put round the drum and a mile of it picked up; but then,
fearing another tangle, the end was cut and buoyed, and we
returned to grapple for the three-wire cable. All this is
very tiresome for me. The buoying and dredging are managed
entirely by W—, who has had much experience in this sort of
thing; so I have not enough to do and get very homesick. At
noon the wind freshened and the sea rose so high that we had to
run for land and are once more this evening anchored at Chia.
‘June 24.
‘The whole day spent in dredging without success.
This operation consists in allowing the ship to drift slowly
across the line where you expect the cable to be, while at the
end of a long rope, fast either to the bow or stern, a grapnel
drags along the ground. This grapnel is a small anchor,
made like four pot-hooks tied back to back. When the rope
gets taut, the ship is stopped and the grapnel hauled up to the
surface in the hopes of finding the cable on its prongs.—I
am much discontented with myself for idly lounging about and
reading Westward Ho! for the second time, instead of
taking to electricity or picking up nautical information. I
am uncommonly idle. The sea is not quite so rough, but the
weather is squally and the rain comes in frequent gusts.
‘June 25.
‘To-day about 1 o’clock we hooked the three-wire
cable, buoyed the long sea end, and picked up the short [or
shore] end. Now it is dark and we must wait for morning
before lifting the buoy we lowered to-day and proceeding
seawards.—The depth of water here is about 600 feet, the
height of a respectable English hill; our fishing line was about
a quarter of a mile long. It blows pretty fresh, and there
is a great deal of sea.
‘26th.
‘This morning it came on to blow so heavily that it was
impossible to take up our buoy. The Elba recommenced
rolling in true Baltic style and towards noon we ran for
land.
‘27th, Sunday.
‘This morning was a beautiful calm. We reached the
buoys at about 4.30 and commenced picking up at 6.30.
Shortly a new cause of anxiety arose. Kinks came up in
great quantities, about thirty in the hour. To have a true
conception of a kink, you must see one: it is a loop drawn tight,
all the wires get twisted and the gutta-percha inside pushed
out. These much diminish the value of the cable, as they
must all be cut out, the gutta-percha made good, and the cable
spliced. They arise from the cable having been badly laid
down so that it forms folds and tails at the bottom of the
sea. These kinks have another disadvantage: they weaken the
cable very much.—At about six o’clock [p.m.] we had some twelve miles lifted, when
I went to the bows; the kinks were exceedingly tight and were
giving way in a most alarming manner. I got a cage rigged
up to prevent the end (if it broke) from hurting anyone, and sat
down on the bowsprit, thinking I should describe kinks to
Annie:—suddenly I saw a great many coils and kinks
altogether at the surface. I jumped to the gutta-percha
pipe, by blowing through which the signal is given to stop the
engine. I blow, but the engine does not stop;
again—no answer: the coils and kinks jam in the bows and I
rush aft shouting stop. Too late: the cable had parted and
must lie in peace at the bottom. Someone had pulled the
gutta-percha tube across a bare part of the steam pipe and melted
it. It had been used hundreds of times in the last few days
and gave no symptoms of failing. I believe the cable must
have gone at any rate; however, since it went in my watch and
since I might have secured the tubing more strongly, I feel
rather sad. . . .
‘June 28.
‘Since I could not go to Annie I took down Shakespeare,
and by the time I had finished Antony and Cleopatra, read
the second half of Troilus and got some way in
Coriolanus, I felt it was childish to regret the accident
had happened in my watch, and moreover I felt myself not much to
blame in the tubing matter—it had been torn down, it had
not fallen down; so I went to bed, and slept without fretting,
and woke this morning in the same good mood—for which thank
you and our friend Shakespeare. I am happy to say Mr.
Liddell said the loss of the cable did not much matter; though
this would have been no consolation had I felt myself to
blame.—This morning we have grappled for and found another
length of small cable which Mr. — dropped in 100 fathoms of
water. If this also gets full of kinks, we shall probably
have to cut it after 10 miles or so, or more probably still it
will part of its own free will or weight.
‘10 p.m.—This second
length of three-wire cable soon got into the same condition as
its fellow—i.e. came up twenty kinks an hour—and
after seven miles were in, parted on the pulley over the bows at
one of the said kinks; during my watch again, but this time no
earthly power could have saved it. I had taken all manner
of precautions to prevent the end doing any damage when the smash
came, for come I knew it must. We now return to the
six-wire cable. As I sat watching the cable to-night, large
phosphorescent globes kept rolling from it and fading in the
black water.
‘29th.
‘To-day we returned to the buoy we had left at the end
of the six-wire cable, and after much trouble from a series of
tangles, got a fair start at noon. You will easily believe
a tangle of iron rope inch and a half diameter is not easy to
unravel, especially with a ton or so hanging to the ends.
It is now eight o’clock and we have about six and a half
miles safe: it becomes very exciting, however, for the kinks are
coming fast and furious.
‘July 2.
‘Twenty-eight miles safe in the hold. The ship is
now so deep, that the men are to be turned out of their aft hold,
and the remainder coiled there; so the good Elba’s
nose need not burrow too far into the waves. There can only
be about 10 or 12 miles more, but these weigh 80 or 100 tons.
‘July 5.
‘Our first mate was much hurt in securing a buoy on the
evening of the 2nd. As interpreter [with the Italians] I am
useful in all these cases; but for no fortune would I be a doctor
to witness these scenes continually. Pain is a terrible
thing.—Our work is done: the whole of the six-wire cable
has been recovered; only a small part of the three-wire, but that
wire was bad and, owing to its twisted state, the value
small. We may therefore be said to have been very
successful.’
