I have given this cruise nearly in full. From the notes,
unhappily imperfect, of two others, I will take only specimens;
for in all there are features of similarity and it is possible to
have too much even of submarine telegraphy and the romance of
engineering. And first from the cruise of 1859 in the Greek
Islands and to Alexandria, take a few traits, incidents and
pictures.
‘May 10, 1859.
‘We had a fair wind and we did very well, seeing a
little bit of Cerig or Cythera, and lots of turtle-doves
wandering about over the sea and perching, tired and timid, in
the rigging of our little craft. Then Falconera, Antimilo,
and Milo, topped with huge white clouds, barren, deserted, rising
bold and mysterious from the blue, chafing sea;—Argentiera,
Siphano, Scapho, Paros, Antiparos, and late at night Syra
itself. Adam Bede in one hand, a sketch-book in the
other, lying on rugs under an awning, I enjoyed a very pleasant
day.
‘May 14.
‘Syra is semi-eastern. The pavement, huge
shapeless blocks sloping to a central gutter; from this bare
two-storied houses, sometimes plaster many coloured, sometimes
rough-hewn marble, rise, dirty and ill-finished to straight,
plain, flat roofs; shops guiltless of windows, with signs in
Greek letters; dogs, Greeks in blue, baggy, Zouave breeches and a
fez, a few narghilehs and a sprinkling of the ordinary
continental shopboys.—In the evening I tried one more walk
in Syra with A—, but in vain endeavoured to amuse myself or
to spend money; the first effort resulting in singing
Doodah to a passing Greek or two, the second in spending,
no, in making A— spend, threepence on coffee for three.
‘May 16.
‘On coming on deck, I found we were at anchor in Canea
bay, and saw one of the most lovely sights man could
witness. Far on either hand stretch bold mountain capes,
Spada and Maleka, tender in colour, bold in outline; rich sunny
levels lie beneath them, framed by the azure sea. Right in
front, a dark brown fortress girdles white mosques and
minarets. Rich and green, our mountain capes here join to
form a setting for the town, in whose dark walls—still
darker—open a dozen high-arched caves in which the huge
Venetian galleys used to lie in wait. High above all,
higher and higher yet, up into the firmament, range after range
of blue and snow-capped mountains. I was bewildered and
amazed, having heard nothing of this great beauty. The town
when entered is quite eastern. The streets are formed of
open stalls under the first story, in which squat tailors, cooks,
sherbet vendors and the like, busy at their work or smoking
narghilehs. Cloths stretched from house to house keep out
the sun. Mules rattle through the crowd; curs yelp between
your legs; negroes are as hideous and bright clothed as usual;
grave Turks with long chibouques continue to march solemnly
without breaking them; a little Arab in one dirty rag pokes fun
at two splendid little Turks with brilliant fezzes; wiry
mountaineers in dirty, full, white kilts, shouldering long guns
and one hand on their pistols, stalk untamed past a dozen Turkish
soldiers, who look sheepish and brutal in worn cloth jacket and
cotton trousers. A headless, wingless lion of St. Mark
still stands upon a gate, and has left the mark of his strong
clutch. Of ancient times when Crete was Crete, not a trace
remains; save perhaps in the full, well-cut nostril and firm
tread of that mountaineer, and I suspect that even his sires were
Albanians, mere outer barbarians.
‘May 17.
I spent the day at the little station where the cable was
landed, which has apparently been first a Venetian monastery and
then a Turkish mosque. At any rate the big dome is very
cool, and the little ones hold [our electric] batteries
capitally. A handsome young Bashibazouk guards it, and a
still handsomer mountaineer is the servant; so I draw them and
the monastery and the hill, till I’m black in the face with
heat and come on board to hear the Canea cable is still bad.
‘May 23.
‘We arrived in the morning at the east end of Candia,
and had a glorious scramble over the mountains which seem built
of adamant. Time has worn away the softer portions of the
rock, only leaving sharp jagged edges of steel. Sea eagles
soaring above our heads; old tanks, ruins, and desolation at our
feet. The ancient Arsinoe stood here; a few blocks of
marble with the cross attest the presence of Venetian Christians;
but now—the desolation of desolations. Mr. Liddell
and I separated from the rest, and when we had found a sure bay
for the cable, had a tremendous lively scramble back to the
boat. These are the bits of our life which I enjoy, which
have some poetry, some grandeur in them.
‘May 29 (?).
‘Yesterday we ran round to the new harbour [of
Alexandria], landed the shore end of the cable close to
Cleopatra’s bath, and made a very satisfactory start about
one in the afternoon. We had scarcely gone 200 yards when I
noticed that the cable ceased to run out, and I wondered why the
ship had stopped. People ran aft to tell me not to put such
a strain on the cable; I answered indignantly that there was no
strain; and suddenly it broke on every one in the ship at once
that we were aground. Here was a nice mess. A violent
scirocco blew from the land; making one’s skin feel as if
it belonged to some one else and didn’t fit, making the
horizon dim and yellow with fine sand, oppressing every sense and
raising the thermometer 20 degrees in an hour, but making calm
water round us which enabled the ship to lie for the time in
safety. The wind might change at any moment, since the
scirocco was only accidental; and at the first wave from seaward
bump would go the poor ship, and there would [might] be an end of
our voyage. The captain, without waiting to sound, began to
make an effort to put the ship over what was supposed to be a
sandbank; but by the time soundings were made, this was found to
be impossible, and he had only been jamming the poor Elba
faster on a rock. Now every effort was made to get her
astern, an anchor taken out, a rope brought to a winch I had for
the cable, and the engines backed; but all in vain. A small
Turkish Government steamer, which is to be our consort, came to
our assistance, but of course very slowly, and much time was
occupied before we could get a hawser to her. I could do no
good after having made a chart of the soundings round the ship,
and went at last on to the bridge to sketch the scene. But
at that moment the strain from the winch and a jerk from the
Turkish steamer got off the boat, after we had been some hours
aground. The carpenter reported that she had made only two
inches of water in one compartment; the cable was still uninjured
astern, and our spirits rose; when, will you believe it? after
going a short distance astern, the pilot ran us once more fast
aground on what seemed to me nearly the same spot. The very
same scene was gone through as on the first occasion, and dark
came on whilst the wind shifted, and we were still aground.
Dinner was served up, but poor Mr. Liddell could eat very little;
and bump, bump, grind, grind, went the ship fifteen or sixteen
times as we sat at dinner. The slight sea, however, did
enable us to bump off. This morning we appear not to have
suffered in any way; but a sea is rolling in, which a few hours
ago would have settled the poor old Elba.
‘June —.
‘The Alexandria cable has again failed; after paying out
two-thirds of the distance successfully, an unlucky touch in deep
water snapped the line. Luckily the accident occurred in
Mr. Liddell’s watch. Though personally it may not
really concern me, the accident weighs like a personal
misfortune. Still I am glad I was present: a failure is
probably more instructive than a success; and this experience may
enable us to avoid misfortune in still greater undertakings.
‘June —.
‘We left Syra the morning after our arrival on Saturday
the 4th. This we did (first) because we were in a hurry to
do something and (second) because, coming from Alexandria, we had
four days’ quarantine to perform. We were all
mustered along the side while the doctor counted us; the letters
were popped into a little tin box and taken away to be smoked;
the guardians put on board to see that we held no communication
with the shore—without them we should still have had four
more days’ quarantine; and with twelve Greek sailors
besides, we started merrily enough picking up the Canea cable. .
. . To our utter dismay, the yarn covering began to come up quite
decayed, and the cable, which when laid should have borne half a
ton, was now in danger of snapping with a tenth part of that
strain. We went as slow as possible in fear of a break at
every instant. My watch was from eight to twelve in the
morning, and during that time we had barely secured three miles
of cable. Once it broke inside the ship, but I seized hold
of it in time—the weight being hardly anything—and
the line for the nonce was saved. Regular nooses were then
planted inboard with men to draw them taut, should the cable
break inboard. A—, who should have relieved me, was
unwell, so I had to continue my look-out; and about one
o’clock the line again parted, but was again caught in the
last noose, with about four inches to spare. Five minutes
afterwards it again parted and was yet once more caught.
Mr. Liddell (whom I had called) could stand this no longer; so we
buoyed the line and ran into a bay in Siphano, waiting for calm
weather, though I was by no means of opinion that the slight sea
and wind had been the cause of our failures.—All next day
(Monday) we lay off Siphano, amusing ourselves on shore with
fowling pieces and navy revolvers. I need not say we killed
nothing; and luckily we did not wound any of ourselves. A
guardiano accompanied us, his functions being limited to
preventing actual contact with the natives, for they might come
as near and talk as much as they pleased. These isles of
Greece are sad, interesting places. They are not really
barren all over, but they are quite destitute of verdure; and
tufts of thyme, wild mastic or mint, though they sound well, are
not nearly so pretty as grass. Many little churches,
glittering white, dot the islands; most of them, I believe,
abandoned during the whole year with the exception of one day
sacred to their patron saint. The villages are mean, but
the inhabitants do not look wretched and the men are good
sailors. There is something in this Greek race yet; they
will become a powerful Levantine nation in the course of
time.—What a lovely moonlight evening that was! the barren
island cutting the clear sky with fantastic outline, marble
cliffs on either hand fairly gleaming over the calm sea.
Next day, the wind still continuing, I proposed a boating
excursion and decoyed A—, L—, and S— into
accompanying me. We took the little gig, and sailed away
merrily enough round a point to a beautiful white bay, flanked
with two glistening little churches, fronted by beautiful distant
islands; when suddenly, to my horror, I discovered the
Elba steaming full speed out from the island. Of
course we steered after her; but the wind that instant ceased,
and we were left in a dead calm. There was nothing for it
but to unship the mast, get out the oars and pull. The ship
was nearly certain to stop at the buoy; and I wanted to learn how
to take an oar, so here was a chance with a vengeance!
L— steered, and we three pulled—a broiling pull it
was about half way across to Palikandro—still we did come
in, pulling an uncommon good stroke, and I had learned to hang on
my oar. L— had pressed me to let him take my place;
but though I was very tired at the end of the first quarter of an
hour, and then every successive half hour, I would not give
in. I nearly paid dear for my obstinacy, however; for in
the evening I had alternate fits of shivering and
burning.’
