The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph

by Henry M. Field

"My American, English, and Irish friends, I feel at such a moment as this that no language of mine can be becoming except that of prayer and praise. However, it is allowable to any human lips, though they have not been specially qualified for the office, to raise the ascription of 'Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace, good-will to men.' That, I believe, is the spirit in which this great work has been undertaken; and it is this reflection that encourages me to feel confident hopes in its final success. I believe that the great work now so happily begun will accomplish many great and noble purposes of trade, of national policy, and of empire. But there is only one view in which I will present it to those whom I have the pleasure to address. You are aware—you must know, some of you, from your own experience—that many of your dear friends and near relatives have left their native land to receive hospitable shelter in America. Well, then, I do not expect that all of you can understand the wondrous mechanism by which this great undertaking is to be carried on. But this, I think, you all of you understand. If you wished to communicate some piece of intelligence straightway to your relatives across the wide world of waters—if you wished to tell those whom you know it would interest in their heart of hearts, of a birth, or a marriage, or, alas, a death, among you, the little cord, which we have now hauled up to the shore, will impart that tidings quicker than the flash of the lightning. Let us indeed hope, let us pray that the hopes of those who have set on foot this great design, may be rewarded by its entire success; and let us hope, further, that this Atlantic Cable will, in all future time, serve as an emblem of that strong cord of love which I trust will always unite the British islands to the great continent of America. And you will join me in my fervent wish that the Giver of all good, who has enabled some of his servants to discern so much of the working of the mighty laws by which he fills the universe, will further so bless this wonderful work, as to make it even more to serve the high purpose of the good of man, and tend to his great glory. And now, all my friends, as there can be no project or undertaking which ought not to receive the approbation and applause of the people, will you join with me in giving three hearty cheers for it? [Loud cheering.] Three cheers are not enough for me—they are what we give on common occasions—and as it is for the success of the Atlantic Telegraph Cable, I must have at least one dozen cheers. [Loud and protracted cheering.]"

Mr. Brooking, the Chairman of the Executive Committee of the Atlantic Telegraph Company, then expressed the thanks which all felt to the Lord Lieutenant for his presence on that occasion.

Then there were loud calls for Mr. Field. He could only answer:

"I have no words to express the feelings which fill my heart to-night—it beats with love and affection for every man, woman and child who hears me. I may say, however, that, if ever at the other side of the waters now before us, any one of you shall present himself at my door and say that he took hand or part, even by an approving smile, in our work here to-day, he shall have a true American welcome. I cannot bind myself to more, and shall merely say: 'What God has joined together, let not man put asunder.'"

Thus closed this most interesting scene. The Lord Lieutenant was obliged to return at once to the capital. He therefore left, and posted that night to Killarney, and the next day returned by special train to Dublin, leaving the ships to complete the work so happily begun.

The landing of the cable took place on Wednesday, the fifth of August, near the hour of sunset. As it was too late to proceed that evening, the ships remained at anchor till the morning. They got under weigh at an early hour, but were soon checked by an accident which detained them another day. Before they had gone five miles, the heavy shore end of the cable caught in the machinery and parted. The Niagara put back, and the cable was "underrun" the whole distance. At length the end was lifted out of the water and spliced to the gigantic coil, and as it dropped safely to the bottom of the sea, the mighty ship began to stir. At first she moved very slowly, not more than two miles an hour, to avoid the danger of accident; but the feeling that they were at last away was itself a relief. The ships were all in sight, and so near that they could hear each other's bells. The Niagara, as if knowing that she was bound for the land out of whose forests she came, bowed her head to the waves, as her prow was turned toward her native shores.

Slowly passed the hours of that day. But all went well, and the ships were moving out into the broad Atlantic. At length the sun went down in the west, and stars came out on the face of the deep. But no man slept. A thousand eyes were watching a great experiment as those who have a personal interest in the issue. All through that night, and through the anxious days and nights that followed, there was a feeling in every soul on board, as if some dear friend were at the turning-point of life or death, and they were watching beside him. There was a strange, unnatural silence in the ship. Men paced the deck with soft and muffled tread, speaking only in whispers, as if a loud voice or a heavy footfall might snap the vital cord. So much had they grown to feel for the enterprise, that the cable seemed to them like a human creature, on whose fate they hung, as if it were to decide their own destiny.

There are some who will never forget that first night at sea. Perhaps the reaction from the excitement on shore made the impression the deeper. There are moments in life when every thing comes back upon us. What memories came up in those long night hours! How many on board that ship, as they stood on the deck and watched that mysterious cord disappearing in the darkness, thought of homes beyond the sea, of absent ones, of the distant and the dead!

But no musings turn them from the work in hand. There are vigilant eyes on deck. Mr. Bright, the engineer of the Company, is there, and Mr. Everett, Mr. De Sauty, the electrician, and Professor Morse. The paying-out machinery does its work, and though it makes a constant rumble in the ship, that dull, heavy sound is music to their ears, as it tells them that all is well. If one should drop to sleep, and wake up at night, he has only to hear the sound of "the old coffee-mill," and his fears are relieved, and he goes to sleep again.

Saturday was a day of beautiful weather. The ships were getting farther away from land, and began to steam ahead at the rate of four and five miles an hour. The cable was paid out at a speed a little faster than that of the ship, to allow for any inequalities of surface on the bottom of the sea. While it was thus going overboard, communication was kept up constantly with the land. Every moment the current was passing between ship and shore. The communication was as perfect as between Liverpool and London, or Boston and New York. Not only did the electricians telegraph 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 steamers from Liverpool. The heavens seemed to smile on them that day. The coils came up from below the deck without a kink, and unwinding themselves easily, passed over the stern into the sea. Once or twice an alarm was created by the cable being thrown off the wheels. This was owing to the sheaves not being wide enough and deep enough, and being filled with tar, which hardened in the air. This was a great defect of the machinery which was remedied in the later expeditions. Still it worked well, and so long as those terrible brakes kept off their iron gripe, it might work through to the end.