A small tarpaulin was now spread over the frames, and operations commenced for cleaning them. This was a most difficult and dangerous work, especially as the water was still so high that the frames could only be approached by boats. The men, even the best hands, were at first greatly alarmed at the danger they were in; but the example set by Mr. Brunel and Mr. Beamish produced, as Sir Isambard notes, the best effect, and they soon became reconciled to their situation.
July 7.—Very uncomfortable in the frames; the candles cannot burn, the ventilation cannot act. Isambard went several times to-day down in the diving-bell. On one occasion the chain slipped through the stoppers, but most providentially it jammed itself tight before being altogether run out. The consequence might indeed have been fatal. Can there be a more anxious situation than that which I am constantly in? Not one moment of rest either of mind or body. Mr. Beamish always ready. Poor Isambard always at his post too, alternately below, or in the barges, and in the diving-bell.
On July 11, Sir Isambard thought that matters had so far advanced that a large tarpaulin, which it was proposed to sink over the frames, ‘would have its full effect.’ It was accordingly sunk on the following day, under the superintendence of Mr. Brunel. Sir Isambard adds to his account of the operation—‘This reflects great credit on Isambard, and the apparent facility with which it was effected evinces his presence of mind, for a single faux pas would have spoilt the whole.’[21]
July 21.—During the early part of the night an alarm was given, by Fitzgerald calling for clay wedges, and exclaiming that the whole of the faces were coming in altogether. Rogers collected a quantity of wedges to go to the frames, but no boat was to be seen. He called to the men in the frames, but received no answer. Taking the small boat in the east arch, he reached the frames, but found nobody, nor any appearance of derangement in the ground. Conjecturing they might be drowned, he explored further, and saw the four men stretched on the small stage, not drowned, but sound asleep!
July 26.—Water nearly out of the arches. For the first time we could walk to the frames—a most gratifying circumstance indeed! Two months and eight days.
September 30.—How slow our progress must appear to others; but it is not so, if it is considered how much we have had to do in righting the frames and in repairing them; what with timbering, shoring, shipping and refitting—all these operations being in confined situations, the water bursting in occasionally, and the ground running in: in short, it is truly terrific to be in the midst of this scene. If to this we add the actual danger, magnified by the re-echoing of the pumps, and sometimes (still more awful warning!) the report of large pieces of cast iron breaking, it is in no way an exaggeration to say that such has been the state of things. Nevertheless, my confidence in the shield is not only undiminished—it is, on the contrary, tried with its full effect, and it is manifest now that it will soon replace us in good ground, and in a safe situation. No top staves have given way. That is our real protection.
October 17.—At 2.15 A.M. Kemble, having first called upon Gravatt, came to Isambard in a hurry, and, quite stupefied with fright, told him that the water was in. Says Isambard—‘I could not believe him. He said it was up the shaft when he came. This being like positive, I ran without a coat as fast as possible, giving a double knock at Gravatt’s door in my way. I saw the men on the top, and heard them calling earnestly to those whom they fancied had not had time to escape. Nay, Miles had already, in his zeal for the aid of others, thrown a long rope, and was swinging it about, calling to the unfortunate sufferers to lay hold of it, encouraging and cheering those who might not find it, to swim to one of the landings. I immediately, I should say instantly, flew down the stairs. The shaft was completely dark. I expected at every step to splash into the water. Before I was aware of the distance I had run, I reached the frames in the east arch, and met there Pamphillon, who told me that nothing was the matter, but a small run in No. 1 top, where I found Huggins and the corps d’élite. They were not even aware that any one had left the frames. The cause of the panic was one of the labourers; hearing the man in No. 1 call for Ball, he ran away, jumping off the stage, crying, “Run, run, murder, murder; put the lights out.” His fellow-labourers followed like sheep, making the same vociferations.’
November 10.—Isambard gave his entertainment to nearly forty persons, who sat at table in the Tunnel. Nothing could exceed the effect for brilliancy. About 120 men partook of a dinner in the adjoining arch.
As the year drew to a close, the difficulty of working the silt increased, and with this difficulty increased also the expense of maintaining the staff of men required. On December 18, Mr. Brunel, writing for his father, who was absent from town for a few days, thus describes the nature of the soil through which they were then passing.