“I say, Bert, tell me just how many you have on hand,” asked the St. Louis man.
“There are precisely 120, and they are all night messages, all from New Orleans and all are destined for New York.”
“All right, you need not say ‘night message,’ omit the place from, date, all punctuations, ‘sig’ and cut ‘em to the bone,” came from St. Louis, “and mind you, hurry up,” taunted Moxon.
This was probably the first time in his life that Albert Ayres was requested to “hurry up,” he being used to hear the opposite, “to slow up,” and his black eyes snapped in anticipation of the fun he was about to have.
His key flew open and a fire of dots and dashes ensued, which to a layman might sound like shot poured into a tin horn.
The reputation of the whole office seemed to be at stake, and all gathered around to see, what was rightly thought would be an unparalleled feat of rapid transmission.
Moxon took the first message, Day the second, Wheeler the third, while the writer handled the fourth, each rotating in this manner, filling in dates, destinations, etc., awaiting his turn to copy the next message.
The excitement was intense when it was announced that 12 messages had been received in five minutes.
There were no breaks, or interruptions, and at 12:55 A. M., precisely 55 minutes from the starting time, the 120 messages were received and were en route to New York, accomplishing, probably, the most unequalled feat of fast sending ever attempted.
The matter was kept an office secret and Moxon received much credit. It never leaked out how his tact secured ready co-operation and enabled him to cope with a difficult situation.