The Story of the Atlantic Cable

by Sir Charles Bright

The work connected with the landing of the shore end was not actually completed till sunset; so, as it was too late then to set out and start{63} cable-laying, the ships remained at anchor in the bay till daybreak. That night there was a grand ball at the little village of Kingstown, and the day dawn caught the merrymakers still engaged in their festivities.

Laying the First Ocean Cable, 1857.—Owing to the fact that the cable had had to be divided between two ships it was obvious that a mid-ocean splice between the two lengths was involved. The engineer-in-chief (Mr. Bright) was anxious both ships should start laying toward their respective shores from mid-ocean, as by that plan favorable weather for the splice could be waited for, besides halving the time occupied in laying the line, thereby reducing chances of bad-weather experience and getting over the most difficult (deep-water) part of the work first.

The electricians, however, made much of the importance of being in continuous communication with shore during laying operations; and this view appealed to the Board—partly, no doubt, on account of the novelty of being able from headquarters to speak to a ship as she proceeded across the Atlantic. It had, therefore, been arranged for the laying of the cable to be started by the Niagara from the Irish coast, the Agamemnon laying the remaining half from mid-ocean.

The ships got under weigh at an early hour on the morning following the landing of the shore end. Paying out commenced from the Niagara’s forepart; and as the distance from there to the stern was considerable, a number of men were stationed at intervals, like sentries, to see that every foot of the line reached its destination{65} in safety. The machinery did not seem at first to take kindly to its work, giving vent to many ominous groans. After five miles had been disgorged, the line caught in some of the apparatus and parted. The good ship at once put back and the cable was underrun by the Willing Mind, with boats, the whole distance from the shore—a tedious and hard task, as may be imagined. At length the end was lifted out of the water and spliced to the coil on board; and as the bight of the cable dropped safely to the bottom of the sea, the mighty ship steamed ahead once more.

At first she moved very slowly, not more than two miles an hour, to avoid the danger of another accident, but the feeling that they were at last away was in 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 she was bound for the land out of whose forests she came, bowed her head proudly to the waves.

“Slowly passed the hours of that day,” in Mr. Henry Field’s words, “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, including those who had a personal interest in the issue.

“All through that night, and through the anxious days and nights that followed, there was a feeling in the heart of every soul on board, as if some dear friend were at the turning-point of death, and they were watching beside him. There was a strange, unnatural silence in the ship. Men paced the deck with soft and muffled{66} tread, speaking only in whispers, as if a loud or 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 themselves 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 everything comes back to us. What memories cropped 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 of the dead.

“But no musings turned them from the work in hand. There were vigilant eyes on deck—Mr. Bright, the engineer-in-chief, was there; also, in turn, Mr. Woodhouse and Mr. Canning, his chief assistants.... The paying-out machinery did its work, and though it made a constant rumble in the ship, that dull, heavy sound was music in their ears, as it told them that all was well. If one should drop asleep, and wake up at night, he had only to hear the sound of ‘the old coffee-mill’ and, his fears being relieved, he would go to sleep again.”