The Story of the Atlantic Cable

by Sir Charles Bright

But there was no use in further conjecture or in repining over what had already happened. Though the prospect of success appeared to be considerably impaired it was generally considered that there was but one course left, and that was to splice again and make another—and what was fondly hoped would be a final—attempt. Accordingly no time was lost in making the third splice, which was lowered over into 2,000 fathoms of water at seven o’clock by ship’s time the same night. Before steaming away, as the Agamemnon was now getting very short of coal, and the two vessels had some 100 miles of surplus cable between them, it was agreed that if the wire parted again before the ships had gone each 100 miles{110} from the rendezvous they were to return and make another splice; and as the Agamemnon was to sail back, the Niagara, it was decided, was to wait eight days for her appearance. If, on the other hand, the 100 miles had been exceeded, the ships were not to return, but each make the best of its way to Queenstown. With this understanding the ships again parted, and, with the wire dropping steadily down between them, the Niagara and Agamemnon steamed away, and were soon lost in the cold, raw fog, which had hung over the rendezvous ever since the operations had commenced.

The cable, as before, paid out beautifully, and nothing could have been more regular and more easy than the working of every part of the apparatus. At first the ship’s speed was only two knots, the cable going three and three and a half with a strain of 1,500 lbs., the horizontal angle averaging as low as seven and the vertical about sixteen. By and by, however, the speed was increased to four knots, the cable going five, at a strain of 2,000 lbs., and an angle of from twelve to fifteen. At this rate it was kept with trifling variations throughout the whole of Monday night, and neither Mr. Bright, Mr. Canning, nor Mr. Clifford ever quitted the machines for an instant. Toward the middle of the night, while the rate of the ship continued the same, the speed at which the cable paid out slackened nearly a knot, while the dynamometer indicated as low as 1,300 lbs. This change could only be accounted for on the supposition that the water had shallowed to a considerable extent, and that the vessel was in fact passing over some submarine Ben Nevis or Skiddaw. After an interval of about an hour the strain and rate of progress of the cable again increased, while the increase of the vertical angle seemed to indicate that the wire was sinking down the side of a declivity. Beyond this there was no variation throughout Monday night, or indeed through Tuesday. The upper-deck coil, which had weighed so heavily upon the ship—and still more heavily upon the minds of all during the past storms—was fast disappearing, and by twelve at midday on Tuesday, the 29th, seventy-six miles had been paid out to something like sixty miles’ progress of{111} the ship. Warned by repeated failures, many of those on board scarcely dared hope for success. Still the spirits of all rose as the distance widened between the ships. Things were going in splendid style—in such splendid style that “stock had gone up nearly 100 per cent.” Those who had leisure for sleep were able to dream about cable-laying and the terrible effects of too great a strain. The first question which such as these ask on awakening is about the cable, and on being informed that it is all right, satisfaction ensues until the appearance of breakfast, when it is presumed this feeling is intensified. For those who do not derive any particular pleasure from the mere asking of questions, the harmonious music made by the paying-out machine during its revolutions supplies the information.

Then again, the electrical continuity—after all, the most important item—was perfect, and the electricians reported that the signals passing between the ships were eminently satisfactory. The door of the testing-room is almost always shut, and the electricians pursue their work undisturbed; but it is impossible to exclude that spirit of scientific inquiry which will satiate its thirst for information even through a keyhole.

Further, the weather was all that could be wished for. Indeed, had the poet who was so anxious for “life on the ocean wave and a home on the rolling deep” been aboard, he would have been absolutely happy, and perhaps even more desirous for a fixed habitation.

The only cause that warranted anxiety was that it was evident the upper-deck coil would be finished by about eleven o’clock at night, when the men would have to pass along in darkness the great loop which formed the communication between that and the coil in the main hold. This was most unfortunate; but the operation had been successfully performed in daylight during the experimental trip in the Bay of Biscay, and every precaution was now taken that no accident should occur. At nine o’clock by ship’s time, when 146 miles had been paid out and about 112 miles’ distance from the rendezvous accomplished, the last flake but one of the upper-deck coil came in turn to be used. In order to make it easier in passing{112} to the main coil the revolutions of the screw were reduced gradually, by two revolutions at a time from thirty to twenty, while the paying-out machine went slowly from thirty-six to twenty-two. At this rate the vessel going three knots and the cable three and a half, the operation was continued with perfect regularity, the dynamometer indicating a strain of 2,100 lbs. Suddenly without an instant’s warning, or the occurrence of any single incident that could account for it, the cable parted when subjected to a strain of less than a ton.[32] The gun that again told the Valorous of this fatal mishap brought all on board the Agamemnon rushing to the deck, for none could believe the rumor that had spread like wildfire about the ship. But there stood the machinery, silent and motionless, while the fractured end of the wire hung over the stern-wheel, swinging loosely to and fro. It seemed almost impossible to realize the fact that an accident so instantaneous and irremediable should have occurred, and at a time when all seemed to be going on so well. Of course a variety of ingenious suggestions were soon afloat, showing most satisfactorily how the cable must and ought to have broken. There was a regular gloom that night on board the Agamemnon, for from first to last the success of the expedition had been uppermost in the thoughts of all, and all had labored for it early and late, contending with every danger and overcoming every obstacle and disaster that had marked each day, with an earnestness and devotion of purpose that is really beyond all praise.

Immediately after the mishap, a brief consultation was held by those in charge on board the Agamemnon, and as it was shown that they had only exceeded the distance from the rendezvous by fourteen miles, and that there was still more cable on board the two vessels than the amount with which the original expedition last year was commenced, it was determined to try for another chance and return to the rendezvous, sailing there, of{113} course; for Mr. Brown, the chief engineer, as ultrazealous in the cause as a board of directors, guarded the coal-bunkers like a very dragon, lest, if in coming to paying out the cable again, steam should run short, thereby endangering the success of the whole undertaking.

For the fifth time, therefore, the Agamemnon’s head went about, and after twenty days at sea she again began beating up against the wind for the rendezvous to try, if possible, to recommence her labors. The following day the wind was blowing from the southwest, with mist and rain, and Thursday, July 1st, gave every one the most unfavorable opinion of July weather in the Atlantic. The wind and sea were both high—the wet fog so dense that one could scarcely see the mastheads, while the damp cold was really biting. Altogether it was an atmosphere of which a Londoner would have been ashamed even in November. Later in the day a heavy sea got on; the wind increased without dissipating the fog, and it was double-reefed topsails and pitching and rolling as before. However, the upper-deck coil of 250 tons being gone, the Agamemnon was as buoyant as a lifeboat, and no one cared how much she took to kicking about, though the cold wet fog was a miserable nuisance, penetrating everywhere and making the ship as wet inside as out. What made the matter worse was that in such weather there seemed no chance of meeting the Niagara unless she ran into us, when cable-laying would have gone on wholesale. In order to avoid such a contretemps, and also to inform the Valorous of our whereabouts, guns were fired, fog-bells rung, and the bugler stationed forward to warn the other vessels of our vicinity. Friday was the ditto of Thursday and Saturday, worse than both together, for it almost blew a gale and there was a heavy sea on. On Sunday, the 4th, it cleared, and the Agamemnon for the first time during the whole cruise, reached the actual rendezvous and fell in with the Valorous, which had been there since Friday, the 2d, but the fog must have been even thicker there than elsewhere, for she had scarcely seen herself, much less anything else till Sunday.{114}

During the remainder of that day and Monday, when the weather was very clear, both ships cruised over the place of meeting, but neither the Niagara nor Gorgon was there, though day and night the lookout for them was constant and incessant. It was evident then that the Niagara had rigidly, but most unfortunately, adhered to the mere letter of the agreement regarding the 100 miles, and after the last fracture had at once turned back for Queenstown. On Tuesday, the 6th, therefore, as the dense fogs and winds set in again it was agreed between the Valorous and Agamemnon to return once more to the rendezvous. But as usual the fog was so thick that the whole American navy might have been cruising there unobserved; so the search was given up, and at eight o’clock that night the ship’s head was turned for Cork, and, under all sail, the Agamemnon at last stood homeward. The voyage home was made with ease and swiftness considering the lightness of the wind, the trim of the ship, and that she only steamed three days, and at midday on Tuesday, July 12th, the Agamemnon cast anchor in Queenstown harbor, having met with more dangerous weather, and encountered more mishaps than often falls to the lot of any ship in a cruise of thirty-three days.

Thus ends the most arduous and dangerous expedition that had ever been experienced in connection with cable-work. It, at any rate, had the advantage of supplying the public with some exciting reading in the columns of The Times, whose graphic descriptions were much appreciated.

The Niagara had reached Queenstown as far back as July 5th. Having found that they had run out 109 miles when “continuity” ceased, those in charge considered that, in order to carry out their instructions, they should return at once to the above port, which they did.{115}