The Last Start.—Let us now turn to The Times narrative, as given at the conclusion of this final expedition:
As the ships left the harbor there was apparently no notice taken of their departure by those on shore or in the vessels anchored around them. Every one seemed impressed with the conviction that we were engaged in a hopeless enterprise; and the squadron seemed rather to have slunk away on some discreditable mission than to have sailed for the accomplishment of a grand national scheme. It was just dawn when the Agamemnon got clear of Queenstown harbor, but, as the wind blew stiff from the southwest, it was nearly ten o’clock before she rounded the Old Head of Kinsale, a distance of only a few miles. The weather remained fine during the day; and as the Agamemnon skirted along the wild and rocky shore of the southwest coast of Ireland, those on board had an excellent opportunity of seeing the stupendous rocks which rise from the water in the most grotesque and fantastic shapes. About five o’clock in the afternoon Cape Clear was passed, and though the coast gradually edged away to the northward of our course, yet it was nearly dark before we lost sight of the rocky mountains which surround Bantry Bay and the shores of the Kenmare River. By Monday, the 19th, we had left the land far behind us, and thence fell into the usual dull monotony of sea life.
Of the voyage out there is little to be said. It was not checkered by the excitement of continual storms or the tedium of perpetual calms, but we had a sufficient admixture of both to render our passage to the rendezvous a very ordinary and uninteresting one. For the first week{118} the barometer remained unusually low, and the numbers of those natural barometers—Mother Carey’s chickens—that kept in our wake kept us in continual expectation of heavy weather. With very little breeze or wind, the screw was got up and sail made, so as to husband our coals as much as possible; but it generally soon fell calm, and obliged Captain Preedy reluctantly to get up steam again. In consequence of continued delays and changes from steam to sail, and from sail to steam again, much fuel was expended, and not more than eighty miles of distance made good each day. On Sunday, the 25th, however, the weather changed, and for several days in succession there was an uninterrupted calm. The moon was just at the full, and for several nights it shone with a brilliancy which turned the smooth sea into one silvery sheet, which brought out the dark hull and white sails of the ship in strong contrast to the sea and sky as the vessel lay all but motionless on the water, the very impersonation of solitude and repose. Indeed, until the rendezvous was gained, we had such a succession of beautiful sunrises, gorgeous sunsets, and tranquil moonlight nights as would have excited the most enthusiastic admiration of any one but persons situated as we were. But by us such scenes were regarded only as the annoying indications of the calm which delayed our progress and wasted our coals. To say that it was calm is not doing full justice to it; there was not a breath in the air, and the water was as smooth as a mill-pond. Even the wake of the ship scarce ruffled the surface; and the gulls which had visited us almost daily, and to which our benevolent liberality had dispensed innumerable pieces of pork, threw an almost unbroken shadow upon it as they stooped in their flight to pick up the largest and most tempting. It was generally remarked that cable-laying under such circumstances would be mere child’s play.
In spite of the unusual calmness of the weather in general, there were days on which our former unpleasant experiences of the Atlantic were brought forcibly to our recollection, when it blew hard and the sea ran sufficiently high to reproduce on a minor scale some of the discomforts{119} of which the previous cruise had been so fruitful. Those days, however, were the exception and not the rule, and served to show how much more pleasant was the inconvenient calm than the weather which had previously prevailed.
The precise point of the rendezvous—marked by a dot on the chart—was reached on the evening of Wednesday, July 28th, just eleven days after our departure from Queenstown. The voyage out was a lazy one. Now things are different, and we no longer hear of the prospects of the heroes and heroines of the romances and novels which have formed the staple food for animated discussion for some days past. The rest of the squadron were in sight at nightfall, but at such a considerable distance that it was past ten o’clock on the morning of Thursday the 29th, before the Agamemnon joined them. Some time previous to reaching the rendezvous the engineer-in-chief (Mr. Bright) went up in the shrouds on the lookout for the other ships, and accordingly had to “pay his footing”—much to the amusement of his staff. Most of them being more advanced in years would not probably have been so equal to the task in an athletic sense.
After the ordinary laconic conversation which characterize code flag-signals, we were as usual greeted by a perfect storm of questions as to what had kept us so much behind our time, and learned that all had come to the conclusion that the ship must have got on shore on leaving Queenstown harbor. The Niagara, it appeared, had arrived at the rendezvous on Friday night, the 23d, the Valorous on Sunday, the 25th, and the Gorgon on the afternoon of Tuesday, the 27th.
The day was beautifully calm, so no time was to be lost before making the splice in lat. 52° 9´ N., long. 32° 27´ W., and soundings of 1,500 fathoms. Boats were soon lowered from the attendant ships; the two vessels made fast by a hawser, and the Niagara’s end of the cable conveyed on board the Agamemnon. About half-past twelve o’clock the splice was effectually made, but with a very different frame from the carefully rounded semi-circular{120} boards which had been used to enclose the junctions on previous occasions. It consisted merely of two straight boards hauled over the joint and splice, with the iron rod and leaden plummet attached to the center. In hoisting it out from the side of the ship, however, the leaden sinker broke short off and fell overboard. There being no more convenient weight at hand a 32-lb. shot was fastened to the splice instead, and the whole apparatus was quickly dropped into the sea without any formality—and, indeed, almost without a spectator—for those on board the ship had witnessed so many beginnings to the telegraphic line that it was evident they despaired of there ever being an end to it.
The stipulated 210 fathoms of cable having been paid out to allow the splice to sink well below the surface, the signal to start was hoisted, the hawser cut loose, and the Niagara and Agamemnon start for the last time at about 1 P.M. for their opposite destinations.
The announcement comes from the electrician’s testing-room that the continuity is perfect, and with this assurance the engineers go on more boldly with the work. In point of fact the engineers may be said to be very much under the control of the electricians during paying out; for if the latter report anything wrong with the cable, the engineers are brought to a stand until they are allowed to go on with their operations by the announcement of the electricians that the insulation is perfect and the continuity all right. The testing-room is where the subtle current which flows along the conductor is generated, and where the mysterious apparatus by which electricity is weighed and measured—as a marketable commodity—is fitted up. The system of testing and of transmitting and receiving signals through the cable from ship to ship during the process of paying out must now be briefly referred to. It consists of an exchange of currents sent alternately every ten minutes by each ship. These not only serve to give an accurate test of the continuity and insulation of the conducting-wire from end to end, but also to give certain signals which it is desirable to send for information purposes. For instance, every ten miles{121} of cable paid out is signalized from ship to ship, as also the approach to land or momentary stoppage for splicing, shifting to a fresh coil, etc. The current in its passage is made to pass through an electromagnetometer,[34] an instrument invented by Mr. Whitehouse. It is also conveyed in its passage at each end of the cable through the reflecting-galvanometer and speaking-instrument just invented by Professor Thomson; and it is this latter which is so invaluable, not only for the interchange of signals, but also for testing purposes. The deflections read on the galvanometer, as also the degree of charge and discharge indicated by the magnetometer, are carefully recorded. Thus, if a defect of continuity or insulation occurs it is brought to light by comparison with those received before.
For the first three hours the ships proceeded very slowly, paying out a great quantity of slack, but after the expiration of this time the speed of the Agamemnon was increased to about five knots, the cable going at about six, without indicating more than a few hundred pounds of strain upon the dynamometer.