Saturday, July 29th.—“Everything has gone on most admirably during the night.” Such was the report from electricians, and engineers, and officers this morning. The electrical condition of the Cable furnished results most satisfactory to Mr. Varley and to Professor Thomson. The tests showed that in copper-resistance, insulation, and every other particular, the Cable was exhibiting an excellence far beyond the specified standard. Coil after coil whirled off from the tank and passed away to sea as easily as the lightning flash itself; and Valentia was joined to us by a lengthening thread, which seemed stronger and more sentient as it lengthened. In the night the Terrible had vanished, but she came in sight in the morning, and drew up closer to us. As the sea was calm, and the Cable ran out so beautifully, the speed of the steamer, and consequent rate of paying-out of the Cable, were increased; and it looked as if there was really no limit to the velocity at which the process could be conducted under favouring circumstances. Yes; “Heart’s Content” on August 5th was certain. What could prevent it? The fault which had occurred was caused by an accident most unlikely to happen again. So we pored over our maps and marked out the soundings in the little bay in Newfoundland, and imagined what sort of place it was, as men will do of spots they have never visited.
At noon our position was, Lat. 52° 33´ 30´´ (another reading, 52° 38´ 30´´), Long. 27° 40´. Distance run, 160 miles. Distance from Valentia, 634·4 miles. Distance to Heart’s Content, 1,028 miles. The Great Eastern had passed over the valley in the plateau where the Atlantic deepens to 2,400 fathoms. At 9 a.m. we had shoaled our water to 2000 fathoms, or 2 nautical miles.
Happy is the Cable-laying that has no history. Here might the day’s record have well been closed. But it was not so to be. At 1·10 p.m. (ship’s time), an ill-omened activity about the Testing-Room, which had been visible for some time, reached its climax. The engines were slowed, in five minutes the great ship was motionless. In an instant afterwards every one was on deck, and the evil tidings flew from lip to lip. Something was wrong with the Cable again. But the worst was not known. “Another fault,” was the word. When I went into the Testing-Room and found all the electricians so grave, I suspected more serious mischief than a diminution of insulation; and so it was. They had found “dead earth”—in other words, a complete destruction of insulation, and an uninterrupted escape of the current into the sea. About 716 miles (nautical) had been payed-out when the ship stopped so suddenly. Up to 2·40 o’clock, p.m. (Greenwich time), signals had been received from the shore in regular routine. At 3 o’clock the electricians on board began to send the current through to the shore, and in three minutes afterwards the galvanometer indicated “dead earth.” So it was pretty clear the injury was close to the ship, and had gone over in the interval between 2·40 p.m. and 3·4 p.m. At 3h 3´ 30´´ (Greenwich time), the electrician on duty saw the index light of Thomson’s galvanometer fly out of bounds whilst he was passing a current to Valentia. The nature of the injury was so decided as to admit of no doubt.
But in order to make assurance doubly sure two cuts were made in the Cable, whilst the steam was being got up forward to be in readiness for the most retrograde of all backward movements—picking-up. The whole length of Cable in the tanks was first tested, and found to be in admirable condition. Then a test outward gave “dead earth” not far overboard. The next cut at the bottom of the coil in the after tank gave the same result. The third cut was near the top of the coil in the after tank, and confirmed the testimony of the other two tests. The usual preparations were then made to shackle the Cable ere it was cut and cast overboard with its tow rope of iron wire, an operation which always caused the gravest misgivings. It was admitted that there was a certain amount of danger in it, and more in the picking-up; but then, when the question was asked “What would you do?” the answer was not so easy. At first it might appear natural to back the ship, and take up the Cable from the stern; but unfortunately ships in general will not steer stern foremost, and the Great Eastern certainly would not. It was obvious that if Cables could not be secured against “faults,” the mode of taking them in would have to be amended.
This was one of the most harassing days we had yet encountered; but it proved not to be the most trying we were to endure in our short eventful history. All our calculations were falsified. Newfoundland was seen at its true distance, the piano ceased, men discussed various schemes for avoiding the transfer of the Cable from stern to the bow, on every occasion of picking-up. But all our difficulty had been overcome with such certainty, and it was so evident all would go well if no more faults existed in the Cable, that faith, in the ultimate success of the enterprise became, strengthened rather than diminished.
Whilst the tests were being made the Cable was running out by its own weight and the drifting of the ship, at a strain varying from 8 cwt. to 20 cwt., giving at every fathom an increase of labour in the subsequent picking up. The sailors regarded the process of cutting the Cable with distrust; but the Cable men, accustomed to it, had no such serious apprehensions. Still the whole system of iron chains, iron rope, stoppers, and bights, is very complicated. The Cable cannot be checked in such cases till an instant before it is cut, and must be let run out for fear of the ship dragging upon it; and to the inexperienced eye it looked as if the Great Eastern were bent on snapping the thin black thread which cut the waves like a knife-blade as she rose and fell on the swell. When the strain increased, the Cable ran with an edge of seething foam frittering before it backwards and forwards in the track of the ship, taut as a bar of steel. It was a relief to see the end cut at last, and splash over, with shackle chain and wire rope, into the water. Then began an orderly tumult of men with stoppers and guy ropes along the bulwarks and in the shrouds, and over the boats, from stern to stem, as length after length of wire rope flew out after the Cable. The men under the command of Mr. Canning were skilful in their work; but as they clamoured and clambered along the sides, and over the boats, and round the paddle-boxes, hauling at hawsers, and slipping bights, and holding on and letting go stoppers, the sense of risk and fear for the Cable could not be got out of one’s head. The chief officer, Mr. Halpin, by personal exertion, made himself conspicuous, and rendered effectual assistance; and Capt. Anderson, on the bridge, watched and directed every movement of the ship with skill and vigilance. But still pitches and foulings would take place for an instant, and it needed all our confidence in Mr. Canning and his staff to tolerate this picking-up system with any temper. Thousands of fathoms down we knew the end of the cable was dragging along the bottom, fiercely tugged at by the Great Eastern through its iron line. If line or Cable parted, down sank the Cable for ever. At last our minds were set at rest by the commencement of the restorative process. The head of the Great Eastern was got round slowly, and pointed eastwards. The iron wire rope was at length coming in over the bows through the picking-up machinery. In due, but in weary time, the end of the Cable appeared above the surface, and was hauled on board and passed aft towards the drum. The stern is on these occasions deserted; the clack of wheels, before so active, ceases; and the forward part of the vessel is crowded with those engaged in the work, and with those who have only to look on. The little chimneys of the boilers at the bows vomit forth clouds of smoke, the two eccentric-looking engines working the pick-up drums and wheels make as much noise as possible, brakesmen take their places, indicator and dynamometer play their parts, and all is life and bustle forwards, as with slow unequal straining the Cable is dragged up from its watery bed.
The day had been foggy or rather hazy. Light grey sheets of drizzling cloud flew over the surface of the sea, and set men talking of icebergs and Arctic storms; but towards evening the wind fell, and a cold clammy vapour settled down on ship and sea, bringing with it a leaden calm; so that the waves lost their tumbled crests, and slept at last in almost unmurmuring slumber. But the big ship slept not. The clank and beat of machinery ceased never, and the dull mill-like clatter of Cable apparatus seemed to become more active as the night wore on. The forge fires glared on her decks, and there, out in the midst of the Atlantic, anvils rang and sparks flew; and the spectator thought of some village far away, where the blacksmith worked, unvexed by Cable anxieties and greed of speedy news. As the blaze shot up, ruddy, mellow, and strong, and flung arms of light aloft and along the glistening decks, and then died into a red centre, masts, spars, and ropes were for the instant touched with a golden gleaming, and strange figures and faces were called out from the darkness—vanished—glinted out again—rushed suddenly into foreground of bright pictures, which faded soon away—flickered—went out—as they were called to life by its warm breath, or were buried in the outer darkness! Outside us all was obscurity; but now and then vast shadows, which moved across the arc of lighted fogbank, were projected far away by the flare; and one might well pardon the passing mariner whose bark drifted him in the night across the track of the great ship, if, crossing himself and praying with shuddering lips, he fancied he beheld a phantom ship freighted with an evil crew, and ever after told how he had seen the workshops of the Inferno floating on the bosom of the ocean. It was indeed a most wondrous and unearthly sight! The very vanes on the mastheads, the ring-bolts in the bulwarks and decks, the blocks and the cordage, were touched with such brightness that they shone as if on fire; whilst the whole of the fore part of the ship was in darkness; and on looking aft, it appeared as though the stern were on fire, or that blue lights were being burned every moment. For hour after hour, the work of “picking-up” went on. The term is objectionable; it rather indicates a brisk, lively process—a bird picks up a worm—a lady picks up a pin—a sharper picks up a flat—but the machine working at the bows of the Great Eastern assuredly was not in any one way engaged in brisk or lively work. Most doggedly at times did the Cable yield. As if it knew its home was deep in the bed of the Atlantic, and that its insulation and all the objects of its existence would be gained and bettered by remaining there, it strained against the power which sought to pull it forth; and the dynamometer showed that the resistance of the rigid cord was equivalent to 2½ tons. At times, again, it came up merely with coy reluctance, and again became sullen as though it were already troubled by the whims of two worlds and partook of their fancies. No trace was visible of its having touched the bottom for the 2½ miles which were hauled in, but the men observed signs of animal life on it, and certain creatures which they called “worms” were detached and fell on deck, a specimen of which I sought for in vain. As the Cable was hauled in, the men who coiled it aft, and guided it through the machinery, felt it carefully with their hands to detect any “fault” or injured part, and the line of large ship’s lanterns hung up along the deck showed how carefully they did their work. It was 5·40 p.m., Greenwich time, or about 3·40 p.m., ship’s time, when the end of the Cable came in board; but it was not till six hours and ten minutes had elapsed (9·50 p.m., ship’s time) that the part of the Cable where the mischief lay was picked up. The defective portion was found at the very part of the Cable which was going over the stern when the ocean galvanometer indicated “dead earth.” It was at once cut out, and reserved to be examined by Mr. Canning. The necessary steps were next taken to test the rest of the Cable. The shore end was spliced and jointed to a fresh end of the Cable from the after tank. These operations were finished before midnight; but it was not judged expedient to resume the process of paying-out till the morning. As yet no one knew the nature of the injury to the Cable. No one could account for the hitch; but it certainly did not affect any one’s belief in success. Mr. Field, to whom such accidents are never discouraging, remarked pleasantly during the crisis of picking-up, “I have often known Cables to stop working for two hours, no one knew why, and then begin again. Most likely it’s some mistake on shore.” What can discourage a believer? It was even comfort to him to remember that this very day eight years ago, a splice was made in the first Atlantic Cable, very much in the same place. But to all it had been a most trying day. And when night came, and some retired to the rest they had won so well, there, constant on the paddle-box, stood Captain Anderson, watching the course and conduct of his ship.
If the paying-out could have been stopped at once, and the Cable taken in over the stern, the delay would have been very trifling; but that was impossible. The picking-up (necessarily slow under the most favourable circumstances) was rendered unusually tedious by the inefficiency of the boilers. An interval of 19 hours had occurred, and these faults and stoppages had caused so much labour and anxiety that Captain Anderson was obliged to remain on deck for 26 hours, whilst Mr. Halpin, Mr. Clifford, Mr. Canning, the electricians, and the whole staff, were exposed to an equal strain till the Cable was over the paying-out wheels again.
July 30th (Sunday).—The weather was exceedingly thick all night—a fog hung round the ship, and the drizzling rain was so cold as to give an impression there was ice close at hand, but the water showed it was erroneous, as the temperature was 58°. It was a dead calm, and the Great Eastern seemed to float on a grey and polished surface of cloud. The preparations for paying-out were completed and tested. There would have been a better result had not an accident occurred this morning as the Cable was being passed aft from the bow, in order to transfer it from the picking-up to the paying-out machinery. Owing to a sudden jar it flew off from the drum, and before the machinery could be stopped several fathoms had become entangled amid the wheels, and were so much injured that it was necessary to cut out the pieces, and make two new splices and joints. At 10·8 a.m. (ship’s time being 8·10 a.m.) the Cable was veered out astern once more, our communications with Valentia being most satisfactory. The Cable electrically was all that could be desired, its condition being represented by 1,500,000,000 British Association units. At noon our position was Lat. 52° 30´, Long. 28° 17´; distance from Valentia, 650·6 miles; Cable payed-out, 745 miles.
The Cable which was recovered yesterday was strained, and lay twisted in hard curves, presenting a very different appearance from the easy ductile lines in which it lay in the tank. The defective portion of the Cable was not examined to-day, and divine service was postponed till 2·30, in order to give some time for sleep and rest to the exhausted and hard-worked staff and workers of all kinds on board the ship. The weather continued thick and hazy, a fresh breeze from the N.N.W. not dispersing the cold grey clouds and mist. The Terrible alone was in sight, and it was conjectured that the Sphinx must have passed on during the night, and that she would arrive in Heart’s Content before us. The sound and sight of the wheels and drums revolving again after so long a rest were very gratifying, and it was fondly hoped that this fault or dead earth would be the last, as it was now evident nothing else was to be feared, and nothing else humanly speaking could prevent the Cable being laid. In the Cable itself lay all the sources of mischief. If there were no faults or dead earth, the paying-out was a matter of the most easy routine and most positive certainty. When the operation had to be reversed, the whole condition of affairs was reversed also. A swerve of the helm, a rolling billow, an unseen weakness, a moment’s neglect, the accident of an instant, and down went the thread of thought between two continents, with all which depended on it, to rest and rust in the depths of the sea. My mind could never get rid of the image of the Great Eastern pulling at the Cable as if she were animated by a malevolent desire, when she caught some one off the watch, to use her giant’s strength to tear it asunder. Captain Anderson only expressed the feelings of all who watched the struggle whilst Cable and Ship were adjusting their mutual relations, when—admitting the task was more difficult than he had anticipated, in consequence of the obstacles to the management of the ship, arising from want of steerage way as soon as the engines were stopped—he said, “One feels so powerless—one can do so little to govern events while the affair of picking-up is going on.” The weather was favourable, the ship perfection, and yet here were these delays arising from causes no one could foresee or prevent or remedy in any but the one way, and that a way fraught with danger. A visit to the stern, where the Cable was rolling away into 2000 fathoms water as easily as the thread flies from the reel in a lady’s workbasket, always created a conviction that the enterprise must be carried out; and it was not till the machinery stopped and the words “another fault” recalled us to a sense of the contingencies on which it depended, that we could entertain a doubt of its speedy consummation. For the most indifferent somehow or another became soon interested in the undertaking. There was a wonderful sense of power in the Great Ship and in her work; it was gratifying to human pride to feel that man was mastering space, and triumphing over the winds and waves; that from his hands down in the eternal night of waters there was trailing a slender channel through which the obedient lightning would flash for ever instinct with the sympathies, passions, and interests of two mighty nations, and binding together the very ends of the earth. And then came “a fault”—or “dead earth” spoke to us.