Yours sincerely,
Palmerston.
LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE: SCENE IN IRELAND (1865).
Source.—The Brighton Herald, July 29, 1865.
The Great Eastern left Valentia on Sunday afternoon on her voyage across the Atlantic.
On the Saturday the operation of laying the shore-end of the cable was successfully performed, though not without considerable risk. Not only had the cable to be landed, but quite a mile in excess was to be hauled on the shore from the Caroline, a tender of the Great Eastern, to pass up the cliff and across a couple of fields which led to the Telegraph House, and gave communication through the land lines to London. But no sooner was the first end of the cable seen near the shore than a wild “Hooroo” arose from those on land who saw it coming. With a contagion, characteristic of the people, the enthusiasm passed rapidly downwards from those on the cliffs to the groups on the winding path, and thence, like a current of electricity, into the cable-boats themselves, the crews of which joined in the shouting, and seeing the end so near the land, and concluding their work well done, at once proceeded to heave the massive rope into the sea. From boat to boat the first bad example was followed by all until, to the dismay of the cablemen, who could not gain a hearing amid the continued cheers, every fathom up to the stern of the Caroline was thrown overboard.
The result of this touching enthusiasm was that every foot had to be underrun preparatory to the whole operation beginning de novo. It took some time to effect this, during which, it is but fair to say, the Irish were silent and dispirited enough, and in reply to the admonitions of the Knight of Kerry, promised to refrain from cheering till at least all was done—a promise which they kept faithfully. When the cable had been underrun, hauled into the boats again, and the shore end really began to come on land and was stowed away in gigantic circles at the foot of the cliff, the scene was one of real animation. Numbers of men were in the water up to their waists or shoulders, easing the cable over the rocks, while along the steep path up the cliffs was a close row of figures, men and boys, of every rank, from the well-to-do farmer down to the poorest cottier, all pulling at the cable with a will, and as if in atonement for their first fault of enthusiasm, obeying with silent and almost childlike docility every signal made by Mr. Glass or Mr. Canning as to when they were to haul or to slack away. Above them and dangerously near the edges of the heights was a fringe of eager lookers-on, while the slopes beyond were dotted with bright groups of the county gentry who had ridden or driven in to see the “landing.” By 12 o’clock the cable was well up the groove, which had been cut in the face of the cliff for its reception, and from this point the work of carrying the massive coils across the meadows to the Receiving House beyond was soon accomplished, and at a little before one o’clock, the end taken over roads, hedges, and ditches was safely housed in the sanctum sanctorum—the testing-room. Here the batteries were at once applied and showed both conductivity and insulation to the last fathom in the hold of the Caroline absolutely perfect.
On Sunday the delicate task of splicing the end of the deep sea cable on board the Great Eastern to the shore end, laid the day before by the Caroline, was performed on board the latter vessel. The joint was then immersed in cold water for testing, and the signals proving perfect, the last protection of hemp and outside wire was added and the joint sunk again into the sea that its perfectness as to conductivity and insulation might be ascertained from the extreme end of the whole length of the cable on board the Great Eastern. It was past four o’clock when the last of these tests was concluded. By that time the Great Eastern, which had always kept moving her paddles at intervals, had forged ahead of the Caroline some two or three miles, paying out the cable slowly as she went on, and leaving the latter vessel the only float by which one portion of the wire was kept above water. The instant, however, the flags went down, the last fastenings which held it to the Caroline were cast adrift, and with a great splash the final joint of the Atlantic Telegraph and the first thirty miles or so of its length went slowly down into the blue water and were out of sight.
The Great Eastern fired two guns from her bows at 5.30 to mark the commencement of her journey, and Sir Robert Peel, mounting to the little quarter-deck of the Hawk, marked time, while three small but earnest cheers were given by the select company on board to the success of the great enterprise. In return came back a swelling hearty roar from all on the cable ship, as with the last salute of waving hats and caps and handkerchiefs, the tender dropped astern leaving the Great Eastern dipping slowly but steadily ahead at the rate of about six knots an hour. As long as signs could be made, or hats waved, the vessel was anxiously watched; but she soon hid herself in her own smoke, and when the Hawk neared the Irish coast a mere brown cloud in the horizon was all that showed where the greatest ship in the world was steaming away to endeavour to accomplish the realisation of an idea even more important than that which she herself embodies. May she be successful! Several telegrams of a satisfactory character have been received. We give the latest.
“Thursday morning.
The Great Eastern telegraphs that 300 miles were paid out at 5.30 a.m. to-day, and that 300 miles were run at 9.50 a.m.
All is going well.
The signals are perfect.”