The Laying of the Atlantic Cable – 4

Today’s installment concludes The Laying of the Atlantic Cable,
our selection by Cyrus W. Field.

If you have journeyed through all of the installments of this series, just one more to go and you will have completed a selection from the great works of four thousand words. Congratulations!

Previously in The Laying of the Atlantic Cable.

Time: 1866

These buoys were anchored a few miles apart, they were numbered, and each had a flagstaff on it so that it could be seen by day, and a lantern by night. Having thus taken our bearings, we stood off three or four miles, so as to come broadside on, and then, casting over the grapnel, drifted slowly down upon it, dragging the bottom of the ocean as we went. At first it was a little awkward to fish in such deep water, but our men got used to it, and soon could cast a grapnel almost as straight as an old whaler throws a harpoon. Our fishing-line was of formidable size. It was made of rope, twisted with wires of steel, so as to bear a strain of thirty tons. It took about two hours for the grapnel to reach bottom, but we could tell when it struck. I often went to the bow, and sat on the rope, and could feel by the quiver that the grapnel was dragging on the bottom two miles under us. But it was a very slow business. We had storms and calms and fogs and squalls.

Still we worked on day after day. Once, on August 17th, we got the cable up, and had it in full sight for five minutes, a long, slimy monster, fresh from the ooze of the ocean’s bed, but our men began to cheer so wildly that it seemed to be frightened and suddenly broke away and went down into the sea. This accident kept us at work two weeks longer, but, finally, on the last night of August we caught it. We had cast the grapnel thirty times. It was a little before midnight on Friday night that we hooked the cable, and it was a little after midnight Sunday morning when we got it on board. What was the anxiety of those twenty-six hours! The strain on every man was like the strain on the cable itself. When finally it appeared, it was midnight; the lights of the ship, and those in the boats around our bows, as they flashed in the faces of the men, showed them eagerly watching for the cable to appear on the water.

At length it was brought to the surface. All who were allowed to approach crowded forward to see it. Yet not a word was spoken save by the officers in command who were heard giving orders. All felt as if life and death hung on the issue. It was only when the cable was brought over the bow and on to the deck that men dared to breathe. Even then they hardly believed their eyes. Some crept toward it to feel of it, to be sure it was there. Then we carried it along to the electricians’ room, to see if our ‘ long-sought-for treasure was alive or dead. A few minutes of suspense, and a flash told of the lightning current again set free. Then did the feeling long pent up burst forth. Some turned away their heads and wept. Others broke into cheers, and the cry ran from man to man, and was heard down in the engine rooms, deck below deck, and from the boats on the water, and the other ships, while rockets lighted the darkness of the sea. Then with thankful hearts we turned our faces again to the west.

But soon the wind rose, and for thirty-six hours we were ex posed to all the dangers of a storm on the Atlantic. Yet in the very height and fury of the gale, as I sat in the electricians’ room, a flash of light came up from the deep, which having crossed to Ireland, came back to me in mid-ocean, telling that those so dear to me, whom I had left on the banks of the Hudson, were well and following us with their wishes and their prayers. This was like a whisper of God from the sea, bidding me keep heart and hope. The Great Eastern bore herself proudly through the storm, as if she knew that the vital cord, which was to join two hemispheres, hung at her stern; and so, on Saturday, September 7th, we brought our second cable safely to the shore.

But the Great Eastern did not make her voyage alone. Three other ships attended her across the ocean — the Albany, the Med way, and the Terrible — the officers of all of which exerted themselves to the utmost. The Queen of England showed her appreciation of the services of some of those more prominent in the expedition but if it had been possible to do justice to all, honors would have been bestowed upon many others. If this cannot be, at least their names live in the history of this enterprise, with which they will be forever associated.

When I think of them all, not only of those on the Great Eastern, but of Captain Commerill of the Terrible, and his first officer, Mr. Curtis (who with their ship came with us not only to Heart’s Content, but afterward to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, to help in laying the new cable), and of the officers of the other ship, my heart is full. Better men never trod a deck. If I do not name them all it is because they are too many, their ranks are too full of glory. Even the sailors caught the enthusiasm of the enterprise, and were eager to share in the honor of the achievement. Brave, stalwart men they were, at home on the ocean and in the storm, of that sort that have carried the flag of England around the globe. I see them now as they dragged the shore end up the beach at Heart’s Content, hugging it in their brawny arms as if it were a shipwrecked child whom they had rescued from the dangers of the sea.

This ends our series of passages on The Laying of the Atlantic Cable by Cyrus W. Field. This blog features short and lengthy pieces on all aspects of our shared past. Here are selections from the great historians who may be forgotten (and whose work have fallen into public domain) as well as links to the most up-to-date developments in the field of history and of course, original material from yours truly, Jack Le Moine. – A little bit of everything historical is here.

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