CHAPTER FIVE.
PROSPECTS OF REAL CABLE-LAYING--ROBIN MEETS WITH HIS FIRST ELECTRICALACQUAINTANCES.
Circumstances require that we should shift the scene and the date prettyfrequently in this tale. We solicit the reader's attendance at anoffice in London.
The office is dingy. Many offices are so. Two clerks are sitting in itmaking faces at each other across their desk. They are not lunatics.They are not imbeciles or idlers. On the contrary, they have frequentspells of work that might throw the toils of an Arab ass into the shade.They are fine strapping young fellows, with pent-up energies equal toanything, but afflicted with occasional periods of having nothingparticular to do. These two have been sitting all morning in busyidleness. Their muscular and nervous systems rebelling, have inducedmuch fidgeting and many wry faces. Being original, they have turnedtheir sorrows into a game, and their little game at present is to seewhich can make a face so hideous that the other shall be compelled tolaugh! We have deep sympathy with clerks. We have been a clerk, andknow what it is to have the fires of Vesuvius raging within, while underthe necessity of exhibiting the cool aspect of Spitzbergen without.
But these clerks were not utterly miserable. On the contrary, theywere, to use one of their own familiar phrases, rather jolly thanotherwise. Evening was before them in far-off but attainableperspective. Home, lawn-tennis, in connection with bright eyes andpretty faces, would compensate for the labours of the day and let offthe steam. They were deep in their game when a rap at the door broughttheir faces suddenly to a state of nature.
"Come in," said the _first_ clerk.
"And wipe your feet," murmured the second, in a low tone.
A gentleman, with an earnest countenance, entered.
"Is Mr Lowstoft in his office?"
"He is, sir," said the first clerk, descending from his perch with anair of good-will, and requesting the visitor's name and business.
The visitor handed his card, on which the name Cyrus Field was written,and the clerk, observing it, admitted the owner at once to the innersanctum where Mr Lowstoft transacted business.
"There's _something_ up," murmured the clerk, with a mysterious look athis comrade, on resuming his perch.
"Time's up, or nearly so," replied the comrade, with an anxious look atthe clock:
"The witching hour which sets us free To saunter home and have our tea--
"approaches."
"D'you know that that is Cyrus Field?" said the first clerk.
"And who is Cyrus Field?" demanded the second clerk.
"O ignoramus! Thy name is Bob, and thou art not worth a `bob'--miserable snob! Don't you know that Cyrus Field is the man who broughtabout the laying of the great Atlantic Cable in 1858?"
"No, most learned Fred, I did not know that, but I am very glad to knowit now. Moreover, I know nothing whatever about cables--Atlantic orotherwise. I am as blind as a bat, as ignorant as a bigot, as empty asa soap-bubble, and as wise as Solomon, because I'm willing to betaught."
"What a delicious subject to work upon!" said Fred.
"Well then, work away," returned Bob; "suppose you give _me_ a discourseon Cables. But, I say--be merciful. Don't overdo it, Frederick.Remember that my capacity is feeble."
"I'll be careful, Bob.--Well then, you must know that from the year 1840submarine cables had been tried and laid, and worked with more or lesssuccess, in various parts of the world. Sir W. O'Shaughnessy, Ibelieve, began it. Irishmen are frequently at the root of mischief!Anyhow, he, being Superintendent of Electric Telegraphs in India in1839, hauled an insulated wire across the Hooghly at Calcutta, andproduced what they call `electrical phenomena' at the other side of theriver. In 1840 Mr Wheatstone brought before the House of Commons theproject of a cable from Dover to Calais. In 1842 Professor Morse ofAmerica laid a cable in New York harbour, and another across the canalat Washington. He also suggested the possibility of laying a cableacross the Atlantic Ocean. In 1846 Colonel Colt, of revolver notoriety,and Mr Robinson, laid a wire from New York to Brooklyn, and from LongIsland to Correy Island. In 1849--"
"I say, Fred," interrupted Bob, with an anxious look, "you are a walkingdictionary of dates. Haydn was nothing to you. But--couldn't you giveit me without dates? I've got no head for dates; never could stomachthem--except when fresh off the palm-tree. Don't you think that alecture without dates would be pleasantly original as well asinstructive?"
"No, Bob, I don't, and I won't be guilty of any such gross innovation ontime-honoured custom. You must swallow my dates whether you like themor not. In 1849, I say, a Mr Walker--"
"Any relation to Hookey?"
"No, sir, none whatever--he laid a wire from Folkestone to a steamer twomiles off the shore, and sent messages to it. At last, in 1851. MrBrett laid down and successfully wrought the cable between Dover andCalais which had been suggested by Wheatstone eleven years before. Itis true it did not work long, but this may be said to have been thebeginning of submarine telegraphy, which, you see, like your owneducation, Bob, has been a thing of slow growth."
"Have you done with dates, now, my learned friend?" asked Bob,attempting to balance a ruler on the point of his nose.
"Not quite, my ignorant chum, but nearly. That same year--1851,remember--a Mr Frederick N. Gisborne, an English electrician, made thefirst attempt to connect Newfoundland with the American continent bycable. He also started a company to facilitate intercourse betweenAmerica and ireland by means of steamers and telegraph-cables. Gisbornewas very energetic and successful, but got into pecuniary difficulties,and went to New York to raise the wind. There he met with Cyrus Field,who took the matter up with tremendous enthusiasm. He expandedGisborne's idea, and resolved to get up a company to connectNewfoundland with Ireland by electric cable. Field was rich andinfluential, and ultimately successful--"
"Ah! would that you and I were rich, Fred," interrupted Bob, as he letfall the ruler with a crash on the red-ink bottle, and overturned it;"but go on, Fred, I'm getting interested; pardon the interruption, andnever mind the ink, I'll swab it up.--He was successful, was he?"
"Yes, he was; eminently so. He first of all roused his friends in theStates, and got up, in 1856, the `New York, Newfoundland, and LondonTelegraph Company,' which carried a line of telegraph through theBritish Provinces, and across the Gulf of Saint Lawrence to SaintJohn's, Newfoundland--more than 1000 miles--at a cost of about 500,000pounds. Then he came over to England and roused the British Lion, withwhose aid he started the `Atlantic Telegraph Company,' and fairly beganthe work, backed by such men as Brett, Bidden, Stephenson, Brunel,Glass, Eliot, Morse, Bright, Whitehouse, and a host of others. But allthis was not done in a day. Cyrus Field laboured for years amongpreliminaries, and it was not until 1857 that a regular attempt was madeto lay an Atlantic cable. It failed, because the cable broke and waslost. A second attempt was made in 1858, and was successful. In thatyear, my boy, Ireland and Newfoundland were married, and on the 5th ofAugust the first electric message passed between the Old World and theNew, through a small wire, over a distance of above 2000 miles. But thetriumph of Field and his friends was short-lived, for, soon after,something went wrong with the cable, and on the 6th September it ceasedto work."
"What a pity!" exclaimed Bob; "so it all went off in smoke."
"Not quite that, Bob. Before the cable struck work about 400 messageshad been sent, which proved its value in a financial point of view, andone of these messages--sent from London in the morning and reachingHalifax the same day--directed that `the 62nd Regiment was not to returnto England,' and it is said that this timely warning saved the countryan expenditure of 50,000 pounds. But the failure, instead of damping,has evidently stimulated the energies of Mr Field, who has been goingabout between America and England ever since, stirring people up far andnear, to raise the funds necessary for another attempt. He giveshimself no rest; has embarked his own fortune in the affair, and now, atthis moment, in this year of grace 1865, is doing his best, I have nodo
ubt, to induce our governor, Mr Lowstoft, to embark in the same boatwith himself."
It would seem as if Fred had been suddenly endowed with the gift ofsecond-sight, for at that moment the door of his employer's room opened,and Mr Lowstoft came out, saying to his visitor, in the most friendlytones, that he had the deepest sympathy with his self-sacrificingefforts, and with the noble work to which he had devoted himself.
Bob, in a burst of sudden enthusiasm, leaped off his stool, opened theoffice-door, and muttered something as the distinguished visitor passedhim.
"I beg pardon," said Mr Field, checking himself, "what did you say?"
"I--I wish you good luck, sir, with--with the new cable," stammered theclerk, blushing deeply.
"Thank you, lad--thank you," said Mr Field, with a pleasant smile andnod, as he went away.
"Mr Sime," said Mr Lowstoft to Bob, turning at the door of his room,"send young Wright to me."
"Yes, sir," replied the obedient Bob, going to a corner of the room andapplying his lips to a speaking-tube.
Now young Wright was none other than our hero Robin grown up to themature age of fifteen.
He was perched on the top of a three-legged stool, and, from the slowand intensely earnest manner in which his head turned from side to sideas he wrote, it was quite evident that he dotted all his _i's_ andstroked all his _t's_ with conscientious care. As he sat there--asturdy little broad-shouldered fellow, so deeply engrossed with his workthat he was oblivious of all around--he seemed the very _beau-ideal_ ofa painstaking, hard-working clerk. So deeply was he engrossed in hissubject--the copying of an invoice--that he failed to hear the voice ofhis fellow-clerk, although the end of the speaking-tube was not far,from where he sat. After listening a few seconds at the other end ofthe tube, Bob Sime repeated the summons with such vigour that Robinleaped from his stool as though he had received one of his favouriteelectric shocks. A minute later he stood in the presence of the Head ofthe House.
"Robert Wright," said the Head, pushing his spectacles up on his brow,"I shall be sorry to lose your services, but--"
He paused and turned over the papers before him, as if searching forsomething, and Robin's heart sank. Was he going to be dismissed? Hadhe done anything wrong, or had he unwittingly neglected some duty?
"Ah! here it is," resumed Mr Lowstoft, "a letter from a friend who hascome by a slight injury to his right hand, and wants a smart amanuensisand general assistant. Now I think of sending _you_ to him, if you haveno objection."
As the Head again paused while glancing over the letter, Robin venturedtimidly to state that he had very strong objections; that he was verymuch satisfied with his situation and work, and had no desire to change.
Mr Lowstoft did not appear to listen to his remarks, but saidsuddenly--"You've studied the science of electricity, I believe?"
"Yes, sir--to some extent," answered the lad, with a look of surprise.
"I know you have. Your father has told me about your tastes andstudies. You've heard of Mr Cyrus Field, I presume?"
"Indeed I have," said Robin, brightening up, "it was through his effortsthat the Atlantic Cable was laid in 1858--which unfortunately wentwrong."
"Well, my boy, it is through his efforts that another cable is to belaid in this year 1865, which we all hope sincerely won't go wrong, andmy friend, who wants an assistant, is one of the electricians connectedwith the new expedition. Would you like to go?"
Robin's eyes blazed, and he could scarcely find breath or words toexpress his willingness--if his father did not object.
"Go home at once, then, and ask leave, for the Great Eastern is almostready for sea, and you have to hasten your preparations."
Robin stroked no more _t's_ and dotted no more _i's_ that day. We fear,indeed, that he even left the invoice on his desk unfinished, with thelast _i_ imperfect.
Bursting into his father's house, he found Madge--now become a prettylittle slip of feminine thread-paper--seated at the piano agonising overa chord which her hand was too small to compass.
"Madge, Madge, cousin Madge!" he shouted, seizing both the extendedlittle hands and kissing the musical wrinkles from her brow, "why am Ilike a magnet? You'll never guess."
"Because you attract everybody to you," said Madge promptly.
"Pooh! not at all. A magnet doesn't attract _every_ body. It has twopoles, don't you know, and repels some bodies. No, Madge, it's becauseI have been electrified."
"Indeed? and what has electrified you, Robin?"
"The Atlantic Cable, Madge."
"Well, that ought to be able to do it powerfully," returned Madge, witha laugh; "but tell me all about it, and don't make more bad conundrums.I'm sure something has happened. What is it?"
Mrs Wright, entering at the moment, her son calmed himself as well ashe could, and sat down to tell his tale and talk the matter over.
"Now, what think you, mother? Will father consent?"
"I think he will, Robin, but before going into the matter further, Iwill lay it before our Father in heaven. He must show us the way, if weare to go right."
According to invariable custom, Robin's mother retired to her own roomto consider the proposal. Thereafter she had a long talk with herhusband, and the result was that on the following day our hero foundhimself in a train with a small new portmanteau by his side, a newbilly-cock hat on his head, a very small new purse in his pocket, with aremarkably small sum of money therein, and a light yet full heart in hisbreast. He was on his way to the Nore, where the Great Eastern lay,like an antediluvian macaroni-eater, gorging itself with innumerablemiles of Atlantic Cable.
To say truth, Robin's breast--capacious though it was for his size--could hardly contain his heart that day. The dream of his childhood wasabout to be realised! He had thirsted for knowledge. He had acquiredall that was possible in his father's limited circumstances. He had,moreover, with the valuable assistance of Sam Shipton, become deeplylearned in electrical science. He had longed with all his heart tobecome an electrician--quite ready, if need were, to commence as sweeperof a telegraph-office, but he had come to regard his desires as tooambitious, and, accepting his lot in life with the quiet contentmenttaught him by his mother, had entered on a clerkship in a mercantilehouse, and had perched himself, with a little sigh no doubt, yetcheerfully, on the top of a three-legged stool. To this stool he hadbeen so long attached--physically--that he had begun to regard it almostas part and parcel of himself, and had made up his mind that he wouldhave to stick to it through life. He even sometimes took a quaint viewof the matter, and tried to imagine that through long habit it wouldstick to him at last, and oblige him to carry it about sticking straightout behind him; perhaps even require him to take it to bed with him, inwhich case he sometimes tried to imagine what would be the preciseeffect on the bedclothes if he were to turn from one side to the other.Thus had his life been projected in grey perspective to his mental eye.
But now--he actually was an electrician-elect on his way to join thebiggest ship in the world, to aid in laying the greatest telegraph cablein the world, in company with some of the greatest men in the universe!It was almost too much for him. He thirsted for sympathy. He wanted tolet off his feelings in a cheer, but life in a lunatic asylum presenteditself, and he refrained. There was a rough-looking sailor lad abouthis own age, but much bigger, on the seat opposite, (it was a thirdclass). He thought of pouring out his feelings on him--but prudenceprevented. There is no saying what might have been the result,figuratively speaking, to his boiler if the sailor lad had not of hisown accord opened a safety-valve.
"You seems pretty bobbish this morning, young feller," he said, aftercontemplating his _vis-a-vis_, for a long time in critical silence."Bin an' took too much, eh?"
"I beg your pardon," said Robin, somewhat puzzled.
"You're pritty considerable jolly, I say," returned the lad, who had anhonest, ugly face; and was somewhat blunt and gruff in manner.
"I am indeed very jolly," said Robin, with a blan
d smile, "for I'm goingto help to lay the great Atlantic Cable."
"Wot's that you say?" demanded the lad, with sudden animation.
Robin repeated his remark.
"Well, now, that _is_ a go! Why, _I'm_ goin' to help lay the greatAtlantic Cable too. I'm one the stooard's boys. What may _you_ be,young feller?"
"Me? Oh! I'm--I--why, I'm on the electrical staff--I'm--" he thoughtof the word _secretary_, but a feeling of modesty induced him tosay--"assistant to one of the electricians."
"Which 'un?" demanded the lad curtly.
"Mr Smith."
"Mr Smith, eh? Well--it ain't an unusual name--Smith ain't. P'r'apsyou'll condescend on his first name, for there's no less than threeSmiths among the electricians."
"Ebenezer Smith, I believe," said Robin.
"Ebbysneezer Smith--eh? well, upon my word that's a Smith-mixtur thatI've never heerd on before. I don't know 'im, but he's all right, Idessay. They're a rum lot altogether."
Whether this compliment was meant for the great Smith family in general,or the electrical branch in particular, Robin could not guess, and didnot like to ask. Having thus far opened his heart, however, he began topour out its contents, and found that the ugly sailor lad was a muchmore sympathetic soul than he had been led to expect from his looks.Having told his own name, he asked that of his companion in return.
"My name--oh! it's Slagg--Jim Slagg; James when you wants to berespeckful--Slagg when familiar. I'm the son o' Jim Slagg, senior. Who_he_ was the son of is best known to them as understands the science ofjinnylology. But it don't much matter, for we all runs back to Adam an'Eve somehow. They called me after father, of course; but to make adistinction they calls him Jimmy--bein' more respeckful-like,--and meJim. It ain't a name much to boast of, but I wouldn't change it withyou, young feller, though Robert ain't a bad name neither. It's prettywell-known, you see, an' _that's_ somethin'. Then, it's bin bore bygreat men. Let me think--wasn't there a Robert the Great once?"
"I fear not," said Robin; "he is yet in the womb of Time."
"Ah, well, no matter; but there should have bin a Robert the Greatbefore now. Anyhow, there was Robert the Bruce--he was a king, warn'the, an' a skull-cracker? Then there was Robert Stephenson, the greatengineer--he's livin' yet; an' there was Robert the--the Devil, but Iraither fear he must have bin a bad 'un, _he_ must, so we won't counthim. Of course, they gave you another name, for short; ah, Robin! Ithought so. Well, that ain't a bad name neither. There was Robin Hood,you know, what draw'd the long-bow a deal better than the worstpenny-a-liner as ever mended a quill. An' there was a Robin Goodfellow,though I don't rightly remember who he was exactly."
"One of Shakespeare's characters," interposed Robin.
"Jus' so--well, he couldn't have bin a bad fellow, you know. Then, asto your other name, Wright--that's all right, you know, and might havebin writer if you'd taken to the quill or the law. Anyhow, as long asyou're Wright, of course you can't be wrong--eh, young feller?"
Jim Slagg was so tickled with this sudden sally that he laughed, and inso doing shut his little eyes, and opened an enormous mouth, fullyfurnished with an unbroken set of splendid teeth.
Thus pleasantly did Robin while away the time with his future shipmateuntil he arrived at the end of his journey, when he parted from JimSlagg and was met by Ebenezer Smith.
That energetic electrician, instead of at once taking him on board theGreat Eastern, took him to a small inn, where he gave him his tea andput him through a rather severe electrical examination, out of which ouranxious hero emerged with credit.
"You'll do, Robin," said his examiner, who was a free-and-easy yetkindly electrician, "but you want instruction in many things."
"Indeed I do, sir," said Robin, "for I have had no regular education inthe science, but I hope, if you direct me what to study, that I shallimprove."
"No doubt you will, my boy. Meanwhile, as the big ship won't be readyto start for some time, I want you to go to the works of the TelegraphConstruction and Maintenance Company, see the making of the cable, learnall you can, and write me a careful account of all that you see, and allthat you think about it."
Robin could not repress a smile.
"Why, boy, what are you laughing at?" demanded Mr Smith, somewhatsternly.
Robin blushed deep scarlet as he replied--
"Pardon me, sir, but you said I am to write down all that I _think_about it."
"Well, what then?"
"I--I'm afraid, sir," stammered Robin, "that if I write down all I_think_ about the Atlantic Cable, as well as all that I see, I shallrequire a very long time indeed, and a pretty large volume."
Mr Smith gazed at our hero for some time with uplifted brows, then heshook his head slowly and frowned, then he nodded it slightly andsmiled. After that he laughed, or rather chuckled, and said--
"Well, you may go now, and do what I have told you--only omitting mostof what you think. A small portion of that will suffice! Don't hurryback. Go home and make a fair copy of your observations and thoughts.I'll write when I require you. Stay--your address? Ah! I have it inmy note-book. What's your first name, Mister Wright?"
Robin grew two inches taller, or more, on the spot; he had never beencalled Mister before, except in jest!
"Robert, sir," he replied.
"Robert--ha! h'm! I'll call you Bob. I never could stand ceremony, soyou'll accustom yourself to the new name as quickly as you can--butperhaps it's not new to you?"
"Please, sir, I've been used to Robin; if you have no objection, Ishould--"
"No objection--of course not," interrupted Mr Smith; "Robin will doquite as well, though a little longer; but that's no matter. Good-bye,Robin, and--and--don't think too hard. It sometimes hurts digestion;good-bye."
"Well, what d'ee think of Ebbysneezer Smith, my electrical toolip?"asked Jim Slagg, whom Robin encountered again at the station. "He's awiry subject, I s'pose, like the rest of 'em?"
"He's a very pleasant gentleman," answered Robin warmly.
"Oh, of coorse he is. All the Smiths are so--more or less. They're aglorious family. I knows at least half a dozen of 'em in what superfinepeople call the `slums' of London."
"And I know _more_ than half a dozen of 'em," retorted Robin, somewhatsharply, "in what unrefined people call the _h_aristocracy of London."
"Whew!" whistled Mister Slagg, gazing at Robin in silent surprise.
What the whistle implied was not explained at that time, because thelocomotive whistle took up the tune with intense violence, causing arush to the train, in which the two lads--like many other friends--wereabruptly parted for a season.