With a nod to his replacement, Paddy followed the cabin boy.
They sat near the edge of the deck, away from the noisy machinery to eat their food. The sun was warm, the ocean tranquil and if it weren’t for the current crisis, Ailish might have thought it the perfect day. They polished off their Cornish pasties, tarts and coffee then sat in companionable silence.
At that precise moment a terrific crack rang out.
Like a live thing escaping from captivity, the cable flew through the brake unchecked, then leapt out over the waiting sea and dove beneath the waves.
“Oh no!” Ailish gasped in astonishment. “It’s gone! The transatlantic cable is lost!”
Paddy sprang to his feet and ran to the bow. When he returned to Ailish, he confirmed it: the cable had disappeared below, leaving not a ripple. All the hopes and dreams of so many men were now resting three miles below them on the silty floor of the Atlantic Ocean.
18
Fishing Off the Grand Banks
.-- …. . .-. . .-- .- … - …. . .-- .. .-. . .-. --- .--. . … - --- .-- . -..
Soon the whole crew was assembled, everyone speculating on what had happened. Captain Anderson came on deck and looked like he’d aged ten years. The tumult stilled as the crew waited to hear his words.
“At some point, the ship floated over the cable, so that it was rubbing against the hull as it was pulled in. This
weakened the cable, and once the damaged section went into the machinery, the strain was too much and it snapped.”
He paused, and took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. “We’ve had a setback and are now trying to decide what to do. The cable is at a great depth and we are indeed in dire straights.”
With the captain were the usual gentlemen and none appeared to be holding out any hope that this expedition could be salvaged. They talked among themselves, but from the amount of head shaking, it didn’t seem like a solution was going to be presented.
Paddy looked at Ailish soberly, the disappointment evident on his face. “This is the end of the line, lass. We’re sure to return to Ireland with our tail between our legs now.”
Ailish didn’t like the thought of quitting, not after how hard everyone had worked. A crazy, if not desperate, idea came to her. “Couldn’t we fish for the cable, Paddy?” She could tell from his expression that he did not understand what she was getting at. “You know, throw a giant hook into the water, let it drop to the bottom, then trawl for the cable, like they do cod in Newfoundland.”
His tone was sceptical. “It’s a long way down. We’d need miles of line and there isn’t that much on the ship.”
A detail forgotten from weeks ago bobbed to the surface of her mind. “When I first came aboard, I was in a small room at the back of the machinery storage hold and in it were rolls and rolls of wire rope. That would work wonderfully for our fishing line. All we have to find is the hook!”
Paddy’s excitement mounted as he realized what this could mean. “How much of this wire did you see?”
She squeezed her eyes shut trying to remember. “Loads! Miles of the stuff.”
“We could lower a grappling hook and drag the ocean floor until we catch the cable, then haul it up and splice it together.” He clapped her joyfully on the back, nearly sending her flying in his enthusiasm. “Well done, O’Connor! Come on, we’ll go propose your solution to the captain.”
Together, they hurried to Captain Anderson with the plan.
His expression went from desperation to hope as he listened. And then a slow smile spread from ear to ear. “By Jove, O’Connor, this could work! We’ll fish that cable right out of the sea!”
The captain immediately summoned Samuel Canning and Cyrus Field to tell them of the bold idea. The gloomy atmosphere on board lifted. There was hope the transatlantic cable could be saved.
As the Great Eastern headed south, all was made ready. The line was brought up from the storage room and found to be five miles long, divided into hundred-fathom lengths. Paddy voiced concern that it was not continuous.
“There’s naught for it, lads, we’ll have to shackle the sections together. Pay particular attention to the joins as this is going to be like lifting an elephant with a shoestring.” Paddy and the crew set to work joining the sections.
When Samuel Canning heard Paddy was in need of a grappling hook, he amazed everyone by producing a box containing several that were perfect for the job.
Finally all was ready and at three in the afternoon, the fishing expedition for the lost transatlantic cable began. After two hours, the constant whirring of the wheels and pulleys letting out the line suddenly stopped. All hands were immediately at their stations, ready to start dragging for the cable.
Ailish had refused to leave the deck, and her interest was rewarded when a flicker of action high above the deck caught her attention. “What’s happening up there?”
Paddy, standing beside her, shaded his eyes and gazed upward. “Captain Anderson doesn’t want to risk snaring the line in the paddlewheels or screw. So, O’Connor, you are about to behold a spectacle few have seen, the Great Eastern under sail. We’ll be loosing only four of her tops’ls as we need to move ahead dead slow.”
As she watched, the sails billowed out, filling the rigging with vast sheets of snow-white canvas to harness the wind. Immediately, the ship was turned into a nautical fantasy as sailors scampered up and down ropes and indecipherable orders were shouted in a language known only to those of the sea. Paddy shooed her toward the hatchway that led belowdecks. “It could take hours or even days to find it. Remember, we’re looking for something an inch across, three miles under the ocean. Get some rest.”
Exhausted, Ailish reluctantly agreed. “You promise you’ll call me if you find it?”
He patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll fetch you the minute we hook our prize.”
– - • – –
At six o’clock the next morning, Ailish was in the mess hall bolting down her bowl of porridge, when Paddy sat at her table. She looked up and saw the excitement in his eyes.
“We’ve caught it?” she asked expectantly.
“That we have. Exactly where Captain Anderson’s sextant reading from yesterday said it would be.”
Ailish pushed the bowl away and jumped up. “I’m done, let’s go, man!”
On deck, they went straight to the bow and the machinery that was poised to begin the huge task of retrieving the miles of cable. Ailish watched from a safe distance as the engine powering the winch chugged to life. She could see Paddy carefully gauging the strain and speed and she remembered his worry about the cobbled sections that had been so painstakingly joined together.
It seemed the entire ship was holding its breath waiting as the whirr of the wheel brought more and more of their fishing line to the surface. Ailish felt the tension of the men.
Without warning, there was a loud snap as one of the shackles broke apart, sending the broken wire whizzing through the wheel as it again tried to return to the sea.
The end of the wire thrashed and flailed about the deck, striking like an iron sea serpent with lethal force, slashing all in its path. It shredded skin and smashed bones, tearing to pieces the helpless men who scrambled to escape. Blood splattered Ailish’s shirt as she ducked behind the shelter of a cannon.
With lightning speed, Paddy reached out and clamped on the brake, leaning on it as he tried with all his might to stop the desperate escape attempt of the demon wire. With a growl of metal and a scream of complaining wheels, the brake grabbed hold and the broken wire shuddered and dropped to the deck, lifeless once more.
A cheer went up, and Paddy brought out his tools then began calmly affixing a new shackle before starting the engine again and freeing the brake. Ailish was going to clap and whistle too, but then noticed her bloody shirt and saw the unconscious sailors, their ruined bodies like rag dolls, being taken below.
With this sobering start, everyone knew they were in for a mighty battle. The cable continued to figh
t them as it tried to return to its watery home. When the shackles gave way again, the crew was unable to stop it in time and they had to begin fishing once more.
And, as every man aboard stood united in the goal of completing their task, whatever it took, a new saboteur raised her head: mother nature.
Helplessly, they watched as a dense fog rolled in, shrouding the ship and calling a halt to their endeavours. The silvery grey mist refused to abate, and as the days past, the crew had no choice but to wait.
Ailish spent much of the time in the hold talking to Davy, who knew an incredible amount about the construction of the Great Eastern. He told her stories of the men who built the ship and the trials that had to be overcome when constructing a vessel larger and more advanced than anything that had ever floated. His vivid detail and minute descriptions made her feel as though she were there, watching the Great Eastern rise plate by plate and bolt by bolt. Since he was not much older than she, Davy must have heard all these fabulous tales from his father and had listened very closely indeed to remember so much.
The morning of the fifth day, a hopeful glimmer of sunlight poked through the thick fog and everyone’s spirits brightened. Paddy and the crew eagerly took their stations, lowering the fishing wire and watching for the telltale strain that would signal they’d caught the cable.
“We’ve hooked it!” Paddy at last sang out, but this time, no cheer went up. Instead, everyone bent to their task. The hours slowly passed as Ailish watched the men steadily and very cautiously haul in the cable.
Continuing her vigil that evening, she sat perched on top of the cannon, enjoying the crisp salt air and clear starry night. She wished her da was with her, having a pipe and a mug so they could once again talk, content in each other’s company. She now looked at her world differently and it made her even more proud of her father. He was not the richest man, true, but he was ingenious at keeping their little caravan rolling and even if they ate potatoes more than she liked, Ailish knew he always did his best and that he loved her. What more could a daughter ask for?
– - • – –
The next day, mother nature once more displayed her fearsome power. The crew was finishing their last preparations to drop the line, after having gained, then lost the cable one more time earlier that morning. In dismay, the men watched as an ominous pillar of black thunderheads rose on the horizon.
“We’re in for a blow, lads!” Paddy said, trying to hide his disappointment. “We’d best lower a buoy to mark our spot. I have a feeling this will get rough.”
It was indeed bad luck and another serious setback. But as Ailish looked around at the crew, she saw no signs of defeat. Instead, everyone busied themselves preparing for the storm to come. How could these sailors keep going in the face of all that had happened? She saw that it wasn’t only the Great Eastern that was made of iron, but everyone who sailed aboard her.
The gale hit with pounding waves and hurricane winds. The mighty ship rolled and wallowed as she stoically endured all the sea threw at her. The battle never let up and as Ailish sat huddled in her big bed listening to the howling of the storm, she was thankful that Davy and Charlie had done such a good job of keeping the Great Eastern shipshape.
Finally, dawn broke and with it the tempest abated. With the sun came renewed hope as the men doggedly set to work preparing the grapnel for its long descent.
When Ailish went on deck, she felt that today would be an extra important one.
“Are you a betting man, Mr. Whelan?” she asked, handing Paddy one of the steaming cups of coffee she’d brought with her from the galley. “I’ll wager we finish the job this try.”
“I’m worried saying it out loud will jinx it, O’Connor. Before I face that engine again, let me finish my mug in peace.” He motioned her to the ship’s rail and together, they watched the sun scribing its arc over the silky water. Again, she was struck with the wonder of the sea, the indomitable power hiding beneath that tranquil surface.
“You’re right about one thing, lass, today is the day.”
Something in his tone alerted her. “Yes…” She drew out the word. “Today we bring up the cable and continue our journey to Heart’s Content. By tonight, we’ll be steaming west.”
He turned to her, mouth set firmly. “I don’t think you understand. We’ve used every scrap of wire, hemp rope and manila line we have aboard. There is no more.”
Her face fell as the full meaning of his words became clear. “So this is the last chance. If the grappling line breaks again and the wire sinks to the ocean bottom, we’ll have no choice but to go back to Ireland.”
He nodded. “One way or another, O’Connor, today is the day.”
She knew all hands had said a silent prayer as the last of the cobbled wire was cast into the ocean, then everyone waited to see if they could hook their elusive fish.
Two hours later, Paddy waved and this time, the men did cheer. “We’ve got it!” He fired up the engine and working levers and gears, set the machine rattling and banging as it brought up the prize.
Tension had never been higher. Ailish felt she could squeeze it in her fist and wring out the sweat. All day, the engine toiled as fathom after fathom of wire was reeled back in. There was not a breath of breeze, as though the very air around them knew the import of this day. Captain Anderson strode up and down Oxford Street, looking severe, and Ailish thought he was trying to make the cable appear through sheer force of will.
The first hundred-fathom join came up with no problem, then the next, and the next. Mutterings took on a hopeful tone. The next hundred was hauled aboard and the one after that and still the wire held.
Ailish wanted to get closer, to offer a few words of encouragement to Paddy, but she knew he was so focused on his job, that any distraction would not be welcome.
It was evening and the eighth join had been safely pulled up when Ailish saw something odd about the line. It looked somehow thinner than the previous sections, as though it were stretched to its limit.
Before she could say a word, the wire gave way, flew through the capstan and was gone, quicker than the gasp that escaped Ailish’s lips.
No anguished cry arose from the crew. No frantic scrambling to prepare another attempt. Everything they had worked for so tirelessly was swallowed in one bite by the relentless ocean, leaving not a ripple on the surface.
They were defeated.
19
The Future Is Waiting
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The mood was somber as the crew shut off the machines and put away their tools. Ailish ran to Paddy. “It’s really over, then?”
“Aye, lass. This is the end of it.” His voice was strained and despair written plainly on his face. Wiping his hands with a rag, he leaned against one of the cannon. Ailish noticed a deep gash scored the barrel from the deadly encounter with the lethal wire. “I’m looking on the bright side, small though it may be. My family may have to wait a little longer for their money, but at least they’ll get it and me, safe and sound.”
“And the O’Connors will be the ones appearing in the pages of the Irish Times as newly wealthy emigrants to Newfoundland.” She grinned self-consciously up at him. “It was quite the adventure, wasn’t it?”
“Like no other – and I don’t just mean the laying of the transatlantic cable. We made a fine pair, Miss O’Connor. Two Irishmen on a mission.”
“Two Irish persons,” she corrected, “and I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Whelan!” Unexpectedly, a lump seemed to form in her throat. “Paddy, it’s been a privilege being here on the Great Eastern and to see everyone working together to make this venture a success. This isn’t the end. Men like Cyrus Field and Mr. Canning, not to mention Professor Thompson, will never let the dream die. The future is waiting. I know the transatlantic cable will work; that one day, ghost messages will be flying thick and fast all over the world. I get a tingly feeling when I think about it and my tingly feelings are
never wrong.”
They exchanged a look and she knew no more words were necessary. They were friends and always would be, no matter the time or tides that lay ahead.
– - • – –
Paddy left to rejoin the men and Ailish continued to watch the activities on deck. She wondered what would happen next. Her answer came through the deck under her feet as she felt the Great Eastern’s engines begin to pound. Slowly the bow of the ship swung eastward as Captain Anderson, reacting swiftly to this last disaster, started their long journey home.
Disappointment, weariness and a terrible sadness overtook Ailish. Not wanting her crewmates to see her so dejected, she silently slipped below to her quarters. “Stop being such a baby,” she chided herself, but it was no use. She couldn’t stem the sudden flood of tears and she wept into her pillow, not for herself, but for all the stalwart crew who had tried so hard and given so much. Her eyes, red and swollen, grew heavy and she fell into a restless sleep, filled with strange dreams.
Davy Jones moved languorously through all of them and each time she saw him, he grew more transparent, becoming a will-o-the-wisp, a breath of air on a frosty morning. And always, in her dreamscapes, he was walking by her side but just out of reach.
The minute Ailish awoke she went in search of her friend. She hadn’t meant to nap and knew he would be desperate for news. As she made her way down to the storage hold, she was unable to set aside the feeling that there was something she couldn’t quite grasp, something cloudy and intangible like the mist in her dreams.
It was a relief to see Davy on his usual crate. His face told her he already knew the fate of the cable.
“We’re bound for Ireland now,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “And I’ll be showing my da this wretched hair.”
“It’s growing on me.” Davy tipped his head. “Or maybe I should say it’s growing on you. I’ll bet he’ll be that glad to see you, he won’t notice the stylish new bob.”
That’s what she loved about him. Davy could always make her feel better, no matter what. “I’m guessing that means we’ll be parting ways soon.” She had to force the words out as they seemed to stick.
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