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Story of the Atlantic Cable

<h3>CHAPTER VIII “FINIS CORONAT OPUS”</h3> <div class="blockquot">Renewed “Stock-Taking”—The Last Start—Successful Termination—General Surprise and Applause </div> THE sad tale of disaster commenced to spread abroad immediately on the Niagara’s arrival in Queenstown; and when Mr. Field hastened to London to meet the other directors of the company, he found that the news had not only preceded him, but had already had its effect. The Board was soon called together. It met as a council of war summoned after a terrific defeat to decide whether to surrender or to try once more the chances of battle. Says Field: “Most of the directors looked blankly in one another’s faces.” With some the feeling was one akin to despair. It was thought by many that there was nothing left on which to found an expectation of future success, or to encourage the expenditure of further capital upon an adventure so “completely visionary.” The chairman (Sir William Brown), while recommending entire abandonment of the undertaking, suggested “a sale of the cable remaining{116} on board the ships, and a distribution of the proceeds among the shareholders.” Bolder counsels were, however, destined to prevail. There were those who thought there was still a chance, like Robert Bruce, who, after twelve battles and twelve defeats, yet believed that a thirteenth might bring victory, notwithstanding the prejudice held by some against that number. The projectors made a firm stand for immediate action, as did also Professor Thomson and Mr. Curtis Lampson, who succeeded Mr. Brooking as deputy chairman, at the same time that Mr. Stuart Wortley took the chair in place of Sir W. Brown, on the latter’s resignation. These advocates of non-surrender succeeded at length in carrying an order for the immediate sailing of the expedition for a final effort. It was this effort which proved to the world the possibility of telegraphing from one hemisphere to the other. The order to advance having been given, the ships forthwith took in coal and other necessaries. When everything and everybody had been shipped, the squadron left Queenstown once more on Saturday, July 17, 1858. As the ships sailed out of the harbor of Cork, it was with none of the enthusiasm which attended their departure from Valentia the year before, or even the small amount excited when leaving Plymouth on June 10th. Nobody so much as cheered. In fact, their mission was by this time spoken of as a “mad freak of stubborn ignorance,” and “was regarded with mixed feelings of derision and pity.”[33] The squadron was the same as on the last occasion.{117} It was agreed that the ships should not attempt to keep together this time, but that each should make its way to the given latitude and longitude. The staffs were composed and berthed as before. Moreover, the expedition was again accompanied by the same literary talent. The Last Start.—Let us now turn to The Times narrative, as given at the conclusion of this final expedition: <div class="blockquot">As the ships left the harbor there was apparently no notice taken of their departure by those on shore or in the vessels anchored around them. Every one seemed impressed with the conviction that we were engaged in a hopeless enterprise; and the squadron seemed rather to have slunk away on some discreditable mission than to have sailed for the accomplishment of a grand national scheme. It was just dawn when the Agamemnon got clear of Queenstown harbor, but, as the wind blew stiff from the southwest, it was nearly ten o’clock before she rounded the Old Head of Kinsale, a distance of only a few miles. The weather remained fine during the day; and as the Agamemnon skirted along the wild and rocky shore of the southwest coast of Ireland, those on board had an excellent opportunity of seeing the stupendous rocks which rise from the water in the most grotesque and fantastic shapes. About five o’clock in the afternoon Cape Clear was passed, and though the coast gradually edged away to the northward of our course, yet it was nearly dark before we lost sight of the rocky mountains which surround Bantry Bay and the shores of the Kenmare River. By Monday, the 19th, we had left the land far behind us, and thence fell into the usual dull monotony of sea life. Of the voyage out there is little to be said. It was not checkered by the excitement of continual storms or the tedium of perpetual calms, but we had a sufficient admixture of both to render our passage to the rendezvous a very ordinary and uninteresting one. For the first week{118} the barometer remained unusually low, and the numbers of those natural barometers—Mother Carey’s chickens—that kept in our wake kept us in continual expectation of heavy weather. With very little breeze or wind, the screw was got up and sail made, so as to husband our coals as much as possible; but it generally soon fell calm, and obliged Captain Preedy reluctantly to get up steam again. In consequence of continued delays and changes from steam to sail, and from sail to steam again, much fuel was expended, and not more than eighty miles of distance made good each day. On Sunday, the 25th, however, the weather changed, and for several days in succession there was an uninterrupted calm. The moon was just at the full, and for several nights it shone with a brilliancy which turned the smooth sea into one silvery sheet, which brought out the dark hull and white sails of the ship in strong contrast to the sea and sky as the vessel lay all but motionless on the water, the very impersonation of solitude and repose. Indeed, until the rendezvous was gained, we had such a succession of beautiful sunrises, gorgeous sunsets, and tranquil moonlight nights as would have excited the most enthusiastic admiration of any one but persons situated as we were. But by us such scenes were regarded only as the annoying indications of the calm which delayed our progress and wasted our coals. To say that it was calm is not doing full justice to it; there was not a breath in the air, and the water was as smooth as a mill-pond. Even the wake of the ship scarce ruffled the surface; and the gulls which had visited us almost daily, and to which our benevolent liberality had dispensed innumerable pieces of pork, threw an almost unbroken shadow upon it as they stooped in their flight to pick up the largest and most tempting. It was generally remarked that cable-laying under such circumstances would be mere child’s play. In spite of the unusual calmness of the weather in general, there were days on which our former unpleasant experiences of the Atlantic were brought forcibly to our recollection, when it blew hard and the sea ran sufficiently high to reproduce on a minor scale some of the discomforts{119} of which the previous cruise had been so fruitful. Those days, however, were the exception and not the rule, and served to show how much more pleasant was the inconvenient calm than the weather which had previously prevailed. The precise point of the rendezvous—marked by a dot on the chart—was reached on the evening of Wednesday, July 28th, just eleven days after our departure from Queenstown. The voyage out was a lazy one. Now things are different, and we no longer hear of the prospects of the heroes and heroines of the romances and novels which have formed the staple food for animated discussion for some days past. The rest of the squadron were in sight at nightfall, but at such a considerable distance that it was past ten o’clock on the morning of Thursday the 29th, before the Agamemnon joined them. Some time previous to reaching the rendezvous the engineer-in-chief (Mr. Bright) went up in the shrouds on the lookout for the other ships, and accordingly had to “pay his footing”—much to the amusement of his staff. Most of them being more advanced in years would not probably have been so equal to the task in an athletic sense. After the ordinary laconic conversation which characterize code flag-signals, we were as usual greeted by a perfect storm of questions as to what had kept us so much behind our time, and learned that all had come to the conclusion that the ship must have got on shore on leaving Queenstown harbor. The Niagara, it appeared, had arrived at the rendezvous on Friday night, the 23d, the Valorous on Sunday, the 25th, and the Gorgon on the afternoon of Tuesday, the 27th. The day was beautifully calm, so no time was to be lost before making the splice in lat. 52° 9´ N., long. 32° 27´ W., and soundings of 1,500 fathoms. Boats were soon lowered from the attendant ships; the two vessels made fast by a hawser, and the Niagara’s end of the cable conveyed on board the Agamemnon. About half-past twelve o’clock the splice was effectually made, but with a very different frame from the carefully rounded semi-circular{120} boards which had been used to enclose the junctions on previous occasions. It consisted merely of two straight boards hauled over the joint and splice, with the iron rod and leaden plummet attached to the center. In hoisting it out from the side of the ship, however, the leaden sinker broke short off and fell overboard. There being no more convenient weight at hand a 32-lb. shot was fastened to the splice instead, and the whole apparatus was quickly dropped into the sea without any formality—and, indeed, almost without a spectator—for those on board the ship had witnessed so many beginnings to the telegraphic line that it was evident they despaired of there ever being an end to it. The stipulated 210 fathoms of cable having been paid out to allow the splice to sink well below the surface, the signal to start was hoisted, the hawser cut loose, and the Niagara and Agamemnon start for the last time at about 1 P.M. for their opposite destinations. The announcement comes from the electrician’s testing-room that the continuity is perfect, and with this assurance the engineers go on more boldly with the work. In point of fact the engineers may be said to be very much under the control of the electricians during paying out; for if the latter report anything wrong with the cable, the engineers are brought to a stand until they are allowed to go on with their operations by the announcement of the electricians that the insulation is perfect and the continuity all right. The testing-room is where the subtle current which flows along the conductor is generated, and where the mysterious apparatus by which electricity is weighed and measured—as a marketable commodity—is fitted up. The system of testing and of transmitting and receiving signals through the cable from ship to ship during the process of paying out must now be briefly referred to. It consists of an exchange of currents sent alternately every ten minutes by each ship. These not only serve to give an accurate test of the continuity and insulation of the conducting-wire from end to end, but also to give certain signals which it is desirable to send for information purposes. For instance, every ten miles{121} of cable paid out is signalized from ship to ship, as also the approach to land or momentary stoppage for splicing, shifting to a fresh coil, etc. The current in its passage is made to pass through an electromagnetometer,[34] an instrument invented by Mr. Whitehouse. It is also conveyed in its passage at each end of the cable through the reflecting-galvanometer and speaking-instrument just invented by Professor Thomson; and it is this latter which is so invaluable, not only for the interchange of signals, but also for testing purposes. The deflections read on the galvanometer, as also the degree of charge and discharge indicated by the magnetometer, are carefully recorded. Thus, if a defect of continuity or insulation occurs it is brought to light by comparison with those received before. For the first three hours the ships proceeded very slowly, paying out a great quantity of slack, but after the expiration of this time the speed of the Agamemnon was increased to about five knots, the cable going at about six, without indicating more than a few hundred pounds of strain upon the dynamometer. Shortly after four o’clock a very large whale was seen approaching the starboard bow at a great speed (Fig. 28), rolling and tossing the sea into foam all round; and for the first time we felt a possibility for the supposition that our second mysterious breakage of the cable might have been caused, after all, by one of these animals getting foul of it under water. It appeared as if it were making direct for the cable; and great was the relief of all when the ponderous living mass was seen slowly to pass astern, just grazing the cable where it entered the water—but fortunately without doing any mischief. All seemed to go well up to about eight o’clock; the cable paid out from the hold with an evenness and regularity which showed how carefully and perfectly it had been coiled away. The paying-out machine also worked so smoothly that it left{122} nothing to be desired. The brakes are properly called self-releasing; and although they can, by means of additional weights, be made to increase the pressure or strain upon the cable, yet, until these weights are still further increased (at the engineer’s instructions), it is impossible to augment the strain in any other way. To guard against accidents which might arise in consequence of the cable having suffered injury during the storm, the indicated strain upon the dynamometer was never allowed to go beyond 1,700 lbs. or less than one-quarter what the cable is estimated to bear. Thus far everything looked promising. But in such a hazardous work no one knows what a few minutes may bring forth, for soon after eight o’clock an injured portion of the cable[35] was discovered about a mile or two from the portion paying out. Not a moment was lost by Mr. Canning, the engineer on duty, in setting men to work to cobble up the injury as well as time would permit, for the cable was going out at such a rate that the damaged portion would be paid overboard in less than twenty minutes, and former experience had shown us that to check either the speed of the ship or the cable would, in all probability, be attended by the most fatal results. Just before the lapping was finished, Professor Thomson reported that the electrical continuity of the wire had ceased, but that the insulation was still perfect. Attention was naturally directed to the injured piece as the probable source of the stoppage, and not a moment was lost in cutting the cable at that point with the intention of making a perfect splice. To the consternation of all, the electrical tests applied showed the fault to be overboard, and in all probability some fifty miles from the ship. <ANTIMG class="enlargeimage" src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" alt="" width-obs="18" height-obs="14" /> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_pg_123_sml.jpg" width-obs="373" height-obs="247" alt="Fig. 28.—In Collision with a Whale while Cable-Laying." /> Fig. 28.—In Collision with a Whale while Cable-Laying. Not a second was to be lost, for it was evident that the cut portion must be paid overboard in a few minutes; and in the meantime the tedious and difficult operation of{123} making a splice had to be performed. The ship was immediately stopped, and no more cable paid out than was absolutely necessary to prevent it breaking. As the stern of the ship was lifted by the waves a scene of the most intense excitement followed. It seemed impossible, even by using the greatest possible speed and paying out the least possible amount of cable, that the junction could be finished before the part was taken out of the hands of the workmen. The main hold presented an extraordinary scene. Nearly all the officers of the ship and of those connected with the expedition stood in groups about the coil, watching with intense anxiety the cable as it slowly unwound itself nearer and nearer the joint, while the workmen worked at the splice as only men could work who felt that the life and death of the expedition depended upon their rapidity. But all their speed was to no purpose, as the cable was unwinding within a hundred fathoms; and, as a last and desperate resource, the cable was stopped altogether, and for a few minutes the ship hung on by the end. Fortunately, however, it was only for a few minutes, as the strain was continually rising above two tons and it would not hold on much longer. When the splice was finished the signal was made to loose the stoppers, and it passed overboard in safety. When the excitement, consequent upon having so narrowly saved the cable, had passed away, we awoke to the consciousness that the case was yet as hopeless as ever, for the electrical continuity was still entirely wanting. Preparations were consequently made to pay out as little rope as possible, and to hold on for six hours in the hope that the fault, whatever it was, might mend itself, before cutting the cable and returning to the rendezvous to make another splice. The magnetic needles on the receiving-instruments were watched closely for the returning signals, when, in a few minutes, the last hope was extinguished by their suddenly indicating dead earth, which tended to show that the cable had broken from the Niagara, or that the insulation had been completely destroyed. {125}Nothing, however, could be done. The only course was to wait until the current should return or take its final departure. And it did return—with greater strength than ever—for in three minutes every one was agreeably surprised by the intelligence that the stoppage had disappeared and that the signals had again appeared at their regular intervals from the Niagara[36] It is needless to say what a load of anxiety this news removed from the minds of every one, but the general confidence in the ultimate success of the operations was much shaken by the occurrence, for all felt that every minute a similar accident might occur. For some time the paying out continued as usual, but toward the morning another damaged place was discovered in the cable. There was fortunately time, however, to repair it in the hold without in any way interfering with the operations, beyond for a time reducing slightly the speed of the ship. During the morning of Friday, the 30th, everything went well. The ship had been kept at the speed of about five knots, the cable going out at six, the average angle with the horizon at which it left the ship being about 15°, while the indicated strain upon the dynamometer seldom showed more than 1,600 lbs. to 1,700 lbs. Observations made at noon showed that we had made good ninety miles from the starting-point since the previous day, with an expenditure—including the loss in lowering the splice, and during the subsequent stoppages—of 135 miles of cable. During the latter portion of the day the barometer fell considerably, and toward the evening it blew almost a gale of wind from the eastward, dead ahead of our course. As the breeze freshened the speed of the engines was gradually increased, but the wind more than increased in proportion, so that before the sun went down the Agamemnon was going full steam against the wind, only making a speed of about four knots.{126} During the evening, topmasts were lowered, and spars, yards, sails, and indeed everything aloft that could offer resistance to the wind, were sent down on deck. Still the ship made but little way, chiefly in consequence of the heavy sea, though the enormous quantity of fuel consumed showed us that if the wind lasted, we should be reduced to burning the masts, spars, and even the decks, to bring the ship into Valentia. It seemed to be our particular ill-fortune to meet with head-winds whichever way the ship’s head was turned. On our journey out we had been delayed and obliged to consume an undue proportion of coal for want of an easterly wind, and now all our fuel was wanted because of one. However, during the next day the wind gradually went round to the southwest, which, though it raised a very heavy sea, allowed us to husband our small remaining store of fuel. At noon on Saturday, July 31st, observations showed us to be in lat. 52° 23´ N., and long. 26° 44´ W., having made good 120 miles of distance since noon of the previous day, with a loss of about 27 per cent of cable. The Niagara, as far as could be judged from the amount of cable she paid out—which by a previous arrangement was signaled at every ten miles—kept pace with us, within one or two miles, the whole distance across. During the afternoon of Saturday, the wind again freshened up, and before nightfall it blew nearly a gale of wind, and a tremendous sea ran before it from the southwest, which made the Agamemnon pitch and toss to such an extent that it was thought impossible the cable could hold through the night. Indeed, had it not been for the constant care and watchfulness exercised by Mr. Bright and the two energetic engineers, Mr. Canning and Mr. Clifford, who acted with him, it could not have been done at all. Men were kept at the wheels of the machine to prevent their stopping (as the stern of the ship rose and fell with the sea), for had they done so, the cable must undoubtedly have parted. During Sunday the sea and wind increased, and before the evening it blew a smart gale. {127}Now, indeed, were the energy and activity of all engaged in the operation tasked to the utmost. Mr. Hoar and Mr. Moore—the two engineers who had the charge of the relieving-wheels of the dynamometer—had to keep watch and watch alternately every four hours, and while on duty durst not let their attention be removed from their occupation for one moment; for on their releasing the brakes every time the stern of the ship fell into the trough of the sea entirely depended the safety of the cable, and the result shows how ably they discharged their duty. Throughout the night there were few who had the least expectation of the cable holding on till morning, and many lay awake listening for the sound that all most dreaded to hear, viz., the gun which should announce the failure of all our hopes. But still the cable—which in comparison with the ship from which it was paid out, and the gigantic waves among which it was delivered, was but a mere thread—continued to hold on, only leaving a silvery phosphorescent line upon the stupendous seas as they rolled on toward the ship. With Sunday morning came no improvement in the weather, still the sky remained black and stormy to windward, and the constant violent squalls of wind and rain which prevailed during the whole day served to keep up, if not to augment, the height of the waves. But the cable had gone through so much during the night that our confidence in its continuing to hold was much restored. At noon observation showed us to be in lat. 52° 26´ N., and long. 23° 16´ W., having made good 130 miles from noon of the previous day, and about 350 from our starting-point in mid-ocean. We had passed by the deepest soundings of 2,400 fathoms, and over more than half of the deep water generally, while the amount of cable still remaining in the ship was more than sufficient to carry us to the Irish coast, even supposing the continuance of the bad weather, should oblige us to pay out nearly the same amount of slack cable as hitherto. Thus far things looked promising for our ultimate success. But former experience showed us only too plainly that we could never suppose that some accident{128} might not arise until the ends had been fairly landed on the opposite shores. During Sunday night and Monday morning the weather continued as boisterous as ever. It was only by the most indefatigable exertions of the engineer upon duty that the wheels could be prevented from stopping altogether as the vessel rose and fell with the sea; and once or twice they did come completely to a standstill in spite of all that could be done to keep them moving. Fortunately, however, they were again set in motion before the stern of the ship was thrown up by the succeeding wave. No strain could be placed upon the cable, of course, and though the dynamometer occasionally registered 1,700 lbs., as the ship lifted, it was oftener below 1,000 lbs., and was frequently nothing, the cable running out as fast as its own weight and the speed of the ship could draw it. But even with all these forces acting unresistingly upon it, the cable never paid itself out at a greater speed than eight knots at the time the ship was going at the rate of six knots and a half. Subsequently, however, when the speed of the ship even exceeded six knots and a half, the cable never ran out so quickly. The average speed maintained by the ship up to this time, and, indeed, for the whole voyage, was about five knots and a half, the cable, with occasional exceptions, running some 30 per cent faster. At noon on Monday, August 2d, observations showed us to be in lat. 52° 35´ N., long. 19° 48´ W. Thus we had made good 127½ miles since noon of the previous day and had completed more than half-way to our ultimate destination. During the afternoon, an American three-masted schooner, which afterward proved to be the Chieftain, was seen standing from the eastward toward us. No notice was taken of her at first, but when she was within about half a mile of the Agamemnon, she altered her course and bore right down across our bows. A collision which might prove fatal to the cable now seemed inevitable; or could only be avoided by the equally hazardous expedient of altering the Agamemnon’s course. The Valorous steamed ahead and fired a gun for her to heave to, which{129} as she did not appear to take much notice of, was quickly followed by another from the bows of the Agamemnon, and a second and third from the Valorous. But still the vessel held on her course; and, as the only resource left to avoid a collision, the course of the Agamemnon was altered just in time to pass within a few yards of her. It was evident that our proceedings were a source of the greatest possible astonishment to them, for all her crew crowded upon her deck and rigging. At length they evidently discovered who we were and what we were doing, for the crew manned the rigging, and, dipping the ensign several times, they gave us three hearty cheers. Though the Agamemnon was obliged to acknowledge these congratulations in due form, the feeling of annoyance with which we regarded the vessel—which (either by the stupidity or carelessness of those on board) was so near adding a fatal and unexpected mishap to the long chapter of accidents which had already been encountered—may easily be imagined. To those below—who, of course, did not see the ship approaching—the sound of the first gun came like a thunderbolt, for all took it as a signal of the breaking of the cable. The dinner-tables were deserted in a moment, and a general rush made up the hatches to the deck; but before reaching it their fears were quickly banished by the report of the succeeding gun, which all knew well could only be caused by a ship in our way or a man overboard. Throughout the greater part of Monday morning the electrical signals from the Niagara had been getting gradually weaker, until they ceased altogether for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Then Professor Thomson sent a message to the effect that the signals were too weak to be read; and, in a little while, the deflections returned even stronger than they had ever been before. Toward the evening, however, they again declined in force for a few minutes.[37] {130} With the exception of these little stoppages, the electrical condition of the submerged wire seemed to be much improved. It was evident that the low temperature of the water at the immense depth improved considerably the insulating properties of the gutta-percha, while the enormous pressure to which it must have been subjected probably tended to consolidate its texture, and to fill up any air-bubbles or slight faults in manufacture which may have existed. The weather during Monday night moderated a little; but still there was a very heavy sea on, which endangered the wire every second minute. About three o’clock on Tuesday morning all on board were startled from their beds by the loud booming of a gun. Every one—without waiting for the performance of the most particular toilet—rushed on deck to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. Contrary to all expectation, the cable was safe; but just in the gray light could be seen the Valorous—rounded to in the most warlike attitude—firing gun after gun in quick succession toward a large American bark, which, quite unconscious of our proceedings, was standing right across our stern. Such loud and repeated remonstrances from a large steam-frigate were not to be despised; and evidently without knowing the why or the wherefore she quickly threw her sails aback, and remained hove to. Whether those on board her considered that we were engaged in some filibustering expedition, or regarded our proceedings as another outrage upon the American flag, it is impossible to say; but certain it is that—apparently in great trepidation—she remained hove to until we had lost sight of her in the distance. Tuesday was a much finer day than any we had experienced for nearly a week, but still there was a considerable sea running, and our dangers were far from past; yet the hopes of our ultimate success ran high. We had accomplished nearly the whole of the deep portions of the route in safety, and that, too, under the most unfavorable circumstances possible; therefore there was every reason to believe that—unless some unforeseen{131} accident should occur—we should accomplish the remainder. Observations at noon placed us in lat. 5° 26´ N., long. 16° 7´ 40´´ W., having run 134 miles since the previous day. About five o’clock in the evening the steep submarine mountain which divides the steep telegraphic plateau from the Irish coast was reached, and the sudden shallowing of water had a very marked effect upon the cable, causing the strain and the speed to lessen every minute. A great deal of slack was paid out,[38] to allow for any greater inequalities which might exist, though undiscovered by the sounding-line. About ten o’clock the shoal water of 250 fathoms was reached. The only remaining anxiety now was the changing from the lower main coil to that upon the upper deck; and this most dangerous operation was successfully performed between three and four o’clock on Wednesday morning. Wednesday was a beautiful, calm day; indeed, it was the first on which any one would have thought of making a splice since the day we started from the rendezvous. We therefore congratulated ourselves on having saved a week by commencing operations on the Thursday previous. At noon we were in lat. 52° 11´; long. 12° 40´ 2´´ W., eighty-nine miles distant from the telegraph station at Valentia. The water was shallow, so that there was no difficulty in paying out the wire almost without any loss by slack; and all looked upon the undertaking as virtually accomplished. At about one o’clock in the evening the second change from the upper-deck coil to that upon the orlop-deck was safely effected; and shortly after the vessels exchanged signals that they were in 200 fathoms water. As night advanced the speed of the ship was reduced, as it was known that we were only a short distance from the land, and there would be no advantage in making it{132} before daylight in the morning. At about twelve o’clock, however, the Skelligs Light was seen in the distance, and the Valorous steamed on ahead to lead us in to the coast, firing rockets at intervals to direct us, which were answered by us from the Agamemnon, though—according to Mr. Moriarty, the master’s, wish—the ship, disregarding the Valorous, kept her own course, which proved to be the right one in the end. By daylight on the morning of Thursday, the 5th, the bold rocky mountains which entirely surround the wild and picturesque neighborhood of Valentia rose right before us at a few miles distance. Never, probably, was the sight of land more welcome, as it brought to a successful termination one of the greatest, but at the same time most difficult, schemes which was ever undertaken. Had it been the dullest and most melancholy swamp on the face of the earth that lay before us, we should have found it a pleasant prospect; but as the sun rose behind the estuary of Dingle Bay, tingeing with a deep, soft purple the lofty summits of the steep mountains which surround its shores, illuminating the masses of morning vapor which hung upon them, it was a scene which might vie in beauty with anything that could be produced by the most florid imagination of an artist. Successful Termination.—No one on shore was apparently conscious of our approach, so the Valorous went ahead to the mouth of the harbor and fired a gun. Both ships made straight for Doulas Bay, the Agamemnon steaming into the harbor (see Frontispiece) with a feeling that she had done something, and about 6 A.M. came to anchor at the side of Beginish Island, opposite to Valentia. As soon as the inhabitants became aware of our approach, there was a general desertion of the place, and hundreds of boats crowded round us—their passengers in the greatest state of excitement to hear all about our voyage. The Knight of Kerry was absent in Dingle, but a messenger was immediately despatched for him, and he soon arrived in her Majesty’s gunboat Shamrock. <ANTIMG class="enlargeimage" src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" alt="" width-obs="18" height-obs="14" /> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_pg_133_sml.jpg" width-obs="350" height-obs="238" alt="Fig. 29.—Landing the American End." /> Fig. 29.—Landing the American End. Soon after our arrival a signal was received from the{133} Niagara that they were preparing to land, having paid out 1,030 nautical miles of cable, while the Agamemnon had accomplished her portion of the distance with an expenditure of 1,020 miles, making the total length of the wire submerged 2,050 geographical miles. Immediately after the ships cast anchor, the paddle-box boats of the Valorous were got ready, and two miles of cable coiled away in them, for the purpose of landing the end. But it was late in the afternoon before the procession of boats left the ship, under a salute of three rounds of small arms from the detachment of marines on board the Agamemnon, under the command of Lieutenant Morris. The progress of the end to the shore was very slow, in consequence of the stiff wind which blew at the time; but at about 3 P.M. the end was safely brought on shore at Knight’s Town, Valentia, by Mr. Bright, to whose exertions the success of the undertaking is attributable. Mr. Bright was accompanied by Mr. Canning and the Knight of Kerry. The end was immediately laid in the trench which had been dug to receive it; while a royal salute, making the neighboring rocks and mountains reverberate, announced that the communication between the Old and New World had been completed. The cable was taken into the electrical room by Mr. Whitehouse, and attached to a galvanometer, and the first message was received through the entire length now lying on the bed of the sea. Too much praise can not be bestowed upon both the officers and men of the Agamemnon for the hearty way in which they have assisted in the arduous and difficult service they have been engaged in; and the admirable manner in which the ship was navigated by Mr. Moriarty materially reduced the difficulty of the company’s operations. It will, in all probability, be nearly a fortnight before the instruments are connected at the two termini for the transmission of regular messages. <ANTIMG class="enlargeimage" src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" alt="" width-obs="18" height-obs="14" /> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_pg_135_sml.jpg" width-obs="372" height-obs="248" alt="Fig. 30.—Newfoundland Telegraph Station, 1858." /> Fig. 30.—Newfoundland Telegraph Station, 1858. It is unnecessary here to expatiate upon the magnitude of the undertaking which has just been completed, or{135} upon the great political and social results which are likely to accrue from it; but there can be but one feeling of universal admiration for the courage and perseverance which have been displayed by Mr. Bright, and those who acted under his orders, in encountering the manifold difficulties which arose on their path at every step.[39] </div> The American End.—In contradistinction to the heavy seas and difficulties the Agamemnon had to contend with, her consort, the Niagara, experienced very quiet weather, and her part of the work was comparatively uneventful, with the exception of a fault near the bottom of the ward-room coil. This was detected during the operations on the night of August 2d, but was removed before it was paid out into the sea. About four o’clock the next morning the continuity and insulation was accordingly restored, and, says Mr. Mullaly (the New York Herald correspondent on board), “all was going on as if nothing had occurred to disturb the confidence we felt in the success of the expedition.” When nearing the end, various icebergs were met with—some a hundred feet high. Mullaly dilates on their castle-like form and the effective appearance of the sun’s rays thereon. Shortly after entering Trinity Bay, Newfoundland, the Niagara was met by H.M.S. Porcupine, which had been sent out from England at the very beginning of the 1858 expedition to await her arrival and render any assistance which might be required. The Niagara anchored about 1 A.M. on August 5th, having completed her work, and, during the forenoon of that day, the cable was landed in a{137} little bay, Bull Arm,[40] at the head of Trinity Bay, when they “received very strong currents of electricity through the whole cable from the other side of the Atlantic.”[41] The telegraph-house at the Newfoundland end was some two miles from the beach, and connected to the cable by a land-line. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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