If only half of it be true, interjected Mr Wright.
But it aint true, said Captain Rik firmly. They talk a deal of stuff about it, more than nine-tenths of which is liespure fable. I dont believe in electricity; more than that, I dont believe in steam. Batteries and boilers are both bosh!
But, uncle, you cant deny that they exist, said Robin.
Of course not, replied the captain. I know as well as you domaybe betterthat theres a heap o telegraph-wires rove about the world like great spiders webs, and that there are steamboats hummin an buzzinay, an bustin tooall over the ocean, like huge wasps, an a pretty mess they make of it too among them! Why, there was a poor old lady the other day that was indooced by a young nephy to send a telegraphic message to her husband in Manchestershe bein in London. She was very unwillin to do it, bein half inclined to regard the telegraph as a plant from the lower regions. The message sent was, Your lovin wife hopes youll be home to-morrow. It reached the husband, Your lowerin wife hopes youll be hung to-morrow. Bad writin and a useless flourish at the e turned home into hung. The puzzled husband telegraphs in reply, Mistake somewhereall rightshall be back three oclockto-morrowkind love. And how dye think this reached the old lady?Mistake somewhereall nightstabbed in backthrough cloaktwo more rowskilled, love. Now, dyou call that successful telegraphing?
Not very, admitted Robin, with a laugh, but of the thousands of messages that pass to and fro daily there cannot be many like these, I should think.
But what did the poor wife do? asked Madge anxiously.
Do? repeated Rik indignantly, as though the misfortune were his ownfor he was a very sympathetic captaindo? Why, she gave a yell that nigh knocked the young nephy out of his reason, and fell flat on the floor. When she came to, she bounced up, bore away for the railway station under full sail, an shipped for Manchester, where she found her husband, alive and hearty, pitchin into a huge beefsteak, which he very properly said, after recovering from his first surprise, was big enough for two.
But what objection have you to steamers, uncle Rik? asked Mrs Wright; Im sure they are very comfortable and fast-going.
Comfortable and fast-goin! repeated the old sailor, with a look of supreme contempt, yes, theyre comfortable enough when your berth aint near the paddles or the boilers; an theyre fast-goin, no doubt, specially when they bust. But aint the nasty things made of ironlike kitchen kettles? and wont that rust? an if you knock a hole in em wont they go down at once? an if you clap too much on the safety-valves wont they go up at once? Bah! pooh!theres nothin like the wooden walls of old England. You may take the word of an old salt for it,them wooden walls will float and plough the ocean when all these new-fangled iron pots are sunk or blowed to atoms. Why, look at the Great Eastern herself, the biggest kettle of em all, what a precious mess she made of herself! At first she wouldnt move at all, when they tried to launch her; then they had to shove her off sidewise like a crab; then she lost her rudder in a gale, an smashed all her cabin furniture like a bad boy with his toys. Bah! I only hope I may be there when she busts, for itll be a grand explosion.
Im sorry you have so bad an opinion of her, uncle, for I am appointed to serve in the Great Eastern while layin the Atlantic Cable.
Sorry to hear it, lad; very sorry to hear it. Of course I hope for your sake that she wont blow up on this voyage, though its nothin more or less than an absurd ship goin on a wild-goose chase.
But, uncle, submarine cables have now passed the period of experiment, said Robin, coming warmly to the defence of his favourite subject. Just consider, from the time the first one was laid, in 1851, between Dover and Calais, till now, about fifteen years, many thousands of miles of conducting-wire have been laid along the bottom of the sea to many parts of the world, and they are in full and successful operation at this moment. Why, even in 1858, when the first Atlantic Cable was laid, the Gutta-percha Company had made forty-four submarine cables.
I know it, lad, but it wont last. Its all sure to bust up in course of time.
Then, though the attempt to lay the last Atlantic Cable proved a failure, continued Robin, the first one, the 1858 one, was a success at the beginning, no one can deny that.
Ay, but how long did it last? demanded the skipper, hitting the table with his fist.
Oh, please, have pity on the tea-cups, uncle Rik, cried the hostess.
Beg pardon, sister, but I cant help getting riled when I hear younkers talkin stuff. Why, do you really suppose, said the captain, turning again to Robin, that because they managed in 58 to lay a cable across the Atlantic, and exchange a few messages, which refused to travel after a few days, that theyll succeed in layin down a permanent speakin trumpet between old England and Noofnland2000 miles, more or lessin spite o gales an currents, an ships anchors, an insects, an icebergs an whales, to say nothing o great sea-sarpints an such like?
Uncle Rik, I do, said Robin, with intensely earnest eyes and glowing cheeks.
Bravo! Robin, youll do it, I do believe, if it is to be done at all; give us your hand, lad.
The old sailors red countenance beamed with a huge smile of kindness as he shook his enthusiastic nephews hand.
There, he added, Ill not say another word against iron kettles or Atlantic cables. If you succeed Ill give batteries and boilers full credit, but if you fail Ill not forget to remind you that I said it would all bust up in course of time.
With note-book and pencil in hand Robin went down the very next day to the works of the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, where the great cable was being made.
Presenting his letter of introduction from Mr Smith, Robin was conducted over the premises by a clerk, who, under the impression that he was a very youthful and therefore unusually clever newspaper correspondent, treated him with marked respect. This was a severe trial to Robins modesty; nevertheless he bore up manfully, and pulling out his note-book prepared for action.
The reader need not fear that we intend to inflict on him Robins treatise on what he styled the Great Atlantic Cable, but it would be wrong to leave the subject without recording a few of those points which made a deep impression on him.
The cable when completed, sir, said the clerk, as he conducted his visitor to the factory, will be 2300 nautical miles in length.
Indeed, said Robin, recording the statement with solemn gravity and great accuracy; but I thought, he added, that the exact distance from Ireland to Newfoundland was only 1600 miles.
You are right, sir, but we allow 700 miles of slack for the inequalities of the bottom. Its cost will be 700,000 pounds, and the whole when finished will weigh 7000 tons.
Poor Robins mind had, of course, been informed about ton-weights at school, but he had not felt that he realised what they actually signified until the thought suddenly occurred that a cart-load of coals weighed one ton, whereupon 7000 carts of coals leaped suddenly into the field of his bewildered fancy. A slightly humorous tendency, inherited from his mother, induced 7000 drivers, with 7000 whips and a like number of smock-frocks, to mount the carts and drive in into the capacious hold of the Great Eastern. They turned, however, and drove instantly off his brain when he came into the august presence of the cable itself.