4

Disaster!

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The climb took an eternity, but the rumbling protests from Ailish’s belly told her it was prudent to find food before continuing the journey to her quarters. The instructions Davy had given her had been from the stateroom, not belowdecks, but she was pretty sure she was heading toward the kitchen. No, galley, she corrected herself. If she was going to pass for a salty cabin boy, she must remember details like calling the kitchen, the galley, and the toilet, the head.

Opening a final hatchway, Ailish suddenly found herself on the main deck, and was immediately rocked back on her heels. She’d had no idea of the time but was still surprised to discover it was a moonlit night with puffy clouds silhouetted in silver. The vast bowl of the sky overhead was tranquil, but the world around her was something from a hurly-burly nightmare.

The frantic clanging of a loud gong made Ailish want to cover her ears as she watched men scramble madly about, some shouting orders while others ran to the machinery that screeched and rumbled as though possessed by demons. It was mayhem.

Gawking around, she stared in awe at the gigantic ship, wondering how anything this big and made of iron could float! The deck stretched forever, covered in polished wood from a forest of trees. Six towering masts scraped the sky as five huge funnels billowed black smoke. On each side of the massive deck was a giant paddlewheel more than fifty feet across. The Great Eastern was truly a wonder.

Ailish took a deep breath, drawing in the fresh ocean air, then stopped. Unexpectedly, on the evening breeze she caught a faint whiff of… manure! Very strange and – she wrinkled her nose – very disgusting.

Moving forward hesitantly, she tried to orient herself and decide what to do next. Without warning, she was knocked to the ground as a heavy-set figure ran into her. Her cheek burned where it scraped on the wooden deck.

“Get out of my way, you stupid boy, before I toss you into the drink.”

Ailish stared up into the shadowed face of Rufus Dalton. She hastily turned away, praying her disguise would be successful and nothing about the new look would jog her enemy’s memory.

He raised his boot to give her a kick, but before he could land the blow, she was lifted out of harm’s way. Someone had come onto deck behind her. As the newcomer set her down, she felt a flood of tingling warmth and goodness.

“Leave the lad alone, Dalton.”

Paddy Whelan had saved her again and from his touch, Ailish was assured he was not a man to be feared.

Dalton sneered. “You have a way of vexing me that could end up very unhealthy, Whelan.”

The big man shoved past Paddy and Ailish as he strode down the deck snarling orders.

“Are you alright, lad?” her rescuer asked, peering at her with concern.

“Yes, sir, thank you. What’s happened?” She indicated the bedlam around them.

He gave her a funny look and Ailish wondered if he recognized her, then she dismissed the idea. The light this morning had been dim and she’d had her shawl covering her head, not to mention a skirt below. He must simply think she was thick not to know what the noise was about.

“I was in the cable tank working when the gong went off. It’s a disaster, lad. We’re barely eighty-two miles from Foilhummerum Bay and the cable has stopped sending. That’s what the clanging is about. They ring the gong when the signal stops.” He appeared puzzled by her. “You seem somewhat familiar, boy. My name is Paddy Whelan and who might you be?”

“I’m…” she thought fast. “O’Connor, sir, and I work here.” She wondered if she should spit or scratch or do some other disgusting boyish thing, but found she was still too much of a young lady to try.

Paddy laughed, a rich, deep sound. “Well now, O’Connor. There are five hundred men working on this ship and you have to be the shortest crew mate I’ve seen.”

Ailish felt her face grow hot. “Actually, I’m a cabin boy, a new cabin boy and this,” she indicated the madhouse around them, “is a bit overwhelming.”

“Then until you get your sea legs, you’d best stay with me. Come on, lad.”

Not sure if cabin boys were allowed to say no to actual sailors, Ailish obediently followed Paddy.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they dodged their way around several structures. She didn’t like being out in the open inviting questions about who she was and what she was doing here.

“Past these cabooses,” he pointed at the small cabins scattered about like so many squatters, before rounding a larger building and emerging onto the far side of the ship, “to the port promenade deck of the ship. Welcome to Oxford Street, O’Connor.”

He motioned to the long expanse of deck and the wooden trough that ran nearly the length of the ship itself. “This is where the real work is done. You see, when we’re laying the cable, it’s winched out of the tanks and runs along this trough then it’s carefully fed over the stern and into the ocean. It works fine until the signal stops. Then we have to raise the cable back out of the sea and repair the break. It’s a perilous job. We can’t put the machine in reverse to wind the cable back aboard, so it must be shackled from the yardarm and cut, then carried all the way from the stern to the bow.”

“Then you fix it?” Ailish asked, curiosity getting the better of her despite worry at being discovered.

“Not quite. Once we’ve carried it to the bow, it’s fed into a machine that dredges it to the surface and pulls it back onto the ship.”

She looked out at the mirrored face of the sea reflecting the moonlight in iridescent filaments. “You drag it up from the ocean floor! How deep is that?”

“In some places, twelve thousand feet – an amazing length of cable to trail behind the ship, to be sure. The weight of it is so massive, we need a special machine just to pay it out, inch by inch.”

Ailish was trying to imagine this and decided the cable must be a huge thing, as thick as a giant oak tree. She could hardly wait to see it!

It was then she noticed a small wire no wider than a man’s thumb in the trough. “Hadn’t you better clear that spindly stuff out before the cable is brought up?”

Again Paddy let go with his infectious laugh. “That, O’Connor, is the cable!”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What! You’re joking, mister! Surely not that, that… thread!” Squirming past one of the men manning the wooden trough, she examined the strand more closely. It was not more than an inch across and covered in grey slimy ooze.

“That’s it, alright,” Paddy assured her. “And see that?” He pointed at a complicated piece of machinery. “That’s the automatic release mechanism. Inside there’s wheels and cogs ticking away, making sure the cable lets out just so, not too fast and not too slow. You mustn’t let size fool you, lad. The automatic release is a stalwart piece of machinery, no doubt, but it’s delicate as a cuckoo clock. And though the cable’s little more than a wire, it be mighty as a bridge, a bridge that will span the entire ocean.”

With a shouted warning to “look lively!” the sailors started the laborious task of hauling the thin cable back aboard. Instantly, everyone was hustling about the deck as they bent to their task.

“This is dangerous work, O’Connor. You can’t be wandering about on your own and I’ve too much to do to take you to the captain. You’ll have to accompany me on my watch.”

So Ailish followed Paddy as he went about his tasks, her stomach feeling emptier as the minutes crawled by. Dawn came and went, then six… seven… eight o’clock.

“That’s forenoon watch come and I’m done for this shift.” Paddy had been working a machine called the pick-up wheel that wound the cable aboard but he now signaled another sailor to relieve him.

“What happens if the break can’t be found?” Ailish asked as they leaned against the rail to watch the continuing action.

“Then, my lad, we turn tail and head back to Ireland.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Back to Ireland? We may be going home!” She thought of the last time she’d seen her da and again offered up a quick prayer that he was all right. Hope and joy sprang up in equal measure at the possibility of seeing him so soon.

“It would be a sad blow to all aboard, to be sure.” Paddy sighed. “But I shan’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ll be able to find the problem.”

“Yes, and fix it we shall!” A tall gentleman with a strong American accent interrupted as he joined them.

Ailish took note of the newcomer’s deerstalker hat and Inverness cape. He was obviously not a sailor, but a proper gentleman.

Paddy nodded agreement. “Aye, that we will, sir.”

“And who do we have here, Paddy?” the man asked, looking at Ailish.

“O’Connor is a cabin boy, Mr. Field.” Paddy said by way of introduction. “O’Connor, this is Mr. Cyrus Field, an American gent with the vision and wherewithal to put this fantastic enterprise together.”

“Failte, Mr. Field,” Ailish said, catching herself as she was about to curtsy. That was hardly something a cabin boy would do.

“You must be the youngest crewman aboard, O’Connor.” He smiled warmly. “Paddy, how much cable has come up?”

“Near as I can tell, ten miles, sir.”

“That’s a substantial amount to haul back aboard and we’ll have to scour every inch to find that break.”
The tall American looked about searching for someone on the crowded deck. “I’d best confer with the other gentlemen about what to do if this rescue is unsuccessful.”

“I saw Mr. Canning and Professor Thomson go into the telegraph testing caboose, sir.” Paddy said helpfully.

At that moment, a shout drew everyone’s attention. “Here! Come here! We’ve found the fault!”

Immediately, a frenzied commotion ensued around the man who had sounded the news. Ailish, Paddy and Mr. Field all hurried toward the hubbub.

When they arrived, the American pushed through the crowd to join several gentlemen who were leaning over the trough where the dead cable lay, while Paddy and Ailish hung back.

“Look at this, Cyrus,” a man with a thick Scots accent indicated to Mr. Field.

“Who’s the Scottish gent?” Ailish asked Paddy in a hushed tone.

“Professor Thomson, the most brilliant scientist of our time, a true genius, I heard. The other fellow is Samuel Canning; he’s in charge of the actual cable laying.”

Ailish watched as the three conferred. She could feel the tension in the men around her as the murmuring increased and then Mr. Field held up his hand. There was something in it. Ailish tried to get a better look, but the crowd was pressing closer and she had trouble seeing through the throng.

“Gentlemen, this is a dark day for all of us. We have but only begun our journey and here we have evidence of sabotage! This two-inch spike was driven through the cable allowing the electric current to leak into the ocean and stop the signal from reaching back to Ireland.”

Ailish saw Rufus Dalton standing beside Cyrus Field. He was busy looking very important for the crowd until he caught sight of Paddy; then an evil grin appeared like a gash across his face.

“Fenians! A Fenian traitor in our midst!” he shouted to the gathered men.

Pandemonium ensued as the word spread like fire through thatch. Ailish knew that this ship was filled with English gentlemen who feared the Irish freedom brotherhood and she also realized death would be how they’d deal with anyone caught.

Mr. Field motioned for silence. “Sabotage does seem likely, Mr. Dalton, but why do you suspect the Fenians?”

“I can guarantee that wire was sound when it left the tank. I’m telling you, it’s a plot. I’ve heard rumours the Fenians want to invade Canada and hold her ransom until the English leave Ireland. Without the telegraph cable, it would be weeks before England could answer Canada’s call for help and by then, it would be too late.”

Again there was a general outcry.

“Hang the traitor!”

“Throw him overboard!”

Ailish saw an imposing man in a crisp Navy uniform step forward. This, she reasoned, had to be Captain Anderson. Things were very tense and it was not the time to spring an unexpected cabin boy on him. She melted further back into the crowd.

“I will personally conduct this investigation.” The captain’s voice boomed over the noise, stilling the ruckus. “I want the Fenian scoundrel arrested and sent to England for treason – if we don’t keelhaul him first. I will not tolerate any interference with this project.”

Ailish saw Dalton look at Paddy, then draw his thumb across his throat in a gesture that made her blood run cold.

The captain called for order. “We will splice the cable and continue on our mission. Thousands of men have worked for many years to make this dream come true and we shall not be defeated. This is our chance to make history, gentlemen. Let’s make that history a glorious one!”

A chorus of enthusiastic assent rose from the men and they set to work. The captain’s words stirred something in Ailish, too, and she saw how, small as it seemed, the cable was bigger than any single person here. She had a feeling the transatlantic telegraph cable would change the world as she knew it.

“What happens now?” she asked Paddy, who had slid farther back into the crowd to stand beside her.

“They’ll cut out the bad section and splice the end to fresh cable from the tanks. If it’s still dead once we’ve completed this, then we have naught else to do but sail for home. We’ll have done all we can.”

The sun scribed its brilliant arc as it climbed ever higher in the clear blue sky but no one left Oxford Street while the splice was made. The crowd milled about, men offering help wherever needed. Paddy pulled out some sailor’s hardtack and broke her off a piece. With the biscuit, Ailish was able to wait the long, tense time until at last, the cable was whole once again.

Cyrus Field left for the telegraph testing caboose to see if the freshly repaired wire would actually work. The very air around them stilled as every man and one young girl stood silently awaiting the verdict.