This happy state of things, however, lasted for only a few hours. Suddenly the intercourse ceased. The telegraphists at both ends energised with their handles and needles, but without any result. The cable was dumb. Our Spark had evidently escaped!
There is no effect without a cause. The cause of that interruption was soon discovered.
Early that morning a French fisherman had sauntered down to the port of Boulogne and embarked in his boat. A British seaman, having nothing to do but smoke and meditate, was seated on a coil of rope at the time, enjoying himself and the smells with which that port is not unfamiliar. He chanced to be a friend of that French fisherman.
Youre early afloat, Mounseer, he said.
Oui, monsieur. Vill you com? I go for feesh.
Well, wee; I go for fun.
They went accordingly and bore away to the northward along the coast before a light breeze,past the ruined towers which France had built to guard her port in days gone by; past the steep cliffs beyond Boulogne; past the lovely beach of Wimereux, with its cottages nestled among the sand-hills, and its silted-up harbour, whence Napoleon the First had intended to issue forth and descend on perfidious Albionbut didnt; past cliffs, and bays, and villages further on, until they brought up off Cape Grisnez. Here the Frenchman let down his trawl, and fished up, among other curiosities of the deep, the submarine cable!
Behold! fat is dis? he exclaimed, with glaring eyes, uplifted brows, shoulders shrugged, hands spread out, and fingers expanded.
The sea-sarpint growd thin, suggested the Englishman.
Non; cest seaveedveed de most strordinair in de vorld. Oui, donnez-moi de hache, de hax, mon ami.
His friend handed him the axe, wherewith lie cut off a small portion of the cable and let the end go. Little did that fisherman know that he had also let our Spark go free, and cruelly dashed, for a time at least, the budding hopes of two nationsbut so it was. He bore his prize in triumph to Boulogne, where he exhibited it as a specimen of rare seaweed with its centre filled with gold, while the telegraph clerks at both ends sat gazing in dismay at their useless instruments.
Thus was the first submarine electric cable destroyed. And with the details of its destruction little Robin was intimately acquainted, for cousin Sam had been a member of the staff that had worked that telegraphat least he had been a boy in the office,and in after years he so filled his cousins mind with the importance of that cable, and the grandeur and difficulty of the enterprise, that Robin became powerfully sympatheticso much so that when Sam, in telling the story, came to the point where the Frenchman accomplished its destruction, Robin used to grieve over it as though he had lost a brother, or a kitten, or his latest toy!
We need scarcely add that submarine cable telegraphy had not received its death-blow on that occasion. Its possibility had been demonstrated. The very next year (1851) Mr T.R. Crampton, with Messrs Wollaston, Küper, and others, made and laid an improved cable between Dover and Calais, and ere long many other parts of the world were connected by means of snaky submarine electric cables.
Chapter Three.
Early Aspirations
One pleasant summer afternoon, Mr Wright, coming in from the office, seated himself beside his composed little wife, who was patching a pair of miniature pantaloons.
Nan, said the husband, with a perplexed look, what are we to do with our Robin when he grows up?
George, answered the composed wife, dont you think it is rather soon to trouble ourselves with that question? Robin is a mere child yet. We must first give him a good education.
Of course, I know that, returned the perplexed husband, still, I cant help thinking about what is to be done after he has had the good education. You know I have no relation in the world except brother Richard, who is as poor as myself. We have no influential friends to help him into the Army or the Navy or the Indian Civil Service; and the Church, you know, is not suitable for an imp. Just look at him now!
Mrs Wright looked through the window, over one of those sunny landscapes which are usually described as smiling, across a winding rivulet, and at last fixed her gorgeous eyes on a tall post, up which a small black object was seen to be struggling.
What can he be up to? said the father.
He seems to be up the telegraph-post, said the mother, investigating the wires, no doubt. I heard him talking about telegraphy to Madge this morningretailing what cousin Sam tries to teach him,and I shouldnt wonder if he were now endeavouring to make sure that what he told her was correct, for you know he is a thorough investigator.
Yes, I know it, murmured the father, with a grim pursing of his lips; he investigated the inside of my watch last week, to find out, as he said, what made the noise in its stummick, and it has had intermittent fever ever since. Two days ago he investigated my razor,it is now equal to a cross-cut saw; and as to my drawers and papers, excepting those which I lock up, there is but one word which fully describes the result of his investigations, and that ischaos.
There was, in truth, some ground for that fathers emotions, for Master Robin displayed investigative, not to say destructive, capacities far in advance of his years.
Never mind, George, said Mrs Wright soothingly, we must put up with his little ways as best we may, consoling ourselves with the reflection that Robin has genius and perseverance, with which qualities he is sure to make his way in the world.
He has at all events made his way up the telegraph-post, said Mr Wright, his smile expanding and the grimness of it departing; see! the rascal is actually stretching out his hand to grasp one of the wires. Ha! hallo!
The composed wife became suddenly discomposed, and gave vent to a scream, for at that moment the small black object which they had been watching with so much interest was seen to fall backward, make a wild grasp at nothing with both hands, and fall promptly to the ground.
His father threw up the window, leaped out, dashed across the four-feet-wide lawn, cleared the winding rivulet, and cut, like a hunted hare, over the smiling landscape towards the telegraph-post, at the foot of which he picked up his unconscious though not much injured son.
What made you climb the post, Robin? asked his cousin Madge that evening as she nursed the adventurous boy on her kneeand Madge was a very motherly nurse, although a full year younger than Robin.
I kimed it to see if I could hear the trissity, replied the injured one.
The lek-trissity, said Madge, correcting. You must learn to ponounce your words popperly, dear. Youll never be a great man if you are so careless.
I dont want to be a geat man, retorted Robin. I ony want tunderstand things whats puzzlesum.
Well, does the telegraph puzzle you?
Oh! mos awfully, returned Robin, with a solemn gaze of his earnest eyes, one of which was rendered fantastic by a yellow-green ring round it and a swelling underneath. Is kite sure Is stood for hours beside dat post listin to it hummin an hummin like our olianarp
Now, Robin, do be careful. You know mamma calls it an olian harp.
Yes, well, like our olian harp, only a deal louder, an far nicer. An Is often said to myself, Is that the trissity?
Yes, well, like our olian harp, only a deal louder, an far nicer. An Is often said to myself, Is that the trissity?
Lek, Robin, lek!
Well, yes, lek-trissity. So I thought Id kime up an see, for, you know, papa says the trissitylek, I meanruns along the wires
But papa also says, interrupted Madge, that the sounds you want to know about are made by the vi the vi
Bratin, suggested the invalid.
Yes, vibratin of the wires.
I wonder what vi-bratin means, murmured Robin, turning his lustrous though damaged eyes meditatively on the landscape.
Donno for sure, said Madge, but I think it means tremblin.
It will be seen from the above conversation that Robert Wright and his precocious cousin Marjory were of a decidedly philosophical turn of mind.
Chapter Four.
Extraordinary Result of an Attempt at Amateur Cable-Laying
Time continued to roll additional years off his reel, and rolled out Robin and Madge in length and breadth, though we cannot say much for thickness. Time also developed their minds, and Robin gradually began to understand a little more of the nature of that subtle fluidif we may venture so to call itunder the influence of which he had been born.
Come, Madge, he said one day, throwing on his cap, let us go and play at cables.
Madge, ever ready to play at anything, put on her sun-bonnet and followed her ambitious leader.
Is it to be land-telegraphs to-day, or submarine cables? inquired Madge, with as much gravity and earnestness as if the worlds welfare depended on the decision.
Cables, of course, answered Robin, why, Madge, I have done with land-telegraphs now. Theres nothing more to learn about them. Cousin Sam has put me up to everything, you know. Besides, theres no mystery about land-lines. Why, youve only got to stick up a lot o posts with insulators screwed to em, fix wires to the insulators, clap on an electric battery and a telegraph instrument, and fire away.
Robin, what are insulators? asked Madge, with a puzzled look.
Madge, replied Robin, with a self-satisfied expression on his pert face, this is the three-hundred-thousandth time I have explained that to you.
Explain it the three-hundred-thousand-and-first time, then, dear Robin, and perhaps Ill take it in.
Well, began Robin, with a hypocritical sigh of despair, you must know that everything in nature is more or less a conductor of electricity, but some things conduct it so wellsuch as copper and ironthat they are called conductors, and some thingssuch as glass and earthenwareconduct it so very badly that they scarcely conduct it at all, and are called non-conductors. Dee see?
Oh yes, I see, Robin; so does a bat, but he doesnt see well. However, go on.
Well, if I were to run my wire through the posts that support it, my electricity would escape down these posts into the earth, especially if the posts were wet with rain, for water is a good conductor, and Mister Electricity has an irresistible desire to bolt into the earth, like a mole.
Naughty fellow! murmured Madge.
But, continued Robin impressively, if I fix little lumps of glass with a hole in them to the posts, and fix my wires to these, Electricity cannot bolt, because the glass lumps are non-conductors, and wont let him pass.
How good of them! said Madge.
Yes, isnt it? So, you see, continued Robin, the glass lumps are insulators, for they cut the electricity off from the earth as an island is, or, at all events, appears to be, cut off from it by water; and Mister Electricity must go along the wires and do what I tell him. Of course, you know, I must make my electricity first in a battery, which, as I have often and often told you, is a trough containing a mixture of acid and water, with plates or slices of zinc and copper in it, placed one after the other, but not touching each other. Now, if I fix a piece of wire to my first copper slice or plate, and the other end of it to my last zinc slice or plate, immediately electricity will begin to be made, and will fly from the copper to the zinc, and so round and round until the plates are worn out or the wire broken. Dee see?
No, Robin, I dont see; Im blinder than the blindest mole.
Oh, Madge, what a wonderful mind you must have! said Robin, laughing. It is so simple.
Of course, said Madge, I understand what you mean by troughs and plates and all that, but what I want to know is why that arrangement is necessary. Why would it not do just as well to tempt electricity out of its hiding-hole with plates or slices of cheese and bread, placed one after the other in a trough filled with a mixture of glue and melted butter?
What stuff you do talk, Madge! As well might you ask why it would not do to make a plum-pudding out of nutmegs and coal-tar. There are some things that no fellow can understand, and of course I dont know everything!
The astounding modesty of this latter remark seemed to have furnished Madge with food for reflection, for she did not reply to it. After a few minutes walk the amateur electricians reached the scene of their intended gamea sequestered dell in a plantation, through which brawled a rather turbulent stream. At one part, where a willow overhung the water, there was a deep broad pool. The stream entered the pool with a headlong plunge, and issued from it with a riotous upheaval of wavelets and foam among jagged rocks, as if rejoicing in, and rather boastful about, the previous leap.
The game was extremely simple. The pool was to be the German Ocean, and a piece of stout cord was to serve as a submarine cable.
The boy and girl were well-matched playmates, for Madge was ignorant and receptivein reference to science,Robin learned and communicative, while both were intensely earnest.
Now, this is the battery, said Robin, when he had dug a deep hole close to the pool with a spade brought for the purpose.
Yes, and the muddy water in it will do for the mixture of acid and water, said Madge.
As she spoke, Robins toe caught on a root, and he went headlong into the battery, out of which he emerged scarcely recognisable. It was a severe, though not an electric, shock, and at first Robin seemed inclined to whimper, but his manhood triumphed, and he burst into a compound laugh and yell, to the intense relief of Madge, who thought at first that he had been seriously injured.
Never mind, Madge, said Robin, as he cleansed his muddy head; cousin Sam has often told me that nothing great was ever done except in the face of difficulties and dangers. I wonder whether this should be counted a difficulty or a danger?
At first I thought it a danger, said Madge, with a laugh, but the trouble you now have with the mud in your hair looks like a difficulty, doesnt it?
Why, then, its both, cried Robin. Come, thats a good beginning. Now, Madge, you get away round to the opposite side of the pool, and mind you dont slip in, its rather steep there.
This is England, cried Robin, preparing to throw the line over to his assistant, who stood eager to aid on the other side, and you are standing ononwhats on the other side of the German Ocean?
Im not sure, Robin. Holland, I think, or Denmark.