Part 2 (2/2)
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 s.h.i.+p, ”to the port promenade deck of the s.h.i.+p. 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p.”
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 a” an amazing length of cable to trail behind the s.h.i.+p, to be sure. The weight of it is so ma.s.sive, 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, thata 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 a.s.sured 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 sixa sevena eight o'clock.
”That's forenoon watch come and I'm done for this s.h.i.+ft.” 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 s.h.i.+p 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.”
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