Part 12 (1/2)
Ailish spent much of the time in the hold talking to Davy, who knew an incredible amount about the construction of the Great Eastern. He told her stories of the men who built the s.h.i.+p and the trials that had to be overcome when constructing a vessel larger and more advanced than anything that had ever floated. His vivid detail and minute descriptions made her feel as though she were there, watching the Great Eastern rise plate by plate and bolt by bolt. Since he was not much older than she, Davy must have heard all these fabulous tales from his father and had listened very closely indeed to remember so much.
The morning of the fifth day, a hopeful glimmer of sunlight poked through the thick fog and everyone's spirits brightened. Paddy and the crew eagerly took their stations, lowering the fis.h.i.+ng wire and watching for the telltale strain that would signal they'd caught the cable.
”We've hooked it!” Paddy at last sang out, but this time, no cheer went up. Instead, everyone bent to their task. The hours slowly pa.s.sed as Ailish watched the men steadily and very cautiously haul in the cable.
Continuing her vigil that evening, she sat perched on top of the cannon, enjoying the crisp salt air and clear starry night. She wished her da was with her, having a pipe and a mug so they could once again talk, content in each other's company. She now looked at her world differently and it made her even more proud of her father. He was not the richest man, true, but he was ingenious at keeping their little caravan rolling and even if they ate potatoes more than she liked, Ailish knew he always did his best and that he loved her. What more could a daughter ask for?
The next day, mother nature once more displayed her fearsome power. The crew was finis.h.i.+ng their last preparations to drop the line, after having gained, then lost the cable one more time earlier that morning. In dismay, the men watched as an ominous pillar of black thunderheads rose on the horizon.
”We're in for a blow, lads!” Paddy said, trying to hide his disappointment. ”We'd best lower a buoy to mark our spot. I have a feeling this will get rough.”
It was indeed bad luck and another serious setback. But as Ailish looked around at the crew, she saw no signs of defeat. Instead, everyone busied themselves preparing for the storm to come. How could these sailors keep going in the face of all that had happened? She saw that it wasn't only the Great Eastern that was made of iron, but everyone who sailed aboard her.
The gale hit with pounding waves and hurricane winds. The mighty s.h.i.+p rolled and wallowed as she stoically endured all the sea threw at her. The battle never let up and as Ailish sat huddled in her big bed listening to the howling of the storm, she was thankful that Davy and Charlie had done such a good job of keeping the Great Eastern s.h.i.+pshape.
Finally, dawn broke and with it the tempest abated. With the sun came renewed hope as the men doggedly set to work preparing the grapnel for its long descent.
When Ailish went on deck, she felt that today would be an extra important one.
”Are you a betting man, Mr. Whelan?” she asked, handing Paddy one of the steaming cups of coffee she'd brought with her from the galley. ”I'll wager we finish the job this try.”
”I'm worried saying it out loud will jinx it, O'Connor. Before I face that engine again, let me finish my mug in peace.” He motioned her to the s.h.i.+p's rail and together, they watched the sun scribing its arc over the silky water. Again, she was struck with the wonder of the sea, the indomitable power hiding beneath that tranquil surface.
”You're right about one thing, la.s.s, today is the day.”
Something in his tone alerted her. ”Yesa” She drew out the word. ”Today we bring up the cable and continue our journey to Heart's Content. By tonight, we'll be steaming west.”
He turned to her, mouth set firmly. ”I don't think you understand. We've used every sc.r.a.p of wire, hemp rope and manila line we have aboard. There is no more.”
Her face fell as the full meaning of his words became clear. ”So this is the last chance. If the grappling line breaks again and the wire sinks to the ocean bottom, we'll have no choice but to go back to Ireland.”
He nodded. ”One way or another, O'Connor, today is the day.”
She knew all hands had said a silent prayer as the last of the cobbled wire was cast into the ocean, then everyone waited to see if they could hook their elusive fish.
Two hours later, Paddy waved and this time, the men did cheer. ”We've got it!” He fired up the engine and working levers and gears, set the machine rattling and banging as it brought up the prize.
Tension had never been higher. Ailish felt she could squeeze it in her fist and wring out the sweat. All day, the engine toiled as fathom after fathom of wire was reeled back in. There was not a breath of breeze, as though the very air around them knew the import of this day. Captain Anderson strode up and down Oxford Street, looking severe, and Ailish thought he was trying to make the cable appear through sheer force of will.
The first hundred-fathom join came up with no problem, then the next, and the next. Mutterings took on a hopeful tone. The next hundred was hauled aboard and the one after that and still the wire held.
Ailish wanted to get closer, to offer a few words of encouragement to Paddy, but she knew he was so focused on his job, that any distraction would not be welcome.
It was evening and the eighth join had been safely pulled up when Ailish saw something odd about the line. It looked somehow thinner than the previous sections, as though it were stretched to its limit.
Before she could say a word, the wire gave way, flew through the capstan and was gone, quicker than the gasp that escaped Ailish's lips.
No anguished cry arose from the crew. No frantic scrambling to prepare another attempt. Everything they had worked for so tirelessly was swallowed in one bite by the relentless ocean, leaving not a ripple on the surface.
They were defeated.
19.
The Future Is Waiting
.-- a. . .-. . .-- .- a - a. . a a. .. .--. -a --- ..- -. -..
The mood was somber as the crew shut off the machines and put away their tools. Ailish ran to Paddy. ”It's really over, then?”
”Aye, la.s.s. This is the end of it.” His voice was strained and despair written plainly on his face. Wiping his hands with a rag, he leaned against one of the cannon. Ailish noticed a deep gash scored the barrel from the deadly encounter with the lethal wire. ”I'm looking on the bright side, small though it may be. My family may have to wait a little longer for their money, but at least they'll get it and me, safe and sound.”
”And the O'Connors will be the ones appearing in the pages of the Irish Times as newly wealthy emigrants to Newfoundland.” She grinned self-consciously up at him. ”It was quite the adventure, wasn't it?”
”Like no other a” and I don't just mean the laying of the transatlantic cable. We made a fine pair, Miss O'Connor. Two Irishmen on a mission.”
”Two Irish persons,” she corrected, ”and I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Whelan!” Unexpectedly, a lump seemed to form in her throat. ”Paddy, it's been a privilege being here on the Great Eastern and to see everyone working together to make this venture a success. This isn't the end. Men like Cyrus Field and Mr. Canning, not to mention Professor Thompson, will never let the dream die. The future is waiting. I know the transatlantic cable will work; that one day, ghost messages will be flying thick and fast all over the world. I get a tingly feeling when I think about it and my tingly feelings are never wrong.”
They exchanged a look and she knew no more words were necessary. They were friends and always would be, no matter the time or tides that lay ahead.
Paddy left to rejoin the men and Ailish continued to watch the activities on deck. She wondered what would happen next. Her answer came through the deck under her feet as she felt the Great Eastern's engines begin to pound. Slowly the bow of the s.h.i.+p swung eastward as Captain Anderson, reacting swiftly to this last disaster, started their long journey home.
Disappointment, weariness and a terrible sadness overtook Ailish. Not wanting her crewmates to see her so dejected, she silently slipped below to her quarters. ”Stop being such a baby,” she chided herself, but it was no use. She couldn't stem the sudden flood of tears and she wept into her pillow, not for herself, but for all the stalwart crew who had tried so hard and given so much. Her eyes, red and swollen, grew heavy and she fell into a restless sleep, filled with strange dreams.
Davy Jones moved languorously through all of them and each time she saw him, he grew more transparent, becoming a will-o-the-wisp, a breath of air on a frosty morning. And always, in her dreamscapes, he was walking by her side but just out of reach.
The minute Ailish awoke she went in search of her friend. She hadn't meant to nap and knew he would be desperate for news. As she made her way down to the storage hold, she was unable to set aside the feeling that there was something she couldn't quite grasp, something cloudy and intangible like the mist in her dreams.
It was a relief to see Davy on his usual crate. His face told her he already knew the fate of the cable.
”We're bound for Ireland now,” she said with a half-hearted smile. ”And I'll be showing my da this wretched hair.”
”It's growing on me.” Davy tipped his head. ”Or maybe I should say it's growing on you. I'll bet he'll be that glad to see you, he won't notice the stylish new bob.”