The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 9

This cottage at Claygate stood just without the village, well surrounded with trees, and commanding a pleasant view. A piece of the garden was turfed over to form a croquet-green, and Fleeming became (I need scarce say) a very ardent player. He grew ardent, too, in gardening. This he took up at first to please his wife, having no natural inclination; but he had no sooner set his hand to it than, like everything else he touched, it became with him a passion. He budded roses, he potted cuttings in the coach-house; if there came a change of weather at night he would rise out of bed to protect his favourites; when he was thrown with a dull companion, it was enough for him to discover in the man a fellow-gardener; on his travels, he would go out of his way to visit nurseries and gather hints; and to the end of his life, after other occupations prevented him putting his own hand to the spade, he drew up a yearly programme for his gardener, in which all details were regulated. He had begun by this time to write. His paper on Darwin, which had the merit of convincing on one point the philosopher himself, had indeed been written before this, in London lodgings; but his pen was not idle at Claygate; and it was here he wrote (among other things) that review of “Fecundity, Fertility, Sterility, and Allied Topics,” which Dr. Matthews Duncan prefixed by way of introduction to the second edition of the work. The mere act of writing seems to cheer the vanity of the most incompetent; but a correction accepted by Darwin, and a whole review borrowed and reprinted by Matthews Duncan, are compliments of a rare strain, and to a man still unsuccessful must have been precious indeed. There was yet a third of the same kind in store for him; and when Munro himself owned that he had found instruction in the paper on Lucretius, we may say that Fleeming had been crowned in the Capitol of reviewing.

Croquet, charades, Christmas magic lanterns for the village children, an amateur concert or a review article in the evening; plenty of hard work by day; regular visits to meetings of the British Association, from one of which I find him characteristically writing: “I cannot say that I have had any amusement yet, but I am enjoying the dulness and dry bustle of the whole thing”; occasional visits abroad on business, when he would find the time to glean (as I have said) gardening hints for himself, and old folk-songs or new fashions of dress for his wife; and the continual study and care of his children: these were the chief elements of his life. Nor were friends wanting. Captain and Mrs. Jenkin, Mr. and Mrs. Austin, Clerk Maxwell, Miss Bell of Manchester, and others, came to them on visits. Mr. Hertslet of the Foreign Office, his wife and his daughter, were neighbours, and proved kind friends; in 1867 the Howitts came to Claygate and sought the society of “the two bright, clever young people”;²⁴ and in a house close by Mr. Frederick Ricketts came to live with his family. Mr. Ricketts was a valued friend during his short life; and when he was lost, with every circumstance of heroism, in the La Plata, Fleeming mourned him sincerely.

I think I shall give the best idea of Fleeming in this time of his early married life, by a few sustained extracts from his letters to his wife, while she was absent on a visit in 1864.

“Nov. 11.– Sunday was too wet to walk to Isleworth, for which I was sorry, so I stayed and went to church and thought of you at Ardwick all through the Commandments, and heard Dr. – expound in a remarkable way a prophecy of St. Paul about Roman Catholics, which, mutatis mutandis, would do very well for Protestants in some parts. Then I made a little nursery of borecole and Enfield market cabbage, grubbing in wet earth with leggings and grey coat on. Then I tidied up the coach-house to my own and Christine’s admiration. Then encouraged by bouts-rimés I wrote you a copy of verses; high time, I think; I shall just save my tenth year of knowing my lady love without inditing poetry or rhymes to her.

“Then I rummaged over the box with my father’s letters, and found interesting notes from myself. One I should say my first letter, which little Austin I should say would rejoice to see, and shall see – with a drawing of a cottage and a spirited ‘cob.’ What was more to the purpose, I found with it a paste-cutter which Mary begged humbly for Christine, and I generously gave this morning.

“Then I read some of Congreve. There are admirable scenes in the manner of Sheridan; all wit and no character, or rather one character in a great variety of situations and scenes. I could show you some scenes, but others are too coarse even for my stomach, hardened by a course of French novels.

“All things look so happy for the rain.

“Nov. 16.– Verbenas looking well… I am but a poor creature without you; I have naturally no spirit or fun or enterprise in me. Only a kind of mechanical capacity for ascertaining whether two really is half four, etc.; but when you are near me I can fancy that I too shine, and vainly suppose it to be my proper light; whereas by my extreme darkness when you are not by, it clearly can only be by a reflected brilliance that I seem aught but dull. Then for the moral part of me: if it were not for you and little Odden, I should feel by no means sure that I had any affection power in me… Even the muscular me suffers a sad deterioration in your absence. I don’t get up when I ought to, I have snoozed in my chair after dinner; I do not go in at the garden with my wonted vigour, and feel ten times as tired as usual with a walk in your absence; so you see, when you are not by, I am a person without ability, affections, or vigour, but droop, dull, selfish, and spiritless; can you wonder that I love you?

“Nov. 17.– … I am very glad we married young. I would not have missed these five years – no, not for any hopes; they are my own.

“Nov. 30.– I got through my Chatham lecture very fairly, though almost all my apparatus went astray. I dined at the mess, and got home to Isleworth the same evening; your father very kindly sitting up for me.

“Dec. 1.– Back at dear Claygate. Many cuttings flourish, especially those which do honour to your hand. Your Californian annuals are up and about. Badger is fat, the grass green…

“Dec. 3.– Odden will not talk of you, while you are away, having inherited, as I suspect, his father’s way of declining to consider a subject which is painful, as your absence is… I certainly should like to learn Greek, and I think it would be a capital pastime for the long winter evenings… How things are misrated! I declare croquet is a noble occupation compared to the pursuits of business men. As for so-called idleness – that is, one form of it – I vow it is the noblest aim of man. When idle, one can love, one can be good, feel kindly to all, devote oneself to others, be thankful for existence, educate one’s mind, one’s heart, one’s body. When busy, as I am busy now or have been busy to-day, one feels just as you sometimes felt when you were too busy, owing to want of servants.

“Dec. 5.– On Sunday I was at Isleworth, chiefly engaged in playing with Odden. We had the most enchanting walk together through the brickfields. It was very muddy, and, as he remarked, not fit for Nanna, but fit for us men. The dreary waste of bared earth, thatched sheds and standing water was a paradise to him; and when we walked up planks to deserted mixing and crushing mills, and actually saw where the clay was stirred with long iron prongs, and chalk or lime ground with ‘a tind of a mill,’ his expression of contentment and triumphant heroism knew no limit to its beauty. Of course on returning I found Mrs. Austin looking out at the door in an anxious manner, and thinking we had been out quite long enough… I am reading Don Quixote chiefly, and am his fervent admirer, but I am so sorry he did not place his affections on a Dulcinea of somewhat worthier stamp. In fact I think there must be a mistake about it. Don Quixote might and would serve his lady in most preposterous fashion, but I am sure he would have chosen a lady of merit. He imagined her to be such, no doubt, and drew a charming picture of her occupations by the banks of the river; but in his other imaginations there was some kind of peg on which to hang the false costumes he created; windmills are big, and wave their arms like giants; sheep in the distance are somewhat like an army; a little boat on the river-side must look much the same whether enchanted or belonging to millers; but except that Dulcinea is a woman, she bears no resemblance at all to the damsel of his imagination.”

At the time of these letters the oldest son only was born to them. In September of the next year, with the birth of the second, Charles Frewen, there befell Fleeming a terrible alarm, and what proved to be a lifelong misfortune. Mrs. Jenkin was taken suddenly and alarmingly ill; Fleeming ran a matter of two miles to fetch the doctor, and, drenched with sweat as he was, returned with him at once in an open gig. On their arrival at the house, Mrs. Jenkin half unconsciously took and kept hold of her husband’s hand. By the doctor’s orders, windows and doors were set open to create a thorough draught, and the patient was on no account to be disturbed. Thus, then, did Fleeming pass the whole of that night, crouching on the floor in the draught, and not daring to move lest he should wake the sleeper. He had never been strong; energy had stood him in stead of vigour; and the result of that night’s exposure was flying rheumatism varied with settled sciatica. Sometimes it quite disabled him, sometimes it was less acute; but he was rarely free from it until his death. I knew him for many years; for more than ten we were closely intimate; I have lived with him for weeks; and during all this time he only once referred to his infirmity, and then perforce, as an excuse for some trouble he put me to, and so slightly worded that I paid no heed. This is a good measure of his courage under sufferings of which none but the untried will think lightly. And I think it worth noting how this optimist was acquainted with pain. It will seem strange only to the superficial. The disease of pessimism springs never from real troubles, which it braces men to bear, which it delights men to bear well. Nor does it readily spring at all, in minds that have conceived of life as a field of ordered duties, not as a chase in which to hunt for gratifications. “We are not here to be happy, but to be good”; I wish he had mended the phrase: “We are not here to be happy, but to try to be good,” comes nearer the modesty of truth. With such old-fashioned morality it is possible to get through life, and see the worst of it, and feel some of the worst of it, and still acquiesce piously and even gladly in man’s fate. Feel some of the worst of it, I say; for some of the rest of the worst is, by this simple faith, excluded.

It was in the year 1868 that the clouds finally rose. The business in partnership with Mr. Forde began suddenly to pay well; about the same time the patents showed themselves a valuable property; and but a little after, Fleeming was appointed to the new Chair of Engineering in the University of Edinburgh. Thus, almost at once, pecuniary embarrassments passed for ever out of his life. Here is his own epilogue to the time at Claygate, and his anticipations of the future in Edinburgh: —

“… The dear old house at Claygate is not let, and the pretty garden a mass of weeds. I feel rather as if we had behaved unkindly to them. We were very happy there, but now that it is over I am conscious of the weight of anxiety as to money which I bore all the time. With you in the garden, with Austin in the coach-house, with pretty songs in the little low white room, with the moonlight in the dear room upstairs, – ah, it was perfect; but the long walk, wondering, pondering, fearing, scheming, and the dusty jolting railway, and the horrid fusty office with its endless disappointments, they are well gone. It is well enough to fight and scheme, and bustle about in the eager crowd here [in London] for a while now and then, but not for a lifetime. What I have now is just perfect. Study for winter, action for summer, lovely country for recreation, a pleasant town for talk…”

CHAPTER V

NOTES OF TELEGRAPH VOYAGES, 1858-1873

But it is now time to see Jenkin at his life’s work. I have before me certain imperfect series of letters written, as he says, “at hazard, for one does not know at the time what is important and what is not”: the earlier addressed to Miss Austin, after the betrothal; the later to Mrs. Jenkin, the young wife. I should premise that I have allowed myself certain editorial freedoms, leaving out and splicing together, much as he himself did with the Bona cable: thus edited the letters speak for themselves, and will fail to interest none who love adventure or activity. Addressed as they were to her whom he called his “dear engineering pupil,” they give a picture of his work so clear that a child may understand, and so attractive that I am half afraid their publication may prove harmful, and still further crowd the ranks of a profession already overcrowded. But their most engaging quality is the picture of the writer; with his indomitable self-confidence and courage, his readiness in every pinch of circumstance or change of plan, and his ever fresh enjoyment of the whole web of human experience, nature, adventure, science, toil and rest, society and solitude. It should be borne in mind that the writer of these buoyant pages was, even while he wrote, harassed by responsibility, stinted in sleep, and often struggling with the prostration of sea-sickness. To this last enemy, which he never overcame, I have omitted, in my search after condensation, a good many references; if they were all left, such was the man’s temper, they would not represent one hundredth part of what he suffered, for he was never given to complaint. But indeed he had met this ugly trifle, as he met every thwart circumstance of life, with a certain pleasure of pugnacity; and suffered it not to check him, whether in the exercise of his profession or the pursuit of amusement.

I

“Birkenhead. April 18, 1858.

“Well, you should know, Mr. – having a contract to lay down a submarine telegraph from Sardinia to Africa failed three times in the attempt. The distance from land to land is about 140 miles. On the first occasion, after proceeding some 70 miles, he had to cut the cable – the cause I forget; he tried again, same result; then picked up about 20 miles of the lost cable, spliced on a new piece, and very nearly got across that time, but ran short of cable, and, when but a few miles off Galita in very deep water, had to telegraph to London for more cable to be manufactured and sent out whilst he tried to stick to the end: for five days, I think, he lay there sending and receiving messages, but, heavy weather coming on, the cable parted and Mr. – went home in despair – at least I should think so.

“He then applied to those eminent engineers, R. S. Newall and Co., who made and laid down a cable for him last autumn – Fleeming Jenkin (at the time in considerable mental agitation) having the honour of fitting out the Elba for that purpose.” [On this occasion, the Elba has no cable to lay; but] “is going out in the beginning of May to endeavour to fish up the cables Mr. – lost. There are two ends at or near the shore: the third will probably not be found within 20 miles from land. One of these ends will be passed over a very big pulley or sheave at the bows, passed six times round a big barrel or drum; which will be turned round by a steam-engine on deck, and thus wind up the cable, while the Elba slowly steams ahead. The cable is not wound round and round the drum as your silk is wound on its reel, but on the contrary never goes round more than six times, going off at one side as it comes on at the other, and going down into the hold of the Elba, to be coiled along in a big coil or skein.

“I went down to Gateshead to discuss with Mr. Newall the form which this tolerably simple idea should take, and have been busy since I came here drawing, ordering, and putting up the machinery – uninterfered with, thank goodness, by any one. I own I like responsibility; it flatters one, and then, your father might say, I have more to gain than to lose. Moreover I do like this bloodless, painless combat with wood and iron, forcing the stubborn rascals to do my will, licking the clumsy cubs into an active shape, seeing the child of to-day’s thought working to-morrow in full vigour at his appointed task.

“May 12.

“By dint of bribing, bullying, cajoling, and going day by day to see the state of things ordered, all my work is very nearly ready now; but those who have neglected these precautions are of course disappointed. Five hundred fathoms of chain [were] ordered by – some three weeks since, to be ready by the 10th without fail; he sends for it to-day – 150 fathoms all they can let us have by the 15th – and how the rest is to be got, who knows? He ordered a boat a month since, and yesterday we could see nothing of her but the keel and about two planks. I could multiply instances without end. At first one goes nearly mad with vexation at these things; but one finds so soon that they are the rule, that then it becomes necessary to feign a rage one does not feel. I look upon it as the natural order of things, that if I order a thing, it will not be done – if by accident it gets done, it will certainly be done wrong; the only remedy being to watch the performance at every stage.

“To-day was a grand field-day. I had steam up and tried the engine against pressure or resistance. One part of the machinery is driven by belt or strap of leather. I always had my doubts this might slip; and so it did, wildly. I had made provision for doubling it, putting on two belts instead of one. No use – off they went, slipping round and off the pulleys instead of driving the machinery. Tighten them – no use. More strength there – down with the lever – smash something, tear the belts, but get them tight – now then stand clear, on with the steam; – and the belts slip away, as if nothing held them. Men begin to look queer; the circle of quidnuncs make sage remarks. Once more – no use. I begin to know I ought to feel sheepish and beat, but somehow I feel cocky instead, I laugh and say, ‘Well, I am bound to break something down’ – and suddenly see. ‘Oho, there’s the place; get weight on there, and the belt won’t slip.’ With much labour, on go the belts again. ‘Now then, a spar thro’ there and six men’s weight on; mind you’re not carried away.’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ But evidently no one believes in the plan. ‘Hurrah, round she goes – stick to your spar. All right, shut off steam.’ And the difficulty is vanquished.

“This, or such as this (not always quite so bad), occurs hour after hour, while five hundred tons of coal are rattling down into the holds and bunkers, riveters are making their infernal row all round, and riggers bend the sails and fit the rigging: – a sort of Pandemonium, it appeared to young Mrs. Newall, who was here on Monday and half choked with guano; but it suits the likes of me.

“SS. Elba, River Mersey, May 17.

“We are delayed in the river by some of the ship’s papers not being ready. Such a scene at the dock gates. Not a sailor will join till the last moment; and then, just as the ship forges ahead through the narrow pass, beds and baggage fly on board, the men, half tipsy, clutch at the rigging, the captain swears, the women scream and sob, the crowd cheer and laugh, while one or two pretty little girls stand still and cry outright, regardless of all eyes.

“These two days of comparative peace have quite set me on my legs again. I was getting worn and weary with anxiety and work. As usual I have been delighted with my shipwrights. I gave them some beer on Saturday, making a short oration. To-day when they went ashore, and I came on board, they gave three cheers, whether for me or the ship I hardly know, but I had just bid them good-bye, and the ship was out of hail; but I was startled and hardly liked to claim the compliment by acknowledging it.

“SS. Elba, May 25.

“My first intentions of a long journal have been fairly frustrated by sea-sickness. On Tuesday last about noon we started from the Mersey in very dirty weather, and were hardly out of the river when we met a gale from the south-west and a heavy sea, both right in our teeth; and the poor Elba had a sad shaking. Had I not been very sea-sick, the sight would have been exciting enough as I sat wrapped in my oilskins on the bridge; [but] in spite of all my efforts to talk, to eat, and to grin, I soon collapsed into imbecility; and I was heartily thankful towards evening to find myself in bed.

“Next morning I fancied it grew quieter, and, as I listened, heard, ‘Let go the anchor,’ whereon I concluded we had run into Holyhead Harbour, as was indeed the case. All that day we lay in Holyhead, but I could neither read nor write nor draw. The captain of another steamer which had put in came on board, and we all went for a walk on the hill; and in the evening there was an exchange of presents. We gave some tobacco, I think, and received a cat, two pounds of fresh butter, a Cumberland ham, ‘Westward Ho!’ and Thackeray’s ‘English Humourists.’ I was astonished at receiving two such fair books from the captain of a little coasting screw. Our captain said he [the captain of the screw] had plenty of money, five or six hundred a year at least. ‘What in the world makes him go rolling about in such a craft, then?’ ‘Why, I fancy he’s reckless; he’s desperate in love with that girl I mentioned, and she won’t look at him.’ Our honest, fat, old captain says this very grimly in his thick, broad voice.

 

“My head won’t stand much writing yet, so I will run up and take a look at the blue night sky off the coast of Portugal.

“May 26.

“A nice lad of some two-and-twenty, A – by name, goes out in a nondescript capacity as part purser, part telegraph clerk, part generally useful person. A – was a great comfort during the miseries [of the gale]; for when with a dead head wind and a heavy sea, plates, books, papers, stomachs were being rolled about in sad confusion, we generally managed to lie on our backs, and grin, and try discordant staves of the ‘Flowers of the Forest’ and the ‘Low-backed Car.’ We could sing and laugh, when we could do nothing else; though A – was ready to swear after each fit was past, that that was the first time he had felt anything, and at this moment would declare in broad Scotch that he’d never been sick at all, qualifying the oath with ‘except for a minute now and then.’ He brought a cornet-à-piston to practise on, having had three weeks’ instructions on that melodious instrument; and if you could hear the horrid sounds that come I especially at heavy rolls. When I hint he is not improving, there comes a confession: ‘I don’t feel quite right yet, you see!’ But he blows away manfully, and in self-defence I try to roar the tune louder.

“11.30 p. m.

“Long past Cape St. Vincent now. We went within about 400 yards of the cliffs and lighthouse in a calm moonlight, with porpoises springing from the sea, the men crooning long ballads as they lay idle on the forecastle, and the sails flapping uncertain on the yards. As we passed, there came a sudden breeze from land, hot and heavy-scented; and now as I write its warm rich flavour contrasts strongly with the salt air we have been breathing.

“I paced the deck with H – , the second mate, and in the quiet night drew a confession that he was engaged to be married, and gave him a world of good advice. He is a very nice, active, little fellow, with a broad Scotch tongue and ‘dirty, little rascal’ appearance. He had a sad disappointment at starting. Having been second mate on the last voyage, when the first mate was discharged, he took charge of the Elba all the time she was in port, and of course looked forward to being chief mate this trip. Liddell promised him the post. He had not authority to do this; and when Newall heard of it, he appointed another man. Fancy poor H – having told all the men and, most of all, his sweetheart! But more remains behind; for when it came to signing articles, it turned out that O – , the new first mate, had not a certificate which allowed him to have a second mate. Then came rather an affecting scene. For H – proposed to sign as chief (he having the necessary higher certificate) but to act as second for the lower wages. At first O – would not give in, but offered to go as second. But our brave little H – said, no: ‘The owners wished Mr. O – to be chief mate, and chief mate he should be.’ So he carried the day, signed as chief and acts as second. Shakespeare and Byron are his favourite books. I walked into Byron a little, but can well understand his stirring up a rough, young sailor’s romance. I lent him ‘Westward Ho!’ from the cabin; but to my astonishment he did not care much for it; he said it smelt of the shilling railway library; perhaps I had praised it too highly. Scott is his standard for novels. I am very happy to find good taste by no means confined to gentlemen, H – having no pretensions to that title. He is a man after my own heart.

“Then I came down to the cabin and heard young A – ’s schemes for the future. His highest picture is a commission in the Prince of Vizianagram’s irregular horse. His eldest brother is tutor to his Highness’s children, and grand vizier, and magistrate, and on his Highness’s household staff, and seems to be one of those Scotch adventurers one meets with and hears of in queer berths – raising cavalry, building palaces, and using some petty Eastern king’s long purse with their long Scotch heads.

“Off Bona, June 4.

“I read your letter carefully, leaning back in a Maltese boat to present the smallest surface of my body to a grilling sun, and sailing from the Elba to Cape Hamrah, about three miles distant. How we fried and sighed! At last we reached land under Fort Geneva, and I was carried ashore pick-a-back, and plucked the first flower I saw for Annie. It was a strange scene, far more novel than I had imagined; the high, steep banks covered with rich, spicy vegetation, of which I hardly knew one plant. The dwarf palm with fan-like leaves, growing about two feet high, formed the staple of the verdure. As we brushed through them, the gummy leaves of a cistus stuck to the clothes: and with its small white flower and yellow heart stood for our English dog-rose. In place of heather, we had myrtle and lentisque with leaves somewhat similar. That large bulb with long flat leaves? Do not touch it if your hands are cut; the Arabs use it as blisters for their horses. Is that the same sort? No, take that one up; it is the bulb of a dwarf palm, each layer of the onion peels off, brown and netted, like the outside of a cocoa-nut. It is a clever plant that; from the leaves we get a vegetable horsehair; – and eat the bottom of the centre spike. All the leaves you pull have the same aromatic scent. But here a little patch of cleared ground shows old friends, who seem to cling by abused civilisation: – fine hardy thistles, one of them bright yellow, though; – honest, Scotch-looking, large daisies or gowans; – potatoes here and there, looking but sickly; and dark sturdy fig-trees, looking cool and at their ease in the burning sun.

“Here we are at Fort Genova, crowning the little point, a small old building due to my old Genoese acquaintance who fought and traded bravely once upon a time. A broken cannon of theirs forms the threshold; and through a dark, low arch we enter upon broad terraces sloping to the centre, from which rain-water may collect and run into that well. Large-breeched French troopers lounge about and are most civil; and the whole party sit down to breakfast in a little white-washed room, from the door of which the long, mountain coastline and the sparkling sea show of an impossible blue through the openings of a white-washed rampart. I try a sea-egg, one of those prickly fellows – sea-urchins, they are called sometimes; the shell is of a lovely purple, and when opened there are rays of yellow adhering to the inside; these I eat, but they are very fishy.

“We are silent and shy of one another, and soon go out to watch while turbaned, blue-breeched, bare-legged Arabs dig holes for the land telegraph posts on the following principle: one man takes a pick and bangs lazily at the hard earth; when a little is loosened, his mate with a small spade lifts it on one side; and da capo. They have regular features, and look quite in place among the palms. Our English workmen screw the earthenware insulators on the posts, strain the wire, and order the Arabs about by the generic term of Johnny. I find W – has nothing for me to do; and that in fact no one has anything to do. Some instruments for testing have stuck at Lyons, some at Cagliari; and nothing can be done – or, at any rate, is done. I wander about, thinking of you and staring at big, green grasshoppers – locusts, some people call them – and smelling the rich brushwood. There was nothing for a pencil to sketch, and I soon got tired of this work, though I have paid willingly much money for far less strange and lovely sights.

“Off Cape Spartivento, June 8.

“At two this morning we left Cagliari; at five cast anchor here. I got up and began preparing for the final trial; and shortly afterwards every one else of note on board went ashore to make experiments on the state of the cable, leaving me with the prospect of beginning to lift at 12 o’clock. I was not ready by that time; but the experiments were not concluded, and moreover the cable was found to be imbedded some four or five feet in sand, so that the boat could not bring off the end. At three, Messrs. Liddell, etc., came on board in good spirits, having found two wires good, or in such a state as permitted messages to be transmitted freely. The boat now went to grapple for the cable some way from shore, while the Elba towed a small lateen craft which was to take back the consul to Cagliari some distance on its way. On our return we found the boat had been unsuccessful; she was allowed to drop astern, while we grappled for the cable in the Elba [without more success]. The coast is a low mountain range covered with brushwood or heather – pools of water and a sandy beach at their feet. I have not yet been ashore, my hands having been very full all day.

“June 9.

“Grappling for the cable outside the bank had been voted too uncertain; [and the day was spent in] efforts to pull the cable off through the sand which has accumulated over it. By getting the cable tight on to the boat, and letting the swell pitch her about till it got slack, and then tightening again with blocks and pulleys, we managed to get out from the beach towards the ship at the rate of about twenty yards an hour. When they had got about 100 yards from shore, we ran in round the Elba to try and help them, letting go the anchor in the shallowest possible water; this was about sunset. Suddenly some one calls out he sees the cable at the bottom: there it was, sure enough, apparently wriggling about as the waves rippled. Great excitement; still greater when we find our own anchor is foul of it and it has been the means of bringing it to light. We let go a grapnel, get the cable clear of the anchor on to the grapnel – the captain in an agony lest we should drift ashore meanwhile – hand the grappling line into the big boat, steam out far enough, and anchor again. A little more work and one end of the cable is up over the bows round my drum. I go to my engine and we start hauling in. All goes pretty well, but it is quite dark. Lamps are got at last, and men arranged. We go on for a quarter of a mile or so from shore and then stop at about half-past nine with orders to be up at three. Grand work at last! A number of the Saturday Review here: it reads so hot and feverish, so tomb-like and unhealthy, in the midst of dear Nature’s hills and sea, with good wholesome work to do. Pray that all go well to-morrow.

“June 10.

“Thank heaven for a most fortunate day. At three o’clock this morning, in a damp, chill mist, all hands were roused to work. With a small delay, for one or two improvements I had seen to be necessary last night, the engine started, and since that time I do not think there has been half an hour’s stoppage. A rope to splice, a block to change, a wheel to oil, an old rusted anchor to disengage from the cable which brought it up, these have been our only obstructions. Sixty, seventy, eighty, a hundred, a hundred and twenty revolutions at last, my little engine tears away. The even black rope comes straight out of the blue heaving water; passes slowly round an open-hearted, good-tempered-looking pulley, five feet diameter; aft past a vicious nipper, to bring all up should anything go wrong; through a gentle guide; on to a huge bluff drum, who wraps him round his body and says, ‘Come you must,’ as plain as drum can speak: the chattering pauls say, ‘I’ve got him, I’ve got him, he can’t get back’: whilst black cable, much slacker and easier in mind and body, is taken by a slim V-pulley and passed down into the huge hold, where half a dozen men put him comfortably to bed after his exertion in rising from his long bath. In good sooth, it is one of the strangest sights I know to see that black fellow rising up so steadily in the midst of the blue sea. We are more than half way to the place where we expect the fault; and already the one wire, supposed previously to be quite bad near the African coast, can be spoken through. I am very glad I am here, for my machines are my own children, and I look on their little failings with a parent’s eye and lead them into the path of duty with gentleness and firmness. I am naturally in good spirits, but keep very quiet, for misfortunes may arise at any instant; moreover, to-morrow my paying-out apparatus will be wanted should all go well, and that will be another nervous operation. Fifteen miles are safely in; but no one knows better than I do that nothing is done till all is done.

“June 11.

“9 a. m. – We have reached the splice supposed to be faulty, and no fault has been found. The two men learned in electricity, L – and W – , squabble where the fault is.

“Evening.– A weary day in a hot broiling sun; no air. After the experiments, L – said the fault might be ten miles ahead; by that time we should be, according to a chart, in about a thousand fathoms of water – rather more than a mile. It was most difficult to decide whether to go on or not. I made preparations for a heavy pull, set small things to rights and went to sleep. About four in the afternoon, Mr. Liddell decided to proceed, and we are now (at seven) grinding in at the rate of a mile and three-quarters per hour, which appears a grand speed to us. If the paying-out only works well. I have just thought of a great improvement in it; I can’t apply it this time, however. – The sea is of an oily calm, and a perfect fleet of brigs and ships surrounds us, their sails hardly filling in the lazy breeze. The sun sets behind the dim coast of the Isola San Pietro, the coast of Sardinia high and rugged becomes softer and softer in the distance, while to the westward still the isolated rock of Toro springs from the horizon. – It would amuse you to see how cool (in head) and jolly everybody is. A testy word now and then shows the wires are strained a little, but every one laughs and makes his little jokes as if it were all in fun: yet we are all as much in earnest as the most earnest of the earnest bastard German school or demonstrative of Frenchmen. I enjoy it very much.

“June 12.

“5.30 a. m. – Out of sight of land: about thirty nautical miles in the hold; the wind rising a little; experiments being made for a fault, while the engine slowly revolves to keep us hanging at the same spot: depth supposed about a mile. The machinery has behaved admirably. O that the paying-out were over! The new machinery there is but rough, meant for an experiment in shallow water, and here we are in a mile of water.

“6.30. – I have made my calculations and find the new paying-out gear cannot possibly answer at this depth, some portion would give way. Luckily, I have brought the old things with me and am getting them rigged up as fast as may be. Bad news from the cable. Number four has given in some portion of the last ten miles: the fault in number three is still at the bottom of the sea; number two is now the only good wire; and the hold is getting in such a mess, through keeping bad bits out and cutting for splicing and testing, that there will be great risk in paying out. The cable is somewhat strained in its ascent from one mile below us; what it will be when we get to two miles is a problem we may have to determine.

“9 p. m. – A most provoking, unsatisfactory day. We have done nothing. The wind and sea have both risen. Too little notice has been given to the telegraphists who accompany this expedition; they had to leave all their instruments at Lyons in order to arrive at Bona in time; our tests are therefore of the roughest, and no one really knows where the faults are. Mr. L – in the morning lost much time; then he told us, after we had been inactive for about eight hours, that the fault in number three was within six miles; and at six o’clock in the evening, when all was ready for a start to pick up these six miles, he comes and says there must be a fault about thirty miles from Bona! By this time it was too late to begin paying out to-day, and we must lie here moored in a thousand fathoms till light to-morrow morning. The ship pitches a good deal, but the wind is going down.

“June 13, Sunday.

“The wind has not gone down however. It now (at 10.30) blows a pretty stiff gale, the sea has also risen; and the Elba’s bows rise and fall about 9 feet. We make twelve pitches to the minute, and the poor cable must feel very sea-sick by this time. We are quite unable to do anything, and continue riding at anchor in one thousand fathoms, the engines going constantly so as to keep the ship’s bows up to the cable, which by this means hangs nearly vertical and sustains no strain but that caused by its own weight and the pitching of the vessel. We were all up at four, but the weather entirely forbade work for to-day, so some went to bed and most lay down, making up our leeway, as we nautically term our loss of sleep. I must say Liddell is a fine fellow and keeps his patience and temper wonderfully; and yet how he does fret and fume about trifles at home! This wind has blown now for thirty-six hours, and yet we have telegrams from Bona to say the sea there is as calm as a mirror. It makes one laugh to remember one is still tied to the shore. Click, click, click, the pecker is at work; I wonder what Herr P – says to Herr L – ; tests, tests, tests, nothing more. This will be a very anxious day.

“June 14.

“Another day of fatal inaction.

“June 15.

“9.30. – The wind has gone down a deal; but even now there are doubts whether we shall start to-day. When shall I get back to you?

“9 p. m. – Four miles from land. Our run has been successful and eventless. Now the work is nearly over I feel a little out of spirits – why, I should be puzzled to say – mere wantonness, or reaction perhaps after suspense.

“June 16.

“Up this morning at three, coupled my self-acting gear to the break, and had the satisfaction of seeing it pay out the last four miles in very good style. With one or two little improvements, I hope to make it a capital thing. The end has just gone ashore in two boats, three out of four wires good. Thus ends our first expedition. By some odd chance a Times of June the 7th has found its way on board through the agency of a wretched old peasant who watches the end of the line here. A long account of breakages in the Atlantic trial trip. To-night we grapple for the heavy cable, eight tons to the mile. I long to have a tug at him; he may puzzle me, and though misfortunes or rather difficulties are a bore at the time, life when working with cables is tame without them.

“2 p. m. – Hurrah, he is hooked, the big fellow, almost at the first cast. He hangs under our bows, looking so huge and imposing that I could find it in my heart to be afraid of him.

“June 17.

“We went to a little bay called Chia, where a fresh-water stream falls into the sea, and took in water. This is rather a long operation, so I went a walk up the valley with Mr. Liddell. The coast here consists of rocky mountains 800 to 1,000 feet high, covered with shrubs of a brilliant green. On landing, our first amusement was watching the hundreds of large fish who lazily swam in shoals about the river; the big canes on the further side hold numberless tortoises, we are told, but see none, for just now they prefer taking a siesta. A little further on, and what is this with large pink flowers in such abundance? – the oleander in full flower. At first I fear to pluck them, thinking they must be cultivated and valuable; but soon the banks show a long line of thick tall shrubs, one mass of glorious pink and green. Set these in a little valley, framed by mountains whose rocks gleam out blue and purple colours such as pre-Raphaelites only dare attempt, shining out hard and weirdlike amongst the clumps of castor-oil plants, cistus, arbor vitæ, and many other evergreens, whose names, alas! I know not; the cistus is brown now, the rest all deep or brilliant green. Large herds of cattle browse on the baked deposit at the foot of these large crags. One or two half-savage herdsmen in sheepskin kilts, etc., ask for cigars; partridges whirr up on either side of us; pigeons coo and nightingales sing amongst the blooming oleander. We get six sheep, and many fowls too, from the priest of the small village; and then run back to Spartivento and make preparations for the morning.

“June 18.

“The big cable is stubborn, and will not behave like his smaller brother. The gear employed to take him off the drum is not strong enough; he gets slack on the drum and plays the mischief. Luckily for my own conscience, the gear I had wanted was negatived by Mr. Newall. Mr. Liddell does not exactly blame me, but he says we might have had a silver pulley cheaper than the cost of this delay. He has telegraphed for more men to Cagliari, to try to pull the cable off the drum into the hold, by hand. I look as comfortable as I can, but feel as if people were blaming me. I am trying my best to get something rigged which may help us; I wanted a little difficulty, and feel much better. – The short length we have picked up was covered at places with beautiful sprays of coral, twisted and twined with shells of those small, fairy animals we saw in the aquarium at home; poor little things, they died at once, with their little bells and delicate bright tints.

“12 o’clock.– Hurrah, victory! for the present anyhow. Whilst in our first dejection, I thought I saw a place where a flat roller would remedy the whole misfortune; but a flat roller at Cape Spartivento, hard, easily unshipped, running freely! There was a grooved pulley used for the paying-out machinery with a spindle wheel, which might suit me. I filled him up with tarry spunyarn, nailed sheet copper round him, bent some parts in the fire; and we are paying-in without more trouble now. You would think some one would praise me; no – no more praise than blame before; perhaps now they think better of me, though.

“10 p. m. – We have gone on very comfortably for nearly six miles. An hour and a half was spent washing down; for along with many coloured polypi, from corals, shells, and insects, the big cable brings up much mud and rust, and makes a fishy smell by no means pleasant: the bottom seems to teem with life. – But now we are startled by a most unpleasant, grinding noise; which appeared at first to come from the large low pulley, but when the engines stopped, the noise continued; and we now imagine it is something slipping down the cable, and the pulley but acts as sounding-board to the big fiddle. Whether it is only an anchor or one of the two other cables, we know not. We hope it is not the cable just laid down.

“June 19.

“10 a. m. – All our alarm groundless, it would appear: the odd noise ceased after a time, and there was no mark sufficiently strong on the large cable to warrant the suspicion that we had cut another line through. I stopped up on the look-out till three in the morning, which made 23 hours between sleep and sleep. One goes dozing about, though, most of the day, for it is only when something goes wrong that one has to look alive. Hour after hour I stand on the forecastle-head, picking off little specimens of polypi and coral, or lie on the saloon deck reading back numbers of the Times– till something hitches, and then all is hurly-burly once more. There are awnings all along the ship, and a most ancient, fish-like smell beneath.

“1 o’clock.– Suddenly a great strain in only 95 fathoms of water – belts surging and general dismay; grapnels being thrown out in the hope of finding what holds the cable. – Should it prove the young cable! We are apparently crossing its path – not the working one, but the lost child; Mr. Liddell would start the big one first, though it was laid first: he wanted to see the job done, and meant to leave us to the small one unaided by his presence.

“3.30. – Grapnel caught something, lost it again; it left its marks on the prongs. Started lifting gear again; and after hauling in some 50 fathoms – grunt, grunt, grunt – we hear the other cable slipping down our big one, playing the self-same tune we heard last night – louder, however.

“10 p. m. – The pull on the deck engines became harder and harder. I got steam up in a boiler on deck, and another little engine starts hauling at the grapnel. I wonder if there ever was such a scene of confusion; Mr. Liddell and W – and the captain all giving orders contradictory, etc., on the forecastle; D – , the foreman of our men, the mates, etc., following the example of our superiors; the ship’s engine and boilers below, a 50-horse engine on deck, a boiler 14 feet long on deck beside it, a little steam-winch tearing round; a dozen Italians (20 have come to relieve our hands, the men we telegraphed for to Cagliari) hauling at the rope; wire-men, sailors, in the crevices left by ropes and machinery; everything that could swear swearing – I found myself swearing like a trooper at last. We got the unknown difficulty within ten fathoms of the surface; but then the forecastle got frightened that, if it was the small cable which we had got hold of, we should certainly break it by continuing the tremendous and increasing strain. So at last Mr. Liddell decided to stop; cut the big cable, buoying its end; go back to our pleasant watering-place at Chia, take more water and start lifting the small cable. The end of the large one has even now regained its sandy bed; and three buoys – one to grapnel foul of the supposed small cable, two to the big cable – are dipping about on the surface. One more – a flag-buoy – will soon follow, and then straight for shore.

“June 20.

“It is an ill-wind, etc. I have an unexpected opportunity of forwarding this engineering letter; for the craft which brought out our Italian sailors must return to Cagliari to-night, as the little cable will take us nearly to Galita, and the Italian skipper could hardly find his way from thence. To-day – Sunday – not much rest. Mr. Liddell is at Spartivento telegraphing. We are at Chia, and shall shortly go to help our boat’s crew in getting the small cable on board. We dropped them some time since in order that they might dig it out of the sand as far as possible.

“June 21.

“Yesterday – Sunday as it was – all hands were kept at work all day, coaling, watering, and making a futile attempt to pull the cable from the shore on board through the sand. This attempt was rather silly after the experience we had gained at Cape Spartivento. This morning we grappled, hooked the cable at once, and have made an excellent start. Though I have called this the small cable, it is much larger than the Bona one. – Here comes a break-down, and a bad one.

“June 22.

“We got over it however; but it is a warning to me that my future difficulties will arise from parts wearing out. Yesterday the cable was often a lovely sight, coming out of the water one large incrustation of delicate, net-like corals and long white curling shells. No portion of the dirty black wires was visible; instead we had a garland of soft pink with little scarlet sprays and white enamel intermixed. All was fragile, however, and could hardly be secured in safety; and inexorable iron crushed the tender leaves to atoms. – This morning at the end of my watch, about 4 o’clock, we came to the buoys, proving our anticipations right concerning the crossing of the cables. I went to bed for four hours, and on getting up, found a sad mess. A tangle of the six-wire cable hung to the grapnel, which had been left buoyed, and the small cable had parted and is lost for the present. Our hauling of the other day must have done the mischief.

“June 23.

“We contrived to get the two ends of the large cable and to pick the short end up. The long end, leading us seaward, was next put round the drum, and a mile of it picked up; but then, fearing another tangle, the end was cut and buoyed, and we returned to grapple for the three-wire cable. All this is very tiresome for me. The buoying and dredging are managed entirely by W – , who has had much experience in this sort of thing; so I have not enough to do, and get very homesick. At noon the wind freshened and the sea rose so high that we had to run for land, and are once more this evening anchored at Chia.

“June 24.

“The whole day spent in dredging without success. This operation consists in allowing the ship to drift slowly across the line where you expect the cable to be, while at the end of a long rope, fast either to the bow or stern, a grapnel drags along the ground. This grapnel is a small anchor, made like four pot-hooks tied back to back. When the rope gets taut, the ship is stopped and the grapnel hauled up to the surface in the hopes of finding the cable on its prongs. – I am much discontented with myself for idly lounging about and reading ‘Westward Ho!’ for the second time, instead of taking to electricity or picking up nautical information. I am uncommonly idle. The sea is not quite so rough, but the weather is squally and the rain comes in frequent gusts.

“June 25.

“To-day about 1 o’clock we hooked the three-wire cable, buoyed the long sea end, and picked up the short [or shore] end. Now it is dark, and we must wait for morning before lifting the buoy we lowered to-day and proceeding seawards. – The depth of water here is about 600 feet, the height of a respectable English hill; our fishing line was about a quarter of a mile long. It blows pretty fresh, and there is a great deal of sea.

“26th.

“This morning it came on to blow so heavily that it was impossible to take up our buoy. The Elba recommenced rolling in true Baltic style, and towards noon we ran for land.

“27th, Sunday.

“This morning was a beautiful calm. We reached the buoys at about 4.30 and commenced picking up at 6.30. Shortly a new cause of anxiety arose. Kinks came up in great quantities, about thirty in the hour. To have a true conception of a kink, you must see one; it is a loop drawn tight, all the wires get twisted and the gutta-percha inside pushed out. These much diminish the value of the cable, as they must all be cut out, the gutta-percha made good, and the cable spliced. They arise from the cable having been badly laid down, so that it forms folds and tails at the bottom of the sea. These kinks have another disadvantage: they weaken the cable very much. – At about six o’clock [p. m.] we had some twelve miles lifted, when I went to the bows; the kinks were exceedingly tight and were giving way in a most alarming manner. I got a cage rigged up to prevent the end (if it broke) from hurting any one, and sat down on the bowsprit, thinking I should describe kinks to Annie: – suddenly I saw a great many coils and kinks altogether at the surface. I jumped to the gutta-percha pipe, by blowing through which the signal is given to stop the engine. I blow, but the engine does not stop: again – no answer; the coils and kinks jam in the bows and I rush aft shouting Stop! Too late: the cable had parted and must lie in peace at the bottom. Some one had pulled the gutta-percha tube across a bare part of the steam pipe and melted it. It had been used hundreds of times in the last few days and gave no symptoms of failing. I believe the cable must have gone at any rate; however, since it went in my watch, and since I might have secured the tubing more strongly, I feel rather sad…

“June 28.

“Since I could not go to Annie I took down Shakespeare, and by the time I had finished Antony and Cleopatra, read the second half of Troilus and got some way in Coriolanus, I felt it was childish to regret the accident had happened in my watch, and moreover I felt myself not much to blame in the tubing matter – it had been torn down, it had not fallen down; so I went to bed, and slept without fretting, and woke this morning in the same good mood – for which thank you and our friend Shakespeare. I am happy to say Mr. Liddell said the loss of the cable did not much matter; though this would have been no consolation had I felt myself to blame. – This morning we have grappled for and found another length of small cable which Mr. – dropped in 100 fathoms of water. If this also gets full of kinks, we shall probably have to cut it after 10 miles or so, or, more probably still, it will part of its own free will or weight.

“10 p. m. – This second length of three-wire cable soon got into the same condition as its fellow —i. e. came up twenty kinks an hour – and after seven miles were in, parted on the pulley over the bows at one of the said kinks: during my watch again, but this time no earthly power could have saved it. I had taken all manner of precautions to prevent the end doing any damage when the smash came, for come I knew it must. We now return to the six-wire cable. As I sat watching the cable to-night, large phosphorescent globes kept rolling from it and fading in the black water.

“29th.

“To-day we returned to the buoy we had left at the end of the six-wire cable, and after much trouble from a series of tangles, got a fair start at noon. You will easily believe a tangle of iron rope inch and a half diameter is not easy to unravel, especially with a ton or so hanging to the ends. It is now eight o’clock, and we have about six and a half miles safe: it becomes very exciting, however, for the kinks are coming fast and furious.

“July 2.

“Twenty-eight miles safe in the hold. The ship is now so deep that the men are to be turned out of their aft hold, and the remainder coiled there; so the good Elba’s nose need not burrow too far into the waves. There can only be about 10 or 12 miles more, but these weigh 80 or 100 tons.

“July 5.

“Our first mate was much hurt in securing a buoy on the evening of the 2nd. As interpreter [with the Italians] I am useful in all these cases; but for no fortune would I be a doctor to witness these scenes continually. Pain is a terrible thing. – Our work is done: the whole of the six-wire cable has been recovered; only a small part of the three-wire, but that wire was bad and, owing to its twisted state, the value small. We may therefore be said to have been very successful.”

II

I have given this cruise nearly in full. From the notes, unhappily imperfect, of two others, I will take only specimens; for in all there are features of similarity, and it is possible to have too much even of submarine telegraphy and the romance of engineering. And first from the cruise of 1859 in the Greek Islands and to Alexandria, take a few traits, incidents, and pictures.