The Battery and the Boiler | Page 4

or express our sentiments
and wishes far and wide over the land, but he will rush with them, over
rock, sand, mud, and ooze, along the bottom of the deep deep sea!
And this brings us to a point. Some of the master minds before
mentioned, having conceived the idea that telegraphic communication
might be carried on under water, set about experimenting. Between the
years 1839 and 1851 enterprising men in the Old World and the New
suggested, pondered, planned, and placed wires under water, along
which our Spark ran more or less successfully.
One of the difficulties of these experiments consisted in this, that, while
the Spark runs readily along one class of substances, he cannot, or will
not, run along others. Substances of the first class, comprising the
metals, are called conductors; those of the second class, embracing,
among other things, all resinous substances, are styled non-conductors.
Now, water is a good conductor. So that although the Spark will stick
to his wires when insulated on telegraph-posts on land, he will bolt
from them at once and take to flight the moment he gets under water.
This difficulty was overcome by coating the wires with gutta-percha,
which, being a non-conductor, imprisoned the Spark, and kept him, as

it were, on the line.
A copper wire covered in this manner was successfully laid between
England and France in 1850. When tested, this cable did not work well.
Minute imperfections, in the form of air-holes in the gutta-percha,
afforded our Spark an opportunity to bolt; and he did bolt, as a matter
of course--for electricity has no sense of honour, and cannot be trusted
near the smallest loop-hole. The imperfections were remedied; the door
was effectually locked, after which the first submarine cable of
importance was actually laid down, and worked well. French and
English believers turned up hands and eyes in delighted amazement, as
they held converse across the sea, while unbelievers were silenced and
confounded.
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.
"You're 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 Albion--but didn't;
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 grow'd thin," suggested the Englishman.
"Non; c'est seaveed--veed 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 nations--but 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
telegraph--at least he had been a boy in the office,--and in after years he
so filled his cousin's mind with the importance of that cable, and the
grandeur and difficulty of the enterprise, that Robin became powerfully
sympathetic--so 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