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281
Heroes of the Telegraph
·
John Munro
142
JUNE
16.--'By
some
odd
chance
a
TIMES
of
June
7
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
up
the
valley
with
Mr.
Liddell.
The
coast
here
consists
of
rocky
mountains
800
to
1000
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
there
in
a
little
valley,
whose
rocks
gleam
out
blue
and
purple
colours,
such
as
pre-Raphaelites
only
dare
attempt,
shining
out
hard
and
weird-like
amongst
the
clumps
of
castor-oil
plants,
cistus,
arbor-vitae,
and
many
other
evergreens,
whose
names,
alas!
I
know
not;
the
cistus
is
brown
now,
the
rest
all
deep
and
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.'
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