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378
The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph
·
Henry M. Field
43
In
many
respects,
it
had
the
features
of
a
military
expedition.
It
moved
forward
in
a
great
camp.
The
men
were
sheltered
in
tents,
when
sheltered
at
all,
or
in
small
huts
which
they
built
along
the
road.
But
more
often
they
slept
on
the
ground.
It
was
a
wild
and
picturesque
sight
to
come
upon
their
camp
in
the
woods,
to
see
their
fires
blazing
at
night
while
hundreds
of
stalwart
sleepers
lay
stretched
on
the
ground.
Sometimes,
when
encamped
on
the
hills,
they
could
be
seen
afar
off
at
sea.
It
made
a
pretty
picture
then.
But
the
hardy
pioneers
thought
little
of
the
figure
they
were
making,
when
they
were
exposed
to
the
fury
of
the
elements.
Often
the
rain
fell
in
torrents,
and
the
men,
crouching
under
their
slight
shelter,
listened
sadly
to
the
sighing
of
the
wind
among
the
trees,
answered
by
the
desolate
moaning
of
the
sea.
Yet
in
spite
of
all
obstacles,
the
work
went
on.
All
through
the
long
days
of
summer,
and
through
the
months
of
autumn,
every
cove
and
creek
along
that
southern
coast
heard
the
plashing
of
their
oars,
and
the
steady
stroke
of
their
axes
resounded
through
the
forest.
But
as
the
season
advanced,
all
these
difficulties
increased.
For
nearly
half
the
year,
the
island
is
buried
in
snow.
Blinding
drifts
sweep
over
the
moors,
and
choke
up
the
paths
of
the
forest.
How
at
such
times
the
expedition
lay
floundering
in
the
woods,
still
struggling
to
force
its
way
onward;
what
hardships
and
sufferings
the
men
endured--all
this
is
a
chapter
in
the
History
of
the
Telegraph
which
has
not
been
written,
and
which
can
never
be
fully
told.
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