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378
The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph
·
Henry M. Field
63
These
little
creatures,
whose
remains
were
thus
found
at
the
bottom
of
the
ocean,
probably
did
not
live
there,
for
there
all
is
dark,
and
shells,
like
flowers,
need
the
light
and
warmth
of
the
all-reviving
sun.
It
was
their
sepulchre,
but
not
their
dwelling-place.
Probably
they
lived
near
the
surface
of
the
ocean,
and
after
their
short
life,
sunk
to
the
tranquil
waters
below.
What
a
work
of
life
and
death
had
been
going
on
for
ages
in
the
depths
of
the
sea!
Myriads
upon
myriads,
ever
since
the
morning
of
creation,
had
been
falling
like
snow-flakes,
till
their
remains
literally
covered
the
bottom
of
the
deep.
Equally
significant
was
the
fact
that
these
shells
were
unbroken.
Not
only
were
they
there,
but
preserved
in
a
perfect
form.
Organisms
the
most
minute
and
delicate,
fragile
as
drooping
flowers,
had
yet
sunk
and
slept
uninjured.
The
same
power
which
watches
over
the
fall
of
a
sparrow
had
kept
these
frail
and
tender
things,
and
after
their
brief
existence,
had
laid
them
gently
on
the
bosom
of
the
mighty
mother
for
their
eternal
rest.
The
bearing
of
this
discovery
on
the
problem
of
a
submarine
telegraph
was
obvious.
For
it
too
was
to
lie
on
the
ocean-bed,
beside
and
among
these
relics
that
had
so
long
been
drifting
down
upon
the
watery
plain.
And
if
these
tiny
shells
slept
there
unharmed,
surely
an
iron
chord
might
rest
there
in
safety.
There
were
no
swift
currents
down
there;
no
rushing
waves
agitated
that
sunless
sea.
There
the
waters
moved
not;
and
there
might
rest
the
great
nerve
that
was
to
pass
from
continent
to
continent.
And
so
far
as
injury
from
the
surrounding
elements
was
concerned,
there
it
might
remain,
whispering
the
thoughts
of
successive
generations
of
men,
till
the
sea
should
give
up
its
dead.
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