The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph

The time for departure had been fixed for the last day of June, and so admirable had been the arrangements, and such the diligence of all concerned, that exactly at the hour of noon, she loosened from her moorings, and began to move. It was well that she had not on board her whole cargo; for as it was, she drew nearly thirty-two feet. Never had any keel pressed so deep in those waters. It required skilful handling to get her safely to the sea. Gently and softly she floated down, over bars where she almost grazed the sand, where but a few inches lifted her enormous hull above the river's bed. But at length the rising tide bears her safely over, and she is afloat in the deeper waters of the Channel. At first the sea did not give her a very gracious welcome. The wind was dead ahead, and the waves dashed furiously against her; but she kept steadily on, tossing their spray on high, as if they had struck against the rocks of Eddystone lighthouse. In four or five days she had passed down the Irish coast, and was quietly anchored in the harbor at Berehaven, where she was soon joined by the other vessels of the squadron. The Telegraph fleet was not the same as that of the last year. The Government could spare but a single ship; but the Terrible, which had accompanied the Great Eastern on the former expedition, was still there to represent the majesty of England. The William Corry, a vessel of two thousand tons, bore the ponderous shore end, which was to be laid out thirty miles from the Irish coast, while the Albany and the Medway were ships chartered by the Company. The latter carried several hundred miles of the last year's cable, besides one of heavier proportions, ninety miles long, to be stretched across the mouth of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.