The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph

It was a little before midnight on Friday night that the cable was caught, and it was after midnight Sunday morning that it was brought on board. How long that day seemed! Night turned to morning, and morning to noon, and noon to night again, and still the work was not done; still the great ship hung over the spot where its treasure was suspended in the deep. The sun went down, and the moon looked forth from driving clouds upon a scene such as the ocean never saw before. At a distance could be discerned the black hulls of the attendant ships, the Albany and the Medway. But why were they thus silent and motionless in the midst of the sea? Some mysterious errand brought them here, and as their boats approached with measured sweep, at this midnight hour, it seemed as if they came with muffled oars to an ocean burial. It was still calm, but the sea began to moan with unrest, as if troubled in its sleep. As midnight drew on, the interest gathered about the bows of the Great Eastern. The bulwarks were crowded with anxious watchers, peering into the darkness below. Still not a word was spoken. Not a voice was heard, save that of Captain Anderson, or Mr. Halpin, or Mr. Canning, giving orders. As it approached the surface, two men, who were tried hands, were lashed with ropes and lowered over the bows, to make fast to the cable when it should appear. This was a perilous service, and the boats were there to pick up the brave fellows, if they should drop into the water. As soon as it showed itself, they dived upon it, and seizing it with their hands, fastened it with large hempen stoppers, which were quickly attached to five-inch ropes.