Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (709 page)

I

“Birkenhead. April 18, 1858.

“Well, you should know, Mr. —  — having a contract to lay down a submarine telegraph from Sardinia to Africa failed three times in the attempt. The distance from land to land is about 140 miles. On the first occasion, after proceeding some 70 miles, he had to cut the cable — the cause I forget; he tried again, same result; then picked up about 20 miles of the lost cable, spliced on a new piece, and very nearly got across that time, but ran short of cable, and, when but a few miles off Galita in very deep water, had to telegraph to London for more cable to be manufactured and sent out whilst he tried to stick to the end: for five days, I think, he lay there sending and receiving messages, but, heavy weather coming on, the cable parted and Mr. —  — went home in despair — at least I should think so.

“He then applied to those eminent engineers, R. S. Newall and Co., who made and laid down a cable for him last autumn — Fleeming Jenkin (at the time in considerable mental agitation) having the honour of fitting out the
Elba
for that purpose.” [On this occasion, the
Elba
has no cable to lay; but] “is going out in the beginning of May to endeavour to fish up the cables Mr. —  — lost. There are two ends at or near the shore: the third will probably not be found within 20 miles from land. One of these ends will be passed over a very big pulley or sheave at the bows, passed six times round a big barrel or drum; which will be turned round by a steam-engine on deck, and thus wind up the cable, while the
Elba
slowly steams ahead. The cable is not wound round and round the drum as your silk is wound on its reel, but on the contrary never goes round more than six times, going off at one side as it comes on at the other, and going down into the hold of the
Elba
, to be coiled along in a big coil or skein.

“I went down to Gateshead to discuss with Mr. Newall the form which this tolerably simple idea should take, and have been busy since I came here drawing, ordering, and putting up the machinery — uninterfered with, thank goodness, by any one. I own I like responsibility; it flatters one, and then, your father might say, I have more to gain than to lose. Moreover I do like this bloodless, painless combat with wood and iron, forcing the stubborn rascals to do my will, licking the clumsy cubs into an active shape, seeing the child of to-day’s thought working to-morrow in full vigour at his appointed task. 

“
May 12.

“By dint of bribing, bullying, cajoling, and going day by day to see the state of things ordered, all my work is very nearly ready now; but those who have neglected these precautions are of course disappointed. Five hundred fathoms of chain [were] ordered by —  — some three weeks since, to be ready by the 10th without fail; he sends for it to-day — 150 fathoms all they can let us have by the 15th — and how the rest is to be got, who knows? He ordered a boat a month since, and yesterday we could see nothing of her but the keel and about two planks. I could multiply instances without end. At first one goes nearly mad with vexation at these things; but one finds so soon that they are the rule, that then it becomes necessary to feign a rage one does not feel. I look upon it as the natural order of things, that if I order a thing, it will not be done — if by accident it gets done, it will certainly be done wrong; the only remedy being to watch the performance at every stage.

“To-day was a grand field-day. I had steam up and tried the engine against pressure or resistance. One part of the machinery is driven by belt or strap of leather. I always had my doubts this might slip; and so it did, wildly. I had made provision for doubling it, putting on two belts instead of one. No use — off they went, slipping round and off the pulleys instead of driving the machinery. Tighten them — no use. More strength there — down with the lever — smash something, tear the belts, but get them tight — now then stand clear, on with the steam; — and the belts slip away, as if nothing held them. Men begin to look queer; the circle of quidnuncs make sage remarks. Once more — no use. I begin to know I ought to feel sheepish and beat, but somehow I feel cocky instead, I laugh and say, ‘Well, I am bound to break something down’ — and suddenly see. ‘Oho, there’s the place; get weight on there, and the belt won’t slip.’ With much labour, on go the belts again. ‘Now then, a spar thro’ there and six men’s weight on; mind you’re not carried away.’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ But evidently no one believes in the plan. ‘Hurrah, round she goes — stick to your spar. All right, shut off steam.’ And the difficulty is vanquished.

“This, or such as this (not always quite so bad), occurs hour after hour, while five hundred tons of coal are rattling down into the holds and bunkers, riveters are making their infernal row all round, and riggers bend the sails and fit the rigging: — a sort of Pandemonium, it appeared to young Mrs. Newall, who was here on Monday and half choked with guano; but it suits the likes of me.

“
SS. Elba, River Mersey, May 17.

“We are delayed in the river by some of the ship’s papers not being ready. Such a scene at the dock gates. Not a sailor will join till the last moment; and then, just as the ship forges ahead through the narrow pass, beds and baggage fly on board, the men, half tipsy, clutch at the rigging, the captain swears, the women 234 scream and sob, the crowd cheer and laugh, while one or two pretty little girls stand still and cry outright, regardless of all eyes.

“These two days of comparative peace have quite set me on my legs again. I was getting worn and weary with anxiety and work. As usual I have been delighted with my shipwrights. I gave them some beer on Saturday, making a short oration. To-day when they went ashore, and I came on board, they gave three cheers, whether for me or the ship I hardly know, but I had just bid them good-bye, and the ship was out of hail; but I was startled and hardly liked to claim the compliment by acknowledging it.

“
SS. Elba, May 25.

“My first intentions of a long journal have been fairly frustrated by sea-sickness. On Tuesday last about noon we started from the Mersey in very dirty weather, and were hardly out of the river when we met a gale from the south-west and a heavy sea, both right in our teeth; and the poor
Elba
had a sad shaking. Had I not been very sea-sick, the sight would have been exciting enough as I sat wrapped in my oilskins on the bridge; [but] in spite of all my efforts to talk, to eat, and to grin, I soon collapsed into imbecility; and I was heartily thankful towards evening to find myself in bed.

“Next morning I fancied it grew quieter, and, as I listened, heard, ‘Let go the anchor,’ whereon I concluded we had run into Holyhead Harbour, as was indeed the case. All that day we lay in Holyhead, but I could neither read nor write nor draw. The captain of another steamer which had put in came on board, and we all went for a walk on the hill; and in the evening there was an exchange of presents. We gave some tobacco, I think, and received a cat, two pounds of fresh butter, a Cumberland ham, ‘Westward Ho!’ and Thackeray’s ‘English Humourists.’ I was astonished at receiving two such fair books from the captain of a little coasting screw. Our captain said he [the captain of the screw] had plenty of money, five or six hundred a year at least. ‘What in the world makes him go rolling about in such a craft, then?’ ‘Why, I fancy he’s reckless; he’s desperate in love with that girl I mentioned, and she won’t look at him.’ Our honest, fat, old captain says this very grimly in his thick, broad voice.

“My head won’t stand much writing yet, so I will run up and take a look at the blue night sky off the coast of Portugal.

“
May 26.

“A nice lad of some two-and-twenty, A —  — by name, goes out in a nondescript capacity as part purser, part telegraph clerk, part generally useful person. A —  — was a great comfort during the miseries [of the gale]; for when with a dead head wind and a heavy sea, plates, books, papers, stomachs were being rolled about in sad confusion, we generally managed to lie on our backs, and grin, and try discordant staves of the ‘Flowers of the Forest’ and the ‘Low-backed Car.’ We could sing and laugh, when we could 235 do nothing else; though A —  — was ready to swear after each fit was past, that that was the first time he had felt anything, and at this moment would declare in broad Scotch that he’d never been sick at all, qualifying the oath with ‘except for a minute now and then.’ He brought a cornet-à-piston to practise on, having had three weeks’ instructions on that melodious instrument; and if you could hear the horrid sounds that come I especially at heavy rolls. When I hint he is not improving, there comes a confession: ‘I don’t feel quite right yet, you see!’ But he blows away manfully, and in self-defence I try to roar the tune louder.

“11.30 p.m.

“Long past Cape St. Vincent now. We went within about 400 yards of the cliffs and lighthouse in a calm moonlight, with porpoises springing from the sea, the men crooning long ballads as they lay idle on the forecastle, and the sails flapping uncertain on the yards. As we passed, there came a sudden breeze from land, hot and heavy-scented; and now as I write its warm rich flavour contrasts strongly with the salt air we have been breathing.

“I paced the deck with H —  — , the second mate, and in the quiet night drew a confession that he was engaged to be married, and gave him a world of good advice. He is a very nice, active, little fellow, with a broad Scotch tongue and ‘dirty, little rascal’ appearance. He had a sad disappointment at starting. Having been second mate on the last voyage, when the first mate was discharged, he took charge of the
Elba
all the time she was in port, and of course looked forward to being chief mate this trip. Liddell promised him the post. He had not authority to do this; and when Newall heard of it, he appointed another man. Fancy poor H —  — having told all the men and, most of all, his sweetheart! But more remains behind; for when it came to signing articles, it turned out that O —  — , the new first mate, had not a certificate which allowed him to have a second mate. Then came rather an affecting scene. For H —  — proposed to sign as chief (he having the necessary higher certificate) but to act as second for the lower wages. At first O —  — would not give in, but offered to go as second. But our brave little H —  — said, no: ‘The owners wished Mr. O —  — to be chief mate, and chief mate he should be.’ So he carried the day, signed as chief and acts as second. Shakespeare and Byron are his favourite books. I walked into Byron a little, but can well understand his stirring up a rough, young sailor’s romance. I lent him ‘Westward Ho!’ from the cabin; but to my astonishment he did not care much for it; he said it smelt of the shilling railway library; perhaps I had praised it too highly. Scott is his standard for novels. I am very happy to find good taste by no means confined to gentlemen, H —  — having no pretensions to that title. He is a man after my own heart.

“Then I came down to the cabin and heard young A —  — ’s schemes for the future. His highest picture is a commission in the Prince of Vizianagram’s irregular horse. His eldest brother is 236 tutor to his Highness’s children, and grand vizier, and magistrate, and on his Highness’s household staff, and seems to be one of those Scotch adventurers one meets with and hears of in queer berths — raising cavalry, building palaces, and using some petty Eastern king’s long purse with their long Scotch heads.

“
Off Bona, June 4.

“I read your letter carefully, leaning back in a Maltese boat to present the smallest surface of my body to a grilling sun, and sailing from the
Elba
to Cape Hamrah, about three miles distant. How we fried and sighed! At last we reached land under Fort Geneva, and I was carried ashore pick-a-back, and plucked the first flower I saw for Annie. It was a strange scene, far more novel than I had imagined; the high, steep banks covered with rich, spicy vegetation, of which I hardly knew one plant. The dwarf palm with fan-like leaves, growing about two feet high, formed the staple of the verdure. As we brushed through them, the gummy leaves of a cistus stuck to the clothes: and with its small white flower and yellow heart stood for our English dog-rose. In place of heather, we had myrtle and lentisque with leaves somewhat similar. That large bulb with long flat leaves? Do not touch it if your hands are cut; the Arabs use it as blisters for their horses. Is that the same sort? No, take that one up; it is the bulb of a dwarf palm, each layer of the onion peels off, brown and netted, like the outside of a cocoa-nut. It is a clever plant that; from the leaves we get a vegetable horsehair; — and eat the bottom of the centre spike. All the leaves you pull have the same aromatic scent. But here a little patch of cleared ground shows old friends, who seem to cling by abused civilisation: — fine hardy thistles, one of them bright yellow, though; — honest, Scotch-looking, large daisies or gowans; — potatoes here and there, looking but sickly; and dark sturdy fig-trees, looking cool and at their ease in the burning sun.

“Here we are at Fort Genova, crowning the little point, a small old building due to my old Genoese acquaintance who fought and traded bravely once upon a time. A broken cannon of theirs forms the threshold; and through a dark, low arch we enter upon broad terraces sloping to the centre, from which rain-water may collect and run into that well. Large-breeched French troopers lounge about and are most civil; and the whole party sit down to breakfast in a little white-washed room, from the door of which the long, mountain coastline and the sparkling sea show of an impossible blue through the openings of a white-washed rampart. I try a sea-egg, one of those prickly fellows — sea-urchins, they are called sometimes; the shell is of a lovely purple, and when opened there are rays of yellow adhering to the inside; these I eat, but they are very fishy.

“We are silent and shy of one another, and soon go out to watch while turbaned, blue-breeched, bare-legged Arabs dig holes for the land telegraph posts on the following principle: one man takes a pick and bangs lazily at the hard earth; when a little is 237 loosened, his mate with a small spade lifts it on one side; and
da capo
. They have regular features, and look quite in place among the palms. Our English workmen screw the earthenware insulators on the posts, strain the wire, and order the Arabs about by the generic term of Johnny. I find W —  — has nothing for me to do; and that in fact no one has anything to do. Some instruments for testing have stuck at Lyons, some at Cagliari; and nothing can be done — or, at any rate, is done. I wander about, thinking of you and staring at big, green grasshoppers — locusts, some people call them — and smelling the rich brushwood. There was nothing for a pencil to sketch, and I soon got tired of this work, though I have paid willingly much money for far less strange and lovely sights.