The Battery and the Boiler: Adventures in Laying of Submarine Electric Cables Read online

  Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

  THE BATTERY AND THE BOILER, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.

  CHAPTER ONE.

  IN WHICH THE HERO MAKES HIS FIRST FLASH AND EXPLOSION.

  Somewhere about the middle of this nineteenth century, a baby boy wasborn on the raging sea in the midst of a howling tempest. That boy wasthe hero of this tale.

  He was cradled in squalls, and nourished in squalor--a week of dirtyweather having converted the fore-cabin of the emigrant ship intosomething like a pig-sty. Appreciating the situation, no doubt, thebaby boy began his career with a squall that harmonised with theweather, and, as the steward remarked to the ship's cook, "continued forto squall straight on end all that day and night without so much as evertakin' breath!" It is but right to add that the steward was prone toexaggeration.

  "Stooard," said the ship's cook in reply, as he raised his eyes from thecontemplation of his bubbling coppers, "take my word for it, that therebabby what has just bin launched ain't agoin' to shovel off his mortalcoil--as the play-actor said--without makin' his mark some'ow an'somew'eres."

  "What makes you think so, Johnson?" asked the steward.

  "What makes me think so, stooard?" replied the cook, who was a hugegood-natured young man. "Well, I'll tell 'ee. I was standin' close tothe fore hatch at the time, a-talkin' to Jim Brag, an' the father o' thebabby, poor feller, he was standin' by the foretops'l halyards holdin'on to a belayin'-pin, an' lookin' as white as a sheet--for I got aglance at 'im two or three times doorin' the flashes o' lightnin'.Well, stooard, there was lightnin' playin' round the mizzen truck, an'the main truck, an' the fore truck, an' at the end o' the flyin'jib-boom, an' the spanker boom; then there came a flash that seemed toset afire the entire univarse; then a burst o' thunder like fifty greatguns gone off all at once in a hurry. At that identical moment,stooard, there came up from the fore-cabin a yell that beat--well, Ican't rightly say what it beat, but it minded me o' that unfortnit pigas got his tail jammed in the capstan off Cape Horn. The father gave agasp. `It's born,' says he. `More like's if it's basted,' growled JimBrag. `You're a unfeelin' monster, Brag,' says I; `an' though you _are_the ship's carpenter, I _will_ say it, you 'aven't got no more sympathythan the fluke of an anchor!' Hows'ever the poor father didn't hear theremark, for he went down below all of a heap--head, legs, and arms--anyhow. Then there came another yell, an' another, an' half a dozenmore, which was followed by another flash o' lightnin' an' drownded inanother roar o' thunder; but the yells from below kep' on, an' came outstrong between times, makin' no account whatever o' the whistlin' windan' rattlin' ropes, which they riz above--easy.--Now, stooard, do youmean for to tell me that all that signifies nothink? Do you supposethat that babby could go through life like an or'nary babby? No, itcouldn't--not even if it was to try--w'ich it _won't_!"

  Having uttered this prophecy the cook resumed the contemplation of hisbubbling coppers.

  "Well, I suppose you're right, John Johnson," said the steward.

  "Yes, I'm right, Tom Thomson," returned the cook, with the nod and airof a man who is never wrong.

  And the cook _was_ right, as the reader who continues to read shall findout in course of time.

  The gale in which little Robin Wright was thus launched upon the sea ofTime blew the sails of that emigrant ship--the Seahorse--to ribbons. Italso blew the masts out of her, leaving her a helpless wreck on thebreast of the palpitating sea. Then it blew a friendly sail in sight,by which passengers and crew were rescued and carried safe back to OldEngland. There they separated--some to re-embark in other emigrantships; some to renew the battle of life at home--thenceforward and forever after to vilify the sea in all its aspects, except when viewed at asafe distance from the solid land!

  Little Robin's parents were among the latter. His father, a poorgentleman, procured a situation as accountant in a mercantile house.His mother busied herself--and she was a very busy little creature--withthe economics of home. She clothed Robin's body and stored his mind.Among other things, she early taught him to read from the Bible.

  As Robin grew he waxed strong and bold and lively, becoming a source ofmuch anxiety, mingled with delight, to his mother, and of considerablealarm, mixed with admiration and surprise, to his father. He possessedan inquisitive mind. He inquired into everything--including the antiquebarometer and the household clock, both of which were heirlooms, andwere not improved by his inquiries. Strange to say, Robin's chiefdelight in those early days was a thunderstorm. The rolling of heaven'sartillery seemed to afford inexpressible satisfaction to his littleheart, but it was the lightning that affected him most. It filled himwith a species of awful joy. No matter how it came--whether in theforked flashes of the storm, or the lambent gleamings of the summersky--he would sit and gaze at it in solemn wonder. Even in his earliestyears he began to make inquiries into that remarkable and mysteriousagent.

  "Musser," he said one day, during a thunderstorm, raising his large eyesto his mother's face with intense gravity,--"Musser, what islightenin'?"

  Mrs Wright, who was a soft little unscientific lady with gorgeous eyes,sat before her son, perplexed.

  "Well, child, it is--it--really, I don't know what it is!"

  "Don't know?" echoed Robin, with surprise, "I sought you know'deverysing."

  "No, not everything, dear," replied Mrs Wright, with a deprecatorysmile; "but here comes your father, who will tell you."

  "Does _he_ know everysing?" asked the child.

  "N-no, not exactly; but he knows many things--oh, _ever_ so manythings," answered the cautious wife and mother.

  The accountant had barely crossed his humble threshold and satdown, when Robin clambered on his knee and put the puzzlingquestion.--"Fasser, what is lightenin'?"

  "Lightning, my boy?--why, it's--it's--let me see--it's fire, of course,of some sort, that comes out o' the clouds and goes slap into theearth--there, don't you see it?"

  Robin did see it, and was so awestruck by the crash which followed theblinding flash that he forgot at the moment to push his inquiriesfurther, much to his father's satisfaction, who internally resolved tohunt up the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_ that very evening--letter L--andstudy it.

  In process of time Robin increased in size. As he expanded in body hedeveloped in mind and in heart, for his little mother, althoughprofoundly ignorant of electricity and its effects, was deeply learnedin the Scriptures. But Robin did not hunger in vain after scientificknowledge. By good fortune he had a cousin--cousin Sam Shipton--who wasfourteen years older than himself, and a clerk at a neighbouring railwaystation, where there was a telegraphic instrument.

  Now, Sam, being himself possessed of strongly scientific tendencies,took a great fancy to little Robin, and sought to enlighten his youngmind on many subjects where "musser's" knowledge failed. Of course hecould not explain all that he himself knew about electricity--the childwas too young for that,--but he did what he could, and introduced himone day to the interior of the station, where he filled his youthfulmind with amazement and admiration by his rapid, and apparentlymeaningless, manipulation of the telegraph instrument.

  Cousin Sam, however, did a good deal more for him than that in thecourse of time; but before proceeding further, we must turn aside for afew minutes to comment on that wonderful subject which is essentiallyconnected with the development of this tale.