The Portland daily press., 1899-09-06
The Hero of
The Talking Ropes.
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a Story of the Atlantic Gables.
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Ru Rercia NJ. kIark
BY Percie W. Hart.
Observation-Disclosures. !. I.:.l#l...IxI.,.l

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In the general managers private den
at the cable office two officials were in
earnest conversation.
mo. 4 has just given out, SIR" one of
them was reporting.
"Eh? WhatY' calculated the general
manager in startled accents. "You mean
No. 2?v
"No, No. A."
"But l thought it was No. 2 that had
been working so badly for the past two
days"
"Yes, and 1t Is getting worse every
minute. No. 4 apparently was all right
until, without the slightest warning, ii
stopped. Must have been cut clean
through by something. Murphy has only
begun testing, but he thinks the break
to be not far from the sore spot on No. 2,
In the neighborhood of the Grand
Banks"
Another fishing schooner's anchor, I
suppose. But, gracious, man, this leaves
the wounded No. 2 our only working line
across the Atlanticp'
whats the matter with the ship?"
Something went wrong with her en-
gines before she could make the other
| splices, and they had to run back to port
Started away again yesterday and should
be repairing by now"
IF they cut No. and go to splicing,
it will leave us shut off the best part of
the night, just when the press matter is
rushing"
II know 1t, but, il possible, they were
to make temporary patch. without in
| reference"
"Pretty close shaving for usT
| should say Tho vpbnIa procfsero
of the company, not to speak of such
things as the effect upon this years divi-
dends, depends upon the holding together
OF that little battered place in No. ca
ble."
"What shall we dor'
| DO? Keep No. 2 humming, relays and
oil. Put the whole battery room on, il
needs be. The Cabliana has never failed
us yet. I'll stake the company's reputa-
| tion on heri'
| More than 1000 miles distant and well
out on the broad Atlantic an odd looking
steamship was tossing in the rough seas.
She was trim and neat like a war vessel
or yacht, as far as paint and rig were
concerned, but the resemblance extended
no further. The decks OF this craft were
crowded with machinery, huge iron buoys
hung along the bulwarks, and she had
great pulley wheels fitted in projecting
structures at both bow and stern. This
was the Cabliana, the specially built and
equipped cable laying and repair ship of
the great ocean telegraph company.
The weather was stormy and disagree
able and Captain Boylston's temper even
more so. To dawdle away ten months in
port with everything ready for sea at
two hours notice and then break pro-
peller shaft a short time after starting
was bad enough, but, added to this, here
were nearly all the cables needing to be
| mended at one and the same time. If the
quick tempered skipper had known that
the hitherto reliable No. had just fail
ed, there is no telling what might have
happened.
"Avast there, Murchisonl II you have
not gumption enough to start that reel in
lively shape by this time, | don't want
| you on my ship any longer. You're dis
grace to the company's service. Clear
out! Mister Martin, isn't there man on
board that knows his business?"
| The captain hung on to the life lines
and fretted and fumed, while the second
officer and a quartermaster relieved the
offender at the deep sea lead. With
abashed look and trembling lips the un-
lucky Murchison recklessly hurried for
ward.
"Ready, SIR" quickly announced Mr..
Martin.
"Then reel awayw snapped the skip
per.
Down plunged the heavy weight into
| the water, and the pianoforte wire upon
the big reel paid out like silvery streak
in the reflection of the low drawing sun.
"One-hundred - and - eighty - two
| fathoms, SIR" called the leadsman in a
| few moments.
whats that?" calculated a young
man who had just emerged from deck
house, looking strangely out of place in
his derby hat and ordinary civilian at
| tire. "One hundred and eighty-two2 IL
| it's blue clay, I'll wager we're not so feet
| from the bruise. Just at the end of that
new piece we put in last year"
II hope you are right, Mr.. Canon"
| growled Captain Boylston, .bnt I'm
afraid we are not playing in such good
luck as all that. But, at any rate, it
must be near the spot. Mr.. Martin, have
| the tackle cleared for u.s."
Every good, sir" replied the second Of
| ficer, making his way forward.
'Here! Stand clear! Let me look"
cried the skipper as the lead came up.
4. Inserting his fingers into the grease
filed orifce at the bottom of the deep
sea plunger, he brought out lump of
dripping mud
! "Blue clay it is. You're right. think,
Mr.. Csnaa' said Captain Boylston in
pleased tVurs,
! The electrician merely nodded his head
in assent.
Lively with that grapnell' shouted
the captain in excited accents.
The steamship by this time was taking
on an air of hustle and noisy prepara-
tion. The picking nm machine made n