Immediately, a frenzied commotion ensued around the man who had sounded the news. Ailish, Paddy and Mr. Field all hurried toward the hubbub.
When they arrived, the American pushed through the crowd to join several gentlemen who were leaning over the trough where the dead cable lay, while Paddy and Ailish hung back.
“Look at this, Cyrus,” a man with a thick Scots accent indicated to Mr. Field.
“Who’s the Scottish gent?” Ailish asked Paddy in a hushed tone.
“Professor Thomson, the most brilliant scientist of our time, a true genius, I heard. The other fellow is Samuel Canning; he’s in charge of the actual cable laying.”
Ailish watched as the three conferred. She could feel the tension in the men around her as the murmuring increased and then Mr. Field held up his hand. There was something in it. Ailish tried to get a better look, but the crowd was pressing closer and she had trouble seeing through the throng.
“Gentlemen, this is a dark day for all of us. We have but only begun our journey and here we have evidence of sabotage! This two-inch spike was driven through the cable allowing the electric current to leak into the ocean and stop the signal from reaching back to Ireland.”
Ailish saw Rufus Dalton standing beside Cyrus Field. He was busy looking very important for the crowd until he caught sight of Paddy; then an evil grin appeared like a gash across his face.
“Fenians! A Fenian traitor in our midst!” he shouted to the gathered men.
Pandemonium ensued as the word spread like fire through thatch. Ailish knew that this ship was filled with English gentlemen who feared the Irish freedom brotherhood and she also realized death would be how they’d deal with anyone caught.
Mr. Field motioned for silence. “Sabotage does seem likely, Mr. Dalton, but why do you suspect the Fenians?”
“I can guarantee that wire was sound when it left the tank. I’m telling you, it’s a plot. I’ve heard rumours the Fenians want to invade Canada and hold her ransom until the English leave Ireland. Without the telegraph cable, it would be weeks before England could answer Canada’s call for help and by then, it would be too late.”
Again there was a general outcry.
“Hang the traitor!”
“Throw him overboard!”
Ailish saw an imposing man in a crisp Navy uniform step forward. This, she reasoned, had to be Captain Anderson. Things were very tense and it was not the time to spring an unexpected cabin boy on him. She melted further back into the crowd.
“I will personally conduct this investigation.” The captain’s voice boomed over the noise, stilling the ruckus. “I want the Fenian scoundrel arrested and sent to England for treason – if we don’t keelhaul him first. I will not tolerate any interference with this project.”
Ailish saw Dalton look at Paddy, then draw his thumb across his throat in a gesture that made her blood run cold.
The captain called for order. “We will splice the cable and continue on our mission. Thousands of men have worked for many years to make this dream come true and we shall not be defeated. This is our chance to make history, gentlemen. Let’s make that history a glorious one!”
A chorus of enthusiastic assent rose from the men and they set to work. The captain’s words stirred something in Ailish, too, and she saw how, small as it seemed, the cable was bigger than any single person here. She had a feeling the transatlantic telegraph cable would change the world as she knew it.
“What happens now?” she asked Paddy, who had slid farther back into the crowd to stand beside her.
“They’ll cut out the bad section and splice the end to fresh cable from the tanks. If it’s still dead once we’ve completed this, then we have naught else to do but sail for home. We’ll have done all we can.”
The sun scribed its brilliant arc as it climbed ever higher in the clear blue sky but no one left Oxford Street while the splice was made. The crowd milled about, men offering help wherever needed. Paddy pulled out some sailor’s hardtack and broke her off a piece. With the biscuit, Ailish was able to wait the long, tense time until at last, the cable was whole once again.
Cyrus Field left for the telegraph testing caboose to see if the freshly repaired wire would actually work. The very air around them stilled as every man and one young girl stood silently awaiting the verdict.
5
Slip of the Lip
.- .. .-.. … -.. .- -.-. .- .-.. .-.. … …. . .-. --. .. ..-. - - …. .. …
Moments later, the American gentleman emerged from the caboose and the crowd held its breath. His face remained inscrutable but then he lifted his head and spoke the welcome words.
“The cable is working perfectly! Ireland is engaged again.”
A cheer swelled from all on deck. Ailish felt her spirit leap. She was truly glad the cable was repaired and she raised her voice along with the others.
“Time to cadge a quick forty winks,” Paddy said with a yawn. “Dalton’s keeping an eye on me and knows when he goes off shift in two hours I’ll be left on afternoon watch. I don’t want the crew chief to have me up on orders for falling asleep at my post. I think you’ll be safe enough on deck now that the crisis has passed. I’ll see you later, O’Connor.” With a wave, he left her standing amid the hustle and bustle.
Everyone else, excited at the happy news of the signal, remained to watch as the cable was returned to the sea.
Ailish herself desperately needed sleep. But first, she wanted to tell Davy what had happened. She threaded her way through the crowd, then past several cabooses to the hatch that led belowdecks. As she reached for the iron door, it flew open and Rufus Dalton stood in her path.
Ailish was so surprised, she stood rooted to the spot.
“You again! Where are you off to, boy?”
“Ah, going to get some sleep, sir.” She ducked her head, not wanting to look him in the eye.
He stared down at her suspiciously. “What did you say your name was?”
Ailish gulped. “O’Connor, sir.”
“Why don’t I remember seeing you before today?”
“I’m not sure, sir. I’m small, maybe you overlooked me.” Ailish kept her eyes downcast. For someone who was supposed to be an example to his men, Dalton was downright scruffy. His boots and wool trousers were coated in dingy black dirt, and he smelled of rank sweat.
Dalton grunted and pushed past her. “Stay out of my way, stupid boy, or I’ll have you paying the devil!”
It must be another seafaring term, Ailish thought, but whatever “paying the devil” was, she knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. Grateful to escape once more, she fled below to find Davy.
– - • – –
Davy was in the hold where Ailish had first met him, sitting on a large crate.
“You’ll never guess what’s been going on topside,” she began, hoisting herself up onto the box next to him. “It’s incredible.” Quickly, she explained what had happened.
“At first, I wanted the cable to fail so we could go home, but now, I truly would like to see it succeed. I would be part of a great event in history, something to tell my grandchildren, that’s for sure,” she finished with a flourish.
“Oh, aye. To be part of this is marvellous, indeed,” he agreed.
“And going home is out of the question until I solve the matter of my stolen property, anyway.” Ailish thought of Dalton and his threat against Paddy. “There’s something else I need to tell you, Davy, and it may take awhile.”
“I’m not going anywhere and I crave a good story.” He swung his legs in a most casual manner.
Wiggling in a vain attempt to get more comfortable on the hard wooden crate, Ailish explained about overhearing Dalton blackmailing Paddy for his money.
“Aye, that Mr. Dalton has been a bad one for years. Not a good soul, at all.” Davy agreed. “If there’s something rotten belowdecks, you can bet Dalton is behind it.”
“And I haven’t told you the worst part yet. He’s going to make it seem like a Fenian
plot is being hatched on board and Paddy is the culprit. This is why the cable fault is so frightening. It plays right into Dalton’s plan and now everyone is looking for the traitor. Besides myself, Paddy is the only other Irishman aboard.”
Davy shot her a teasing look.
“Irish person aboard,” she amended. “This could go very badly for Paddy and I like him. I don’t want anything terrible to happen. Now that the cable is working, I hope this tempest will blow over and the rest of the trip will be uneventful.”
“And what if this friend of yours is a Fenian and did put that nail through the wire?”
Now came the tricky part. How could Ailish explain her gift without sounding as crazy as a bedbug? “I know Paddy didn’t sabotage the cable,” she began.
“Oh, and how is that?”
“I’m going to tell you something that may sound strange, even… supernatural, but it’s the truth.” She took a deep breath. “I can tell things about people, if they’re good or evil, by touching them, or simply being near them.”
Davy seemed to freeze beside her – she hoped he didn’t think she was mad with her fey talk. She hurried on with her explanation. “My da calls it the second sight. That’s how I know Paddy is a good man. I could feel it about him.”
Several expressions crossed Davy’s face at once; finally, he raised his eyebrows sceptically in a gesture Ailish knew only too well. She’d seen it on the faces of loads of unbelievers. “It’s not malarkey. I can!”
“Is that so? And what does this sixth sense of yours say about me?” He crossed his arms and waited.
Closing her eyes to concentrate, she searched for the feeling that told her what the inside of someone looked like. She felt a tingle that warmed her right down to the tips of her fingers and toes. It was like nothing she’d ever had before, and it told her nothing about Davy she recognized, either good or bad. She wiggled a little closer, but still nothing.
Several tense minutes passed, then Ailish frowned. “Very odd.” Tentatively, she reached out a hand for his. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this; since he didn’t believe she really could see the invisible, he might get the wrong idea.
Davy shifted away and exclaimed in irritation, “Who, me? You think I’m odd!” Ailish yanked her hand back and Davy jumped down off their perch. “Thanks a lot.”
“No, no, that was only a, a… slip of the lip. It’s simply that, well, I don’t feel anything from you. If I could just...” Ailish felt heat rush into her cheeks, “hold your hand to get a proper reading.” She held her own hand up and wiggled her fingers.
“Oh, I see. I’m not good enough to register on your gypsy gauge.”
Now she was irritated. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure if I touched you…”
“So, I’m ridiculous now!” Davy cut her off.
He was tangling her words, changing what she meant. “You don’t understand,” she said curtly.
“Maybe I’m too thick to figure out what a grand lady like you means!”
Storm clouds gathered in Ailish’s eyes. “Stop right there! You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Am I? I’m only a simple bash boy and maybe ‘simple’ is the right word.”
Now Ailish slid off the crate. “Simply pigheaded, yes!” she shot back.
“You have a strange way of treating your friends, Ailish O’Connor. I think I hear Charlie calling.” He spun to leave, then stopped and turned back to her. “It’s you who doesn’t understand, Ails.”
Ailish caught her breath at the familiar nickname.
“Anyone out here on the briny knows the ocean has many supernatural mysteries that no one can explain. And as for the cable” – his tone became superior again – “it’s a long way to Newfoundland and only a fool would believe all the problems are over.”
And before she could say another word, he stomped away into the darkness.
Ailish was so angry she could spit. Davy Jones was the most stubborn, obstinate, rude and unreasonable boy she had ever met! Pigheaded seemed a particularly accurate description.
The anger fuelled a new burst of energy and Ailish decided to go top side to find Dalton. It had been a couple of hours since Paddy had gone for his forty winks which meant a shift change was due. She’d thought about where she’d hide a valuable statue that couldn’t be locked in the ship’s safe, and the answer was obvious. She was sure Rufus Dalton had it stashed in his cabin. At shift change he’d be heading there for some bunk time, so this was her chance to find out where that was.
She stepped through the hatch onto the main deck and stopped in her tracks. The dreaded gong sounded once more!
6
Safe Harbour
.. -. .-- …. .- - .-. --- --- -- -.. --- . … .- .. .-.. … -. .- .--.
The cable had ceased to work again after having been so laboriously repaired and Ailish, exhausted herself, felt the despair of those around her as mutterings grew louder that the Fenians had struck again.
She was about to try and find Paddy to tell him what was going on, when Dalton jumped atop one of the cannons that lined the deck and called to the crowd.
“This second fault is proof of sabotage and we cannot let it go unchallenged,” he shouted, stoking the unrest. “You have worked as no other crew could and I’m proud of each and every one of you. And now tired as we all are, we must splice the cable again. I haven’t left this deck, but someone has and that man is our Fenian traitor. I say we find the dog and deal with him ourselves!”
There was a chorus of agreement and Ailish had to give the devil his due: Dalton had a way of speaking that was very persuasive. The men, frustrated and volatile, were close to rioting and she was sure who Dalton would suggest as a target. She couldn’t believe the cable would have to be spliced again! Her own back ached at the thought. She admired the toughness of these sailors and was very glad she wasn’t the one who would have to fix the blasted thing.
“Wait!” Cyrus Field pushed to the front of the throng. The American raised his hands for silence. “The signal’s started again! The cable is sound once more.”
A grateful murmur ran through the crowd and the relief was obvious on all the men’s faces save one. Rufus Dalton looked furious and Ailish knew it was because his plot against Paddy had been foiled. With an angry curse, he jumped down from the cannon and was swallowed up by the jostling crowd.
Ailish shoved and pushed her way through the melee. She thought she caught a glimpse of him disappearing behind one of the cabooses, but when the crowd thinned and she was finally able to run after him, he was nowhere in sight.
Stumbling, Ailish decided this was too much excitement for her. She was so tired, she could hardly walk and she certainly couldn’t think straight. She simply had to get some rest before tracking him to his den. That was one good thing about being at sea – no one could go far. He’d be aboard tomorrow when her brain was clearer and not muzzy from lack of sleep.
Ailish left the crowd and made her way belowdecks to find the stateroom Davy had told her about, but the ship was so immense, that before long she was thoroughly lost. She wandered the hallways and hatchways, hopelessly muddled and feeling more dejected by the minute. She certainly wasn’t going to go mincing back to Mr. Pigheaded Jones, interrupting his work to ask for directions again like some ninny.
At last, after miles of corridors and rooms and tramping from deck to deck without success, Ailish spied a sign that said Family Saloon and went to have a look, carefully closing the door behind her. Soft light from the hallway spilled in through a row of windows set high in the wall. Here was more evidence of the Great Eastern’s earlier glory. In the room were shelves of toys and games, long disused rocking horses with real horsehair manes and tails, and children’s wooden blocks with faded gold letters painted on their sides. A colourful toy box drew her like a magnet and she rummaged in it finding a china faced doll with a broken leg and a teddy bear with one eye missing as well as an entire army of lead soldiers. Tucked in a corner of the
old box, a shiny brass whistle on a chain winked at her invitingly. She found it irresistible and slid it over her head, deciding no rough crewman on a cable-laying ship would want such a trifle.
It was then she noticed a divan in the corner. It looked so inviting and she was so very tired; surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a small rest. Yawning, Ailish decided she would take a ten minute catnap, and then continue on. Only ten minutes…
Noises in the hallway woke her with a start. She could hear sailors’ voices and they were getting louder. She sat up when they stopped right outside the Family Saloon. Quietly, she slid off the couch and tiptoed over to the door, then pressed her ear against the cool wood. Two sailors were talking about the cable fault and the Irish Fenian traitor.
“Dalton says we can break his legs and dump him overboard when we find him.” she heard one sailor say.
“It won’t be the first time. Just be glad we’re not on his fish food list!” the second laughed.
Ailish shuddered. What if they came into the playroom and found her? She was Irish and had no way to explain what she was doing here. What if they thought she was the Fenian and took her to Dalton?
She’d been foolish to sleep here. There was no place to hide. As she stepped back, her foot trod on a cup from a child’s tea service. The fragile china shattered into a thousand pieces. The noise was a thunderclap in the silent room.
“What was that?” the first sailor asked.
“Maybe ghosties comin’ for ye,” the other snorted.
“Nay, man, I heard something. What’s in that room?”
Ailish stared at the door knob, watching for it to turn. Holding her breath, she waited, and waited…
“You need to lay off the grog,” the second ruffian growled; then, like a prayer answered, the footsteps continued and the voices faded.
She exhaled with relief. That had been too close. She couldn’t risk one more minute here. Edging the door open a crack, she checked to make sure the coast was clear, then hurriedly left the playroom feeling like a child in a game of hide and seek with Stateroom A hiding and her seeking.
Ghost Messages Page 4