Ghost Messages (17 page)

The gale hit with pounding waves and hurricane winds. The mighty ship rolled and wallowed as she stoically endured all the sea threw at her. The battle never let up and as Ailish sat huddled in her big bed listening to the howling of the storm, she was thankful that Davy and Charlie had done such a good job of keeping the
Great Eastern
shipshape.

Finally, dawn broke and with it the tempest abated. With the sun came renewed hope as the men doggedly set to work preparing the grapnel for its long descent.

When Ailish went on deck, she felt that today would be an extra important one.

“Are you a betting man, Mr. Whelan?” she asked, handing Paddy one of the steaming cups of coffee she’d brought with her from the galley. “I’ll wager we finish the job this try.”

“I’m worried saying it out loud will jinx it, O’Connor. Before I face that engine again, let me finish my mug in peace.” He motioned her to the ship’s rail and together, they watched the sun scribing its arc over the silky water. Again, she was struck with the wonder of the sea, the indomitable power hiding beneath that tranquil surface.

“You’re right about one thing, lass, today is the day.”

Something in his tone alerted her. “Yes…” She drew out the word. “Today we bring up the cable and continue our journey to Heart’s Content. By tonight, we’ll be steaming west.”

He turned to her, mouth set firmly. “I don’t think you understand. We’ve used every scrap of wire, hemp rope and manila line we have aboard. There is no more.”

Her face fell as the full meaning of his words became clear. “So this is the last chance. If the grappling line breaks again and the wire sinks to the ocean bottom, we’ll have no choice but to go back to Ireland.”

He nodded. “One way or another, O’Connor, today is the day.”

She knew all hands had said a silent prayer as the last of the cobbled wire was cast into the ocean, then everyone waited to see if they could hook their elusive fish.

Two hours later, Paddy waved and this time, the men did cheer. “We’ve got it!” He fired up the engine and working levers and gears, set the machine rattling and banging as it brought up the prize.

Tension had never been higher. Ailish felt she could squeeze it in her fist and wring out the sweat. All day, the engine toiled as fathom after fathom of wire was reeled back in. There was not a breath of breeze, as though the very air around them knew the import of this day. Captain Anderson strode up and down Oxford Street, looking severe, and Ailish thought he was trying to make the cable appear through sheer force of will.

The first hundred-fathom join came up with no problem, then the next, and the next. Mutterings took on a hopeful tone. The next hundred was hauled aboard and the one after that and still the wire held.

Ailish wanted to get closer, to offer a few words of encouragement to Paddy, but she knew he was so focused on his job, that any distraction would not be welcome.

It was evening and the eighth join had been safely pulled up when Ailish saw something odd about the line. It looked somehow thinner than the previous sections, as though it were stretched to its limit.

Before she could say a word, the wire gave way, flew through the capstan and was gone, quicker than the gasp that escaped Ailish’s lips.

No anguished cry arose from the crew. No frantic scrambling to prepare another attempt. Everything they had worked for so tirelessly was swallowed in one bite by the relentless ocean, leaving not a ripple on the surface.

They were defeated.

19

The Future Is Waiting

.-- …. . .-. . .-- .- … - …. . … …. .. .--. -… --- ..- -. -..

The mood was somber as the crew shut off the
machines and put away their tools. Ailish ran to Paddy. “It’s really over, then?”

“Aye, lass. This is the end of it.” His voice was strained and despair written plainly on his face. Wiping his hands with a rag, he leaned against one of the cannon. Ailish noticed a deep gash scored the barrel from the deadly encounter with the lethal wire. “I’m looking on the bright side, small though it may be. My family may have to wait a little longer for their money, but at least they’ll get it and me, safe and sound.”

“And the O’Connors will be the ones appearing in the pages of the
Irish Times
as newly wealthy emigrants to Newfoundland.” She grinned self-consciously up at him. “It was quite the adventure, wasn’t it?”

“Like no other – and I don’t just mean the laying of the transatlantic cable. We made a fine pair, Miss O’Connor. Two Irishmen on a mission.”

“Two Irish
persons,”
she corrected, “and I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Whelan!” Unexpectedly, a lump seemed to form in her throat. “Paddy, it’s been a privilege being here on the
Great Eastern
and to see everyone working together to make this venture a success. This isn’t the end. Men like Cyrus Field and Mr. Canning, not to mention Professor Thompson, will never let the dream die. The future is waiting. I know the transatlantic cable will work; that one day, ghost messages will be flying thick and fast all over the world. I get a tingly feeling when I think about it and my tingly feelings are never wrong.”

They exchanged a look and she knew no more words were necessary. They were friends and always would be, no matter the time or tides that lay ahead.

– - • – –

Paddy left to rejoin the men and Ailish continued
to watch the activities on deck. She wondered what would happen next. Her answer came through the deck under her feet as she felt the
Great Eastern’s
engines begin to pound. Slowly the bow of the ship swung eastward as Captain Anderson, reacting swiftly to this last disaster, started their long journey home.

Disappointment, weariness and a terrible sadness overtook Ailish. Not wanting her crewmates to see her so dejected, she silently slipped below to her quarters. “Stop being such a baby,” she chided herself, but it was no use. She couldn’t stem the sudden flood of tears and she wept into her pillow, not for herself, but for all the stalwart crew who had tried so hard and given so much. Her eyes, red and swollen, grew heavy and she fell into a restless sleep, filled with strange dreams.

Davy Jones moved languorously through all of them and each time she saw him, he grew more transparent, becoming a will-o-the-wisp, a breath of air on a frosty morning. And always, in her dreamscapes, he was walking by her side but just out of reach.

The minute Ailish awoke she went in search of her friend. She hadn’t meant to nap and knew he would be desperate for news. As she made her way down to the storage hold, she was unable to set aside the feeling that there was something she couldn’t quite grasp, something cloudy and intangible like the mist in her dreams.

It was a relief to see Davy on his usual crate. His face told her he already knew the fate of the cable.

“We’re bound for Ireland now,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “And I’ll be showing my da this wretched hair.”

“It’s growing on me.” Davy tipped his head. “Or maybe I should say it’s growing on you. I’ll bet he’ll be that glad to see you, he won’t notice the stylish new bob.”

That’s what she loved about him. Davy could always make her feel better, no matter what. “I’m guessing that means we’ll be parting ways soon.” She had to force the words out as they seemed to stick.

“Aye, my girl, that it does.”

She went on haltingly. “I want to thank you again for, for…being such a good friend. I couldn’t have made it without you.”

The look he gave her was filled with warmth. “No, Ails, it’s the other way around. I couldn’t have made it without you! It’s been a long time since I had anyone to talk to. You have no idea how much I’ll miss you.”

Ailish thought of all they’d been through. Davy had been getting her out of trouble from the first time she set foot on the deck plates of his ship and soon, they would be separated forever. It was strange how in such a short time, she’d become so close to this bash boy that the thought of leaving him behind was impossible.

She didn’t want to say goodbye. “Davy, why don’t you come with me when we reach Valentia? Once my da sells the wonderful horse, there will be more than enough money to give all of us a new start.” It was insane, yet in her heart, this is what she truly wanted and she was desperate now. “You could come to Newfoundland with us. They have lots of boats there. Why, a lad who knows the workings of ships as much as you do would be able to find employment in no time...”

But Davy was slowly shaking his head. The sadness on his face tore at her and she knew what he was going to say.

“That’s a fine dream, lass, but no. Even if there was a way for me to go with you, my place is here on my ship.” He smiled at her, but the smile never reached his remarkable eyes. “Besides, who’d look after that big galoot Charlie? He’d be lost without me. We’re as much a part of the
Great Eastern
as the iron plates and rivets holding her together.”

His voice was as soft as a sea breeze and Ailish felt an odd prickling sensation, like when your foot goes to sleep. Then waves of warmth started inside her and spread outward to her fingers and toes, the heat building from a spark to a flame. Trembling, she forced herself back under control and quenched the invisible fire.

Davy stood up. “There’s Charlie calling. I’d best be getting back to work.” Smiling, he gave her a roguish wink. “I can promise you this: you’ll always be my favourite cabin boy.” He turned to leave, then stopped and faced her. “There’s an old sentiment that says as long as you keep a loved one in your heart, they are with you always. You’ll always be with me, Ailish O’Connor.”

He walked away and as she watched, a trick of the light made it seem as though he was growing transparent, fading, until he disappeared into the darkness.

Epilogue

September 8, 1866

.-- …. .- - .-- .- … -.. .- …- -.--

It had been a year since the disastrous cable
-laying attempt, but as Ailish stood once more at the bow of the
Great Eastern,
it seemed like a lifetime ago. They were anchored at Heart’s Content, Newfoundland, and this time, the transatlantic cable had been successfully laid with not one mishap. The most important undertaking in the world was finally a success story, one for the history books.

Far below, Ailish could see Cyrus Field, up to his knees in the chilly bay water, as he supervised hauling the shore cable. This heavier end would be spliced to the much thinner cable they had laid and the flurry of telegraph signals would begin. She admired the friendly American. His vision led him to invest more money in this year’s success and she hoped he made a million pounds and was famous forever.

As she watched, he turned and saluted, his wide grin flashing up at her. She nodded back; then hugged her father, as he kissed the top of her head. Her hair was longer again, but she didn’t wear it in braids or flying wildly loose as a young girl would. She swept it up now, and it made her feel very ladylike. Her stylish Dublin clothes added to her new mystique, and her da looked a proper gentleman, too, with his tall beaver hat and long frock coat.

When she’d returned to Ireland last year, her da, healthy once more, had been overjoyed to see her. He’d thought it miraculous that she came back not only with the wonderful golden horse, but with two sheep in tow. Now, when they sat together in the evenings, he never failed to ask for another story about her time aboard the
Great Eastern.
His taste for whiskey was gone. Instead, they drank pots of the strongest tea in the world and Ailish loved it.

“This crossing was nothing like last year’s,” she said to Captain Anderson, who stood next to Ailish and her da.

He nodded as the corners of his mouth twitched. “Agreed. I didn’t have an impudent stowaway to knock me down.”

She giggled. “I turned out to be a very helpful stowaway. I took great care of Dimples and Rainbow and they will certainly love their new home.”

Michael O’Connor smiled. “Thanks to that wondrous little horse, we were able to buy that fine fishing boat for me and an even grander house on the harbour for Ails. I think my daughter will make a wonderful chatelaine and we’d be proud if you’d stay with us when you’re in port, Captain Anderson.”

“That would be very generous, sir. It would be a true kindness if I had a bed that didn’t move with the tide.” He stroked his precisely trimmed beard. “I had a piece of news you may be interested in. Rufus Dalton is enjoying a lengthy stay in Newgate Prison for a series of crimes reported, they say, by ex-members of his gang. I’m happy your treasure wasn’t added to the list of stolen and lost property.”

“And Paddy Whelan, have you any word of him?” Ailish asked.

“No, lass, but I’m sure that clever young man is doing fine.”

Her father looked at his new watch. “It’s time to go ashore, me darlin’. We’d best get our belongings.”

Ailish didn’t want to leave the ship, not yet. At the beginning of the crossing, she’d asked after Davy Jones, even gone looking for him – but she’d been unable to find him, and no one had seen or heard of the riveter and his bash boy. She hadn’t wanted to bother the captain with it during the cable laying, but now was her last chance to find out.