DOI issue:
August 12, 1865
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16876#0071
August 12, 1865.]
PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
59
|
MESSAGES FROM THE GREAT EASTERN.
{From our Special Correspondent.)
“ Thursday.
Y reason of an acci-
dent, my messages
have been stopped
for a week. The de-
tails were kept a
profound secret, but
it was given out that
a kink had occurred.
I have endeavoured
in vain to ascertain
what a kink is. My
Irish friend begs me
not to ask him, but
refers me to the Irish
melody called ‘ Brien
the Brave.’ Happily
I have the book,
but can only see a
statement that the
hero in question
‘ Returns to Kinkora
no more.5 I wait
explanation. We
have quite got away,
and are paying out
merrily. The scene
at the laying the
Shore end was, I am
told, very remark-
able, but there is
such a disposition to
turn everybody out
of the ship, that I
thought it best to
stick on board, as I might not have got back again. A reporter for
the Seven Dials Delineator was found in a cask, with a bottle of gin,
and a Dutch cheese, and I am told, for I could not witness the appalling
sight, was keel-hauled, and the lines on the larboard side breaking,
he never came up, and is supposed to have been eaten by one of our
gigantic barnacles.55
“ Friday.
“ It was not a kink, whatever that may be. A large piece of metal
pipe ran into the cable, and immediately began letting off the electricity
into the sea. The fizzing and turmoil could be distinctly witnessed, I
am informed, from our masthead, and my friend the young officer says
that the explosion was thought to be a water-spout. The pipe has been
lugged, and we are again insulated. The most bitter reproaches are
eing sent us from Yalentia, in the name of the British public, and the
Captain says, that if it were not that he has a duty to do, he would put
back to Yalentia, and punch the public’s head. I have advised him to
be pacific, but he says that would be unseamanlike, as he is on the
Atlantic. It is difficult to understand nautical etiquette.55
“ Saturday.
“ All goes well. My friend the young officer says that messages
constantly arrive from Ireland. We are instructed to take great care
not to let our fine become entangled with the Equinoctial line, he says,
and there is now a meeting in an Irish gentleman’s cabin to consider
this important subject. Several bottles have been sent for, I presume,
glass being a non-conductor, to try experiments. I have just seen the ;
servant come out with some scraps of tin-foil, which 1 know is used in
an electrical machine. As the door opened I caught the word ‘ bird’s
eye,5 which is the view, I presume, on some chart they are consulting.”
“ Sunday.
“ I am told by the chiel mate to put my watch back an hour, as the
day has decreased 63?. Looking at the almanack, I see that it is so,
but I do not remember that this correction was necessary on land.
Although Sunday, the process of paying out goes on. A Scotchman on
board grumbled that it was not right. Presently he remarked that he
saw sharks, and that they evidently mistook our line for one with a bait.
‘ The stupid fish are sold,5 he added. 4 And it’s lawful to sell fish on
Sunday, you know,5 said my Irish friend. The Scotchman was so
shocked at the laugh that he retreated to his cabin and ordered whiskey.
We had no sermon again to-day—the electricians say, and the Irish
agree, that the monotony of a single voice, for a long period, has some
disturbing effect on the electric current, which they cannot exactly
1 explain.”
“ Monday.
“ Accidentally saying to-day to my Irish friend that we seemed
nothing in the vast ocean, and that a single wave might send us to the
bottom, he told me to be comforted, for that there was no bottom.
We are now on an unfathomable abyss. No doubt this is a gigantic
vessel, but what if that awful monster, the Kraken, should be enraged
at beholding the largest ship that has ever sailed the sea, and should
rise at her? I do not believe that he is a fabulous creature. Nor,
secretly, does my friend, and he has confessed to me that he is more
comfortable than he should have been, had our ship continued to be
called Leviathan. Recommended me to read Hobbes’s work of that
name, as containing the very latest zoological information. I have
nothing to report to-day, except that I am told that the pressure of so
much electrical matter on board renders our compasses utterly worth-
less, and that we steer by the stars. As there are none, I do not know
how this is mauaged. My friend, the officer says that he saw an azimuth,
but did not like to shoot it, remembering Coleridge’s albatross.”
“ Tuesday.
“ Hearing that there was another kink in the cable, 1 made a formal
application to see it, as I had a right to do. The Captain assured me
that as soon as it was taken out, it should be brought into mycabiu for
me to see. I retired thither accordingly, and late in the afternoon my
Irish friend came in, followed by some sailors, who brought the kink
in a tub of salt water. It is a singular creature, and seemed to me to
resemble a gridiron as much as anything, its head representing the
handle, but I could not look closely, for the men kept it as much as pos-
sible under a blanket, stating that too much light, would be fatal. 1 do
not wonder at its stopping the current of electricity. My friends said
that they had seen larger ones, one, I think, is preserved among the
curiosities at a London Club called the Steaks, and another was obtained,
years ago, by the landlord of a waterside inn somewhere in the East of
the Metropolis, and called Dolly’s. I asked what would be done
with it, and they said that very likely the sailors would put it on the
fire for the benefit of their supper. This seemed cruel, but we have no
such scruples in the case of lobsters and crabs. I am glad to have
seen a kink, but I wish 1 could have sketched it. I am informed,
however, that a work called Cobbett’s Register has several drawings
of the creature.”
“ Wednesday.
“ A Deputation from the Company, the Electricians, and the Captain
and crew waited upon me, introduced by my Irish friend. It was
respectfully represented to me that the Telegraph was really a private
affair, and not the public’s, and that reporters had no more right on
board than they had in my apartments in Lyndhurst Square, Peckham.
My presence was stated to be most welcome, but I was requested, in
the event of my beholding something which might appear to me to be
very dreadful, not to describe it until my return to Englaud. I remem-
bered the unfortunate case of the Seven Dials Delineator, and gave the
promise, desiring to see no barnacles except those of my aged grand-
mother at Peckham. I afterwards endeavoured to ascertain from my
friends what might be in contemplation. One looked (as always)
exceedingly grave. The other said, ‘ You saw that kink F5 ‘ Yes, par-
tially.5 ‘Ah!5 ‘ What do you mean F5 ‘ The Company will not take
your word.5 He left the cabin, groaning deeply, and repeating, * O, for
a Lodge in some vast wilderness !5 I do not understand this, but if I
never telegraph again, remember that I was doing my duty, and look
after my respected grandmother.”
VICTORY TO THE CLASSICS.
{A Holiday Hint.)
“ See here, girls,” said their brother Tom, home from school.
“ Twenty-nine pounds was given at a sale for a single hegg of the great
Auk.”
“ You might say ess. Tom.” said Ethel.
” And you might say hawk, Tom,” said Alice.
“ Eggs is eggs,” said Tom, with an effort, “ but it ain’t a hawk.”
“ Eggs are eggs, Tom,” said Ethel.
“ Ain’t, vulgar for is not, Tom,” said Alice.
“ Bother,” said Tom. “ You great stupids, I don’t mean hawk, as
in Horkney aud Shetland Isles, North 8ea, but auk as in awkward,
like you.”
“ Aud that’s what Papa pays five-and-twenty pounds a quarter for,”
said Ethel.
“ And just look at his nails, and his arms on the table,” said Alice.
“ Shut up,” said Tom. “ Which of you can say fifty lines of
Horace F55 {Begins at Humano capiti cervicem, and never stops until
the girls have run out of the room.)
Fearful Sign.
“ There are Thirty-Nine Dissenters in the New Parliamemt. There
are Thirty-Nine Articles. This is clearly a conspiracy. Each schismatic
is to destroy one article. While we have a Newdegate, we will not
utterly despair, but things never looked so bad for the Church.”—
Record.
PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
59
|
MESSAGES FROM THE GREAT EASTERN.
{From our Special Correspondent.)
“ Thursday.
Y reason of an acci-
dent, my messages
have been stopped
for a week. The de-
tails were kept a
profound secret, but
it was given out that
a kink had occurred.
I have endeavoured
in vain to ascertain
what a kink is. My
Irish friend begs me
not to ask him, but
refers me to the Irish
melody called ‘ Brien
the Brave.’ Happily
I have the book,
but can only see a
statement that the
hero in question
‘ Returns to Kinkora
no more.5 I wait
explanation. We
have quite got away,
and are paying out
merrily. The scene
at the laying the
Shore end was, I am
told, very remark-
able, but there is
such a disposition to
turn everybody out
of the ship, that I
thought it best to
stick on board, as I might not have got back again. A reporter for
the Seven Dials Delineator was found in a cask, with a bottle of gin,
and a Dutch cheese, and I am told, for I could not witness the appalling
sight, was keel-hauled, and the lines on the larboard side breaking,
he never came up, and is supposed to have been eaten by one of our
gigantic barnacles.55
“ Friday.
“ It was not a kink, whatever that may be. A large piece of metal
pipe ran into the cable, and immediately began letting off the electricity
into the sea. The fizzing and turmoil could be distinctly witnessed, I
am informed, from our masthead, and my friend the young officer says
that the explosion was thought to be a water-spout. The pipe has been
lugged, and we are again insulated. The most bitter reproaches are
eing sent us from Yalentia, in the name of the British public, and the
Captain says, that if it were not that he has a duty to do, he would put
back to Yalentia, and punch the public’s head. I have advised him to
be pacific, but he says that would be unseamanlike, as he is on the
Atlantic. It is difficult to understand nautical etiquette.55
“ Saturday.
“ All goes well. My friend the young officer says that messages
constantly arrive from Ireland. We are instructed to take great care
not to let our fine become entangled with the Equinoctial line, he says,
and there is now a meeting in an Irish gentleman’s cabin to consider
this important subject. Several bottles have been sent for, I presume,
glass being a non-conductor, to try experiments. I have just seen the ;
servant come out with some scraps of tin-foil, which 1 know is used in
an electrical machine. As the door opened I caught the word ‘ bird’s
eye,5 which is the view, I presume, on some chart they are consulting.”
“ Sunday.
“ I am told by the chiel mate to put my watch back an hour, as the
day has decreased 63?. Looking at the almanack, I see that it is so,
but I do not remember that this correction was necessary on land.
Although Sunday, the process of paying out goes on. A Scotchman on
board grumbled that it was not right. Presently he remarked that he
saw sharks, and that they evidently mistook our line for one with a bait.
‘ The stupid fish are sold,5 he added. 4 And it’s lawful to sell fish on
Sunday, you know,5 said my Irish friend. The Scotchman was so
shocked at the laugh that he retreated to his cabin and ordered whiskey.
We had no sermon again to-day—the electricians say, and the Irish
agree, that the monotony of a single voice, for a long period, has some
disturbing effect on the electric current, which they cannot exactly
1 explain.”
“ Monday.
“ Accidentally saying to-day to my Irish friend that we seemed
nothing in the vast ocean, and that a single wave might send us to the
bottom, he told me to be comforted, for that there was no bottom.
We are now on an unfathomable abyss. No doubt this is a gigantic
vessel, but what if that awful monster, the Kraken, should be enraged
at beholding the largest ship that has ever sailed the sea, and should
rise at her? I do not believe that he is a fabulous creature. Nor,
secretly, does my friend, and he has confessed to me that he is more
comfortable than he should have been, had our ship continued to be
called Leviathan. Recommended me to read Hobbes’s work of that
name, as containing the very latest zoological information. I have
nothing to report to-day, except that I am told that the pressure of so
much electrical matter on board renders our compasses utterly worth-
less, and that we steer by the stars. As there are none, I do not know
how this is mauaged. My friend, the officer says that he saw an azimuth,
but did not like to shoot it, remembering Coleridge’s albatross.”
“ Tuesday.
“ Hearing that there was another kink in the cable, 1 made a formal
application to see it, as I had a right to do. The Captain assured me
that as soon as it was taken out, it should be brought into mycabiu for
me to see. I retired thither accordingly, and late in the afternoon my
Irish friend came in, followed by some sailors, who brought the kink
in a tub of salt water. It is a singular creature, and seemed to me to
resemble a gridiron as much as anything, its head representing the
handle, but I could not look closely, for the men kept it as much as pos-
sible under a blanket, stating that too much light, would be fatal. 1 do
not wonder at its stopping the current of electricity. My friends said
that they had seen larger ones, one, I think, is preserved among the
curiosities at a London Club called the Steaks, and another was obtained,
years ago, by the landlord of a waterside inn somewhere in the East of
the Metropolis, and called Dolly’s. I asked what would be done
with it, and they said that very likely the sailors would put it on the
fire for the benefit of their supper. This seemed cruel, but we have no
such scruples in the case of lobsters and crabs. I am glad to have
seen a kink, but I wish 1 could have sketched it. I am informed,
however, that a work called Cobbett’s Register has several drawings
of the creature.”
“ Wednesday.
“ A Deputation from the Company, the Electricians, and the Captain
and crew waited upon me, introduced by my Irish friend. It was
respectfully represented to me that the Telegraph was really a private
affair, and not the public’s, and that reporters had no more right on
board than they had in my apartments in Lyndhurst Square, Peckham.
My presence was stated to be most welcome, but I was requested, in
the event of my beholding something which might appear to me to be
very dreadful, not to describe it until my return to Englaud. I remem-
bered the unfortunate case of the Seven Dials Delineator, and gave the
promise, desiring to see no barnacles except those of my aged grand-
mother at Peckham. I afterwards endeavoured to ascertain from my
friends what might be in contemplation. One looked (as always)
exceedingly grave. The other said, ‘ You saw that kink F5 ‘ Yes, par-
tially.5 ‘Ah!5 ‘ What do you mean F5 ‘ The Company will not take
your word.5 He left the cabin, groaning deeply, and repeating, * O, for
a Lodge in some vast wilderness !5 I do not understand this, but if I
never telegraph again, remember that I was doing my duty, and look
after my respected grandmother.”
VICTORY TO THE CLASSICS.
{A Holiday Hint.)
“ See here, girls,” said their brother Tom, home from school.
“ Twenty-nine pounds was given at a sale for a single hegg of the great
Auk.”
“ You might say ess. Tom.” said Ethel.
” And you might say hawk, Tom,” said Alice.
“ Eggs is eggs,” said Tom, with an effort, “ but it ain’t a hawk.”
“ Eggs are eggs, Tom,” said Ethel.
“ Ain’t, vulgar for is not, Tom,” said Alice.
“ Bother,” said Tom. “ You great stupids, I don’t mean hawk, as
in Horkney aud Shetland Isles, North 8ea, but auk as in awkward,
like you.”
“ Aud that’s what Papa pays five-and-twenty pounds a quarter for,”
said Ethel.
“ And just look at his nails, and his arms on the table,” said Alice.
“ Shut up,” said Tom. “ Which of you can say fifty lines of
Horace F55 {Begins at Humano capiti cervicem, and never stops until
the girls have run out of the room.)
Fearful Sign.
“ There are Thirty-Nine Dissenters in the New Parliamemt. There
are Thirty-Nine Articles. This is clearly a conspiracy. Each schismatic
is to destroy one article. While we have a Newdegate, we will not
utterly despair, but things never looked so bad for the Church.”—
Record.