in which the story finds a “fault,” and the electrical current ends.

now, it is not in the nature of things that man, in his present state, should attain to full satisfaction. he may, indeed he should, attain to contentment, but as long as there are higher and better things within his reach, he must of necessity remain in some degree unsatisfied.

some such idea must have been passing through robin wright’s brain one fine morning, as he slowly paced the deck of a small schooner with his friend sam shipton, for he suddenly broke a prolonged silence with the following remark:—

“i don’t know how it is, sam, but although i am surrounded with everything that should make a fellow happy, i’m—i’m not happy. in fact, i’m as miserable as it is possible to be!”

“come now, robin, don’t exaggerate,” said sam in a remonstrative tone. “hyperbole is very objectionable, especially in young men. you know that if you were tied to a huge gridiron over a slow fire, you would be more miserable than you are at present.”

robin smiled and admitted the truth of this, but nevertheless reiterated his assertion that he was decidedly unhappy.

this conversation, we may remark, took place on board of sam shipton’s yacht, off the west coast of scotland, several years after the events narrated in the previous chapter.

“well, now, it is strange,” said sam, with an earnestly sympathetic air and tone of voice, but with the faintest possible twinkle in the extreme corner of one of his eyes. “let me see—everything, as you justly remark, ought to make you happy here. the weather, to begin with—people always begin with the weather, you know—is splendid, though there is a thundery look about the horizon to the west’ard. then our yacht, the gleam, is a perfect duck, both as to her sea-going and sailing qualities, and captain james slagg is a perfect seaman, while stumps is a superlative steward and cook. our time is our own, and the world before us where to choose. then, as to our companionship, what female society could be more agreeable than that of my wife madge, and her bosom friend letta, who, since she has grown up, has become one of the most beautiful, fascinating, charming,—but why go on, when, in the language of the poet, ‘adequate words is wantin’!’ and letta’s mother is second only to herself. then as to the men, could there be found anywhere finer fellows than uncle rik and ebenezer smith, and frank hedley—to say nothing of myself and our splendid little boy sammy? i can’t understand it, robin. you’re not ill, are you?”

“ill? no. never was better in my life.”

“well, then, what is it? be confidential, my boy. the witching hour of sunrise is fitted for confidential communications. you’re not in love, are—”

“hush, sam! the skylight is open. come forward to the bows. yes, sam, i am in love.”

“well, robin, i can’t pretend ignorance, for i know it—at least i have seen it.”

“seen it!” echoed robin, “how is that? i have never by word or look given the slightest indication to any one of the state of my feelings.”

“true, robin, as regards words, but there are other modes of indication, as must be well-known to a celebrated electrician like yourself. the fact is, my dear boy, that you and letta have been rubbing your intellects together for so many years, that you have electrified each other—the one positively, the other negatively; and even a manx cat with an absent mind and no tail could hardly fail to observe the telegraphic communication which you have established by means of that admirable duplex instrument, a pair of eyes.”

“you distress me very much, sam,” returned robin, seriously. “i assure you i have never consciously done anything of the sort, and i have never opened my lips to letta on the subject—i dare not.”

“i believe you as to your consciousness; but, to be serious, robin, why should being in love make you miserable?”

“because it makes me doubt whether letta cares for me.”

“nonsense, robin. take my advice, put an end to your doubts, and make sure of your ground by taking heart and proposing to letta.”

“i dare not, sam. it is all very well for a fine manly fellow like you to give such advice, but i am such a poor, miserable sort of—”

“hallo, fasser!” cried a merry voice at that moment, “how red de sun am!”

the owner of the voice—a mere chip of a child, in perfect miniature middy costume—ran up to its father and was hoisted on his shoulder.

“yes, the sun is very red, like your own face, sammy, my boy, to say nothing of cousin robin’s. where is mamma?”

the question was answered by mamma herself, our old friend madge mayland, coming up the companion-hatch,—tall, dark, beautiful, like the spirit of departed night. she was followed by letta,—graceful, fair, sunny, like the spirit of the coming morn.

“sunbeam, ahoy!” came up through the cabin skylight at that moment, like the sonorous voice of neptune.

“well, grunkle rik, w’at is it?” shouted sammy, in silvery tones, from his father’s shoulder.

“grunkle” was the outcome of various efforts made to teach sammy to call the old captain grand-uncle.

“where have you stowed away my hair-brush, you rascal?” cried the voice of thunder.

“it’s under my bunk, grunkle; i was bracking yous boots with it.”

the thunder subsided in tempestuous mutterings, and sammy, feeling that he had begun the day well, struggled out of his father’s arms and went careering round the deck into every possible position of danger. he kept them all lively until stumps caught him and extinguished him, for a time, with breakfast.

“uncle rik,” said sam, while that meal was being discussed in the snuggest little cabin that could be imagined, “did you hear of the extraordinary manner in which a whale was caught by a telegraph cable lately?”

“no, i didn’t, sam, an’ what’s more, i wouldn’t believe it if i did.”

“it is true, nevertheless,” said sam, breaking his fifth egg—sea breezes being appetising.

“how did it happen, sam?” asked madge.

“in a very curious manner madge. it will amuse letta, for i know she takes a deep interest in cables.”

“indeed it will,” said letta, who was the soul of earnest simplicity; “i delight in electric cables.”

robin looked at letta, and wished that he were an electric cable!

“it happened to the persian gulf cable, quite recently,” continued sam, addressing himself to letta. “the cable between kurrachee and gwadur, a distance of 300 miles, suddenly failed one evening. now, you must know that electrical science has advanced with such rapid strides of late, that we have the power to discover pretty nearly the exact position of a fault in a cable. of course i cannot expect a young lady to understand the technical details of the mode in which this is done, but you will understand that by tests taken at either end the damage appeared to be about 118 miles from kurrachee, and a telegraph steamer was sent with an electrical and engineering staff to repair it. the steamer reached the supposed locality early on the morning of the second day out, and proceeded at once to grapple for the cable, though a thick fog prevailed at the time, and a heavy sea was running.

“the soundings at the place were very irregular, implying a rugged bottom of submarine mountain-tops and valleys. on winding in the cable unusual resistance was experienced, as if it were foul of rocks, and when, after great difficulty, they drew it up they found that this was caused by the body of an immense whale, with two and a half turns of the cable round it immediately above the tail.”

“pooh! boh!” exclaimed uncle rik, “i don’t believe it.”

“but i do, uncle,” returned sam, as he opened his sixth egg, “for i read the account of it in one of the engineering journals, in which dates and names were given. the steamer was the amber witch, commanded by captain bishop, and the staff of operators were under mr harry mance. the body of the huge creature was found to be rapidly decomposing, the jaws falling away as it reached the surface, and sharks had evidently been devouring it. the tail, which measured twelve feet across, was covered with barnacles at the extremities.”

“but how could it have entangled itself so?” asked mrs langley.

“they suppose that at the time the whale had found a part of the cable hanging in a deep loop over a submarine precipice, and, thinking the chance a good one no doubt for scraping off the barnacles and other parasites that annoy whales very much, had probably twisted the cable round him with a flip of his tail. anyhow, the fact is unquestionable that it held him fast until he was fished up dead by the electricians and engineers.”

“how strange!” murmured letta.

“it is indeed,” responded robin, “the most extraordinary case i ever heard of, though cables are subject to many singular accidents. i remember one case of accident to the cable across the river yar, in the isle of wight. a bullock fell from the deck of a vessel, and, in its struggles, caught the cable and broke it.”

“i have read of several very singular cases,” said sam, “in which cables have been attacked and damaged by inhabitants of the sea. the cuba and florida cable was once damaged by the bite of some large fish, and a similar accident happened to the china cable. in the malta-alexandria cable, a piece of the core from which the sheathing had been worn was found to have been bitten by a shark, and pieces of the teeth were found sticking in the gutta-percha.”

“i thought it was to the singapore cable that that happened,” said robin.

“no, but something similar happened to it. that cable was laid in december. in the following march a stoppage occurred. the fault was spotted at 200 miles from singapore. when hauled up, the cable was found to have been pierced, and bits of crushed bone were sticking in the hole. the piece was cut out and sent to mr frank buckland, who, after long and careful examination, came to the conclusion that it had been the work of a saw-fish.”

“dear me, mr shipton,” said mrs langley, “you speak as if every part of the world were connected by electric cables.”

“and such is the case,” said sam; “we have now direct communication by submarine cable and land telegraph with every part of europe; with canada and the united states; down south america, nearly to cape horn; with africa from algiers to the cape of good hope; with india from afghanistan to ceylon; with china from pekin to hong-kong; and down through the malacca archipelago, australia, and tasmania.”

“i say, sam, are you a member of the royal geographical society, or a walking atlas?” asked uncle rik.

“in short,” continued sam, not heeding the interruption, “there isn’t a civilised quarter of the globe which is not tied to us by telegraph, and from which we might not hear any morning of the events of the preceding day.”

“always excepting central africa and the two poles,” said the captain.

“i said civilised quarters,” retorted sam, “and, as far as i know, the poles are inhabited only by bears.”

“true, i forgot, the poles are barely civilised,” said uncle rik.

“now, master sammy,” growled a deep voice from the adjoining galley, “you keep your hands out o’ that copper.”

“fasser,” shouted a silvery voice from the same region, “’tumps is naughty. i wants to wass my hands in de soup, an’ he won’t let me.”

“quite right. keep him in order, stumps,” said the unfeeling sam, senior.

“dere—pa says i’s kite right, an’ to keep you in order, ’tumps,” said the silvery voice. (then, after a few minutes), “grunkle rik, is you finish bekfist?”

“ay, ay, sunbeam, quite finished.”

“den come on deck an’ p’ay vid me.”

uncle rik rose with a laugh, and obediently went on deck to play. but the play did not last long, for that day ominous clouds rose in the west, and, overspreading the sky, soon drenched the little yacht with rain. towards evening the rain ceased, but the wind increased to a gale, and the weather showed signs of becoming what is known among seamen, we believe, as dirty. ere long the low mutterings of thunder increased to mighty peals, and the occasional gleams of lightning to frequent and vivid flashes, that lit up the scene with the brilliancy of full moonlight.

“i wish we were nearer shore,” said letta, timidly, to robin, as they stood looking over the bulwarks; “what is the land we see far away on our left?”

“the island of mull,” returned robin.

“better if it was further away,” growled captain rik, who overheard the remark. “we want plenty of sea-room on a night like this.”

“we’ve got sea-room enough,” observed “captain” slagg, with the confidence of a man who knows well what he is about, as he stood by the tiller, balancing himself with his legs well apart.

“you’ve got a lightning conductor on the mast, of course?” observed captain rik to sam.

“no,” replied sam.

“sam!” exclaimed the captain in a tone of intense surprise, “you, of all men, without such a safeguard.”

“well, uncle rik,” replied sam with a laugh, “yachts are not always fitted with conductors. but i’m not so bad as you think me. i had ordered a special conductor with some trifling novelties of construction for the yacht, but it was not ready when we started, so we had to sail without it. however, it is not once in a thousand times that a vessel is struck by lightning.”

while sam was yet speaking, a flash of lightning almost blinded them, and the little schooner received a shock which told of disaster. next moment the roar of reverberating thunder drowned the crash of timber as the topmast went overboard, carrying the bowsprit and its gear along with it.

fortunately no one was hurt, but the schooner became unmanageable, owing to the mass of wreckage which hung to her.

jim slagg, seizing an axe, sprang to the side to cut this away, ably seconded by all the men on board, but before it could be accomplished the gleam had drifted dangerously near to the rocks on the coast of mull. to add to the confusion, the darkness became intense.

captain rik, forgetting or ignoring his years, had thrown off his coat and was working like a hero with the rest. the ladies, unable to remain below, were clinging to the stern rails, madge holding her little boy tightly in her arms, and the spray dashing wildly over all.

another moment and the gleam struck on the rocks with tremendous violence. only by the lightning could they see the wild rocky shore on which they had drifted.

instinctively each member of the little crew drew towards those nearest and dearest.

“get out the boat!” shouted captain slagg; but the men could not obey, for a heavy sea had anticipated them, and the little dinghy was already careering shoreward, bottom up.

the next wave lifted the gleam like a cork, and let her down on the rocks like fifty-six tons of lead. a flash of lightning revealed for a moment a range of frowning cliffs, as if to add horror to a scene that was already sufficiently appalling. then all was again dark as erebus.

in a frenzy of resolution captain rik seized an axe with the view of extemporising a raft, when the gleam parted amidships, and we might almost say went out, leaving her crew struggling in the waves.

sam had seized his wife with his strong left arm—he happened to be left-handed—and buffeted the waves with his right. madge held on to sammy with the power of maternal love. sam was aware of that, and felt comparatively at ease in regard to his first-born.

robin’s arm had been round letta’s waist—unknown to himself or her!—when the gleam struck. it did not relax when he felt that they were afloat. frank hedley gallantly offered to take charge of mrs langley.

ebenezer smith, being unable to swim, confessed the fact, with something of a gasp, to captain rik, who considerately told him never to mind.

“i can swim for both,” he said, tying a piece of rope-yarn tight round his waist, for he had long before cast off coat, vest, and braces; “but you ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man come to your time o’ life, an’ not able to swim!”

“i never lived near the sea, and had no one to teach me,” pleaded ebenezer in a tremblingly apologetic voice, for the roar of united wind, waves, and thunder was really tremendous even to those who could swim.

“what o’ that?” returned captain rik, sternly. “was there no river or pond nigh? even a horse-trough or a washing-tub would have sufficed to make a man of you. as for teaching—what teaching did you want? swimmin’ ain’t latin or greek. it ain’t even mathematics—only aquatics. all the brute beasts swim—even donkeys swim without teaching. boh! bah! there, lay hold o’ me—so. now, mind, if you try to take me round the neck with your two arms i’ll plant my fist on the bridge of your nose, an’ let you go to davy jones’s locker.”

a flash of lightning revealed captain rik’s face in such a way that ebenezer smith resolved to obey him to the letter.

it was at this point of their conversation that the gleam went down—or out—and they sank with a gurgle, coming up next moment, however, with a gasp.

strange to say, after the first plunge and overthrow amid the boiling waves, the swimmers found themselves in almost still water.

“you’d better let me take sammy, ma’am,” said captain slagg, swimming quietly alongside of madge, and speaking in the calm tone of a man taking an evening stroll.

“is that you, slagg?” asked sam, who was striking out vigorously.

“yes, sir, it is,” said slagg. “you’ve no need to exert yourself, sir, so violently. i know the spot well. we’ve bin washed clean over the reef by the wave that sank us, into a sort o’ nat’ral harbour, an’ we ain’t far from shore. i can feel bottom now, sir, which, bein’ a six-footer, you’ll touch easy.”

“so i do!” exclaimed sam, letting down his feet. “madge, darling, cheer up, we’ve got soundings. give sammy to slagg. there, we’ll do famously now.”

only those who have been for a few moments in deadly peril can understand the feeling of intense relief that came to sam shipton’s heart when he felt his toes touch ground on that eventful night. the feeling was expressed in his tone of voice as he asked slagg whether he had seen any of the others.

“no, sir, i ain’t seen ’em for want o’ light, but i’ve heerd ’em. stumps is splutterin’ behind us like a grampus. if you’ll hold on a bit an’ listen you’ll hear him. he’s a bad swimmer, and it’s all he can do to save hisself. if he only knowed he could reach bottom with his long legs, he’d find it easier. not quite so tight, sammy, my boy, and keep off the wind-pipe—so; you’re quite safe, my lad. as for the rest of ’em, sir, they all swim like ducks except mr ebbysneezer smith, but he’s took charge on by captin rik, so you may keep your mind easy. there’s a bit o’ flat beach hereabouts, an’ no sea inside the reef, so we’ll git ashore easy enough—let’s be thankful.”

jim slagg was right. they got ashore without difficulty, and they were thankful—profoundly so—when they had time to think of the danger they had escaped.

after a few minutes’ rest and wringing of salt water from their garments, they proceeded inland to search for shelter, and well was it for the shipwrecked party that the captain of the lost yacht was acquainted with the lie of the land, for it was a rugged shore, with intermingled fields and morasses, and wooded rocky heights, among which it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to thread one’s way in the dark without severe damage to the shins. but jim slagg led them to a cottage not far from the sea, where they received from the family resident there at the time a warm and hearty scottish welcome.

it is not uncommon, we suspect, for eccentric natures to undertake the most important matters at the most unsuitable times and in the most ridiculous manners. at all events robin wright, while stumbling among the rocks and rugged ground of that midnight march in mull, dripping wet and with the elements at war around him, conceived the idea of declaring his unalterable, not to say unutterable, attachment to letta langley, who leant heavily on the arm of her preserver. but robin was intensely sensitive. he shrank from the idea, (which he had only got the length of conceiving), as if it had been a suggestion from beneath. it would be unfair, mean, contemptible, he thought, to take advantage of the darkness and the elemental noise to press his suit at such a time. no, he would wait till the morrow.

he did wait for the morrow. then he waited for the morrow afterwards, and as each morrow passed he felt that more morrows must come and go, for it was quite obvious that letta regarded him only as a brother.

at last, unable to bear it, our unhappy hero suddenly discovered that one of the morrows was the last of his leave of absence, so he said good-bye in despair, and parted from his companions, who could not resist the genial hospitality of their new friends in the cottage on the west of mull.

ten days later sam got a letter from robin, telling him that he had received a cable-telegram from india, from their friend redpath, offering him a good situation there, and that, having reached the lowest depths of despair, he had resolved to accept it, and was sorry he should not have an opportunity of saying good-bye, as he was urged to start without a day’s delay.

sam was staying with his friends at the oban hotel at the time, having at last managed to tear himself away from the cottage in mull.

he instantly ran out and telegraphed—

“don’t accept on any account.”

then he sought mrs langley, and opened robin’s case to her. mrs langley listened with a smile of intelligence, and soon after went to her daughter’s room, the window of which commanded a splendid view of the western sea.

“letta, dear, are you moralising or meditating?”

“both, mamma.”

“well, i will try to help you,” said mrs langley, seating herself by the window. “by the way, did you hear that mr wright has been offered a lucrative appointment in the telegraph department of india, and is going off at once;—has not time even to say good-bye to his old friend sam shipton?”

letta turned very pale, then extremely red, then covered her face with both hands and burst into tears.

“so, letta, you love him,” said her mother, gently. “why did you not let me know this sooner?”

“oh, mamma!” said poor letta, “why do you put it so—so—suddenly. i don’t love him—that is—i don’t know that i love him. i’ve never thought about it seriously. he has never opened his lips to me on the subject—and—and—”

“letta, dear,” said her mother, tenderly, “would you wish to prevent his going away if you could? open your heart to your mother, darling.”

letta laid her head on her mother’s shoulder, but spoke not.

a few minutes later mrs langley went to sam and said—

“robin must not go to india.”

sam instantly went by the shortest conceivable route to london, where he found robin in his room feverishly packing his portmanteau, and said—

“robin, you must not go to india.”

from that text he preached an eloquent lay-sermon, which he wound up with the words, “now, my boy, you must just propose to her at once.”

“but i can’t, sam. i haven’t got the pluck. i’m such a miserable sort of fellow—how could i expect such a creature to throw herself away on me? besides, it’s all very well your saying you have good ground for believing she cares for me; but how can you know? of course you have not dared to speak to her?”

robin looked actually fierce at the bare idea of such a thing.

“no, i have not dared,” said sam.

“well, then. it is merely your good-natured fancy. no, my dear fellow, it is my fate. i must bow to it. and i know that if i were to wait till i see her again, all my courage would have oozed away—”

“but i don’t intend that you shall wait, robin,” interrupted sam. “you need not go on talking so selfishly about yourself. you must consider the girl. i’m not going to stand by and see injustice done to her. you have paid marked attention to her, and are bound in honour to lay yourself at her feet, even at the risk of a refusal.”

“but how, sam? i tell you if i wait—”

“then don’t wait,—telegraph.”

robin gazed at his friend in stupefied amazement. “what! make a proposal of marriage by telegraph?”

“even so, robin. you began life with electricity, so it is quite in keeping that you should begin a new departure in life with it.”

sam rose, sought for paper, and with pencil wrote as follows:— “from mr r. wright, london, to miss letta langley, — hotel, oban.—i can stand it no longer. may i come to see you?”

presenting this to his friend, sam said, “may i despatch it?”

robin nodded, smiled, and looked foolish.

an hour later mrs langley, sitting beside her daughter, took up a pen, and wrote as follows:—

“from miss letta langley, oban, to r. wright, london.—yes.”

presenting this to her daughter, she said. “may i send it?”

letta once more covered her face with her hands, and blushed.

thus it came to pass that our hero’s fate in life, as well as his career, was decided by the electric telegraph.

but the best of it was that robin did go to india after all—as if to do despite to his friends, who had said he must not go. moreover, he took letta with him, and he hunted many a day through the jungles of that land in company with his friend redpath, and his henchman flinn. and, long afterwards, he returned to england, a sturdy middle-aged man, with a wife whose beauty was unabated because it consisted, chiefly, in that love of heart to god and man which lends never-fading loveliness to the human countenance.

awaiting them at home was a troop of little ones—the first home-instalment of a troop of lesser ones who accompanied the parent stems. all of these, besides being gifted with galvanic energy and flashing eyes, were impressed with the strong conviction, strange to say, that batteries, boilers, and submarine cables, were the most important things in the whole world, and the only subjects worth being played at by reasonable human children.