Ghost Messages Part 2

"It's not like an arm or a leg and the stuff will grow back."

Ailish didn't know what to say. Cut off her beautiful hair? Unthinkable! Then she thought of the little golden horse. She would have to be in disguise while she tracked down the treasure and her da had always said the best place to hide was in plain sight. Besides, she really had no choice.

Her shoulders slumped. "Where are the clothes?"

"Back there's a disused storage room where my sea locker's stowed." He indicated the rear of the hold. "Davy Jones locker, you might say. In it, you'll find most everything you need." He chuckled. "That mop of hair you'll have to deal with yourself."

"Mop, indeed!" She sniffed. "There are other problems. Where will I sleep? And don't suggest my crate! And eating a" what about food?"

Davy dismissed these concerns with a wave of his hand. "Silly questions. Before it was gutted and the three cable tanks put in, this s.h.i.+p was designed to carry four thousand pa.s.sengers and our staterooms are fit for kings and queens. There are several still held ready in case we have fancy visitors, so you could easily bunk in one of them. The rest of the crew is berthed in steerage and won't be bothering you in those fancy digs."

Davy carefully told her how to find her way through the s.h.i.+p to Stateroom A and to the galley to nab a bite of food.

"And as for the other things that need attending a there are heads, toilets," he explained, "on each deck and a private facility in your quarters. The rest is up to you, but if it were me, I'd try to stay out of the captain's sight as long as possible."

Ailish could see this would be prudent. She may be able to fool the rest of the crew with a bit of blather, but not the captain. He'd be sure to know all those who sailed on his vessel. "I'll be invisible," she a.s.sured him.

Wending her way past a scatter of crates, Ailish went to the small storage room. In it were stacks of coiled wire rope and other s.h.i.+p's supplies as well as an ancient wooden locker on the floor. She opened it and there were the promised clothes. Holding them up, she saw they were dusty, but they'd fit her well enough. She tried on the striped s.h.i.+rt, which was only a little large, then the funny britches that, on her, tied at her ankles instead of below the knee as they had on Davy. She laughed as she pulled the green suspenders over her shoulders. The lads back home would never wear clothes like this. The styles were so old-fas.h.i.+oned. She guessed Davy didn't get to port often to buy new or more likely, he was like her with very few pennies to spare. This made her like him even more.

Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, she felt something hard at the bottom. Withdrawing her hand, she found an iron rivet, rusted and bent. She wondered why he would have kept such an old thing. Maybe for bash boys, it was a lucky talisman. She tucked the rivet back in her pocket.

Dealing with her hair was a problem. How would she cut it without shears?

"There's a fair to middling sharp knife in that tool box." Davy's voice from the door made her jump.

He was leaning against the door jamb, arms folded as casual as a king, watching her. Her face flushed. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.

"Be at ease, la.s.s. I wasn't spying on you and your feminine self. I came to warn you that in five minutes, a work gang is coming to s.h.i.+ft the cargo."

Ailish hurried to the box he'd indicated and, rummaging in the tools, found the knife. She picked up a hank of her silken hair and swallowed. Her da would be dreadfully disappointed a" he loved her "glorious tresses" which reminded him, he said, of her ma. Then she thought of that scoundrel Dalton and the fabulous horse and her poor father lying in all that blood. She closed her eyes and sawed at the hair until it fell away. Feeling slightly sick, she picked up another handful and chopped. Soon, her shoes were covered with her crowning glory.

Ailish returned the knife to the box and rubbed her shorn locks. She couldn't imagine what a fright she must look.

"Now you fit the part of a proper cabin boy." Davy nodded approvingly. "We'd best be going, it's late. We're well into midwatch and I know Charlie will be hankering to deal with those worn rivets in the outer hull near the bow."

"Outer hull?" she asked, stuffing her discarded clothes into the trunk to hide them from the prying eyes of any who might wander in.

"I told you my s.h.i.+p is double hulled." Davy went on with his chatter as they wended their way through the crates and boxes. "First of her kind in the world. She has two complete hulls, one inside the other with three feet between 'em, which makes her unsinkable, but does require twice the work from me and Charlie. I spend most of my time down there with him. He's a real tyrant."

They reached the stairs and Ailish was about to start up, when she paused to smile at her new friend. "Thanks, Davy."

"Welcome aboard the Great Eastern, Ailish." He gave her a jaunty salute, before sauntering off.

4.

Disaster!.

a. --- .-- .-- .. -.. . .-- .- a - a. . -.-. .- -a .-.. .

The climb took an eternity, but the rumbling protests from Ailish's belly told her it was prudent to find food before continuing the journey to her quarters. The instructions Davy had given her had been from the stateroom, not belowdecks, but she was pretty sure she was heading toward the kitchen. No, galley, she corrected herself. If she was going to pa.s.s for a salty cabin boy, she must remember details like calling the kitchen, the galley, and the toilet, the head.

Opening a final hatchway, Ailish suddenly found herself on the main deck, and was immediately rocked back on her heels. She'd had no idea of the time but was still surprised to discover it was a moonlit night with puffy clouds silhouetted in silver. The vast bowl of the sky overhead was tranquil, but the world around her was something from a hurly-burly nightmare.

The frantic clanging of a loud gong made Ailish want to cover her ears as she watched men scramble madly about, some shouting orders while others ran to the machinery that screeched and rumbled as though possessed by demons. It was mayhem.

Gawking around, she stared in awe at the gigantic s.h.i.+p, wondering how anything this big and made of iron could float! The deck stretched forever, covered in polished wood from a forest of trees. Six towering masts sc.r.a.ped the sky as five huge funnels billowed black smoke. On each side of the ma.s.sive deck was a giant paddlewheel more than fifty feet across. The Great Eastern was truly a wonder.

Ailish took a deep breath, drawing in the fresh ocean air, then stopped. Unexpectedly, on the evening breeze she caught a faint whiff ofa manure! Very strange and a" she wrinkled her nose a" very disgusting.

Moving forward hesitantly, she tried to orient herself and decide what to do next. Without warning, she was knocked to the ground as a heavy-set figure ran into her. Her cheek burned where it sc.r.a.ped on the wooden deck.

"Get out of my way, you stupid boy, before I toss you into the drink."

Ailish stared up into the shadowed face of Rufus Dalton. She hastily turned away, praying her disguise would be successful and nothing about the new look would jog her enemy's memory.

He raised his boot to give her a kick, but before he could land the blow, she was lifted out of harm's way. Someone had come onto deck behind her. As the newcomer set her down, she felt a flood of tingling warmth and goodness.

"Leave the lad alone, Dalton."

Paddy Whelan had saved her again and from his touch, Ailish was a.s.sured he was not a man to be feared.

Dalton sneered. "You have a way of vexing me that could end up very unhealthy, Whelan."

The big man shoved past Paddy and Ailish as he strode down the deck snarling orders.

"Are you alright, lad?" her rescuer asked, peering at her with concern.

"Yes, sir, thank you. What's happened?" She indicated the bedlam around them.

He gave her a funny look and Ailish wondered if he recognized her, then she dismissed the idea. The light this morning had been dim and she'd had her shawl covering her head, not to mention a skirt below. He must simply think she was thick not to know what the noise was about.

"I was in the cable tank working when the gong went off. It's a disaster, lad. We're barely eighty-two miles from Foilhummerum Bay and the cable has stopped sending. That's what the clanging is about. They ring the gong when the signal stops." He appeared puzzled by her. "You seem somewhat familiar, boy. My name is Paddy Whelan and who might you be?"

"I'ma" she thought fast. "O'Connor, sir, and I work here." She wondered if she should spit or scratch or do some other disgusting boyish thing, but found she was still too much of a young lady to try.

Paddy laughed, a rich, deep sound. "Well now, O'Connor. There are five hundred men working on this s.h.i.+p and you have to be the shortest crew mate I've seen."

Ailish felt her face grow hot. "Actually, I'm a cabin boy, a new cabin boy and this," she indicated the madhouse around them, "is a bit overwhelming."

"Then until you get your sea legs, you'd best stay with me. Come on, lad."

Not sure if cabin boys were allowed to say no to actual sailors, Ailish obediently followed Paddy.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they dodged their way around several structures. She didn't like being out in the open inviting questions about who she was and what she was doing here.

"Past these cabooses," he pointed at the small cabins scattered about like so many squatters, before rounding a larger building and emerging onto the far side of the s.h.i.+p, "to the port promenade deck of the s.h.i.+p. Welcome to Oxford Street, O'Connor."

He motioned to the long expanse of deck and the wooden trough that ran nearly the length of the s.h.i.+p itself. "This is where the real work is done. You see, when we're laying the cable, it's winched out of the tanks and runs along this trough then it's carefully fed over the stern and into the ocean. It works fine until the signal stops. Then we have to raise the cable back out of the sea and repair the break. It's a perilous job. We can't put the machine in reverse to wind the cable back aboard, so it must be shackled from the yardarm and cut, then carried all the way from the stern to the bow."

"Then you fix it?" Ailish asked, curiosity getting the better of her despite worry at being discovered.

"Not quite. Once we've carried it to the bow, it's fed into a machine that dredges it to the surface and pulls it back onto the s.h.i.+p."

She looked out at the mirrored face of the sea reflecting the moonlight in iridescent filaments. "You drag it up from the ocean floor! How deep is that?"

"In some places, twelve thousand feet a" an amazing length of cable to trail behind the s.h.i.+p, to be sure. The weight of it is so ma.s.sive, we need a special machine just to pay it out, inch by inch."

Ailish was trying to imagine this and decided the cable must be a huge thing, as thick as a giant oak tree. She could hardly wait to see it!

It was then she noticed a small wire no wider than a man's thumb in the trough. "Hadn't you better clear that spindly stuff out before the cable is brought up?"

Again Paddy let go with his infectious laugh. "That, O'Connor, is the cable!"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What! You're joking, mister! Surely not that, thata thread!" Squirming past one of the men manning the wooden trough, she examined the strand more closely. It was not more than an inch across and covered in grey slimy ooze.

"That's it, alright," Paddy a.s.sured her. "And see that?" He pointed at a complicated piece of machinery. "That's the automatic release mechanism. Inside there's wheels and cogs ticking away, making sure the cable lets out just so, not too fast and not too slow. You mustn't let size fool you, lad. The automatic release is a stalwart piece of machinery, no doubt, but it's delicate as a cuckoo clock. And though the cable's little more than a wire, it be mighty as a bridge, a bridge that will span the entire ocean."

With a shouted warning to "look lively!" the sailors started the laborious task of hauling the thin cable back aboard. Instantly, everyone was hustling about the deck as they bent to their task.

"This is dangerous work, O'Connor. You can't be wandering about on your own and I've too much to do to take you to the captain. You'll have to accompany me on my watch."

So Ailish followed Paddy as he went about his tasks, her stomach feeling emptier as the minutes crawled by. Dawn came and went, then sixa sevena eight o'clock.

"That's forenoon watch come and I'm done for this s.h.i.+ft." Paddy had been working a machine called the pick-up wheel that wound the cable aboard but he now signaled another sailor to relieve him.

"What happens if the break can't be found?" Ailish asked as they leaned against the rail to watch the continuing action.

"Then, my lad, we turn tail and head back to Ireland."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Back to Ireland? We may be going home!" She thought of the last time she'd seen her da and again offered up a quick prayer that he was all right. Hope and joy sprang up in equal measure at the possibility of seeing him so soon.

"It would be a sad blow to all aboard, to be sure." Paddy sighed. "But I shan't worry about it. I'm sure we'll be able to find the problem."

"Yes, and fix it we shall!" A tall gentleman with a strong American accent interrupted as he joined them.

Ailish took note of the newcomer's deerstalker hat and Inverness cape. He was obviously not a sailor, but a proper gentleman.

Paddy nodded agreement. "Aye, that we will, sir."

"And who do we have here, Paddy?" the man asked, looking at Ailish.

"O'Connor is a cabin boy, Mr. Field." Paddy said by way of introduction. "O'Connor, this is Mr. Cyrus Field, an American gent with the vision and wherewithal to put this fantastic enterprise together."

"Failte, Mr. Field," Ailish said, catching herself as she was about to curtsy. That was hardly something a cabin boy would do.

"You must be the youngest crewman aboard, O'Connor." He smiled warmly. "Paddy, how much cable has come up?"

"Near as I can tell, ten miles, sir."

"That's a substantial amount to haul back aboard and we'll have to scour every inch to find that break."

The tall American looked about searching for someone on the crowded deck. "I'd best confer with the other gentlemen about what to do if this rescue is unsuccessful."

"I saw Mr. Canning and Professor Thomson go into the telegraph testing caboose, sir." Paddy said helpfully.

At that moment, a shout drew everyone's attention. "Here! Come here! We've found the fault!"

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 s.h.i.+p 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."