European mainland in 1854. But the following year, he failed in his attempt to reach the North African coast,
which involved laying a cable across the deepest and most mountainous part of the Mediterranean seabed. Brett lost a lot of
money, and his failure proved that there were limits to submarine telegraphy after all. The prospect of linking Europe and
North America seemed as far away as ever.
5.
WIRING THE WORLD
The Atlantic Telegraph—that instantaneous highway of thought between the Old and New "Worlds.
—SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN, 1858
T HE IDEA OF a transatlantic telegraph had been mooted by Morse and others since the 1840s, but, much as we regard time machines
or interstellar travel today, in the 1850s it was generally regarded as something that was very unlikely ever to come to pass-though
it would certainly have its uses if it did.
The difficulties facing a transatlantic telegraph were obvious. "Fancy a shark or a swordfish transfixing his fins upon the
insulated wires, in the middle, perhaps, of the Atlantic, interrupting the magic communication for months," wrote one skeptic.
"What is to be done against the tides, when they deposit their floating debris of wrecks and human bodies? Even supposing
you could place your wires at the lowest depth ever reached by plumb line, would your wires, even then, be secure?"
Nobody who knew anything about telegraphy would be foolish enough to risk building a transatlantic telegraph; besides, it
would cost a fortune. So it's hardly surprising that Cyrus W. Field, the man who eventually tried to do it, was both ignorant
of telegraphy and extremely wealthy. He was a self-made man from New England who amassed his fortune in the paper trade and
retired at the age of thirty-three. After spending a few months traveling, he happened to meet an English engineer, Frederic
N. Gisborne, who introduced him to the business of telegraphy.
Gisborne was looking for a backer after his failed attempt in 1853 to build a telegraph cable across Newfoundland, with a
link to the mainland across the Gulf of St. Lawrence. His plan had been sound enough: Since building a cable all the way across
the Atlantic seemed both technically and financially out of the question, building a link from New York to St. John's, on
the eastern tip of Newfoundland, was the next best thing. Steamers could stop at St. John's on their way westward, and messages
could then be forwarded by telegraph to New York, reducing the time taken for messages to arrive from Europe by several days.
The trouble was, Gisborne's plan involved stringing a cable across some of the coldest, most inhospitable terrain on earth.
And even with the use of four local guides—of which two ran away and one died—he was forced to abandon his first attempt after
only a few miles of cable had been laid. So when he visited Field in January 1854, Gisborne hoped to convince him that telegraphy
was a worthwhile business to invest in. Evidently he did a very good job because, according to Field's brother Henry, as soon
as the meeting with Gisborne was over, Field "went to the globe in his library and began to turn it over." He soon set his
heart on a much grander scheme—building a cable right across the Atlantic. Newfoundland would be merely one of the stops along
the way.
Confident that he would be able to handle the business side of things, Field wanted to make sure that there were no technical
barriers standing in his way. He wrote to Morse to inquire about the feasibility of a cable from Newfoundland to Europe. At
the same time, he wrote to Matthew Fontaine Maury, the leading hydrographer in the United States. Maury had compiled readings
from the logs of hundreds of ships into the most accurate charts of the Atlantic in existence, so he was the logical person
to suggest the route for the cable. Oddly enough, his charts had revealed the presence of a large raised plateau on the seabed
between