The Battery and the Boiler, by 
R.M. Ballantyne 
 
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Title: The Battery and the Boiler Adventures in Laying of Submarine 
Electric Cables 
Author: R.M. Ballantyne 
Release Date: June 7, 2007 [EBook #21716] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE 
BATTERY AND THE BOILER *** 
 
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England 
 
THE BATTERY AND THE BOILER, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. 
CHAPTER ONE.
IN WHICH THE HERO MAKES HIS FIRST FLASH AND 
EXPLOSION. 
Somewhere about the middle of this nineteenth century, a baby boy 
was born on the raging sea in the midst of a howling tempest. That boy 
was the hero of this tale. 
He was cradled in squalls, and nourished in squalor--a week of dirty 
weather having converted the fore-cabin of the emigrant ship into 
something like a pig-sty. Appreciating the situation, no doubt, the baby 
boy began his career with a squall that harmonised with the weather, 
and, as the steward remarked to the ship's cook, "continued for to squall 
straight on end all that day and night without so much as ever takin' 
breath!" It is but right to add that the steward was prone to 
exaggeration. 
"Stooard," said the ship's cook in reply, as he raised his eyes from the 
contemplation of his bubbling coppers, "take my word for it, that there 
babby what has just bin launched ain't agoin' to shovel off his mortal 
coil--as the play-actor said--without makin' his mark some'ow an' 
somew'eres." 
"What makes you think so, Johnson?" asked the steward. 
"What makes me think so, stooard?" replied the cook, who was a huge 
good-natured young man. "Well, I'll tell 'ee. I was standin' close to the 
fore hatch at the time, a-talkin' to Jim Brag, an' the father o' the babby, 
poor feller, he was standin' by the foretops'l halyards holdin' on to a 
belayin'-pin, an' lookin' as white as a sheet--for I got a glance at 'im two 
or three times doorin' the flashes o' lightnin'. Well, stooard, there was 
lightnin' playin' round the mizzen truck, an' the main truck, an' the fore 
truck, an' at the end o' the flyin' jib-boom, an' the spanker boom; then 
there came a flash that seemed to set afire the entire univarse; then a 
burst o' thunder like fifty great guns gone off all at once in a hurry. At 
that identical moment, stooard, there came up from the fore-cabin a yell 
that beat--well, I can't rightly say what it beat, but it minded me o' that 
unfortnit pig as got his tail jammed in the capstan off Cape Horn. The 
father gave a gasp. `It's born,' says he. `More like's if it's basted,'
growled Jim Brag. `You're a unfeelin' monster, Brag,' says I; `an' 
though you are the ship's carpenter, I will say it, you 'aven't got no 
more sympathy than the fluke of an anchor!' Hows'ever the poor father 
didn't hear the remark, for he went down below all of a heap--head, 
legs, and arms-- anyhow. Then there came another yell, an' another, an' 
half a dozen more, which was followed by another flash o' lightnin' an' 
drownded in another roar o' thunder; but the yells from below kep' on, 
an' came out strong between times, makin' no account whatever o' the 
whistlin' wind an' rattlin' ropes, which they riz above--easy.--Now, 
stooard, do you mean for to tell me that all that signifies nothink? Do 
you suppose that that babby could go through life like an or'nary babby? 
No, it couldn't--not even if it was to try--w'ich it won't!" 
Having uttered this prophecy the cook resumed the contemplation of 
his bubbling coppers. 
"Well, I suppose you're right, John Johnson," said the steward. 
"Yes, I'm right, Tom Thomson," returned the cook, with the nod and air 
of a man who is never wrong. 
And the cook was right, as the reader who continues to read shall find 
out in course of time. 
The gale in which little Robin Wright was thus launched upon the sea 
of Time blew the sails of that emigrant ship--the Seahorse--to ribbons. 
It also blew the masts out of her, leaving her a helpless wreck on the 
breast of the palpitating sea. Then it blew a friendly sail in sight, by 
which passengers and crew were rescued and carried safe back to Old 
England. There they separated--some to re-embark in other emigrant 
ships; some to renew the battle of life at home--thenceforward and for 
ever after    
    
		
	
	
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