FORKED LIGHTNING.

Gisborne Times, Volume VIII, Issue 502, 15 August 1902, Page 2

FORKED LIGHTNING.

A “ TAIPO ” ON THE WIRES.

The tolegraph wire between Gisborne and Napier was most orrntic last evening, and if tho samo etato of affairs goes on every night it is hard to say where wo shall end. Shortly after ten o’clock tho Morso instrument was found unworkable, every attempt being made to adjust it, without success. After an hour’s delay tho telephone was called into requisition, and several messages were recoived for the Times, when that means of communication was also suddenly cut off. For some timo tho operator in charge vainly tried to get an answer from Napier, but after ringing and shouting “ Aie you there, Napior ?” 11 Have you anything for the Times ?” for upwards of an hour, ho was compelled to take a spell. Later on the operator stated that he would try tho second telephone in tho office, and this was done, with no bettor result. A few minutes later and the Morse instrument sprang at a tangent, and the bewildered operator heard his brother at the Napier end receive a collect press message from New Plymouth and acknowledge the same. Another hour passed, and all attempts to get Napier by telephone failed, when again the Morse instrument ticked, and tho operator joyfully remarked, “ Helloa, here he is; he said 1 yes ’ as plain as day.”

But not another word came along. 11 1 will get you some news before the night is out,” said the young man, rising to the occasion as be saw the woeful look on our messenger's face. “ The tide is in, and the wires are getting wet,” replied the Times representative; “ you will require to put on a few more hundred cells.” Another half-hour’s ringing and shouting on the telephone followed, but still there was no response from the Napier end. “ We want the cables, Napier, if you are there—if you are there,” exclaimed the operator; but the 'phono gave back no answer, nor did the Morse reply. The messenger and operator looked at one another for a period of ten minutes without speaking, only thinking deeply—very deeply, and at the expiration of that time there was a “ click, click, click ” on the Morse instrument. “ They are calling us,” remarked the operator.

“Let them all come,” replied the Times messenger ; “ and for goodness sake get a move on, as the comps, are sinking out for copy; I can hear them from here.”

There was another long silence, and again the operator remarked, “ Cannot you say something to break the monotony ? I can get nothing but 1 g.s.,’ ‘ g-s.’ (the signal for Gisborne).” Our messenger was so moved that he could not find words to express himself. The Morse again stopped, and after looking at it for some time in a doleful

manner, the operator made a move for the telephone, but before ho was half-way across the floor, the Morse called him back. “ This is a bit uncanny—this machine,” said the operator. “Yes, you’re right,” remarked the messenger ; “ we shall probably bo having a message from his Satanic Majesty next.” The humorous side of the business hadal-

ready dawned on the messenger. The operatorskipped from Morse to telephone, and from telephone to Morse every few minutes, and for the space of half-an-hour or so, things were verv merry. The hands of the clock showed a quarter past two, with no sign of the cables. In the meantime the fire had gone out, the water in the office kettle was cold, likewise the morning, and everything in the garden was anything but lovely. “ Would you like a drink of cocoa,” said the courteous operator. Yes,” replied the messenger, as he revived the ashes ; “ let us drink and drown our sorrow, whilst Gisborne sleeps we might as well enjoy ourselves.” Some old boxes were called into requisition, the fire was made up, and by a quarter to three the operator and messenger had their heads together drinking cocoa.

Like a giant refreshed with wine, the operator returned to the telephone at 3

o’clock, and after a quarter of an hour’s shouting, a faint reply was received at the other end. The Napier telegraphist afterwards put on every available pound of battery power, and with the assistance of the messenger, who fortunately was able to write shorthand, the morning’s telegrams and cable news came to hand as usual,