TALES TOLD BY A TELEGRAPH CLERK.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XV, Issue XVIII, 2 November 1895, Page 448

TALES TOLD BY A TELEGRAPH CLERK.

With reference to the extraordinary speed now attained in the transmission of messages from abroad, it is interesting to note that a message signalled from Tel-el-Kebir Railway Station at 6.21 p.m. on September 13th, 1882, from Lord Wolseley to the Queen at Balmoral, notifying to Her Majesty the victory of Tel-el-Kebir—which victory practically meant the end of the Egyptian campaign. The cablegram passed through the hands of at least twenty persons before being delivered to Her Majesty, the reply to it, of course passing through a similar number, yet, in spite of this, Lord Wolseley received a congratulatory reply in fifty-eight minutes after his own message was despatched. While in charge of a telegraph office in Northern India, an intelligent Sepoy one day came in and handed me a message to send to a station in Central India. Having read the message, I told him there was something inaccurate in the wording. ‘ No, sahib ; no, sahib;’ he exclaimed, ‘me knows English.’ Again I endeavoured to make it clear to him that it was not an intelligent message. Then he drew himself up haughtily, and declared indignantly : ' If you no send, me report to your superintendent.’ I forwarded the message without further parley. It read as follows : • Come in haste. Father dangerously dead.’

Some journalists are compelled to resort to ingenious ruses in order to get news over the wires with despatch, and an interesting book might be written upon such a subject, but the following authentic anecdote anent a lady journalist is worthy of record. The first announcement of the Czar’s death which appeared in this country, and, indeed, in any of the capitals of Europe, was dispatched from Livadia by means of a cool trick. Immediately the Emperor expired orders were issued that no news telegrams should be sent away from any of the offices for a couple of hours. This order greatly perplexed and irritated the various press representatives, and seemed impossible to evade, but a woman journalist telegraphed to Berlin for a remittance. This message, being apparently permissible, was at once despatched. It transpired, however, that such a message was the pre-arranged signal to the Berlin press. They had suspected that the telegraph offices might be closed to press messages at the decease of the Czar, and contrived accordingly. The message for money announced not only the fact of the death, but the hour when it occurred.

The following uncanny story is vouched for by a telegraphic operator of long experience. A telegraph clerk at a certain station had left in his room a long box, which the depositor told him would be called for in the morning. During the night a thunderstorm arose, and his bellsbegan toringand the needles to tick. Suddenly one of the instruments began clicking out, 1 Watch that box!’ Looking round, the operator was horrified to see the lid of the box slowly rising. Of course, in the struggle which ensued, the occupant of the box got the worst of it. It subsequently transpired that the intruder was there for the purpose of manipulating the instruments for his own special designs. But it was never discovered who sent the warning message. All the operators along the line who could possibly have done so denied it emphatically, and the only theory was that the electrical elements had, in some inscrutable way, operated upon the instruments with the aforesaid uncanny result.

In a certain popular watering-place resided a prosperous tradesman who was also in charge of the post and telegraph office. His success in business had enabled him to place several hundred pounds to his credit in the local bank. One morning, at a very early hour, the telegraph alarm bell aroused him from slumber, and he descended to the office to answer the call and receive the message. It came from the head office of a Scotch bank to the local bank manager. Its gist was —‘Stop all payments at once.’ To deliver that message immediately was to lose all his cash. What could he do ? His cute .ommon-sense soon settled the problem. It was his duty co receive the telegrams, but not to deliver them. He would leave it until one of the messengers arrived. He did so. Previous, however, to the despatch of the messenger, he went to the bank and personally withdrew his deposit. He was the only depositor who received his money in full.

A notable example of the utility of the telegraph was shown some time since in Scotland, when some Z'3,250 was gained by a prompt and timely message. One Saturday morning an immense shoal of herrings was discovered three to seven miles off the Island of Stronsay by a few boats which happened to be out at sea. An officer of the Fishery Board, having ascertained the position of the shoal, wired the particulars to all the stations in Orkney, with the result that on the following Monday morning every boat employed in the herring fishery in Orkney was on the fishing ground indicated. The number of boats fishing was 108. Their total catch was 5,400 crans, valued at Z'3,250. Consequent upon such heavy fishing, additional coopers, gutters, packers, barrels, and salt had to be immediately sent from Wick, and this again was accomplished by the telegraph, which on this occasion commended itself as a useful and indispensable ally to the Scotch fisherfolk.