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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 ship 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.”
    Again there was a general outcry.
    “Hang the traitor!”
    “Throw him overboard!”
    Ailish saw an imposing man in a crisp Navy uniform step forward. This, she reasoned, had to be Captain Anderson. Things were very tense and it was not the time to spring an unexpected cabin boy on him. She melted further back into the crowd.
    “I will personally conduct this investigation.” The captain’s voice boomed over the noise, stilling the ruckus. “I want the Fenian scoundrel