Chap­ter II — Mem­oir of Fleem­ing Jenkin traces the momen­tum of sev­er­al piv­otal cable-lay­ing mis­sions that car­ried both tech­ni­cal grav­i­ty and the spir­it of mar­itime explo­ration. On July 2, Jenkin notes that 28 miles of tele­graph cable have been suc­cess­ful­ly coiled into the hold of the ELBA, mark­ing a logis­ti­cal mile­stone in their oper­a­tion. With pre­ci­sion, he accounts for the ship’s draft and the remain­ing cable’s weight, under­lin­ing how each fig­ure con­tributed to the cal­cu­lat­ed rhythm of progress. Just days lat­er, by July 5, the mis­sion suc­ceeds in recov­er­ing most of the six-wire cable despite some unavoid­able loss. Jenkin treats the par­tial set­back not as fail­ure but as proof of the mission’s over­all suc­cess, his opti­mism framed by the broad­er goal of lay­ing sta­ble, long-dis­tance com­mu­ni­ca­tion infra­struc­ture. That mea­sured bal­ance of data and inter­pre­ta­tion defines his lead­er­ship in a field still nav­i­gat­ing its infan­cy.

The sto­ry tran­si­tions to a voy­age through the Greek Islands and Alexan­dria, offer­ing a con­trast to the tech­ni­cal work with vibrant scenes of nature and cul­ture. The 1859 cruise becomes a tapes­try of his­tor­i­cal mar­vels, diverse tra­di­tions, and nat­ur­al beau­ty as Jenkin moves from island to island. In Canea, the blend of cul­tures and the charm of the coast­line leave a last­ing impres­sion, remind­ing him—and readers—that engi­neer­ing does­n’t hap­pen in a vac­u­um but in places shaped by peo­ple and his­to­ry. Jenkin’s reflec­tions shift from cables and coor­di­nates to scenes of shep­herds, stone ruins, and vibrant mar­kets, por­tray­ing a world in tran­si­tion. East­ern and West­ern sen­si­bil­i­ties meet in the archi­tec­ture and cus­toms of these port towns, rein­forc­ing the sense that the cables they lay are link­ing more than just elec­tri­cal lines—they are bridg­ing civ­i­liza­tions. These obser­va­tions deep­en the sig­nif­i­cance of their work beyond mere tech­nol­o­gy.

Can­dia offers Jenkin anoth­er win­dow into the endur­ing resilience of ancient life and struc­ture, as ruins min­gle with the dai­ly bus­tle of its inhab­i­tants. Yet the nar­ra­tive doesn’t linger too long in admi­ra­tion; it moves quick­ly to recount real oper­a­tional hur­dles, such as select­ing suit­able land­ing points for the cables and man­ag­ing unpre­dictable marine con­di­tions. One of the chapter’s tens­est moments unfolds near Alexan­dria, where poor judge­ment and unfa­vor­able cur­rents cause the ship to run aground—twice. The ground­ing pos­es seri­ous risk, both to equip­ment and the crew, but coor­di­nat­ed respons­es pre­vent last­ing dam­age. What might have been a mis­sion-end­ing dis­as­ter becomes anoth­er exam­ple of com­po­sure under pres­sure. Jenkin cap­tures the strain of the moment not with alarm, but with firm resolve and a hint of humil­i­ty.

Even in adver­si­ty, his writ­ing blends method­i­cal detail with a trav­el writer’s eye for atmos­phere. He doesn’t mere­ly record prob­lems; he reflects on the lessons they leave behind, from engi­neer­ing lim­i­ta­tions to the unpre­dictabil­i­ty of nature. His writ­ing shows how resilience and quick think­ing shape suc­cess in these pio­neer­ing oper­a­tions. The con­stant chal­lenge lies not only in lay­ing the cable but in adapt­ing the plan to shift­ing ter­rain, weath­er, and human fac­tors. These mis­sions were more than tech­ni­cal undertakings—they were exer­cis­es in cul­tur­al and envi­ron­men­tal aware­ness. In describ­ing local cus­toms and con­di­tions, Jenkin doesn’t just acknowl­edge con­text; he engages with it, treat­ing each place as a part­ner in the process.

As the chap­ter unfolds, it becomes clear that Jenk­in’s val­ue lies equal­ly in his dual per­spec­tive. As an engi­neer, he brings clar­i­ty and pre­ci­sion to every task; as a thought­ful trav­el­er, he lends the nar­ra­tive warmth and curios­i­ty. His abil­i­ty to weave tech­ni­cal exe­cu­tion with reflec­tive com­men­tary gives the read­er a mul­ti­di­men­sion­al account of ear­ly telecom­mu­ni­ca­tions. The oceans and ports are not just loca­tions but characters—unpredictable, dynam­ic, and vital to the sto­ry of glob­al con­nec­tion. Jenkin’s lega­cy, as told in this chap­ter, is not con­fined to mechan­i­cal achieve­ments. It resides in his recog­ni­tion that to con­nect con­ti­nents, one must first under­stand and respect the lands and lives being linked.