Thunderstruck - Erik Larson [111]
I have possessed your grace of what I purpose
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
Still oblivious, Fleming talked on. Marconi’s message from Poldhu, via Chelmsford, would arrive at any moment. Blok erased all anxiety from his own expression and scanned the audience for indications that the interloping signals had been detected. At first, to his great relief, he found none. The audience had entered the oblivion of complete engagement—“a testimony to the spell of Fleming’s lecture.” But then his gaze came to rest on “a face of supernatural innocence.” He knew the man, Dr. Horace Manders; he knew him also to be a close associate of Nevil Maskelyne. In that instant, Blok understood what had happened but allowed no change in his own expression.
“By a margin of seconds before the appointed Chelmsford moment, the vagrant signals ceased and with such sang froid as I could muster I tore off the tape with this preposterous dots and dashes, rolled it up, and with a pretence of throwing it away, I put it in my pocket.”
But the receiver clicked back to life. Was this more Shakespeare, more doggerel, or something worse? The tape unspooled. With scientific detachment, Blok and his colleague read the first blue marks.
The first letters across were PD, the call sign for Poldhu. Marconi’s message was coming through. Dewar in his message to Poldhu earlier in the day had asked Marconi about the status of transatlantic communications. Now, as expected, Marconi was providing his answer.
To Prof. Dewar. To President Royal Society and yourself Thanks for kind message. Communication from Canada was re-established May 23.—Marconi.
Fleming ended his lecture. The audience erupted with what Blok described as “unsuspecting applause.” Fleming beamed. Dewar shook his hand. Other members did likewise and congratulated him on another fine performance, while marveling at how well he orchestrated the demonstration. To the audience, it seemed a testament to the increasing reliability and sophistication of Marconi’s technology. Blok knew otherwise: In the end the lecture’s success had hinged on something far outside the control of Marconi and his supposed new ability to avoid interference and interception. Had the pirate signals continued, Marconi’s message would have come through grossly distorted or not at all, at great cost to the reputations of both Marconi and Fleming. Smug mockery would have filled the pages of The Electrician.
After the handshaking and congratulations had subsided, someone, perhaps Blok or Woodward, told Fleming what had occurred and about the presence in the audience of Maskelyne’s associate, Dr. Manders. Fleming was outraged. To attempt to disrupt a lecture at the Royal Institution was tantamount to thrusting a shovel into the grave of Faraday. But the affair also inflicted a more personal wound. A man of brittle and inflated dignity, Fleming was embarrassed on his own behalf, even though no one in the audience other than his assistants and Dr. Manders had appeared to notice the intrusion.
All night Fleming steamed.
MASKELYNE WAITED, DISAPPOINTED.
He was indeed the pirate behind the wireless raid on Fleming’s lecture; in fact, he had hoped his intrusion would cause an immediate uproar of satisfying proportions. As he confessed later, “The interference was purposely arranged so as to draw Professor Fleming into some admission that our messages had reached the room.”
But Marconi’s men had been too cool and quick; also, Maskelyne had not appreciated the extent of Fleming’s loss of hearing. But he guessed that Fleming’s assistants eventually would tell him of the intrusion. He understood well the inner character of his prey, his need for approval and respect. Fleming could not help but respond.
The trap was well set. An immediate outcry would have been far more satisfying, but Maskelyne believed he would not have to wait long for Fleming himself to make the phantom signals public, at which point Maskelyne intended