Thunderstruck - Erik Larson [45]
This was exactly the wrong thing to say to Lodge, for whom the intrusion of commerce into science was so distasteful, but Marconi appeared not to register his antipathy.
In the same letter Marconi blithely asked Lodge if he would serve as one of the two sponsors required for his application to become a member of Britain’s prestigious Institution of Electrical Engineers.
Lodge refused.
ANOTHER ENEMY NOW RAISED its standard—weather. Marconi saw that wireless likely would have its greatest value at sea, where it might end at last the isolation of ships, but achieving this goal required conducting experiments on the ocean and along coasts exposed to some of the most hostile weather the world had to offer. The more ambitious the experiment, the more weather became a factor, as proved the case at the end of 1898 when Trinity House, keeper of all lighthouses and lightships in Britain, agreed to let Marconi conduct tests involving the East Goodwin lightship, the same ship where William Preece’s induction experiments had failed—a fact that could not have escaped Preece’s increasingly jaundiced attention.
Marconi dispatched George Kemp to the ship to direct the installation of an antenna, transmitter, and receiver. Kemp chronicled the subsequent ordeal in his diary.
At nine A.M. on December 17, 1898, Kemp set out by boat from the beach at the village of Deal, notorious in the history of shipwreck both for the number of corpses routinely washed ashore after ships foundered on the Goodwin Sands and for the vocation of certain past residents who, as once chronicled by Daniel Defoe, had seen each new wreck as an opportunity for personal enrichment. Kemp’s boat took three and a half hours to reach the lightship, which was moored at sea at a point roughly twelve miles northeast of the South Foreland Lighthouse, near Dover, where Marconi had erected a shore station for the trials.
Kemp arrived to find the lightship “pitching and rolling” in heavy seas. Nonetheless, Kemp and the lightship crew managed to erect a twenty-five-foot extension to one of the ship’s tall masts, yielding an antenna that rose ninety feet above deck. “Beyond this,” he wrote in his diary, “very little work was done as everyone appeared to be seasick.” He left the lightship at four-thirty in the afternoon in an open boat, which he identified as a Life Boat Galley, and did not arrive at Deal until ten that night. He noted, with a good deal of understatement, “This was[a] rough experience in an open boat.”
He returned to the ship on December 19, this time to stay awhile. He brought provisions for one week and immediately went to work installing equipment and running wire through a hole in a skylight. In his diary he noted that waves were crashing over the lightship’s deck.
After a brief calm on December 21 and 22, the weather grew far worse. Late in the afternoon of December 23 “the wind increased and the Lightship began to toss about,” he wrote. By evening “it was almost unbearable.” He soldiered on and on Christmas Eve signaled greetings to Marconi, who was comfortably ensconced at South Foreland. That night Kemp volunteered to take watch over the ship’s beacon so the crew could celebrate, which they did “until the early hours of the morning.”
On Christmas Day, after Kemp and crew “managed to get over our Christmas dinner,” a gale arose and the ship began to rise and plunge. Moored to the sea floor, it could not maneuver the way an ordinary ship could. “It was very miserable onboard,” Kemp wrote, especially when the wind and tide conspired to hold the lightship broadside to the waves.
Over the next two days the sea continued to overwash the lightship. Water sluiced down hatchways. Kemp continued signaling. “Everything between decks was as wet as those on deck,” he wrote