that it would be well to say
his prayers in bed. Accordingly, he crept quietly into his berth and
lay down, but Jim Slagg, who was present, no sooner saw what he was
about than he jumped up with a roar of indignation.

"What are you about?" he cried, "ain't you goin' to say your prayers,
you white-livered electrician? Come, git up! If _I'm_ to fight, _you_
must pray! D'ye hear? Turn out, I say."

With that he seized Robin, dragged him out of bed, thrust him on his
knees, and bade him "do his dooty."

At first Robin's spirit rose in rebellion, but a sense of shame at his
moral cowardice, and a perception of the justice of his friend's remark,
subdued him. He did pray forthwith, though what the nature of his
prayer was we have never been able to ascertain, and do not care to
guess. The lesson, however, was not lost. From that date forward Robin
Wright was no longer ashamed or afraid to be seen in the attitude of
prayer.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

LAYING THE CABLE--"FAULTS" AND FAULT-FINDING--ANXIETIES, ACCIDENTS, AND
OTHER MATTERS.

Come with us now, good reader, to another and very different scene--out
upon the boundless sea. The great Atlantic is asleep, but his breast
heaves gently and slowly like that of a profound sleeper.

The Great Eastern looks like an island on the water--steady as a rock,
obedient only to the rise and fall of the ocean swell, as she glides
along at the rate of six knots an hour. All is going well. The
complicated-looking paying-out machinery revolves smoothly; the
thread-like cable passes over the stern, and down into the deep with the
utmost regularity.

The shore-end of the cable--twenty-seven miles in length, and much
thicker than the deep-sea portion--had been laid at Valentia, on the
22nd of July, amid prayer and praise, speech-making, and much
enthusiasm, on the part of operators and spectators. On the 23rd, the
end of the shore cable was spliced to that of the main cable, and the
voyage had begun.

The first night had passed quietly, and upwards of eighty miles of the
cable had gone out of the after-tank, over the big ship's stern, and
down to its ocean-bed, when Robin Wright--unable to sleep--quietly
slipped into his clothes, and went on deck. It was drawing near to
dawn. A knot of electricians and others were chatting in subdued tones
about the one subject that filled the minds of all in the ship.

"What! unable to sleep, like the rest of us?" said Ebenezer Smith,