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378
The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph
·
Henry M. Field
251
Thus,
so
many
had
been
the
delays
of
the
past
week,
that
it
had
come
on
to
Sunday
before
the
Great
Eastern
was
ready
to
begin
her
voyage.
This--which
some
might
count
a
desecration
of
the
holy
day--the
sailors
rather
accepted
as
a
good
omen.
Had
the
shore
end
been
laid
forty-eight
hours
sooner,
the
voyage
might
have
begun
on
Friday,
which
sailors,
who
are
proverbially
superstitious,
would
have
thought
an
unlucky
beginning.
But
Sunday,
in
their
esteem,
is
a
good
day.
They
like,
when
a
ship
is
moving
out
of
sight
of
land,
that
the
last
sound
from
the
shore
should
be
the
blessed
Sabbath
bells.
If
that
sacred
chime
were
not
heard
to-day,
at
least
a
Sabbath
peace
rested
on
sea
and
sky.
It
was
a
calm
summer's
evening.
The
sun
was
just
sinking
in
the
waves,
as
the
Great
Eastern,
with
the
two
ships
of
war
which
waited
on
either
hand,
to
attend
her
royal
progress,
turned
their
faces
to
the
West,
and
caught
the
sudden
glory.
Says
Russell:
"As
the
sun
set,
a
broad
stream
of
golden
light
was
thrown
across
the
smooth
billows
toward
their
bows,
as
if
to
indicate
and
illumine
the
path
marked
out
by
the
hand
of
Heaven."
What
a
sacred
omen!
Had
it
been
the
fleet
of
Columbus
sailing
westward,
every
ship's
company
would
have
fallen
upon
their
knees
on
those
decks,
and
burst
forth
in
an
Ave
Maria
to
the
gentle
Mistress
of
the
Seas.
But
in
that
manly
crew
there
was
many
an
eye
that
took
in
the
full
beauty
of
the
scene,
and
many
a
reverent
heart
that
invoked
a
benediction.
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