WE all dined together that day; and a rather formidable party
we were: no fewer than eighty-six strong. The vessel being pretty deep in the
water, with all her coals on board and so many passengers, and the weather being
calm and quiet, there was but little motion; so that before the dinner was half
over, even those passengers who were most distrustful of themselves plucked up
amazingly; and those who in the morning had returned to the universal question,
'Are you a good sailor?' a very decided negative, now either parried the inquiry
with the evasive reply, 'Oh! I suppose I'm no worse than anybody else;' or,
reckless of all moral obligations, answered boldly 'Yes:' and with some
irritation too, as though they would add, 'I should like to know what you see in
ME, sir, particularly, to justify suspicion!'
Notwithstanding this high tone of courage and confidence, I could not but
observe that very few remained long over their wine; and that everybody had an
unusual love of the open air; and that the favourite and most coveted seats were
invariably those nearest to the door. The tea-table, too, was by no means as
well attended as the dinner-table; and there was less whist-playing than might
have been expected. Still, with the exception of one lady, who had retired with
some precipitation at dinner-time, immediately after being assisted to the
finest cut of a very yellow boiled leg of mutton with very green capers, there
were no invalids as yet; and walking, and smoking, and drinking of
brandy-and-water (but always in the open air), went on with unabated spirit,
until eleven o'clock or thereabouts, when 'turning in' - no sailor of seven
hours' experience talks of going to bed - became the order of the night. The
perpetual tramp of boot-heels on the decks gave place to a heavy silence, and
the whole human freight was stowed away below, excepting a very few stragglers,
like myself, who were probably, like me, afraid to go there.
To one unaccustomed to such scenes, this is a very striking time on
shipboard. Afterwards, and when its novelty had long worn off, it never ceased
to have a peculiar interest and charm for me. The gloom through which the great
black mass holds its direct and certain course; the rushing water, plainly
heard, but dimly seen; the broad, white, glistening track, that follows in the
vessel's wake; the men on the look-out forward, who would be scarcely visible
against the dark sky, but for their blotting out some score of glistening stars;
the helmsman at the wheel, with the illuminated card before him, shining, a
speck of light amidst the darkness, like something sentient and of Divine
intelligence; the melancholy sighing of the wind through block, and rope, and
chain; the gleaming forth of light from every crevice, nook, and tiny piece of
glass about the decks, as though the ship were filled with fire in hiding, ready
to burst through any outlet, wild with its resistless power of death and ruin.
At first, too, and even when the hour, and all the objects it exalts, have come
to be familiar, it is difficult, alone and thoughtful, to hold them to their
proper shapes and forms. They change with the wandering fancy; assume the
semblance of things left far away; put on the well-remembered aspect of
favourite places dearly loved; and even people them with shadows. Streets,
houses, rooms; figures so like their usual occupants, that they have startled me
by their reality, which far exceeded, as it seemed to me, all power of mine to
conjure up the absent; have, many and many a time, at such an hour, grown
suddenly out of objects with whose real look, and use, and purpose, I was as
well acquainted as with my own two hands.
My own two hands, and feet likewise, being very cold, however, on this
particular occasion, I crept below at midnight. It was not exactly comfortable
below. It was decidedly close; and it was impossible to be unconscious of the
presence of that extraordinary compound of strange smells, which is to be found
nowhere but on board ship, and which is such a subtle perfume that it seems to
enter at every pore of the skin, and whisper of the hold. Two passengers' wives
(one of them my own) lay already in silent agonies on the sofa; and one lady's
maid (MY lady's) was a mere bundle on the floor, execrating her destiny, and
pounding her curl- papers among the stray boxes. Everything sloped the wrong
way: which in itself was an aggravation scarcely to be borne. I had left the
door open, a moment before, in the bosom of a gentle declivity, and, when I
turned to shut it, it was on the summit of a lofty eminence. Now every plank and
timber creaked, as if the ship were made of wicker-work; and now crackled, like
an enormous fire of the driest possible twigs. There was nothing for it but bed;
so I went to bed.
It was pretty much the same for the next two days, with a tolerably fair wind
and dry weather. I read in bed (but to this hour I don't know what) a good deal;
and reeled on deck a little; drank cold brandy-and-water with an unspeakable
disgust, and ate hard biscuit perseveringly: not ill, but going to be.
It is the third morning. I am awakened out of my sleep by a dismal shriek
from my wife, who demands to know whether there's any danger. I rouse myself,
and look out of bed. The water-jug is plunging and leaping like a lively
dolphin; all the smaller articles are afloat, except my shoes, which are
stranded on a carpet-bag, high and dry, like a couple of coal-barges. Suddenly I
see them spring into the air, and behold the looking-glass, which is nailed to
the wall, sticking fast upon the ceiling. At the same time the door entirely
disappears, and a new one is opened in the floor. Then I begin to comprehend
that the state-room is standing on its head.
Before it is possible to make any arrangement at all compatible with this
novel state of things, the ship rights. Before one can say 'Thank Heaven!' she
wrongs again. Before one can cry she IS wrong, she seems to have started
forward, and to be a creature actually running of its own accord, with broken
knees and failing legs, through every variety of hole and pitfall, and stumbling
constantly. Before one can so much as wonder, she takes a high leap into the
air. Before she has well done that, she takes a deep dive into the water. Before
she has gained the surface, she throws a summerset. The instant she is on her
legs, she rushes backward. And so she goes on staggering, heaving, wrestling,
leaping, diving, jumping, pitching, throbbing, rolling, and rocking: and going
through all these movements, sometimes by turns, and sometimes altogether: until
one feels disposed to roar for mercy.
A steward passes. 'Steward!' 'Sir?' 'What IS the matter? what DO you call
this?' 'Rather a heavy sea on, sir, and a head-wind.'
A head-wind! Imagine a human face upon the vessel's prow, with fifteen
thousand Samsons in one bent upon driving her back, and hitting her exactly
between the eyes whenever she attempts to advance an inch. Imagine the ship
herself, with every pulse and artery of her huge body swollen and bursting under
this maltreatment, sworn to go on or die. Imagine the wind howling, the sea
roaring, the rain beating: all in furious array against her. Picture the sky
both dark and wild, and the clouds, in fearful sympathy with the waves, making
another ocean in the air. Add to all this, the clattering on deck and down
below; the tread of hurried feet; the loud hoarse shouts of seamen; the gurgling
in and out of water through the scuppers; with, every now and then, the striking
of a heavy sea upon the planks above, with the deep, dead, heavy sound of
thunder heard within a vault; - and there is the head-wind of that January
morning.
I say nothing of what may be called the domestic noises of the ship: such as
the breaking of glass and crockery, the tumbling down of stewards, the gambols,
overhead, of loose casks and truant dozens of bottled porter, and the very
remarkable and far from exhilarating sounds raised in their various state-rooms
by the seventy passengers who were too ill to get up to breakfast. I say nothing
of them: for although I lay listening to this concert for three or four days, I
don't think I heard it for more than a quarter of a minute, at the expiration of
which term, I lay down again, excessively sea-sick.
Not sea-sick, be it understood, in the ordinary acceptation of the term: I
wish I had been: but in a form which I have never seen or heard described,
though I have no doubt it is very common. I lay there, all the day long, quite
coolly and contentedly; with no sense of weariness, with no desire to get up, or
get better, or take the air; with no curiosity, or care, or regret, of any sort
or degree, saving that I think I can remember, in this universal indifference,
having a kind of lazy joy - of fiendish delight, if anything so lethargic can be
dignified with the title - in the fact of my wife being too ill to talk to me.
If I may be allowed to illustrate my state of mind by such an example, I should
say that I was exactly in the condition of the elder Mr. Willet, after the
incursion of the rioters into his bar at Chigwell. Nothing would have surprised
me. If, in the momentary illumination of any ray of intelligence that may have
come upon me in the way of thoughts of Home, a goblin postman, with a scarlet
coat and bell, had come into that little kennel before me, broad awake in broad
day, and, apologising for being damp through walking in the sea, had handed me a
letter directed to myself, in familiar characters, I am certain I should not
have felt one atom of astonishment: I should have been perfectly satisfied. If
Neptune himself had walked in, with a toasted shark on his trident, I should
have looked upon the event as one of the very commonest everyday occurrences.
Once - once - I found myself on deck. I don't know how I got there, or what
possessed me to go there, but there I was; and completely dressed too, with a
huge pea-coat on, and a pair of boots such as no weak man in his senses could
ever have got into. I found myself standing, when a gleam of consciousness came
upon me, holding on to something. I don't know what. I think it was the
boatswain: or it may have been the pump: or possibly the cow. I can't say how
long I had been there; whether a day or a minute. I recollect trying to think
about something (about anything in the whole wide world, I was not particular)
without the smallest effect. I could not even make out which was the sea, and
which the sky, for the horizon seemed drunk, and was flying wildly about in all
directions. Even in that incapable state, however, I recognised the lazy
gentleman standing before me: nautically clad in a suit of shaggy blue, with an
oilskin hat. But I was too imbecile, although I knew it to be he, to separate
him from his dress; and tried to call him, I remember, PILOT. After another
interval of total unconsciousness, I found he had gone, and recognised another
figure in its place. It seemed to wave and fluctuate before me as though I saw
it reflected in an unsteady looking-glass; but I knew it for the captain; and
such was the cheerful influence of his face, that I tried to smile: yes, even
then I tried to smile. I saw by his gestures that he addressed me; but it was a
long time before I could make out that he remonstrated against my standing up to
my knees in water - as I was; of course I don't know why. I tried to thank him,
but couldn't. I could only point to my boots - or wherever I supposed my boots
to be - and say in a plaintive voice, 'Cork soles:' at the same time
endeavouring, I am told, to sit down in the pool. Finding that I was quite
insensible, and for the time a maniac, he humanely conducted me below.
There I remained until I got better: suffering, whenever I was recommended to
eat anything, an amount of anguish only second to that which is said to be
endured by the apparently drowned, in the process of restoration to life. One
gentleman on board had a letter of introduction to me from a mutual friend in
London. He sent it below with his card, on the morning of the head-wind; and I
was long troubled with the idea that he might be up, and well, and a hundred
times a day expecting me to call upon him in the saloon. I imagined him one of
those cast-iron images - I will not call them men - who ask, with red faces, and
lusty voices, what sea-sickness means, and whether it really is as bad as it is
represented to be. This was very torturing indeed; and I don't think I ever felt
such perfect gratification and gratitude of heart, as I did when I heard from
the ship's doctor that he had been obliged to put a large mustard poultice on
this very gentleman's stomach. I date my recovery from the receipt of that
intelligence.
It was materially assisted though, I have no doubt, by a heavy gale of wind,
which came slowly up at sunset, when we were about ten days out, and raged with
gradually increasing fury until morning, saving that it lulled for an hour a
little before midnight. There was something in the unnatural repose of that
hour, and in the after gathering of the storm, so inconceivably awful and
tremendous, that its bursting into full violence was almost a relief.
The labouring of the ship in the troubled sea on this night I shall never
forget. 'Will it ever be worse than this?' was a question I had often heard
asked, when everything was sliding and bumping about, and when it certainly did
seem difficult to comprehend the possibility of anything afloat being more
disturbed, without toppling over and going down. But what the agitation of a
steam- vessel is, on a bad winter's night in the wild Atlantic, it is impossible
for the most vivid imagination to conceive. To say that she is flung down on her
side in the waves, with her masts dipping into them, and that, springing up
again, she rolls over on the other side, until a heavy sea strikes her with the
noise of a hundred great guns, and hurls her back - that she stops, and
staggers, and shivers, as though stunned, and then, with a violent throbbing at
her heart, darts onward like a monster goaded into madness, to be beaten down,
and battered, and crushed, and leaped on by the angry sea - that thunder,
lightning, hail, and rain, and wind, are all in fierce contention for the
mastery - that every plank has its groan, every nail its shriek, and every drop
of water in the great ocean its howling voice - is nothing. To say that all is
grand, and all appalling and horrible in the last degree, is nothing. Words
cannot express it. Thoughts cannot convey it. Only a dream can call it up again,
in all its fury, rage, and passion.
And yet, in the very midst of these terrors, I was placed in a situation so
exquisitely ridiculous, that even then I had as strong a sense of its absurdity
as I have now, and could no more help laughing than I can at any other comical
incident, happening under circumstances the most favourable to its enjoyment.
About midnight we shipped a sea, which forced its way through the skylights,
burst open the doors above, and came raging and roaring down into the ladies'
cabin, to the unspeakable consternation of my wife and a little Scotch lady -
who, by the way, had previously sent a message to the captain by the stewardess,
requesting him, with her compliments, to have a steel conductor immediately
attached to the top of every mast, and to the chimney, in order that the ship
might not be struck by lightning. They and the handmaid before mentioned, being
in such ecstasies of fear that I scarcely knew what to do with them, I naturally
bethought myself of some restorative or comfortable cordial; and nothing better
occurring to me, at the moment, than hot brandy-and-water, I procured a tumbler
full without delay. It being impossible to stand or sit without holding on, they
were all heaped together in one corner of a long sofa - a fixture extending
entirely across the cabin - where they clung to each other in momentary
expectation of being drowned. When I approached this place with my specific, and
was about to administer it with many consolatory expressions to the nearest
sufferer, what was my dismay to see them all roll slowly down to the other end!
And when I staggered to that end, and held out the glass once more, how
immensely baffled were my good intentions by the ship giving another lurch, and
their all rolling back again! I suppose I dodged them up and down this sofa for
at least a quarter of an hour, without reaching them once; and by the time I did
catch them, the brandy-and-water was diminished, by constant spilling, to a
teaspoonful. To complete the group, it is necessary to recognise in this
disconcerted dodger, an individual very pale from sea- sickness, who had shaved
his beard and brushed his hair, last, at Liverpool: and whose only article of
dress (linen not included) were a pair of dreadnought trousers; a blue jacket,
formerly admired upon the Thames at Richmond; no stockings; and one slipper.
Of the outrageous antics performed by that ship next morning; which made bed
a practical joke, and getting up, by any process short of falling out, an
impossibility; I say nothing. But anything like the utter dreariness and
desolation that met my eyes when I literally 'tumbled up' on deck at noon, I
never saw. Ocean and sky were all of one dull, heavy, uniform, lead colour.
There was no extent of prospect even over the dreary waste that lay around us,
for the sea ran high, and the horizon encompassed us like a large black hoop.
Viewed from the air, or some tall bluff on shore, it would have been imposing
and stupendous, no doubt; but seen from the wet and rolling decks, it only
impressed one giddily and painfully. In the gale of last night the life-boat had
been crushed by one blow of the sea like a walnut-shell; and there it hung
dangling in the air: a mere faggot of crazy boards. The planking of the
paddle-boxes had been torn sheer away. The wheels were exposed and bare; and
they whirled and dashed their spray about the decks at random. Chimney, white
with crusted salt; topmasts struck; storm-sails set; rigging all knotted,
tangled, wet, and drooping: a gloomier picture it would be hard to look upon.
I was now comfortably established by courtesy in the ladies' cabin, where,
besides ourselves, there were only four other passengers. First, the little
Scotch lady before mentioned, on her way to join her husband at New York, who
had settled there three years before. Secondly and thirdly, an honest young
Yorkshireman, connected with some American house; domiciled in that same city,
and carrying thither his beautiful young wife to whom he had been married but a
fortnight, and who was the fairest specimen of a comely English country girl I
have ever seen. Fourthy, fifthly, and lastly, another couple: newly married too,
if one might judge from the endearments they frequently interchanged: of whom I
know no more than that they were rather a mysterious, run-away kind of couple;
that the lady had great personal attractions also; and that the gentleman
carried more guns with him than Robinson Crusoe, wore a shooting-coat, and had
two great dogs on board. On further consideration, I remember that he tried hot
roast pig and bottled ale as a cure for sea-sickness; and that he took these
remedies (usually in bed) day after day, with astonishing perseverance. I may
add, for the information of the curious, that they decidedly failed.
The weather continuing obstinately and almost unprecedentedly bad, we usually
straggled into this cabin, more or less faint and miserable, about an hour
before noon, and lay down on the sofas to recover; during which interval, the
captain would look in to communicate the state of the wind, the moral certainty
of its changing to-morrow (the weather is always going to improve to- morrow, at
sea), the vessel's rate of sailing, and so forth. Observations there were none
to tell us of, for there was no sun to take them by. But a description of one
day will serve for all the rest. Here it is.
The captain being gone, we compose ourselves to read, if the place be light
enough; and if not, we doze and talk alternately. At one, a bell rings, and the
stewardess comes down with a steaming dish of baked potatoes, and another of
roasted apples; and plates of pig's face, cold ham, salt beef; or perhaps a
smoking mess of rare hot collops. We fall to upon these dainties; eat as much as
we can (we have great appetites now); and are as long as possible about it. If
the fire will burn (it WILL sometimes) we are pretty cheerful. If it won't, we
all remark to each other that it's very cold, rub our hands, cover ourselves
with coats and cloaks, and lie down again to doze, talk, and read (provided as
aforesaid), until dinner-time. At five, another bell rings, and the stewardess
reappears with another dish of potatoes - boiled this time - and store of hot
meat of various kinds: not forgetting the roast pig, to be taken medicinally. We
sit down at table again (rather more cheerfully than before); prolong the meal
with a rather mouldy dessert of apples, grapes, and oranges; and drink our wine
and brandy-and-water. The bottles and glasses are still upon the table, and the
oranges and so forth are rolling about according to their fancy and the ship's
way, when the doctor comes down, by special nightly invitation, to join our
evening rubber: immediately on whose arrival we make a party at whist, and as it
is a rough night and the cards will not lie on the cloth, we put the tricks in
our pockets as we take them. At whist we remain with exemplary gravity
(deducting a short time for tea and toast) until eleven o'clock, or thereabouts;
when the captain comes down again, in a sou'-wester hat tied under his chin, and
a pilot-coat: making the ground wet where he stands. By this time the
card-playing is over, and the bottles and glasses are again upon the table; and
after an hour's pleasant conversation about the ship, the passengers, and things
in general, the captain (who never goes to bed, and is never out of humour)
turns up his coat collar for the deck again; shakes hands all round; and goes
laughing out into the weather as merrily as to a birthday party.
As to daily news, there is no dearth of that commodity. This passenger is
reported to have lost fourteen pounds at Vingt-et-un in the saloon yesterday;
and that passenger drinks his bottle of champagne every day, and how he does it
(being only a clerk), nobody knows. The head engineer has distinctly said that
there never was such times - meaning weather - and four good hands are ill, and
have given in, dead beat. Several berths are full of water, and all the cabins
are leaky. The ship's cook, secretly swigging damaged whiskey, has been found
drunk; and has been played upon by the fire-engine until quite sober. All the
stewards have fallen down-stairs at various dinner-times, and go about with
plasters in various places. The baker is ill, and so is the pastry-cook. A new
man, horribly indisposed, has been required to fill the place of the latter
officer; and has been propped and jammed up with empty casks in a little house
upon deck, and commanded to roll out pie-crust, which he protests (being highly
bilious) it is death to him to look at. News! A dozen murders on shore would
lack the interest of these slight incidents at sea.
Divided between our rubber and such topics as these, we were running (as we
thought) into Halifax Harbour, on the fifteenth night, with little wind and a
bright moon - indeed, we had made the Light at its outer entrance, and put the
pilot in charge - when suddenly the ship struck upon a bank of mud. An immediate
rush on deck took place of course; the sides were crowded in an instant; and for
a few minutes we were in as lively a state of confusion as the greatest lover of
disorder would desire to see. The passengers, and guns, and water-casks, and
other heavy matters, being all huddled together aft, however, to lighten her in
the head, she was soon got off; and after some driving on towards an
uncomfortable line of objects (whose vicinity had been announced very early in
the disaster by a loud cry of 'Breakers a-head!') and much backing of paddles,
and heaving of the lead into a constantly decreasing depth of water, we dropped
anchor in a strange outlandish-looking nook which nobody on board could
recognise, although there was land all about us, and so close that we could
plainly see the waving branches of the trees.
It was strange enough, in the silence of midnight, and the dead stillness
that seemed to be created by the sudden and unexpected stoppage of the engine
which had been clanking and blasting in our ears incessantly for so many days,
to watch the look of blank astonishment expressed in every face: beginning with
the officers, tracing it through all the passengers, and descending to the very
stokers and furnacemen, who emerged from below, one by one, and clustered
together in a smoky group about the hatchway of the engine-room, comparing notes
in whispers. After throwing up a few rockets and firing signal guns in the hope
of being hailed from the land, or at least of seeing a light - but without any
other sight or sound presenting itself - it was determined to send a boat on
shore. It was amusing to observe how very kind some of the passengers were, in
volunteering to go ashore in this same boat: for the general good, of course:
not by any means because they thought the ship in an unsafe position, or
contemplated the possibility of her heeling over in case the tide were running
out. Nor was it less amusing to remark how desperately unpopular the poor pilot
became in one short minute. He had had his passage out from Liverpool, and
during the whole voyage had been quite a notorious character, as a teller of
anecdotes and cracker of jokes. Yet here were the very men who had laughed the
loudest at his jests, now flourishing their fists in his face, loading him with
imprecations, and defying him to his teeth as a villain!
The boat soon shoved off, with a lantern and sundry blue lights on board; and
in less than an hour returned; the officer in command bringing with him a
tolerably tall young tree, which he had plucked up by the roots, to satisfy
certain distrustful passengers whose minds misgave them that they were to be
imposed upon and shipwrecked, and who would on no other terms believe that he
had been ashore, or had done anything but fraudulently row a little way into the
mist, specially to deceive them and compass their deaths. Our captain had
foreseen from the first that we must be in a place called the Eastern passage;
and so we were. It was about the last place in the world in which we had any
business or reason to be, but a sudden fog, and some error on the pilot's part,
were the cause. We were surrounded by banks, and rocks, and shoals of all kinds,
but had happily drifted, it seemed, upon the only safe speck that was to be
found thereabouts. Eased by this report, and by the assurance that the tide was
past the ebb, we turned in at three o'clock in the morning.
I was dressing about half-past nine next day, when the noise above hurried me
on deck. When I had left it overnight, it was dark, foggy, and damp, and there
were bleak hills all round us. Now, we were gliding down a smooth, broad stream,
at the rate of eleven miles an hour: our colours flying gaily; our crew rigged
out in their smartest clothes; our officers in uniform again; the sun shining as
on a brilliant April day in England; the land stretched out on either side,
streaked with light patches of snow; white wooden houses; people at their doors;
telegraphs working; flags hoisted; wharfs appearing; ships; quays crowded with
people; distant noises; shouts; men and boys running down steep places towards
the pier: all more bright and gay and fresh to our unused eyes than words can
paint them. We came to a wharf, paved with uplifted faces; got alongside, and
were made fast, after some shouting and straining of cables; darted, a score of
us along the gangway, almost as soon as it was thrust out to meet us, and before
it had reached the ship - and leaped upon the firm glad earth again!
I suppose this Halifax would have appeared an Elysium, though it had been a
curiosity of ugly dulness. But I carried away with me a most pleasant impression
of the town and its inhabitants, and have preserved it to this hour. Nor was it
without regret that I came home, without having found an opportunity of
returning thither, and once more shaking hands with the friends I made that day.
It happened to be the opening of the Legislative Council and General
Assembly, at which ceremonial the forms observed on the commencement of a new
Session of Parliament in England were so closely copied, and so gravely
presented on a small scale, that it was like looking at Westminster through the
wrong end of a telescope. The governor, as her Majesty's representative,
delivered what may be called the Speech from the Throne. He said what he had to
say manfully and well. The military band outside the building struck up "God
save the Queen" with great vigour before his Excellency had quite finished; the
people shouted; the in's rubbed their hands; the out's shook their heads; the
Government party said there never was such a good speech; the Opposition
declared there never was such a bad one; the Speaker and members of the House of
Assembly withdrew from the bar to say a great deal among themselves and do a
little: and, in short, everything went on, and promised to go on, just as it
does at home upon the like occasions.
The town is built on the side of a hill, the highest point being commanded by
a strong fortress, not yet quite finished. Several streets of good breadth and
appearance extend from its summit to the water-side, and are intersected by
cross streets running parallel with the river. The houses are chiefly of wood.
The market is abundantly supplied; and provisions are exceedingly cheap. The
weather being unusually mild at that time for the season of the year, there was
no sleighing: but there were plenty of those vehicles in yards and by-places,
and some of them, from the gorgeous quality of their decorations, might have
'gone on' without alteration as triumphal cars in a melodrama at Astley's. The
day was uncommonly fine; the air bracing and healthful; the whole aspect of the
town cheerful, thriving, and industrious.
We lay there seven hours, to deliver and exchange the mails. At length,
having collected all our bags and all our passengers (including two or three
choice spirits, who, having indulged too freely in oysters and champagne, were
found lying insensible on their backs in unfrequented streets), the engines were
again put in motion, and we stood off for Boston.
Encountering squally weather again in the Bay of Fundy, we tumbled and rolled
about as usual all that night and all next day. On the next afternoon, that is
to say, on Saturday, the twenty-second of January, an American pilot-boat came
alongside, and soon afterwards the Britannia steam-packet, from Liverpool,
eighteen days out, was telegraphed at Boston.
The indescribable interest with which I strained my eyes, as the first
patches of American soil peeped like molehills from the green sea, and followed
them, as they swelled, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, into a
continuous line of coast, can hardly be exaggerated. A sharp keen wind blew dead
against us; a hard frost prevailed on shore; and the cold was most severe. Yet
the air was so intensely clear, and dry, and bright, that the temperature was
not only endurable, but delicious.
How I remained on deck, staring about me, until we came alongside the dock,
and how, though I had had as many eyes as Argus, I should have had them all wide
open, and all employed on new objects - are topics which I will not prolong this
chapter to discuss. Neither will I more than hint at my foreigner-like mistake
in supposing that a party of most active persons, who scrambled on board at the
peril of their lives as we approached the wharf, were newsmen, answering to that
industrious class at home; whereas, despite the leathern wallets of news slung
about the necks of some, and the broad sheets in the hands of all, they were
Editors, who boarded ships in person (as one gentleman in a worsted comforter
informed me), 'because they liked the excitement of it.' Suffice it in this
place to say, that one of these invaders, with a ready courtesy for which I
thank him here most gratefully, went on before to order rooms at the hotel; and
that when I followed, as I soon did, I found myself rolling through the long
passages with an involuntary imitation of the gait of Mr. T. P. Cooke, in a new
nautical melodrama.
'Dinner, if you please,' said I to the waiter.
'When?' said the waiter.
'As quick as possible,' said I.
'Right away?' said the waiter.
After a moment's hesitation, I answered 'No,' at hazard.
'NOT right away?' cried the waiter, with an amount of surprise that made me
start.
I looked at him doubtfully, and returned, 'No; I would rather have it in this
private room. I like it very much.'
At this, I really thought the waiter must have gone out of his mind: as I
believe he would have done, but for the interposition of another man, who
whispered in his ear, 'Directly.'
'Well! and that's a fact!' said the waiter, looking helplessly at me: 'Right
away.'
I saw now that 'Right away' and 'Directly' were one and the same thing. So I
reversed my previous answer, and sat down to dinner in
ten minutes afterwards; and a capital dinner it was.
The hotel (a very excellent one) is called the Tremont House. It has more
galleries, colonnades, piazzas, and passages than I can remember, or the reader
would believe.
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