Chapter I: Voyage to New York

Mallow to Queenstown -- The steam tender -- The "_Gallia_"
-- Our fellow-passengers -- The first night at sea --
Observations -- Marine inquiries -- A brilliant run -- A
little stranger -- Approaches to New York -- Sandy Hook --
Friends on shore -- New York interviewers --First
impressions.

On Easter Day I was picked up by the mail--the very limited mail-train at Mallow. There were few passengers in it, some half-dozen Americans and English, all told, for the "_Gallia_." The Borough, lying snugly in the wooded valley of the Blackwater, of the "Rakes" (who seem to have sown their wild oats and cut them and their sticks long ago), did not contribute so much as one spectator to the little official group--stationmaster, police, and porters--on the platform; perhaps the population generally was engulfed in the churches and chapels of the district; and the half-hour or so which sufficed to reach "the beautiful city called Cork" was passed in observation of external objects--the trout-stream; the umbrageous glens; the fields indifferently cultivated in the rare cases where they are not devoted to pasturage; the ruined abbey; the ridiculous mock Round Tower; the Hydropathic Sanitarium; the "Groves of Blarney"--chiefly of that hazy sort, where familiar scenes are associated with the dim speculation, "Shall I ever see them again?" which occupies the place of thought in the mind of people on the eve of a long expedition of this kind. It is a languid interest. But nevertheless it has its uses, which is more than can be said of the delay on the Cork platform graciously accorded to passengers ere the train starts for Queenstown. Every door is fast shut, and indeed if the observance of the Sabbath were less strict, there would not be any advantage gained by the hungry traveller, for there is only a wilderness of small shops, all closed too, in the dreary street which leads from the station of the Great Midland to the city, and there is no refreshment-room at the Cork Terminus. The directors of this well-managed line seek to combine the inculcation of temperance and the development of habits of meditation over the flight of time with the exercise of self-denial and patience. They do not allow the sale of any sort of spirits, unless they be called "port," "sherry," or "cordial," and they have a little Maine Liquor Law of their own at the railway stations. But our meditations on the Cork platform on the vanity of human wishes were at last dispelled by the ringing of the bell of the train for Queenstown, and in the prescribed time we were duly delivered over there to the "carboys" and the general outlawry of the agents of commerce who await the arrival of passengers for the States--a swarm of ragged boys with newspapers devoted to politics racy of the soil; vendors of the most primitive bouquets of heather, hollyhocks, sweet-brier, and the like; merchants with ragged and rugged sticks offered as genuine shillelaghs; women with baskets of fruit of suspicious aspect--all urged on the notice of the public with great clamour of voice. It is a quaint trade; and wonderful was it to see the number of good Americans who invested in these memorials, relics of European travel, bearing them on board the steam tender with grave solicitude. The steam tender aforesaid was already duly crammed with mail bags, passengers, and a fair proportion of juvenile Americans revelling in the freedom and perfect self-control proper to the race, conspicuous among whom was a pretty little lady of some twelve or thirteen years of age, who had all the airs and graces of "une demoiselle de la vieille Cour." The "_Gallia_" had made a quick passage from Liverpool, and had been fuming about the moorings off Roche's Point since 5.30 A.M. Many of her passengers had landed and gone, some to church, others to chapel, or to the "grand cathedral," and some to stroll about the uninviting streets, and these were now waiting for us in the tender, but the majority of the voyagers were on board writing letters or abusing the post-office and the authorities generally which enforced such a waste of the time they found so heavy on their hands. I found two acquaintances--one indeed an old friend--among the passengers in the tender, and with them I divided the cares of looking after my two married daughters who came "to see me off," thereby obtaining an opportunity for a dash to "see after" my luggage, for I am too old a traveller to trust to the assurances of porters--"It's all right, your honour!" In twenty minutes more the tender, inspected by hundreds of eyes from over the bulwarks, was alongside the slim vast hull of the great Cunarder. I looked up as the eyes looked down, and saw most of my party above, and in a few seconds more was on deck shaking hands with them all round; finding out my State Room--what a noble appellation for the cubicle, "that heritage of woe," of which I was lord!--exhibiting the charms and conveniences of the same to my anxious daughters, who with feminine enthusiasm declared it was "delightful! so snug!" &c., and distributing my property in its angles and covert retreats. "All on board for the shore!" The bell is ringing for the third time! And as the last adieux are spoken, the last kiss, the last shake of the hand, given, and the outward and visible signs of friendship or of love are relegated to tearful eyes and waving kerchiefs, those who are going to sea think perhaps how pleasant it would be to return to the solid earth, and those who are bound for road or pavement struggle with the thought, "I wish I were going too!" Any stick will do to beat a dog! Any umbrella or hat will do to wave at a friend. And so, at 3.30 that afternoon, the "_Gallia_" made a graceful curtsy to an incoming wave, screwed herself out of the roadstead, and turned her stem to the Far West, towards the sun "which, by the bright track of his fiery car, gave token of a goodly day to-morrow." How green and fresh seemed the land where the fields swelled to the edge of the cliffs dotted with whitewashed cottages! Forward, leaning over forecastle bulwarks, the poor Irish emigrants and Irish-Americans were watching the coast-lines and listening to the experts who were pointing out the "Killies" and "Bailies" which adorned them. But the bell soon sounded again, this time to prepare for dinner, and in half an hour more, from the recesses of many cabins the multitude came trooping to the banqueting hall, which was at the time just gently yielding to the blandishments of the sea-nymphs to desert the line of strict propriety, and to leave off doing its level best. The "party" had a table all to itself on the right of the Saloon, but at the end there were two places left which we could not occupy, and these were filled by two American gentlemen, one of whom developed a marked talent for salads and anecdote, and the other equal gifts in the way of silence. The Cunard cuisine is copious at all events, and the cellar--albeit vexed by various temperatures and altitudes--commendable. The show of strength at table was creditable to our seagoing powers, and our first night with the expeditionary forces was passed pleasantly in discussing plans and the like till bed-time, when our grim chamberlain put out our candles, and left the inmates of the cabins to rest as best they might. On the second day people began to look more at each other at meal-times--to take notice, as the nurses say--but a strong easterly breeze introduced elements of discomfort and unsociability, and impeded friendly communion even in the smoking-room for a day or two. It was evident that the majority of the living freight of the "_Gallia_" were returning to their native land. There is always something or other cropping up out of the sad sea wave for those who are not absorbed in their own sufferings from the _mal de mer_; and though I have been fortunate enough to have escaped the slightest inconvenience in my marine experiences, I have had that share in the misery of others which is derived from sympathy. I have sometimes doubted whether exemption from sea-sickness, in bad weather, is such a boon, till I duly considered the state of those who were its victims. To be quite well, and yet to be unable to read or to write--to sit or to stand, or to lie down--without some sort of tension--is very aggravating. If you go on deck you are wet by sea or spray, and can do nothing but "hold on"; and if you go below you are half suffocated by the close air, and altogether tortured by the cries of distress around you. My cabin was on the main deck forward--large, airy, and, when the ports were open, well lighted--and the only inconvenience attendant on the situation was that it lay some distance from the bath-rooms, which are never numerous enough for the wants of the passengers even in the most liberally-appointed steamers. The knowing ones make a rush for the bath-room steward and inscribe their names at once for their quarter of an hour as soon as they come on board, and the unfortunates who neglect that precaution are obliged to take their chance later in the morning, and sometimes fare but badly. It was my fate once to be a passenger on board one of the steamers of the Messagéries Impériales to Marseilles from the East, at the close of the Crimean War. There was an immense crowd of officers and soldiers on board, and the weather was very hot, but the only bath-room was closed, and it was from a conclusive answer to the demands for admission which were made to the persecuted steward that we learned the reason why--"the bath was occupied." It contained the body of an officer which had been embalmed, and which was being taken to France for burial in some martial cemetery!

Washington Irving wrote long ago that "the sea is all monotony," though he claimed leave to correct the expression, and if it were a monotony of fair winds and smooth water, and eighteen miles an hour, it would be very tolerable indeed. But surely there is no monotony in a sea voyage in an Atlantic liner! Look at the different phases of character exhibited on board day after day! Observe the ups and downs of its life; watch the microcosm of the crowded deck, where every chair holds its little Areopagus and pronounces judgment on the world around it.

There were brave men among us who resorted to ignoble artifices, and went by devious ways to their cabins to escape the masked batteries, and the spectacles and glasses _en barbette_ of the long lines of cushioned bastions where the enemy were lying in vigilant scrutiny of every movement.

And then the Babel of tongues at times--the variety of topics one hears discussed. Hark to that trumpet tone! It is not Jeremiah warning the nations to flee from the wrath to come! No! it is merely a gallant officer of a scientific corps who is expounding to some admiring Americans a few articles of his faith, and proving that Mr. Gladstone is the "Man of Sin" specially intended for the destruction of the British army and Empire. And there, in a cozy nook by the wheel-house, an earnest Democrat is holding forth to his English auditors on the evils of democracy as illustrated by the conduct of the Republicans in the exercise of political power, the manipulation of ballot-boxes and public bullion; and a sturdy Briton near at hand is enlarging on the absolute necessity of restoring the worn-out lands of the Eastern States and Canada to fertility by the use of manures of which he is the manufacturer. Among the Americans there were not wanting signs and tokens that the traditions of a great war and the influence of party politics were as powerful as social distinctions, and their cliques were as marked as if each represented a different "set" in one of the old countries.

There is the unfailing anxiety about the weather--and there are remarks on its behaviour, past, present, and future, at every meal, and there must be incessant vigilance respecting the proceedings of the ship. The 9 o'clock observation is regarded with an interest which culminates at noon in the proceedings of the officers engaged in "catching the sun," and then comes the anxious waiting about of the passengers whilst the calculations are being worked out, till the run is announced and the result fixed over the companion. In some vessels a chart is laid out, on which the course of the ship is marked down daily. I have seen an expression of much comfort diffused over the countenances of suspicious voyagers by the inspection of the final remarks which show them "exactly where we are, you know." They are not quite aware of the tricks of the trade, and it is perhaps just as well. Then all operations aloft are attractive--taking in sail or shaking out a reef, or "taking a haul on the weather braces," which seems necessary when nothing else is to be done--and there is the wonderful problem to study of why it is that, no matter where you put yourself away on the deck of a ship, a "hand" comes to you at once to pull the particular rope you are sitting or standing on, or to otherwise civilly molest you! All these common interests bind passengers together. The smoking-room becomes conversational after a time, and "sets" are enlarged. The energies of life, however, are concentrated on but a few objects on board ship, and the general conversation and attitude of the passengers are largely regulated by the vehicle in which they are borne. And that was the course of life in the "_Gallia_." A flying-fish, a petrel, a porpoise, the glinting of a sail, the smoke of a steamer, became a subject for general conversation, if not an object of universal attraction; and when porpoises or flying-fish came close in shoals, and the "sails" were near, and the steamer's number, or better still, her name, could be read, why, there was quite enough of incident to carry one through the not very long intervals which divided the times for eating and drinking. I have not mentioned the gulls, because I think they are becoming decidedly demoralised and disreputable, and ought not to be noticed. Instead of getting their subsistence and living cleanly by honest labour, as decent gulls should do, they have become mere ocean scavengers, and follow the steamers to and fro across the Atlantic; some, I dare say, preferring the Cunard, others the Inman; and the White Star, Guion, &c., lines, probably having clientelles of their own. It is possible indeed that each vessel has its own _habitués_, just like a club or a hotel; but this is merely a theory. I am sorry to say that I have observed a tendency on the part of the solan geese to be led away to following these wakes, and if that goes on, the gulls will be driven to farming, for which, in ignorance of the ruinous nature of the occupation they are indeed showing an increasing predilection.

The 19th April was debited with a brilliant run--390 nautical miles in the 24 hours, equal to 16-3/8 knots per hour!--and there was an exceeding clangour of tongues at meal-times, attributable, it would seem, to the "_Gallia_" having screwed her way through the ocean at such high speed. On such occasions as these the deck-frequenting passengers are in high spirits--they in some way unconsciously attribute to themselves a share in the performance. The Auditor drank his "Dry Monopole"--a good tap was discovered on board--with unusual relish; nor was he left to do so single-handed. Mr. Bridgeman developed a salad of great originality and power; the American Colonel, filled with thoughts too big for utterance, smiled on society at large.

By degrees--short and cumulative--acquaintanceship was developing; familiarity took the place of reserve, and the game of "poker," inaugurated by some American experts, enlisted its votaries from expanding circles, and usurped large sections of the saloon tables, not only by night, but by day. It is a pity that it takes so long to bring out or up musical talent at sea, for it is often that sweet voices are heard warbling, deft fingers wake up the notes of the piano, and histrionic gifts are made manifest, in unexpected quarters, only a day or two before the end of the voyage; and just as society begins to enjoy them it is dispersed for ever as though it were an exploded shell! We had on board senators and judges, and men of eminence and women of culture, as we began to find out when we were about to lose them, and day after day jokes became more interchangeable and transferable, like the quaint conceits in "drinks," cocktails, and the like, which were sent round from table to table by the cognoscenti to their friends. One night there came to me, at dinner-time, a card with a drawing on it of a gentleman running at full speed from a suspicion of cavalry in the rear, and underneath were the words "Russell at Bull Run." There was just room enough on the card to enable me to draw in front of the figure so described a pair of legs and part of the body of another fugitive, and writing below the legs "The last man of the Federal army on that occasion," I returned it to my American friend, and the burst of laughter which ensued from the company at the table showed that the _réplique_ had been appreciated.

And there was a domestic event, soon after our departure, which excited much interest. A poor woman, who was going out to join her husband in some distant digging, gave birth to a little girl. Somehow or other the Auditor became involved in the case, and got up a subscription for the benefit of the little stranger and its mother, which compelled him to make many journeys to the steerage, and to make many acquaintances among the ladies, for which he had a happy knack, in the interests of charity. A cynical officer of the ship somewhat damped our benevolence by hinting that "that sort of thing was always going on," and when he was pressed for information he said that intending emigrants in the rank of life to which the mother belonged, frequently deferred their journey to the last moment, when expecting such events, in anticipation of a subscription from the passengers as soon as their time had come. Ere we landed the child was baptized in due form--one of her names being "Gallia"--and a purse of sovereigns was presented to the grateful mother, who certainly deserved them for her maternal solicitude and punctuality in such an important transaction.

And there was a fair face on which we gazed every day with growing sadness and sympathy. No one knew anything of the story of the pensive, melancholy girl whose eyes were often suffused with tears, but we heard that the heavy but not unbenevolent-looking ecclesiastic in the garb of a Roman Catholic bishop with whom she was travelling was taking her to America in order to put her into a convent. It was a prospect which she certainly seemed to regard with grief and despair, if one might judge from the expression of her sorrowful countenance and mournful mien. We could pity, and that was all.

Smooth seas and favouring breezes prevailed for the greater part of our course. Early on the morning of the 25th April land was in sight, and Sandy Hook was visible right ahead before noon. After breakfast came that mundane solicitude about baggage, luggage, and the like, which betokens the end of the voyage. The stewards, always prompt, on board the "_Gallia_," were almost aggressively attentive as though to reproach us for going on shore from them so soon.

Outside Sandy Hook we took in a pilot, a grave bearded gentleman in a black frock coat, tall hat, and satin waistcoat, from one of the pretty pilot boats, the appearance of which in the distance was attended with a good deal of anxiety connected with a sum of money in the lottery, the ownership of which was determined by the figure on her mainsail. But the news the pilot brought us was startling, and engrossed every thought for the time. "Lord Beaconsfield is dead!" In an instant it was known all over the ship. Up to the time of the "_Gallia_" leaving Queenstown the bulletins had given ground for hope, indeed almost the assurance, that there was no great reason to fear a fatal termination to Lord Beaconsfield's illness, and one of us had received a letter from the best authority, expressing the belief that the critical period had been passed and that he might be expected to "pull through all right." The sad intelligence for a while overpowered all other interests. We had forgotten Europe for eight days, and now the voice which aroused us announced "Lord Beaconsfield is dead!" The various objects on the shores we were approaching or passing were for a time unnoticed. Among our little party were men of different phases of political feeling, but on one point they were all agreed--that England had lost a great minister, and the world one of the most brilliant and original statesmen of the age. Even amongst Americans, who might not be expected to have much sympathy for the loss of a statesmen of his Imperial stamp, much regret was expressed for Lord Beaconsfield's death. "I doubt, sir," said one of them, "if he could have done it in our country. I guess his novels would have prevented it, even if he could have got over being a Jew. We cannot run politics and literature together as you can--that's a fact. The writers who get places don't amount to much--ministers and consuls, and that sort of thing, abroad. To succeed they must take to the one line or the other."

The Health Officer's boat came alongside with friends at the Quarantine Ground, and Judge Pierrepoint, formerly United States Minister at the Court of St. James's, boarded the "_Gallia_" to welcome the Duke of Sutherland, whose guest he had been at Dunrobin Castle, and to claim the fulfilment of the Duke's promise given in London to dine with him in New York.

In one sense the attachment of Americans to the land of their birth or adoption is generally intense; our fellow-passengers gazed on the shore with delight. "You have before you, sir," said a gentleman alongside, as I leant over the bulwarks, "the most beautiful bay in the world!" "The most beautiful bay in the world"! I wonder how many places there are of that description? Several I know of in Ireland and in Scotland, some in England, a few in the Mediterranean; and others there are in Indian and Chinese seas, right away to California, north and south, and east and west, and in all the isles of the ocean. But, certainly, the approach to the great city enthroned on the Hudson, with its wide-stretching arms of river and commingling sea, is very fine, and, although the scenery around it is not of the very highest order of beauty, New York is grandly placed.

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead"--

Well! though Sir Walter may have put the thought into very exalted verse, most of us have felt the sensation he describes, and it does not require a very remarkable or ancient pedigree among the nations to cause a country to be beloved of its people. Woman, however, was occupied at that particular moment on board the "_Gallia_" in devising means to evade the inquisitorial search of the myrmidons of Uncle Sam's Custom House, and to reduce the amount of her contributions to the Imperial Exchequer--for a Republic can be Imperial, I presume--to the lowest possible figure.

The manners of the Custom House officers were exceedingly bland, and so were their customs as far as our baggage was concerned, because they passed it with the greatest readiness on nominal parole, and I may now declare that there was not in the whole lot a single article subject to the smallest duty. But there was a fair and charming lady who was returning with the purchased plunder of, I dare say, the best milliners and dressmakers in the capitals of Europe, and on these treasures there would be heavy duty to pay. Feminine sagacity, aided by masculine depravity, enabled her to achieve a triumph in which most of the outside accomplices rejoiced exceedingly. "Mrs. A., I see you have twenty-two packages marked; have you anything to declare?" Mrs. A. smiled, blushed, and with downcast eyes said, "Yes, sir; I have got some lace, silk, and other things of the kind in box No. 4." "We will search box No. 4, if you please, ma'am." The keys were produced, the articles duly examined and assessed, and the twenty-one unexamined boxes were marked with the sign of customs emancipation. The box which was examined contained, as the lady declared subsequently when she got on shore, the smallest number of articles liable to duty of the whole number; the others were crammed with them!

I shall not attempt to describe the approaches to New York and the various objects on shore--the towering Elevators and the antithetical beauties of the New Jersey hills; the monumental piles of the mammoth hotels on Coney Island--"where," whispers my American, "from 50,000 to 60,000 people go for dinner every day during the season. Why, if they spend but 50 cents each, that's £5,000 to £6,000 a day of your money! Just see!"--but suppose we have worked up the river, and are sidling in to our berth through the flotillas of the white-sailed coasters and the huge walking-beam steamers crowded with people, which impress new-comers perhaps more than any other novelty.