Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

lenity, as it no doubt generally is, at least on shipboard. Hence, any little squib or original poetical effusion, after the dull monotony of a few days at sea, is quite likely to be received and passed around kindly; and it often serves, too, to open the way to acquaintanceship among the passengers. We secured some of these trifles which were perpetrated on our ship, and we will venture to reproduce them. In the afternoon of the day of embarkation the sea became rather rough, and it was less agreeable on the following day, which was raw, drizzly, and cold. We were now far out of sight of land, and the only cheerful sight during the day was a little land bird which alighted on one of the yard-arms of the vessel. With somewhat of homesickness and disagreeable premonitions of another kind of malady not more pleasant, it was not surprising that the passengers were touched by the following impromptu lines to our sweet visitor:

Welcome, dear birdie! welcome, I say!
Tell me, dear birdie, com'st thou to stay?
Tidings, what tidings bring'st thou to me,
Of friends, our dear friends, far over the sea?
Backward, fly quickly to where they all dwell,
And tell them you saw us all sailing on well.

The next was the following hymn, composed near the end of the week-our sailing day was Wednesday- and it was sung to the tune of "God save the Queen," as a part of the religious services on Sunday: Father of Light and Love, High on Thy throne above, Give us Thine ear.

All weak and powerless, we,

Thy children on the sea,

Would turn our thoughts to Thee,

And nothing fear.

O, God, in Thee we trust,
In Jesus' bosom must
Our safety be;

Then would we ever rest

Our heads upon His breast
The haven e'er the best,
On land or sea.

O, take us safe to shore,

Thy guidance we implore
From day to day;

To Thee our thanks we bring,
Give us all hearts to sing

The praises of our King,
His will obey.

One day, when the ocean was perfectly smooth, we were gratified with the sight of an iceberg of respectable dimensions, covering, say, four or five acres in extent, not over a mile off; and we could just discern several others, not probably as large, in the distance. Whereupon was produced this impromptu

ODE TO AN ICEBERG.

Cold, silent sentinel of the vasty deep,
Self-anchored on the great highway of life-
"Life on the ocean wave". what mean'st thou
By thy stern, stolid look? and in thy rear
Yet other glaciers, as if in reserve

To serve the purpose of thine own intent.
Cam'st thou in threat'ning guise and day serene
To warn of dangers still ahead at night,
O'ercast by cloud and storm? or standest thou
As mark expressive of all danger past?
Silent and cold thou art, and yet methinks

I do discern in thy more softened air,

As in review we take our leave of thee,

That thou art really a sentinel of love.

There was something in this which seemed to interest the first officer of the ship, for we observed that he procured a copy of it. Such "silent sentinels"

may well be the terror of "all that go down to the sea in ships;" and the wonder is that more vessels are not lost by coming in contact with them in the darkness of night and dense fogs such as one seldom fails to encounter in crossing the Atlantic. There is no doubt that many a ship with all on board is thus suddenly sent to the bottom of the ocean, while the cause of its loss remains forever unknown. It is during such nights when one feels that at any moment he may be engulfed, that he hears at short intervals, in almost breathless silence, the fearful screeching of the steam-whistle and the sound of the bells which are kept ringing as an additional warning to other vessels to keep out of the way. On the other hand, there is a sensation of relief when, late in the night, the sound of the hour-bell strikes the ear, with the cheerful cry of the watchmen, "All's well." It was in response to this feeling, doubtless, that the following lines were penned, likewise by one of our passengers:

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

Well, it must be admitted that this is dealing pretty extensively in rhymes, not to call them poetry; but how is one better to indite an ocean epistle than to present a view of such small things as transpire in the monotony of the voyage? True, all this would be omitted in an account of a stormy and dangerous trip, where fearful exposure and hairbreadth escapes were the order of the day as well as night; but, happily, we were spared this experience. Toward the end of the trip, when the passengers began to get acquainted with one another, we had a sort of literary reunion, two or three evenings, in the dining saloon, where, we remember, we listened to pleasant speeches from Horatio Stone, Mr. Wanamaker, the celebrated Sunday School teacher from Philadelphia, and others; and we had charming singing, also, by a Spanish Countess, as well as by Miss Edith Abell, who, with her mother, was on her way to Italy to study music, and of whose achievements in singing we have since heard very favorable accounts. Then, again, there were some quoit and other active games on deck during the day, and some card-playing among a few in the evening.

All were delighted, when, on the early morning of the 21st of May, land was espied on the coast of Ireland, and by five o'clock of the same day we ourselves and a few other passengers were safely landed at Queenstown, rejoiced to be once more on terra firma. The mails and some freight having also been

transferred to the tender, bearing the British and American flags, our good ship, with most of our compagnons de voyage, immediately proceeded on her way to her destined port of Liverpool-a sail of some eighteen hours.

CHAPTER II.

UEENSTOWN, MAY 21.-What a rest to be on land again! and what a pleasant sight was the little village of Queenstown and its adjacent fields as we sailed into her snug harbor and waited for the tender to come and take us on shore. The land rises abruptly from near shore, and the village is situated on the sides of the hills facing the harbor. Much of the land seems fitted only for pasturage, covered here and there with patches of gorse, or furze, a thick, prickly shrub, now in full bloom, its flowers being of a bright yellow color. From a distance the contrast between the deep green of the early grass and the yellow of these flowers was very striking, and with the white-painted houses of the scattered villages on the one hand and the strong fortification on the other, presented a landscape which has doubtless commanded the pencil of more than one artist.

The custom-house officers were on the tender, and the luggage of the passengers was passed with little ceremony, so that soon after our arrival at the wharf we were ready to proceed directly to the railroad station, a distance of some thirty rods, where the train was shortly ready to take us to Cork. A num

« ÎnapoiContinuă »