“HERCULES” FAILS--LAND CRABS--MR. BOBBINS--“RUSHING” THE SHIP--NEW
YORK.
_May, 1852._
The weather being fine, the roads were in tolerable order when we
arrived at Panama; we made light, therefore, of the journey, and, having
arrived at Gorgona, we dismounted from our mules, and, taking boats,
went swiftly down the rapid river, landing at the village of Barbacoes,
to which point the railway was now completed.
The station-house consisted of a large shed, in which hundreds of fowls
and thousands of eggs were being cooked, eaten, and paid for with
astonishing rapidity. I observed, among other things, that the coffee
was just as weak and scalding hot at Barbacoes, as at Wolverhampton, or
any other refreshment station.
There was no time-table here at this period; but the line had this
advantage over most others, that the
[Illustration]
train started at the time specified by the authorities; for they waited
until it suited them, and then gave the order to “let her slide.”
On this eventful day, however, we had not “slid” above two miles when
the train stopped. Returning Californians are of a vivacious temperament
generally, and are seldom at their ease when sitting down inactive;
therefore, the instant the train stopped, every man jumped out to see
what was the matter. The cause was soon apparent; we were ascending an
inclined plane, and the little engine--which, Hercules by name, was not
Hercules by nature--had declined to proceed any further. In vain the
sooty stoker emptied his oil-can into the fire to induce if possible
more steam; the little engine, as it ineffectually tried a fresh start,
looked piteous, and seemed to say, “How can you expect a little chap
like me to pull nine hundred of these big fellows up a hill like this?
Let ’em get out and shove me over.” This argument seemed to strike the
conductor, for, without further preface, he said, “Now, lads, heave
together,” and at once we all set our shoulders to the concern, and got
more speed out of it than “Hercules” had done from the start. There was
but one line of rails laid down, and, although the authorities were not
particular with regard to the time of starting, we had the comfort of
knowing that a collision with the other train could not be very serious.
I wonder what we should have done had we been met by an up-train; one of
us would have had to retire, for “Hercules” could not have taken us
back, and it was not likely we were going to shove ourselves back to
Barbacoes.
The scene would have been splendid, for like the two goats that met on
the narrow bridge, one train would have tried to force the other back,
and in this contest of personal strength I think the nine hundred
returning Californians would most probably have won the day, and entered
Aspinwall in triumph.
Having reached the top of the hill, we all got in, and Hercules making
the most of the descent ran away with us for three miles, when we got
out again, and so on. The road lay through a thick jungle of splendid
teaks, and palms, and ferns of every variety; the rich epiphytes brushed
against our carriage windows, and the air was suffused with that sweet
fragrance which is alone known in a tropical forest after rain has
fallen. Myriads of little land-crabs of a turquoise colour lined the
banks, and as the time had now arrived when we might discharge our
revolvers and put them away, the blue land-crabs had the advantage of
several hundred bullets, and whilst Hercules rushed impetuously through
the jungle, pop, pop, pop, went the “six-shooters,” and as the land
crabs turned over on their blue backs to die, they presented to the
astonished beholder yellow bellies and green eyes.
In a pouring rain we arrived at Aspinwall, and this being the terminus,
we proceeded at once on board the steamers that were waiting to convey
us to New York. There happened to be an unusual number of opposition
boats in the bay, so that fares were so reduced that the roughest fellow
there could take a first-class berth. This was very unfair to those of
us who had booked our places through at the office of the Mail Line in
San Francisco, for we had paid a certain price for a certain degree of
comfort and room, and this was denied to us so soon as the price of the
saloon fare rendered it so overcrowded that the tables had to be laid
_twelve times_ each day to accommodate the first-class passengers with
first-class fare.
Thus the saloon was continually occupied, and each moment it was, “Sound
the gong”--“Hurry up the soup,” and down rushed the “next lot,” as an
auctioneer would say, leaving a hecatomb of Californian hats at the foot
of the companion ladder. We had on board the junior partner of some
English house, who was returning from a business visit he had made to
some part of South America. He gave himself great airs, and being
dressed with the extreme taste which characterises your fast city man,
he threw us all into the shade, for we as yet were not fashionably
attired, nor had we put razors to our chins.
One day at dinner this fellow, being affronted at some negligence on the
part of the waiter, said, “Aw! do you take me for a returned
Californian?”
This remark being audible above the din of knives and forks produced a
sudden silence, and, for a moment I thought that Mr. Bobbins’s ears
would have been taken off with a carving knife. Fortunately, for him,
however, each one was in high spirits at the thought of reaching home,
and being very hungry continued his dinner without waiting to resent the
impertinence.
There was a man on board who had brought with him from the mines two
young grizzly bear cubs, who were just getting large enough to be
dangerous, and that evening, as Mr. Bobbins was dreamily enjoying a
cigar on deck, he was aroused from the contemplation of his patent
leather boots by moonlight with, “Sir, allow me to introduce to you two
returned Californians.” Ursa major, thereupon, being held up, scratched
Bobbins’s face, whilst ursa minor attacked the patent leathers, which he
forcibly removed, together with a toe-nail or so, with his teeth.
[Illustration]
Whilst one miner held a screeching, biting, ring-tailed monkey over Mr.
Bobbins’s head, another produced a savage bull-terrier, who, having done
his duty at the mines dogfully, seemed very anxious indeed to make the
acquaintance of Mr. Bobbins’s throat.
It was some time before the “returned Californians” could tear
themselves away from their new acquaintance, and when they did, they
tore away more of his cross-barred trousers and cut-away coat than any
tailor could repair.
The next day we arrived at Havannah, and Mr. Bobbins was wise enough to
leave the ship and await a passage in another vessel, and I only wish
that every travelling “gent” who, puffed out with conceit, causes his
countrymen to blush for his ignorance and vulgarity, may get as durable
a lesson as that which Mr. Bobbins received from the four-footed
“returned Californians.”
At Havannah we found that Americans were in bad odour, on account of the
fillibustering expeditions which had but lately been repulsed. As we
steamed out of the harbour, an intelligent miner observed to me, “I
guess that place will soon belong to our people.”
“Do you think Spain will sell it?” I asked.
“Our people will take it,” he replied.
“But,” said I, “suppose England and France should interfere.”
“Whip them,” was the laconic reply, and he turned on his heel.
I mention this, because a large portion of the people of the United
States, remembering only the successful frigate actions in which, during
the last war, they reaped laurels, are ignorant respecting the real
strength of their navy at this moment.
As our captain wished to arrive at New York before the opposition boats,
all steam was carried that the boilers could bear, and a little more, I
suspect. In fact we were to “rush the ship,” and she so trembled fore
and aft with the work, that it was almost impossible to read a book in
any part of her. The bearings of the engines became so hot that they
were pumped upon day and night.
She was a beautiful boat, built for the most part of pine, I believe,
and there was no difficulty in placing, under favourable circumstances,
three hundred and fifty miles a day on her log board, independent of any
favourable current.
Soon, however, we were in the Gulf stream, and were met by signs of a
south-easter; first it “clouded up,” as a miner remarked, and then it
“breezed up considerable,” after which night came on and with it the
gale. These south-easters have a way of chopping round when at their
height, and by this eccentric conduct many vessels are lost. One of the
officers informed me that a short time previously a brig called the John
Hill, was taken aback in this way, and her cargo of molasses shifted and
burst the decks, upon which, “John Hill” became water-logged. Two days
after the mate was taken off the wreck with two legs and an arm broken;
and, concluded my informant, the captain was found two miles off “in
good shape” floating on a hen-coop--the rest of the crew were lost. Fine
weather succeeded the gale, doubly fine by contrast, and as we passed
Sandy Hook, and steamed up New York Bay, the shores on either side,
white with snow, shone brilliantly in the winter’s sun; and the leafless
trees that grew in copses here and there in naked desolation, had more
charm for us, being nearer home, than ever had the vivid green of the
palms and ferns that ten days back we had seen at Panama.
Thus is our appreciation of the beautiful ever dependant on association;
and to me the white cliffs of my own country, whether I am casting the
last glance on leaving them, or straining my eyes as I first catch a
glimpse of them as I return, these ugly chalky cliffs have more actual
charm for my eye than all that I have ever seen elsewhere of nature’s
rarest gifts.
* * * * *
There is nothing left for me to say of New York, others having recorded
more than I could learn of it in a week’s sojourn there. Having visited
many places of note, that have been already accurately described, I
turned into Barnum’s Museum to see the woolly horse, but I could not
find it; being disappointed in the natural history department, I stopped
to witness the theatrical performance, and this so impressed me that I
subjoin for the benefit of the reader a bill of performance, which I
extracted from an American journal:--
Just opened, with 100,000 Curiosities, and performance in
Lecter-Room; among witch may be found
TWO LIVE BOAR CONSTRICTERS,
Mail and Femail.
ALSO!!
A STRIPED ALGEBRA, STUFT.
BESIDES!!
A PAIR OF SHUTTLE COCKS AND ONE SHUTTLE HEN--alive!
THE!
SWORD WITCH GEN. WELLINGTON FIT WITH AT THE
BATTEL OF WATERLOO! whom is six feet long and
broad in proportion.
WITH!!!
A ENORMOUS RATTLETAIL SNAKE--a regular wopper!
AND!
THE TUSHES OF A HIPPOTENUSE!
Together with!
A BENGALL TIGER: SPOTTED LEPROSY!
* * * * *
GREAT MORAL SPECTACLE OF ‘MOUNT VESUVIUS!’
PART ONE.
Seen opens. Distant Moon. View of Bey of Napels. A thin smoke
rises. _It is the Beginning of the Eruction!_ The Napels folks
begin to travel. Yaller fire, follered by silent thunder. Awful
consternation. _Suthin rumbles!_ It is the Mounting preparin’ to
Vomic! They call upon the Fire Department. _It’s no use!_ Flight of
stool-pidgeons. A cloud of impenetrable smoke hang over the fated
city, through witch the Naplers are seen makin’ tracks. Awful
explosion of bulbs, kurbs, forniquets, pin weels, serpentiles, and
fourbillon spirals! The Moulting Laver begins to squash out!
End of Part One.
COMIC SONG.
The Parochial Beedle Mr. Mullet.
LIVE INJUN ON THE SLACK WIRE.
Live Injun Mr. Mullet.
OBLIGATIONS ON THE CORNUCOPIA, BY SIGNOR
VERMICELLI.
Signor Vermicelli Mr. Mullet.
In the course of the evening will be an exhibishun of Exileratin’
Gas! upon a Laffin Highena!
Laffin Highena Mr. Mullet.
PART TWO.
Bey of Napels ’luminated by Bendola Lites. The lava gushes down.
Through the smoke is seen the city in a state of conflagration. The
last family! “_Whar is our parents?_” A red hot stone of eleving
tuns weight falls onto ’em. The bearheaded father falls scentless
before the statoo of the Virgin! _Denumong!!_
The hole to conclude with a
GRAND SHAKSPEARING PYROLIGNEOUS DISPLAY OF
FIREWURX!!
Maroon Bulbs, changing to a spiral weel, witch changes to the Star
of our Union: after, to butiful p’ints of red lites; to finish with
busting into a Brilliant Perspiration!
During the performance a No. of Popular Airs will be performed on
the Scotch Fiddle and Bag-pipes, by a real Highlander.
Real Highlander Mr. Mullet.
Any boy making a muss, will be injected to once’t.
As the Museum is Temperance, no drinkin’ aloud, but anyone will
find the best of lickers in the Sloon below.
Could I have witnessed such an entertainment as this, together with the
woolly horse, my chapter on New York would have been swelled both in
size and importance.