ON THE ATLANTIC.
The Steerage.--Pilot Boats.--Tommy meets Rough Weather.--His Letter
and Postscript.--Queer Passengers.--Games and Story-telling.--Story
of Joan of Arc.--Signalling at Sea.--Land!
An ocean steamer! Though a speck upon the waters, what a world it
seems! What symmetry, what strength, what a triumph of human skill!
What a cheerful sense of security one feels as one looks upon the oak
and the iron, and hears the wind whistle through the motionless forest
of cordage! There society in all its grades is seen, and human nature
in all its phases.
The cool upper deck of the steamer was more inviting to our tourists
than the hot streets and hotels of New York, and early in the
afternoon they met on the North River Pier, and went on board of their
ocean home. First, they examined the elegant saloons, then their snug
state-rooms, and at last the steerage apartment, where George and
Leander were to have their quarters.
The steerage was not a wholly uninviting apartment. It was a plain
cabin, amidships, well lighted and ventilated, and very clean. A
stanch-looking pair of stairs led down to it. On each side were bunks
in little rooms; those on the right hand for women, and on the left
for men. These were lighted and aired by port-holes. Each passenger
provided his own bedding and eating utensils.
"I like this," said Tommy Toby to the steward. "Are the passengers
here more likely to be sick than in the first cabin?"
"No," said the steward. "This is the steadiest part of the ship."
"Then what is the difference between the cabin and the steerage?"
"Well, the difference is in the folks, and the furniture, and the way
you eat your victuals."
The steerage passengers were allowed the freedom of the decks, but not
of the grand saloons. Master Lewis and the boys seated themselves in a
group on the upper deck, when they had well visited the different
parts of the ship.
Early in the evening, the immense ship moved slowly and steadily away
from the sultry wharves into the calm sea and cool air. The great city
with its gleaming spires seemed sinking in the sea, and the hills of
Neversink to be burying themselves in the shadows.
Pilot boats several times crossed the track of the steamer, with their
numbers conspicuously painted on their sails.
"Why does a captain, who navigates a ship across the ocean," asked
Frank of Master Lewis, "need the assistance of pilots and pilot-boats
when he is in sight of land?"
"It is because the harbor is more dangerous than the open ocean, and
pilots make these dangers the study of their lives.
"See yonder pilot-boat skimming with the grace of a sea-bird along the
sea. It has the stanchness of a ship built for the longest voyages. It
is doubtless made of the best oak, is sheathed with the best copper,
and may have cost twenty thousand dollars."
"The life of a pilot must be an adventurous one," said Frank, "and
there must be also much pleasure in it."
"It requires special education and hard training to become a pilot. It
is expected that the candidate for the position shall have been an
apprentice four years, during which he shall have performed all the
duties of a common sailor, even to the washing of the decks and the
tarring of the rigging. This is his college life. If he is an apt
student, he then obtains a certificate of qualification from a board
of commissioners by whom he has been rigidly examined.
"The pilot-boats themselves are exposed to great dangers in foggy
weather. A calm comes on, and they cannot move. In this situation,
they are liable to be struck by one of the great iron vessels or ocean
steamers. During the last twenty-five years, some thirty pilot-boats
have been lost on this coast."
[Illustration: PILOT-BOAT.]
The night was beautiful, calm, cool, starry. In the morning, the sun
rose red from the sea. Land had disappeared. The boys all met on the
deck, in fine health and spirits.
Towards evening, the sea grew rough, and there were premonitions of
sea-sickness among the passengers. Tommy Toby, in an amusing letter
which he wrote to his parents, gave a stereoscopic pen-picture of the
condition of our travellers at this period of the voyage. He
afterwards added a characteristic postscript. We give Tommy's letter
and postscript entire:--
My Dear Parents:
If I can only get safely back to Boston, I will never
start on a voyage again.
I knew it would be so. I have been seasick.
The first night and day we had very pleasant weather and
a light sea.
On the evening of the second day, I was on deck with
the boys.
All at once the boat gave a great lurch. Then another.
Then another.
"We are getting into rough water," said Master Lewis.
Wyllys Wynn, who is a poet, was repeating some beautiful
rhymes, when suddenly he grew white in the face, and
said, "And so it goes on for several lines." He meant
the poetry. Then he began to wander to and fro in search
of the cabin and his state-room.
Frank Gray began to tell a story, but stopped short, and
said, "The rest of it is like unto _that_!" He meant the
rest of the story. Then he went to the cabin, "making
very crooked steerage," one of the deck-hands said.
Ernest Wynn followed him, in the same strange gait.
"The Zigzag Club," said the deck-hand. He was a very
sarcastic man.
The ship gave another dreadful lurch, and I began to
feel very strange.
I went to my state-room. I felt worse on the way.
The ship seemed to have lost all her steadiness.
I cannot describe the night that followed. The ship
creaked, and seemed just about to roll over after every
lurch. Sometimes she went up. I was so dizzy, it seemed
to me that she went up almost to the moon. Then she came
down. She always came down. It seemed to me she must be
going down to the bottom of the sea.
In the morning, the steward came.
"It 'as been a 'eavy blow, ruther."
"A heavy blow!" said I. "Did you ever know any thing
like it in your life? Do you think we shall ever see
land again?"
"Nothin' alarmin'," said the steward.
A dreadful day followed. I did not leave my room. I
wished I had never left home. I felt like the Frenchman
who said, "I would kees ze land, if I could only see any
land to kees."
The next day I was better, only there was a light
feeling in my head.
I went up on deck. The sun was shining. The wind blew,
but the air was very refreshing.
This is the fourth day out. I have been able to eat
to-day. I am feeling very hungry.
I find that all the boys have been obliged to keep their
rooms, except George Howe, who is in the steerage.
How fearful I am we shall have another night like
_that_! How glad I shall be to see land again! The land
is the place, after all. I wish I were sure we would
have good weather, when we return.
Your thoughtful son,
Thomas Toby.
P. S. Three days after. I am well now. I never felt so
bright and happy in my life. The steward says that
people are seldom sick twice during the same voyage. An
ocean trip is just the thing, after all.
There were a few rather odd characters among the passengers: among them
a portly, self-satisfied Englishman, returning from a tour of the
States, with an increased respect for fine old English society; a
glib-tongued Frenchman, who was delighted with "Ze States,--deelightéd!"
and whose talk was like a row of exclamation points; and a sentimental
Italian fiddler, in very poor dress, going back to the beauties of
Naples and the dreamy airs and skies of "Etalee."
[Illustration: {TWO OF OUR FELLOW TRAVELLERS.}]
Tommy Toby seemed to gravitate towards these people, when his
sea-sickness was over.
"I likes zis American poy," said the Frenchman. "Intelegent! Has ze
activitee; agilitee; very great prom-ese!"
"Our country must be very different from yours," said Tommy, one day.
"Veery, veery different indeed! Wonderful countree,--delightful! What
grand rivers! what waterfalls,--Niag-e-ra! what lakes! Room for all ze
world! Hospitalitee for all ze nations!"
"The Frenchman says our country is the most wonderful in all the
world," said Tommy to the portly Englishman.
The latter looked very solemn; seemed about to speak, then made a
long pause as though the opinion he was about to utter was a very
weighty one.
"Poverty to riches, riches to poverty; now up, now down, but the
animating principle always the same,--riches, riches. Wonderful
people! progress! each one living to outdo the other. To-day an
alderman, to-morrow in the penitentiary; to-day my Lady of Lynne,
to-morrow John o' the Scales's wife!"
Tommy had an idea of what his lugubrious acquaintance meant to say,
though the latter's wisdom was rather above his intellectual stature.
"We have no castles in America," said Tommy.
"Castles! No; an American family could not keep a castle: it would be
sold in five years for a mill."
[Illustration: {A STEERAGE PASSENGER.}]
Tommy's face was always very bright after talking with the Frenchman,
but lengthened out during the interview with his English friend. He
usually retired discomforted from the latter, to seek comfort in the
steerage from the lively Italian's fiddle.
* * * * *
There was a bright girl on board, named Agnes,--the daughter of a
Boston gentleman, who was going abroad for a year. She was a social
miss; witty, yet polite; speaking to every one freely, without being
intrusive.
On the evening of the sixth day, nearly all the passengers were in the
saloon. Agnes was asked to sing. She winningly said,--
"I will do my best, if agreeable to all." She asked to be excused a
moment, and presently returned with a broad-rimmed hat and a basket,
and wandering carelessly up and down the saloon sang "The Beggar
Girl."
"Over the mountain, and over the moor,
Hungry and barefoot I wander forlorn.
My father is dead and my mother is poor,
And she grieves for the days that will never return.
Pity, kind gentlefolk,
Friends of humanity,
Keen blows the blast and night's coming on;
O give me some food
For my mother, for charity;
Give me food for my mother, and I will be gone."
Agnes presented her basket to one and another of the passengers, as if
to solicit contributions as the song went on. All were pleased with
the diversion, and it was proposed to have some other amusements
during the evening.
Agnes arranged some impromptu charades: one on _Ingratiate_ (in grey
she ate); another on _Cowhiding_ (cow hiding, in which she personated
a milk-maid calling "Co boss, co boss!" and afterwards the same maid
cowhiding a boy for hiding her cow). Agnes selected Tommy Toby to
assist her in this last amusing tableau.
Agnes next appeared as a mind-reader. Before this last rôle, however,
she was observed having a confidential chat with Tommy Toby.
"Now," said she, "if any of you are interested in clairvoyance, I
shall be pleased to give an exhibition of the science. You may not
know I am a mind-reader."
"She probably has been reading Master Toby's mind already," said her
father, smilingly looking over his paper.
"Oh, father!"
"If each of you will write a word on a slip of paper, I will have the
slips collected and put on my forehead; and I will take them from my
forehead one by one, but before I take each one down, I will tell what
is written upon it."
All wrote some word.
"Will some one collect the slips?" she asked.
"I will," said her father.
"I think as Thomas Toby is _spry_, I shall have to ask him to do me
the favor."
"How I wish I were _spry_!" said her father.
The slips were collected. Tommy put them all on her forehead. She put
up her fingers and held them there, and Tommy took a seat with his
friends.
Agnes seemed in reverie. Then she said emphatically,--
"On the first slip is written 'Boston!' Who wrote that?"
"I," said Tommy Toby.
"Then it is correct?"
"Yes."
She took the slip from her forehead and laid it in her lap, saying as
she did so,--
"It is not written very plainly, either."
So one by one she read all the slips. Each passenger acknowledged the
writing of each announced word, after it had been correctly given by
Agnes. First, the correct readings awakened wonder, then positive
excitement. The experiment was repeated at the request of all, with
the same wonderful result.
The diversion was reproduced on the following evening, and even Master
Lewis failed to see how the girl read the slips. It was noticed,
however, that Tommy Toby always collected the slips, and acknowledged
writing the first word. Agnes also examined each slip closely as she
took it down, as if to verify the results of her very penetrating
mind.
[Illustration: JOAN OF ARC.]
The secret of the trick was that Tommy always placed what he had
written at the bottom of the slips, or last; but he acknowledged to
have written what was taken from the forehead first. This gave Agnes
the opportunity of reading each slip as she laid it in her lap, and
of announcing what she read as though it were written on the _next_
slip on her forehead.
One evening, when Master Lewis and the boys were talking of the
historical places they expected to visit, Agnes approached pleasantly
and said, "I have a conundrum for you."
"What is it?" asked Master Lewis.
"What was Joan of Arc made of?"
The boys were unable to guess.
"Suppose you tell us the story of Joan of Arc, Master Lewis," said
Wyllys. "Then, perhaps, we will be able to decide."
"Yes, please," said Agnes. "I should be delighted to hear the story."
"As we expect to visit Rouen, where the Maid of Orleans"--
"I think she was Maid of"--said Tommy Toby. "I will tell you after the
story."
Then Master Lewis related the story of the unfortunate shepherd girl.
STORY OF JOAN OF ARC.
"Jeanne d'Arc, known in history as the Maid of Orleans, was born in
the pleasant village of Domremi, near the borders of Lorraine. Her
parents were peasants, and Jeanne was their fifth child. Her education
was very limited, and she spent her early years as a shepherdess.
"Her soul was full of romance and poetic inspiration, and she led a
dreamy life among the flocks.
"The neighborhood of Domremi abounded in superstitions. Stories of
fairies and demons, beautiful legends of the Virgin, and the mediæval
traditions of the saints were the themes of fireside hours, and Jeanne
drank deeply into the spirit of these wonderful myths.
"At the age of thirteen, she began to see visions and to dream
dreams. She fancied that angel voices whispered in her ear, and that
celestial lights flashed before her eyes.
"'At the age of thirteen,' she said, in her defence before the judge
who condemned her to death, 'I heard a voice in my father's garden at
Domremi, proceeding from the right on the side of the church,
accompanied with a great light. At first I was afraid, but presently
found that it was the voice of an angel, who has protected me ever
since, who has taught me to conduct myself properly, and to frequent
the church. It was Saint Michael.'
"She continued to hear strange voices. Her father said,--
"'Heed them not, Jeanne, it is but a fancy.'
"In this state of enthusiasm, she passed some five years among the
vine-clad hills of Domremi, her heart estranged from worldly
affections, and seeking for loving companionship from the beautiful
beings that filled her dreams.
"France, at this period, was rent asunder by civil dissension; the
people of the interior acknowledging Henry VI. of England as their
rightful sovereign, and those of the remoter provinces, Charles VII.
of France. The people of Lorraine adhered to the cause of Charles, and
Jeanne became a politician in girlhood, and aspired to chivalrous
deeds.
"When eighteen years of age, she fancied that celestial voices told
her that she was called to deliver her country from English rule, and
to place the young French king upon the throne of his fathers.
"Her father said,--
"'I tell thee, Jeanne, it is a fancy.'
"Leaving her rustic home, the unlettered girl sought an audience of
Captain de Baudricourt, who commanded for Charles at Vaucoleurs. In
this she was successful, and, although he at first treated her as an
idle enthusiast, he was finally so impressed by the recital of her
inspirations and visions, that he sent her to Chinon, where Charles
held his court, to consult with the king.
[Illustration: JOAN OF ARC RECOGNIZING THE KING.]
"'None in the world,' she said to Baudricourt, 'can recover the
kingdom of France, there is no hope but in me.' She added, 'I would
far rather be spinning beside my poor mother; but I must do this work,
because my Lord wills it.'
"'Who is your lord?' asked the general.
"'The Lord God!'
"'By my faith,' said Baudricourt, 'I will take you to the king.'
"She obtained an interview with Charles, whom she claimed to have
recognized in a promiscuous company by a sudden inspiration,
accompanied by celestial light. The story of her divine appointment
deeply moved the king; and, his cause becoming desperate, he accepted
the services of the fair prophetess, clad her in armor, and placed her
at the head of an army of ten thousand men.
"There was something in her very appearance that inspired awe. Her
mien was noble and commanding; her form was tall and elegant. She
controlled her charger with wonderful grace and skill. By her side was
a consecrated sword, found buried in the old church of St. Catherine
de Fierbois, the existence of which she claimed to have discovered by
a special revelation from above; and in her hand she carried a banner
emblazoned with angels and consecrated to God.
"The English troops, with the French allies of Henry, were besieging
Orleans, a famous old city, and one of the strongholds of Charles.
Thither Jeanne led her army. She soon inspired her soldiers with the
conviction that she held a commission from on high; and, when they
arrived before Orleans, they were wrought up to the highest pitch of
enthusiasm.
"Jeanne attacked the English, and in several engagements displayed
superior generalship and won brilliant victories. The confidence of
the French troops in her now became implicit, and they received her
commands as from a messenger of celestial truth.
"The English soldiers, too, were infected by the superstition, and a
panic ensued whenever she appeared. Jeanne was at last completely
victorious, and, although once severely wounded, raised the siege of
Orleans, and entered the city in triumph.
"The French kings for a long period had received their crowns at
Rheims. The city was a great distance from Orleans, and the approaches
to it were held by the English. Thither mysterious voices directed
Jeanne. Charles, yielding to her influence, set out on the long and
perilous journey, to be crowned in the ancient fane where his
ancestors of the house of Valois had received their diadems.
"The English troops retired, and the cause of Charles received a new
impetus wherever the young prophetess and her army appeared. The
journey was a continued triumph for Charles, and when he reached
Rheims, the fame of his success rekindled the fires of patriotism in
every town and province of France.
"'It was a joyous day in Rheims of old,' when the glittering retinue,
led by the young king and the peasant child, marched to the thronged
cathedral. The coronation services were wonderfully impressive and
inconceivably splendid. The holy unction was performed with oil said
to have been brought from heaven by a dove, to King Clovis. By the
side of the young monarch stood Jeanne in full armor, holding in her
hand her consecrated banner. Triumphant music pealed forth, and the
plaudits of the people made the old cathedral tremble. When the
ceremony was over, Jeanne threw herself at the feet of the king,
embraced his knees and wept.
"She felt now that her mission was accomplished. She resolved to
return to her home, and to pass her days among the simple peasants of
Domremi.
"But fame was too dazzling, and ambition tempted her to new exploits.
She was taken prisoner at last by her enemies, the Burgundians, was
delivered over to the English, put upon trial as a sorceress,
pronounced guilty, and condemned to death.
"She wept over her hard fate. 'I would rather be beheaded than
burned,' she said, when she reflected on the manner of her death,
which was to be burned at the stake. 'Oh, that this body should be
reduced to ashes!'
[Illustration: JOAN OF ARC WOUNDED.]
"She wept for her country.
"'O Rouen, Rouen!' she said, 'is it here that I must die? Here shall
be my last resting-place.'
"A huge pile of fuel was made in the ancient market place in Rouen,
and the Maid of Orleans was placed upon it; and in the presence of a
vast concourse of citizens, soldiers and ecclesiastics, she was
burned. Her last words were expressive of inward triumph. The
lamentable event occurred on the last day of May, 1431. Her ashes were
cast into the Seine, and carried to the sea.
"Joan of Arc was no wilful impostor. She fully believed that she
beheld faces of departed saints, and heard the voices of beings from
the unseen world. The result of her wonderful career was that Charles
ultimately won back to the royal house of Valois the whole kingdom of
France.
"An imposing mausoleum in the city of Orleans perpetuates her memory;
but her name stands above mortality, independent of marble or bronze.
Apart from her character as a visionary, Jeanne was a most noble girl.
The French still cherish an enthusiastic attachment for her memory,
and a yearly fête is given in honor of her deeds in the City of
Orleans."
* * * * *
"I think," said Tommy Toby, "that I can answer Agnes's conundrum. Joan
of Arc was Maid (made) of Orleans."
"Right," said Agnes. "What an agreeable company the Zigzag Club is!"
One afternoon the man on the lookout called the attention of those
around him to a distant object: it seemed like a mere speck in the
horizon. He presently said,--
"It is a ship."
The news spread. Every one came upon deck. Even the cooks in the
galley left their pots and kettles.
As she drew near, the British ensign was seen fluttering at the stern.
As she drew still nearer, she hoisted five small flags.
Then one of the quartermasters on our own ship brought several small
flags and a signal-book from the wheel-house. He opened the book to a
page of colored pictures of small flags, five of which corresponded to
those raised by the ship in view. Opposite each flag was a figure. The
figures combined in order made the number 94,362.
The quartermaster turned to another page, and opposite this number
appeared the name and port of the ship.
The ship hoisted another set of flags, which was answered by our own
ship.
"She asks to know our reckonings," said the quartermaster.
"Can a ship meeting another ask other questions in this way?" inquired
George Howe.
"Oh, yes; two vessels miles apart can carry on a long conversation
with each other. Ships have a regular alphabet of signal flags."
"What are signals of distress?" asked George.
"That flag," said the quartermaster, pointing to a picture in the
book, "means a fire or a leak. (1)
"This means a want of food. (2)
"And that, aground. (3)
"Here is one that signifies, 'Will you take a letter from me?'" (4)
[Illustration: {SIGNALS.}
_Fig. 1._
_Fig. 2._
_Fig. 3._
_Fig. 4._]
This dialogue between the two ships was the most pleasing and exciting
episode of the voyage, until land began to appear as a dim streak upon
the horizon.