DEPARTURE.
The moving away of the steamer from the pier had the effect of producing
a striking illusion in Jane's mind.
"Why, Rollo!" she exclaimed, looking up to Rollo, quite alarmed. "The
pier is sailing away from us, and all the people on it."
"O, no," said Rollo, "the pier is not sailing away. We are sailing away
ourselves."
Jane gazed upon the receding shore with a look of bewildered
astonishment. Then she added in a very sorrowful and desponding tone,--
"O Rollo! you told me that uncle George would certainly come back; and
now he is not coming back at all."
"Well, I really thought he would come back," said Rollo. "But never
mind, Jennie, we shall get along very well. We shall not have to get out
of this ship at all till we get to Liverpool; and we shall find father
at Liverpool. He will come on board for us at Liverpool, I am sure,
before we land; and mother, too, I dare say. Just think of that, Jennie!
Just think of that!"
This anticipation would doubtless have had considerable influence in
calming Jennie's mind, if she had had any opportunity to dwell upon it;
but her thoughts were immediately diverted to the spectacle which was
exhibiting itself on the pier. The great throng of people which had
assembled there seemed to be pressing on toward the end of the pier,
accompanying the ship, as it were, in its motion, as it glided smoothly
away. As they thus crowded forward, all those who had opportunity to do
so climbed up upon boxes and bales of merchandise, or on heaps of wood
or coal, or on posts or beams of wood, wherever they could find any
position which would raise them above the general level of the crowd.
This scene, of course, strongly attracted the attention both of Rollo
and of Jane.
And here it must be remarked, that there are three distinct scenes of
bidding farewell that an Atlantic steamer passes through in putting to
sea. In the first place, the individual voyagers take leave of their
several friends, by words of good by and other personal greetings, on
the decks and in the cabins of the ship, before she leaves the pier.
Then, secondly, the company of passengers, as a whole, give a good by to
the whole company of visitors, who have come to see the ship sail, and
who remain standing on the pier as the vessel goes away. This second
good by cannot be given by words, for the distance is too great to allow
of words being used. So they give it by huzzas, and by the waving of
hats and handkerchiefs.
This second farewell was now about to be given. The gentlemen on the
pier took off their hats, and, waving them in the air, shouted hurrah in
concert, three times, with great energy. The company of passengers on
board the ship then responded, by shouting and waving their hats in
return. The ladies, both on the pier and in the ship, performed their
part in this ceremony by waving their handkerchiefs and clapping their
hands. By this time the steamer, which had been rapidly increasing the
speed of its motion all the while, was now getting quite out into the
stream, and was turning rapidly down the river. This change in the
direction in which the steamer was going carried the pier and all the
people that were upon it entirely out of the children's view and they
saw themselves gliding rapidly along the shore of the river, which was
formed of a long line of piers, with forests of masts surmounting them,
and long ranges of stores and warehouses beyond. Nearer to the steamer,
on the water of the river, and on either hand, were to be seen sloops,
ships, ferry boats, scows, and every other species of water craft,
gliding to and fro in all directions. While gazing with great interest
on this scene, as the steamer moved along, Jane was suddenly startled
and terrified at the sound of a heavy gun, which seemed to be fired
close to her ear. It was soon evident that the gun had been fired from
on board the steamer, for a great puff of smoke rose up into the air
from the bows of the vessel, and slowly floated away. Immediately
afterward another gun was fired, louder than the first.
I have said that there were three farewells. The first is that of the
individual passengers to their individual friends. The second is that of
the whole company of passengers to the company of spectators on the
pier. The third is the ship's farewell to the city. Of course, for a
ship to speak to a city, a very loud voice is required. So they provide
her with a gun. In fact, a great steamer proceeding to sea may be
considered as, in some respects, like a mighty animal. The engine is its
heart; the paddle wheels are its limbs; the guns are its voice; the
captain is its head; and, finally, there is a man always stationed on
the lookout in the extreme forward part of the ship, who serves the
monster for eyes.
Jane was quite terrified at the sound of the guns.
"O Rollo!" exclaimed she, "I wish they would not fire any more of those
dreadful guns."
"I don't think they will fire any more," said Rollo. "In fact, I am sure
they will not, for they have fired two now, and they never fire more
than two."
Rollo was mistaken in this calculation, though he was right in the
general principle that the number of guns usually discharged by a
steamer going to sea, as its parting salute, is two. In this case,
however, the steamer, in passing on down the river, came opposite to a
place in Jersey City, where a steamer of another line was lying moored
to her pier, waiting for her own sailing day. Now, as the Pacific passed
by this other steamer, the men on board of the latter, having previously
made every thing ready for the ceremony, fired two guns as a salute to
her, by way of bidding her farewell and wishing her a good voyage. Of
course, it was proper to respond to the compliment, and this called for
two guns more. This made, in fact, a fourth farewell, which having been
spoken, the firing was over. The Pacific, having thus taken leave of the
city, and also of her sister steamer on the Jersey shore, had now
nothing to do but to proceed as fast as possible down the harbor and
out to sea.
The scenes which are presented to view on every hand in passing down New
York Harbor and Bay are very magnificent and imposing. Ships, steamers,
long ferry boats, tugs, sloops, sail boats, and every other species of
water craft, from the little skiff that bobs up and down over the waves
made by the steamboat swell to the man-of-war riding proudly at anchor
in the stream, are seen on every hand. The shores, too, present
enchanting pictures of rich and romantic beauty. There are villas and
cottages, and smooth grassy lawns, and vast fortifications, and
observatories, and lighthouses, and buoys, and a great many other
objects, which strongly attract the attention and excite the curiosity
of the voyager, especially if he has been previously accustomed only to
travelling on land.
While the children were looking at these scenes with wonder and
admiration, as the ship passed down the harbor, a young-looking man, who
appeared to belong to the ship, came to them and told them that, if they
wished to remain on deck, they had better go and sit upon the settees.
So saying, he pointed to several large and heavy-looking settees, which
were placed near the middle of the deck, around what seemed to be a
sort of skylight. These settees were all firmly secured to their places
with strong cords, by means of which they were tied by the legs to some
of the fixtures of the skylights. In obedience to this suggestion, the
children went and took their places upon a settee. Jane carried the
cage, containing Tiger, which she had kept carefully with her thus far,
and put it down upon the settee by her side. The man who had directed
the children to this place, and who was a sort of _mate_, as they call
such officers at sea, looked at the kitten with an expression of
contempt upon his countenance, but said nothing. He took the camp stools
which the children had left, and carried them away.
"I am sure I don't know what we are to do next," said Jane, mournfully,
after sitting for a moment in silence.
"Nor I," rejoined Rollo, "and so I am going to follow uncle George's
rules."
Mr. George had given Rollo this rule, as a sort of universal direction
for young persons when travelling alone:--
1. Do as you see other people do.
2. When you cannot find out in this or in any other way what to do, do
nothing.
In accordance with this advice, Rollo concluded to sit still upon the
settee, where the ship's officer had placed him, and do nothing. In the
mean time, however, he amused himself in watching the ships and steamers
which he saw sailing to and fro about the harbor, and in pointing out to
Jane all the remarkable objects which he observed from time to time
along the shores.
[Illustration: THE PILOT ON THE PADDLE BOX.]
Among other things which attracted his attention, he noticed and watched
the movements of a man who stood upon the top of one of the paddle boxes
on the side of the ship, where he walked to and fro very busily,
holding a speaking trumpet all the time in his hand. Every now and then
he would call out, in a loud voice, a certain word. Sometimes it was
_port_, sometimes it was _starboard_, and sometimes it was _steady_.
Rollo observed that it was always one or the other of those three words.
And what was still more curious, Rollo observed that, whenever the man
on the paddle box called out the word, the officer on the deck, who kept
walking about there all the time to and fro, would immediately repeat it
after him, in a loud but in a somewhat singular tone. While he was
wondering what this could mean, a gentleman, who seemed to be one of the
passengers, came and sat down on the settee close by his side. Rollo had
a great mind to ask him who the man on the paddle box was.
"Well, my boy," said the gentleman, "you are rather young to go to sea.
How do you like it?"
"Pretty well, sir," said Rollo.
"We are going out in fine style," said the gentleman. "We shall soon be
done with the pilot."
"The pilot?" said Rollo, inquiringly.
"Yes," said the gentleman. "There he is, on the paddle box."
"Is that the pilot?" asked Rollo. "I thought the pilot was the man who
steered."
"No," replied the gentleman, "he is the man who gives directions how to
steer. He does not steer himself. The man who steers is called the
helmsman. There he is."
So saying, the gentleman pointed toward the stern of the ship where
there was a sort of platform raised a little above the deck, with a row
of panes of glass, like a long narrow window, in front of it. Through
this window Rollo could see the head of a man. The man was standing in a
recess which contained the wheel by means of which the ship was steered.
"The pilot keeps a lookout on the paddle box," continued the gentleman,
"watching the changes in the channel, and also the movements of the
vessels which are coming and going. When he wishes the helm to be put to
the right, he calls out _Starboard_! When he wishes it to be put to the
left, he calls out _Port_! And when he wishes the ship to go straight
forward as she is, he calls out _Steady_!"
Just then the pilot, from his lofty lookout on the paddle box, called
out, "_Port_!"
The officer on the deck repeated the command, in order to pass it along
to the helmsman, "_Port_!"
The helmsman then repeated it again, by way of making it sure to the
officer that he had heard it and was obeying it, "_Port!_"
There were two or three dashing-looking young men walking together up
and down the dock, and one of them, on hearing these commands, called
out, not very loud, but still in such a manner as that all around him
could hear, and imitating precisely the tones in which the pilot's order
had been given, "_Sherry!_"
Whereupon there was a great laugh among all the passengers around. Even
the stern and morose-looking countenance of the officer relaxed into a
momentary smile.
"Now look forward at the bows of the ship," said the gentleman, "and you
will see her change her course in obedience to the command of the pilot
to port the helm."
Rollo did so, and observed the effect with great curiosity and pleasure.
"I thought the captain gave orders how to steer the ship," said Rollo.
"He does," said the gentleman, "after we get fairly clear of the land.
It is the captain's business to navigate the ship across the ocean, but
he has nothing to do with directing her when she is going in and out of
the harbor." The gentleman then went on to explain that at the
entrances of all rivers and harbors there were usually rocks, shoals,
sand bars, and other obstructions, some of which were continually
shifting their position and character, and making it necessary that they
should be studied and known thoroughly by some one who is all the time
upon the spot. The men who do this are called pilots. The pilots of each
port form a company, and have established rules and regulations for
governing all their proceedings. They go out to the mouth of the harbor
in small vessels called pilot boats, where they wait, both in sunshine
and storm, for ships to come in. When a ship approaches the coast and
sees one of these pilot boats, it makes a signal for a pilot to come on
board. The pilot boat then sails toward the ship, and when they get near
enough they let down a small boat, and row one of the pilots on board
the vessel, and he guides the ship in. In the same manner, in going out
of port, the pilot guides the ship until they get out into deep water,
and then a pilot boat comes up and takes him off the ship. The ship then
proceeds to sea, while the pilot boat continues to sail to and fro about
the mouth of the harbor, till another ship appears.
"And will this pilot get into a pilot boat and go back to New York?"
asked Rollo.
"Yes," replied the gentleman, "and the passengers can send letters back
by him, if they wish. They often do."
"And can I?" asked Rollo.
"Yes," replied the gentleman. "Write your letter, and I will give it to
him."
Rollo had a small inkstand in his pocket, and also a pocket book with
note papers folded up and envelopes in it. This was an apparatus that he
always carried with him when he travelled. He took out one of his sheets
of note paper, and wrote upon it the following letter:--
DEAR UNCLE GEORGE:
This is to inform you that we have found a good seat, and are
getting along very well.
Your affectionate nephew,
R. HOLIDAY.
Rollo made his letter shorter than he otherwise would have done, on
account of having been informed by the gentleman, when he had just
written the first line, that the pilot boat was coming in sight. So he
finished his writing, and then folded his note and put it in its
envelope. He sealed the envelope with a wafer, which he took out of a
compartment of his pocket book. He then addressed it to his uncle George
in a proper manner, and it was all ready. The gentleman then took it
and carried it to the pilot, who was just then coming down from the
paddle box and putting on his coat.
By this time the pilot boat had come pretty near to the ship, and was
lying there upon the water at rest, with her sails flapping in the wind.
The engine of the ship was stopped. A small boat was then seen coming
from the pilot boat toward the ship. The boat was tossed fearfully by
the waves as the oarsmen rowed it along. When it came to the side of the
ship a sailor threw a rope to it, and it was held fast by means of the
rope until the pilot got on board. The rope was then cast off, and the
boat moved away. The engine was now put in motion again, and the great
paddle wheels of the ship began to revolve as before. Rollo watched the
little boat as it went bounding over the waves, afraid all the time that
it would be upset, in which case his letter would be lost. At length,
however, he had the satisfaction of seeing the skiff safely reach the
pilot boat, and all the men climb up safely on board.
"There!" exclaimed Rollo, in a tone of great satisfaction, "now he will
go up to the city safe, and I am _very_ glad he has got that letter for
uncle George."
In the mean time the captain mounted the paddle box where the pilot had
stood, and, with his speaking trumpet in his hand, began to give the
necessary orders for the vigorous prosecution of the voyage. The sails
were spread, the engines were put into full operation, the helmsman was
directed what course to steer, and the ship pressed gallantly forward
out into the open sea.