THE ARRIVAL.
Day after day of the voyage thus glided away, the time being beguiled by
the various incidents which occurred, until at length the ship began to
draw near toward the land. As the time passed on, the interest which the
passengers felt in their approach toward the land began to be very
strong. Some of them were crossing the Atlantic for the first time; and
they, of course, anticipated their first view of the shores of the old
world with great anticipations of delight. The first land to be "made,"
as the sailors say, that is to be seen, was Cape Clear--the southern
point of Ireland. There is a lighthouse on this point; and so well had
the captain kept his reckoning, and so exact had been his calculations
in his progress over the mighty waste of waters, that on the morning of
the last day he could venture to predict to an hour when the light would
come into view. He said it would be between nine and ten. When Maria
and the two children went to their berths, Maria asked the chambermaid
to come and tell them when the light was in sight. She accordingly did
so. Rollo, in order to know how near the captain was in his
calculations, asked her what o'clock it was. She said twenty-five
minutes after eight. How astonishing must be the accuracy of the
instruments and the calculations which can enable a man to guide a ship
across so utterly trackless a waste, aiming at a lighthouse three
thousand miles away, and not only come out exactly upon it, but come
there, too, so exactly at the time predicted by the calculation!
When the children went on deck the next morning, the southern coast of
Ireland was all in full view. Those who feel an interest in seeing the
track of the ship, will find, by turning to a map of Great Britain and
Ireland, that her course in going in from the Atlantic toward Liverpool
lay at first along the southern coast of Ireland, and then along the
western coast of Wales. This route, though it seems but a short distance
on the map, requires really a voyage of several hundred miles, and more
than a day in time, for the performance of it. The voyage of the ship
is, therefore, by no means ended when she reaches the land at Cape
Clear. There is still a day and a night more for the passengers to
spend on board the vessel. The time is, however, very much beguiled
during this last day's sail by the sight of the land and the various
objects which it presents to view--the green slopes, the castle-covered
hills, the cliffs, the lines of beach, with surf and breakers rolling in
upon them; and sometimes, when the ship approaches nearer to the shore
than usual, the pretty little cottages, covered with thatch, and adorned
with gardens and shrubbery.
The children stood by the railing of the deck for some time after they
came up from below, gazing at the shores, and admiring the various
pictures of rural beauty which the scene presented to the eye. At
length, becoming a little tired, they went and sat down upon one of the
settees, where they could have a more comfortable position, and still
enjoy a good view. Not long afterward, the captain, who had been walking
up and down the deck for some time, came and sat down by them.
"Well, children," said he, "are you glad to get to the end of the
voyage?"
"Yes, sir," replied Jennie. "I am glad to get safe off of the great
sea."
"And I suppose that you must be very glad, sir," added Rollo, "to get to
the end of your responsibility."
"Ah, but I have not got to the end of my responsibility yet, by any
means," said the captain.
As he said this, he rose from his seat, and looked out very attentively
forward for a minute or two. At length he seemed satisfied, and sat down
again.
"Well, you have got through all the danger, at any rate," said Rollo,
"now that we are inside the land."
"On the contrary," said the captain, "we are just coming into the
danger. There is very little danger for a good ship, whether it is a
sailing ship or a steamer, out in the open sea. It is only when she
comes among the rocks, and shoals, and currents, and other dangers which
thicken along the margin of the land, that she has much to fear. Ships
are almost always cast away, when they are cast away at all, near or
upon the land."
"Is that the way?" replied Rollo. "I thought they were cast away at sea.
I am sure it _looks_ a great deal safer here than it does out in the
middle of the ocean."
"I suppose so, to your eyes," replied the captain. "But you will see, by
reflecting on the subject, that it is, in fact, just the contrary. If a
very violent storm comes up when the ship is out in the open sea, it can
ordinarily do no harm, only to drive the ship off her course, or
perhaps carry away some of her spars or sails. If there is no land in
the way, she is in very little danger. But it is very different if a
gale of wind comes up suddenly in such a place as this."
"And how is it here?" asked Rollo.
"Why, in the case of a good steamer like this," said the captain, "it
makes no great difference here; for we go straight forward on our
course, as long as we can see, let it blow as it will. But a sailing
vessel would very probably not be able to stand against it, but would be
driven off toward any rocks, or sand banks, or shores that might happen
to be in the way."
"And so she would certainly be wrecked," said Rollo.
"No, not certainly," replied the captain. "As soon as they found that
the water was shoaling, they would anchor."
"How do they know when the water is shoaling?" asked Rollo.
"By the lead," replied the captain. "Did you never sound with the lead
and line?"
"No, sir," replied Rollo.
"Well, they have a lead, and a long line," rejoined the captain, "and
they let the lead down to the bottom by means of the line, and so learn
how deep the water is. The lead is round and long. It is about as large
round, and about as long, as Jennie's arm, from her elbow to her wrist,
and there is a small cavity in the lower end of it."
"What is that for?" asked Rollo.
"That is to bring up some of the sand, or mud, or gravel, or whatever it
may be, that forms the bottom," replied the captain. "They put something
into the hole, before they let the lead down, to make the sand or gravel
stick. When they see the nature of the bottom in this way, it often
helps them to determine where they are, in case it is a dark night, or a
foggy day, and they have got lost. It is very easy to measure the depth
of the sea in this way, where it is not over a few hundred fathoms."
"How much is a fathom?" asked Rollo.
"Six feet," replied the captain; "that is as far as a man can reach by
stretching out both hands along a wall. If the water is only a few
hundred fathoms deep," continued the captain, "we can sound; but if it
is much deeper than that, it is very difficult to get the lead down."
"Why, I should think," said Rollo, "that the lead would go down to the
bottom of itself, no matter how deep the water was."
"It would," said the captain, "were it not for the line. But the line
has some buoyancy; and, besides, it makes a great deal of friction in
being drawn through the water; so that, when the line begins to get very
long, it becomes very difficult for the lead to get it down. As they let
out the line from the ship, it goes more and more slowly, until at last
it does not seem to move at all."
"Then the lead must be on the bottom," said Rollo.
"No, that is not certain," said the captain. "It may be only that the
quantity of line that is out is sufficient to float the lead. Besides
that, the currents in the water, which may set in different directions
at different depths, carry the line off to one side and the other, so
that it lies very crooked in the water, and the weight of the lead is
not sufficient to straighten it."
"Then they ought to have a heavier lead, I should think," said Rollo.
"Yes," said the captain; "and for deep-sea soundings they do use very
heavy sinkers. Sometimes they use cannon balls as heavy as a man can
lift. Then they take great pains, too, to have a very light and small
line. Still, with all these precautions, it is very difficult, after
some _miles_ of the line are run out, to tell when the shot reaches the
bottom. In some of the deepest places in the sea, the line, when they
attempt to sound, is _all day_ running out. I knew one case where they
threw the shot overboard in the morning, and the line continued to run
out, though slower and slower, of course, all the time, until night. It
changed its rate of running so gradually, that at last they could not
tell whether it was running or not. It seemed to float idly in the
water, sinking slowly all the time; and yet they could not tell whether
it was drawn in by the drifting of the portion of the line already down,
or by the weight of the shot. So they could not tell certainly whether
they had reached bottom or not.
"There is another thing that is curious about it," added the captain;
"and that is, that, when a line is let out to such a length, they can
never get it back again."
"Why not?" asked Rollo.
"It is not strong enough," said the captain, "to bear the strain of
drawing such an immense length out of the water. There is a very
considerable degree of friction produced in drawing a line of any kind
through the water; and when the line is some miles in length, and has,
besides, a heavy ball at the end of it, the resistance becomes enormous.
Whenever they attempt to draw up a sounding line of such a length, it
always parts at a distance of a few hundred fathoms from the surface, so
that only a small part of the line is ever recovered."
"I should not suppose it would be so hard to draw up the line," said
Rollo. "I should have thought that it would come up very easily."
"No," said the captain. "If you draw even a whiplash through the water,
you will find that it draws much harder than it does on the grass; and
if a boy's kite were to fall upon a pond at a great distance from the
shore, I don't think he could draw it in by the string. The string would
break, on account of the friction of the string and of the kite in the
water. Sometimes, in naval battles, when a ship is pretending to try to
escape, in order to entice another ship to follow her, away from the
rest of the fleet, they tow a rope behind, and this rope, dragging in
the water, retards the ship, and prevents her from going very fast,
notwithstanding that all the sails are set, and she seems to be sailing
as fast as she can."
"That's a curious way of doing it," said Rollo; "isn't it, Jennie?"
Jennie thought that it was a very curious way indeed.
"There is no difficulty," said the captain, resuming his explanations,
"in finding the depth of the sea in harbors and bays, or at any place
near the shore; for in all such places it is usually much less than a
hundred fathoms. So when in a dark night, or in a fog, the ship is
driven by the wind in a direction where they know there is land, they
sound often; and when they find that the water is shoal enough, they let
go the anchor."
"And so the anchor holds them," said Jennie, "I suppose, and keeps them
from going against the land."
"Yes," said the captain, "generally, but not always. Sometimes the
bottom is of smooth rock, or of some other hard formation, which the
flukes of the anchor cannot penetrate, and then the ship drifts on
toward the land, dragging the anchor with her."
"And what do they do in that case?" asked Rollo.
"Very often there is nothing that they can do," said the captain,
"except to let out more cable, cautiously, so as to give the anchor a
better chance to catch in some cleft or crevice in the bottom. Sometimes
it does catch in this manner, and then the ship is stopped, and, for a
time, the people on board think they are safe."
"And are they safe?" asked Rollo.
"Perhaps so," replied the captain; "and yet there is still some danger.
The anchor may have caught at a place where the cable passes over the
edge of a sharp rock, which soon cuts it off, in consequence of the
motion. Then the ship must go on shore.
"At other times," continued the captain, "the ground for the anchor is
too soft, instead of being too hard; and the flukes, therefore, do not
take a firm hold of it. Then the anchor will drag. Every sea that
strikes the ship drives her a little in toward the shore, and she is, of
course, in great danger."
The captain would, perhaps, have gone on still further in his
conversation with the children, had it not happened that just at this
time, on rising to look out forward, he saw a large ship, under full
sail, coming down the channel. So he rose, and went up upon one of the
paddle boxes, to see that a proper lookout was kept, to avoid a
collision.
The seas which lie between England and Ireland are so wide, and they are
so provided with lighthouses and buoys, that no pilot is necessary for
the navigation of them; and the pilot boats, therefore, which contain
the pilot who is to take the vessel into port, generally await the
arrival of the ship off the month of the Mersey, at a place which the
steamer reaches about twenty-four hours after making Cape Clear. When
the steamer in which Rollo made his voyage arrived at this place, almost
all the passengers came on deck to witness the operation of taking the
pilot on board. There were ships and steamers to be seen on every side,
proceeding in different directions--some going across to Ireland, some
southwardly out to sea; and there were others, still, which were, like
the steamer, bound in to Liverpool. Among these, there was a small
vessel at a distance from the steamer, with a certain signal flying.
This signal was to show that this boat was the one which contained the
pilot whose turn it was to take the steamer in. The captain gave the
proper orders to the helmsman, and the steamer gradually turned from her
course, so as to approach the spot where the pilot boat was lying. As
she came near, a little skiff was seen at the stern of the pilot boat,
with men getting into it. In a moment more, the skiff pushed off and
rowed toward the steamer. A sailor stood on a sort of platform abaft the
wheel house to throw the men in the skiff a rope when they came near.
The engine was stopped, and the monstrous steampipe commenced blowing
off the steam, which, being now no longer employed to work the engine,
it would be dangerous to keep pent up. The steam, in issuing from the
pipe, produced a dense cloud of smoke and a terrific roaring.
In the mean time, the skiff approached the ship, and the men on board
of it caught the rope thrown to them by the sailor on the platform. By
this rope they were drawn up to the side of the ship at a place where
there was a ladder; and then the pilot, leaving the skiff, clambered up
and came on board. The men in the skiff then pushed off and turned to go
back toward the pilot boat. The roaring of the steam suddenly ceased,
the paddle wheels began again to revolve, and the ship recommenced her
motion. The pilot went up upon the paddle box and gave orders to the
helmsman how to steer, while the captain came down. His responsibility
and care in respect to the navigation of the ship for that voyage was
now over.
In fact, the passengers began to consider the voyage as ended. They all
went to work packing up their trunks, adjusting their dress, changing
their caps for hats, and making other preparations for the land.
As the time drew nigh for going on shore, Jennie began to feel some
apprehension on the subject, inasmuch as, judging from all the
formidable preparations which she saw going on around her, she inferred
that landing in Liverpool from an Atlantic steamer must be a very
different thing from going on shore at New York after a voyage down the
Hudson. As for Rollo, his feelings were quite the reverse from
Jennie's. He not only felt no solicitude on the subject, but he began to
be quite ambitious of going ashore alone--that is, without any one to
take charge of him.
"We shall get along, Jennie, very well indeed," said Rollo. "I asked one
of the passengers about it. The custom-house officers will come and look
into our trunks, to see if we have got any smuggled goods in them. They
won't find any in ours, I can tell them. Then all I have got to do is,
to ask one of the cabmen to take us in his cab, and carry us to a
hotel."
"To what hotel?" asked Jennie.
"Why--I don't know," said Rollo, rather puzzled. "To the best hotel.
I'll just tell him to the best hotel."
"Well," said Jennie, "and what then?"
"Well,--and then,"--said Rollo, looking a little perplexed again, and
speaking rather doubtingly,--"then,--why, I suppose that father will
send somebody there to find us."
Jennie was not convinced; but she had nothing more to say, and so she
was silent.
Rollo's plan, however, of taking care of himself in the landing seemed
not likely to be realized; for there were not less than three different
arrangements made, on the evening of the arrival, for taking care of
him. In the first place, his father and mother were at the Adelphi
Hotel, in Liverpool, awaiting the arrival of the steamer, and intending
to go on board as soon as the guns should announce her coming. In the
second place, Mr. Chauncy, Maria's brother, said that they should go
with him and Maria. He would take the children, he said, to a hotel, and
then take immediate measures to find out where Mr. Holiday was. In the
third place, the captain came to Rollo just after sunset, and made a
similar proposal.
Rollo, not knowing any thing about his father's plan, accepted Mr.
Chauncy's offer; and then, when the captain came, he thanked him for his
kindness, but said that he was going with Mr. Chauncy and Maria.
"Then you will go in the night," said the captain; "for Mr. Chauncy is
the bearer of despatches."
Rollo did not understand what the captain meant by this, though it was
afterward explained to him. The explanation was this: Every steamer,
besides the passengers, carries the mails. The mails, containing all the
letters and papers that are passing between the two countries, are
conveyed in a great number of canvas and leather bags, and sometimes in
tin boxes; enough, often, to make several cartloads. Besides these
mails, which contain the letters of private citizens, the government of
the United States has always a bag full of letters and papers which are
to be sent to the American minister in London, for his instruction.
These letters and papers are called the government despatches. They are
not sent with the mails, but are intrusted usually to some one of the
passengers--a gentleman known to the government as faithful and
trustworthy. This passenger is called the bearer of despatches.
Now, the steamers, when they arrive at Liverpool, cannot usually go
directly up to the pier, because the water is not deep enough there,
except at particular states of the tide. They accordingly have to anchor
in the stream, at some distance from the shore. As soon as they anchor,
whether it is by day or by night, a small steamer comes alongside to get
the mails and the despatches; for they must be landed immediately, so as
to proceed directly to London by the first train. The bearer of
despatches, together with his family, or those whom he has directly
under his charge, are, of course, allowed to go on shore in the small
steamer with the despatch bag, but the rest of the passengers have to
wait to have their trunks and baggage examined by the custom-house
officers. If the vessel gets to Liverpool in the night, they have to
wait until the next morning. This was what the captain meant by saying,
that, if the children went on shore with Mr. Chauncy, they would go in
the night; for he then expected to get to his anchoring ground so that
the boat for the mails would come off to the ship at about half past
twelve.
Accordingly, that evening, when bedtime came, Maria and the children did
not go to bed, but they lay down upon the couches and in their berths,
in their dayclothes, awaiting the summons which they expected to receive
when the small steamer should come. In the mean time, the ship went on,
sometimes going very slowly, and sometimes stopping altogether, in order
to avoid a collision with some other vessel which was coming in her way.
The night was foggy and dark, so that her progress, to be safe, was
necessarily slow. At length, Maria and the children, tired of waiting
and watching, all three fell asleep. They were, however, suddenly
aroused from their slumbers about midnight by the chambermaid, who came
into their state room and told them that Mr. Chauncy was ready.
They rose and hurried up on deck. Their trunks had been taken up before
them. When they reached the deck, they found Mr. Chauncy there and the
captain, and with them two or three rather rough-looking men, in shaggy
coats, examining their trunks by the light of lanterns which they held
in their hands. The examination was very slight. The men merely lifted
up the things in the corners a little, and, finding that there appeared
to be nothing but clothing in the trunks, they said, "All right!" and
then shut them up again. All this time the steampipe of the little
steamer alongside kept up such a deafening roar that it was almost
impossible to hear what was said.
The way of descent to get down from the deck of the great steamer to the
little one was very steep and intricate, and it seemed doubly so on
account of the darkness and gloom of the night. In the first place, you
had to climb up three or four steps to get to the top of the bulwarks;
then to go down a long ladder, which landed you on the top of the paddle
box of the steamer. From this paddle box you walked along a little way
over what they called a bridge; and then there was another flight of
stairs leading to the deck. As all these stairs, and also the sides of
both the steamers, were painted black, and as the water looked black and
gloomy too, the whole being only faintly illuminated by the lurid glare
of the lanterns held by the men, the prospect was really very
disheartening. Maria said, when she reached the top of the bulwark and
looked down, that she should never dare to go down there in the world.
She was, however, a sensible girl, and as she knew very well that there
could not be any real danger in such a case, she summoned all her
resolution and went on. Men stood below, at the different
landing-places, to help her, and her brother handed her down from above.
Mr. Chauncy, as soon as he saw that she had safely descended, was going
to attend to the children, but just at that instant he missed his
despatch bag. He asked where it was. Some said they believed it had gone
down the slide. There was a sort of slide by the side of the ladder,
where the mails and trunks had been sent down. Some said it had gone
down this slide; others did not know. So he directed the children to
wait a moment while he went down to see. He accordingly descended the
ladder, and began to look about in a hurried manner to see if he could
find it. The men on board the steamer, in the mean while, were impatient
to cut loose from the ship, the mail agent having called out to them to
make haste, or they would be too late for the train. Accordingly, some
of them stood by the ladder, ready to take it down; while others seized
the ropes and prepared to cast them off at a moment's notice, as soon
as they should hear that the despatch bag was found. They did not know
that the children were at the top of the ladder, waiting to come on
board; for it was so dark that nothing could be seen distinctly except
where the lanterns were directly shining, and the noise made by the
roaring of the steamer was so great that very little could be heard.
Mr. Chauncy found the despatch bag very soon in the after part of the
vessel, where somebody had put it in a safe place. As soon as he saw it,
he said, "Ah, here it is. All right!"
"All right! all right!" said the sailors around him, repeating his words
in a loud tone, when they heard him say that the despatch bag was found.
Mr. Chauncy immediately hurried back to go up the ladder to the
children; but he was too late. On hearing the words "all right!" the men
had immediately drawn down the ladder, and cast off the fastenings, so
that, by the time that Mr. Chauncy reached the paddle box, the noise of
the steampipe had suddenly stopped, the paddle wheels were beginning to
revolve, and the little steamer was gliding rapidly away from the vast
and towering mass under which it had been lying.
"The children!" exclaimed Mr. Chauncy, "the children!"
"Never mind," said the captain, in a very quiet tone. "It's too late
now. I'll take care of them to-morrow morning."
The captain spoke in a manner as calm and unconcerned as if the children
being left in this way was not a matter of the slightest consequence in
the world. In fact, the commanders of these steamships, being accustomed
to encounter continually all sorts of emergencies, difficulties, and
dangers, get in the habit of taking every thing very coolly, which is,
indeed, always the best way.
Then, turning to the children, he said,--
"It's all right, children. Go below and get into your berths again, and
I will send you on shore to-morrow morning when the rest of the
passengers go."
So Rollo and Jennie went below again. The chambermaid was surprised to
see them coming back; and when she heard an explanation of the case, she
advised them to undress themselves and go to bed regularly. This they
did, and were soon fast asleep.
The next morning, very soon after sunrise, another steamer came off from
the shore, bringing several custom-house officers to examine the
passengers' baggage. By the time that this steamer had arrived, a great
many of the passengers were up, and had their trunks ready on deck to
be examined. Among the rest was Hilbert with his trunk, though his
father and mother were not yet ready. Hilbert was very anxious to get on
shore, and so he had got his trunk up, and was all ready on the deck
half an hour before the steamer came.
When the tug[D] came alongside, Hilbert, who was looking down upon her
from the promenade deck, observed a neatly-dressed looking man on board
of it, who seemed to be looking at him very earnestly. This was Mr.
Holiday's servant. His name was Alfred. When Mr. Holiday had gone to bed
the night before, he had given Alfred orders that in case the steamer
should come in in the night, or at a very early hour in the morning,
before it would be safe for him, as an invalid, to go out, he, Alfred,
was to go on board, find the children, and bring them on shore.
Accordingly, when Alfred saw Hilbert, and observed that he was of about
the same size as Rollo had been described to him to be, he supposed that
it must be Rollo. Accordingly, as soon as the tug was made fast, he came
up the ladder, and immediately made his way to the promenade deck, to
the place where Hilbert was standing. As he approached Hilbert, he
touched his hat, and then said, in a very respectful tone,--
[Footnote D: They often call these small steamers that ply about harbors
_tugs_, from the fact that they are employed in towing vessels.
Sometimes they are called _tenders_.]
"Beg pardon, sir. Is this Master Holiday?"
"Rollo, do you mean?" said Hilbert. "No. Rollo went ashore last night
with the bearer of despatches."
Hilbert knew that this was the arrangement which had been made, and he
supposed that it had been carried into effect.
Alfred, who was a very faithful and trustworthy man, and was accustomed
to do every thing thoroughly, was not fully satisfied with this
information, coming as it did from a boy; but he waited some little
time, and made inquiries of other passengers. At last, one gentleman
told him that he was sure that Rollo had gone on shore, for he saw him
and his sister pass up out of the cabin when the mail tug came. He was
sitting up in the cabin reading at the time. Alfred was satisfied with
this explanation, and so he called a small boat which was alongside, and
engaged the boatman to row him ashore.
Thus the second plan for taking care of Rollo and Jennie, in the
landing, failed.
All this time Rollo and Jennie were both asleep--for the chambermaid,
thinking that they must be tired from having been up so late the night
before, concluded to let them sleep as long as possible. While they were
sleeping, the waiters on board the ship were all employed in carrying up
trunks, and boxes, and carpet bags, and bundles of canes and umbrellas,
from all the state rooms, and spreading them about upon the decks, where
the custom-house officers could examine them. The decks soon, of course,
presented in every part very bustling and noisy scenes. Passengers were
hurrying to and fro. Some were getting their baggage together for
examination; some were unstrapping their trunks; and others, having
unstrapped theirs, were now fumbling in their pockets, in great
distress, to find the keys. It is always an awkward thing to lose a
trunk key; but the most unfortunate of all possible times for meeting
with this calamity is when a custom-house officer is standing by,
waiting to examine what your trunk contains. Those who could not find
their keys were obliged to stand aside and let others take their turn.
As fast as the trunks were inspected, the lid of each was shut down, and
it was marked with chalk; and then, as soon as it was locked and
strapped again, a porter conveyed it to the tug, where the owner
followed it, ready to go on shore.
In the midst of this scene the captain came on deck, and began to look
around for the children whom he had promised to take care of. He made
some inquiries for them, and at length was told that they had gone
ashore.
"At least, I _think_ they have gone," said his informant. "I saw Mr.
Holiday's coachman here, inquiring for them, a short time ago. And he
seems to be gone. I presume he has taken them ashore."
"He can't have taken them ashore," said the captain. "There is nothing
to go ashore till this tug goes. However, I presume he has got them
under his charge somewhere."
So the captain dismissed the subject from his mind; and after remaining
a few minutes on deck, and seeing that every thing was going on well, he
went below into his state room, in order to write a letter to the owners
of the ship, to inform them of the safe termination of the voyage.
It was about this time that the chambermaid waked Rollo and Jennie. They
rose immediately, and were soon dressed. On going up upon the deck, they
were somewhat surprised to witness the bustling scenes that were
enacting there; and they stood for a few minutes surveying the various
groups, and watching with great interest the process of examining the
baggage. At length, after following the process through in the case of
one of the passengers, who was just opening his trunk when they came up,
Rollo turned to Jennie, and said,--
"It is nothing at all, Jennie. I can do it as well as any body."
So he looked about till he found his trunk, and, leading Jennie there,
he took his station by the side of it, and immediately proceeded to
unstrap and unlock it. He took out some of the largest things from the
top of the trunk and put them on a settee near, so that the officer
could easily examine the rest. By the time he had done this, an officer
was ready.
"Is this your trunk, my lad?" said the officer, at the same time lifting
up the clothes a little at the corners.
"Yes, sir," said Rollo.
"All right," said the officer; and he shut down the lid, and marked the
top with a P.
Rollo opened his trunk again to put the other things in, and then locked
and strapped it. A porter then took it and carried it on board the
tender. Rollo and Jennie followed him.
In about half an hour the tender put off from the steamer and went to
the shore. On the way, Jennie, who could not help feeling some anxiety
about the result of these formidable proceedings, said, timidly,--
"I don't see what we are going to do, Rollo, when we get to the shore."
"We will do what the rest do," said Rollo.
As soon as the steamer touched the pier and began to blow off her steam,
a terrific scene of noise and confusion ensued. Rollo and Jennie stood
near their trunk, overawed and silenced; but yet Rollo was not, after
all, much afraid, for he felt confident that it would all come out right
in the end. He was right in this supposition; for as soon as some fifty
of the most impatient and eager of the passengers had got their baggage,
and had gone ashore, the tumult subsided in a great measure. At length,
a porter, after taking away a great many trunks near Rollo, asked him if
that trunk, pointing to Rollo's, was to go on shore. Rollo said that it
was. So the porter took it up and went away, Rollo and Jennie following
him.
They made their way through the crowd, and across the plank, to the
pier. When they had got upon the pier, the porter turned and said, "Do
you want a carriage?" Rollo answered, "Yes;" and then the porter
immediately put the trunk upon the top of a small carriage which was
standing there in a line with many others. He then opened the door, and
Rollo and Jennie got in.
"How much to pay, sir?" said Rollo.
"Sixpence, if you please, sir," said the porter.
Rollo, who had had the precaution to provide himself with silver change,
so as to be ready, gave the man a sixpence. Of course, it was an English
sixpence.
"Thank you, sir," said the porter. "Where shall he drive?"
"To the hotel," said Rollo.
"To what hotel?" said the porter.
"Why--I don't know," said Rollo. "To--to the best hotel."
"To the Adelphi," said the porter to the coachman. So saying, he shut
the door, and the coachman drove away.
When they arrived at the door of the hotel, the landlord, who came out
to see who had come, supposed at once that his new guests must be Mr.
Holiday's children; so he sent them up immediately to their father's
parlor, where the breakfast table had been set, and their father, and
mother, and Thanny were waiting for them. The joy of their parents at
seeing them was unbounded, and they themselves were almost equally
rejoiced in finding their long voyage brought thus to a safe and happy
termination.
In respect to Tiger, however, the end of the voyage was unfortunately
not so propitious. In the confusion of the landing she was forgotten,
and left behind; and Jennie was so excited and overjoyed at meeting her
mother, that it was nearly noon before she thought of the kitten at all.
Her father then sent Alfred on board the ship to see if he could get
her. He came back with the cage, but he said that the kitten was nowhere
to be found. He made diligent inquiry, but he could obtain no tidings of
her--and no tidings were ever afterward heard. Whether she fell
overboard and was drowned; or whether the waiters on the ship took a
fancy to her, and hid her away somewhere in the forecastle, in order to
keep her for their pet and plaything in future voyages; or whether she
walked over the plank to the pier, when the ship came alongside of it,
and there got enticed away by the Liverpool cats into the various
retreats and recesses which they resort to among the docks and
sewers,--could never be known. At all events, neither Jennie nor Rollo
ever saw or heard of her again.
* * * * *
TAGGARD & THOMPSON
PUBLISH THE FOLLOWING
POPULAR JUVENILE BOOKS.
ROLLO'S TOUR IN EUROPE.
Ten volumes, 16mo, cloth. Being a new series of Rollo Rooks. By REV.
JACOB ABBOTT. Beautifully illustrated. Rollo on the Atlantic--Rollo in
Paris--Rollo in Switzerland--Rollo on the Rhine--Rollo in London--Rollo
in Scotland--Rollo in Geneva--Rollo in Holland--Rollo in Naples--Rollo
in Rome. Price per vol. 50 cts.
MY UNCLE TOBY'S LIBRARY.
By FRANCIS FORRESTER, ESQ., consisting of twelve volumes, elegantly
bound, and illustrated with upwards of SIXTY beautiful engravings. Each
book is printed in large and splendid type, upon superior paper. Price
per vol. 25 cts.
THE SUMMER HOUSE STORIES.
By the author of "Daisy," "Violet," &c. Elegantly illustrated by
Billings. Six volumes. Price per vol. 63 cts.
This series is designed to sketch attractively and simply the wonders of
reptile and insect existences, the changes of trees, rocks, rivers,
clouds, and winds. This is done by a family of children writing letters,
both playful and serious, which are addressed to all children whom the
books may reach.
THE MARTIN AND NELLIE STORIES.
By JOSEPHINE FRANKLIN. Twelve volumes, 16mo, cloth. Illustrated by
Billings and others. Price per vol. 50 cts.
The object of these stories is the inculcation, in a quiet, simple way,
of the principles of good nature, kindness, and integrity among
children. They consist of the usual pathetic and mirthful incidents that
constitute boy and girl life.
THE GLEN MORRIS STORIES.
By FRANCIS FORRESTER, author of "My Uncle Toby's Library." Five vols.
16mo, cloth. Beautifully illustrated. Price per vol. 63 cts.
The purpose of the "Glen Morris Stories" is to sow the seed of pure,
noble, manly character in the mind of our great nation's childhood. They
exhibit the virtues and vices of childhood, not in prosy, unreadable
precepts, but in a series of characters which move before the
Imagination, as living beings do before the senses.
PICTURES FROM THE HISTORY OF THE SWISS.
One volume, 16mo. Price 67 cts.
A very instructive and entertaining Juvenile, designed for children from
ten to fifteen years of age.
PICTURES FROM THE HISTORY OF SPAIN.
By the author of "Pictures from the History of the Swiss." A new volume
just published. Price 67 cts.
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF WHITENOSE WOODCHUCK.
One volume, 16mo. Price 38 cts.
Intended especially for younger children, and illustrated with numerous
engravings, by Billings.
In addition to the above. B. & T. publish a great variety of Toy and
Juvenile Books, suited to the wants of children of all ages.
* * * * *
AN INTERESTING BOOK FOR SCHOLARS.
The Boys have long desired such a Book.
THE UNIVERSAL SPEAKER:
CONTAINING A COLLECTION OF
SPEECHES, DIALOGUES, AND RECITATIONS,
ADAPTED TO THE USE OF SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES, AND SOCIAL CIRCLES.
Edited by N. A. Calkins and W. T. Adams.
The excellences of this work consist, in part, of its entire
originality, of its more than usual adaptation to the wants of our High
Schools and Academies, and of the systematic arrangement of its
selections for declamation and for elocutionary practice. Those in Part
Second were prepared by Prof. Wm. Russell, the eminent elocutionist,
expressly for this work. The publishers feel assured that in presenting
this work to Teachers and Scholars, they are offering them no revision
of old matter with which they have long been familiar, but an original
work, full of new, interesting, and instructive pieces, for the varied
purposes for which it is designed.
In 1 vol. 12mo. Price $1.
The instructions in declamation are so complete and accompanied by such
ample illustrations relative to position and gestures of the student,
that the "Universal Speaker" needs only to be seen to become what its
name indicates--universal.--Rochester Repository.
The pieces are judiciously selected, and the book is very attractive in
its appearance--Connecticut School Journal.
We find, upon close inspection, that the work contains much fresh
matter, which will be acceptable to schools and students, particularly
in the department of dialogues of which there is a great dearth of
really good and FIT matter in most speakers.--United States Journal.
They are all school-like, the dialogues being illustrative of scenes in
common life, including some first-rate conversations pertinent to
school-room duties and trials. The speeches are brief and energetic. It
will meet with favor.--R. I. Schoolmaster.
The selection has been made with a great deal of foresight and taste, by
men who are highly esteemed as elocutionists, writers, or teachers. The
notation, the directions and cuts appended to the pieces, will be found
useful to those who use them.--Mass. Teacher.
Looking it over hastily, we notice many admirable selections from the
best authors, and as the book is entirely fresh, the matter never having
appeared in previous readers or speakers, it cannot fail to be a welcome
addition to the books of its class.--Springfield Republican.
In this they have succeeded, and have also been fortunate in the
selection. The book contains a larger number of dialogues than any we
have seen, and they are mostly relative to school children and school
affairs.--Penn. School Journal.
* * * * *
INSTRUCTION AND AMUSEMENT.
PICTURES
FROM THE
HISTORY OF THE SWISS.
In 1 vol. 16mo. 262 pages. Price 75 cents.
WITH CHARACTERISTIC ILLUSTRATIONS,
DESIGNED BY HAMMETT BILLINGS
It is not generally known that the early history of the Swiss abounds in
the most thrilling and interesting stories, of which that of Wm. Tell
shooting the apple from the head of his son, by order of the tyrant
Gessler, so familiar to every child, is but a specimen. The present
volume, while it introduces the youthful reader to many of the scenes
through which the brave Swiss passed in recovering their liberty, also
narrates many stories of peculiar interest and romance, every way equal
to that of Tell. Among those we may name,
The Thievish Raven, and the Mischief he caused.
How the Wives and Daughters of Zurich saved the City.
How the City of Lucerne was saved by a Boy.
The Baker's Apprentice.
How a Wooden Figure raised Troops in the Valois.
Little Roza's Offering.
A Little Theft, and what happened in consequence.
The Angel of the Camp.
With twenty-one other similar stories.
* * * * *
A NEW SERIES OF JUVENILES.
THE SUMMER-HOUSE SERIES.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "VIOLET," "DAISY," ETC.
The first volume of what the publishers sincerely believe will be the
most popular series of Juvenile Books yet issued, is now ready, entitled
OUR SUMMER-HOUSE, AND WHAT WAS SAID AND DONE IN IT.
In 1 vol. 16 mo. Price 62 cents.
Handsomely Illustrated by HAMMETT BILLINGS.
From the author's Preface:--
"The Summer-House Series of children's books, of which the present
volume is the first, is an attempt to sketch attractively and simply the
wonders of reptile and insect existence, the changes of trees, rocks,
rivers, clouds and winds.
"To this end a family of intelligent children, of various ages, collected
in a garden summer-house, are supposed to write letters and stories,
sometimes playful, sometimes serious, addressing them to all children
whom the books may reach.
"The author has hoped, by thus awakening the quick imagination and ready
sympathies of the young, to lead them to use their own eyes, and hearts,
and hands, in that plentiful harvest-field of life, where 'the reapers
indeed are few.'"
Among the stories in the present volume are the following:--
Bessie's Garden,
One of the most touching and affecting stories we have read for many a
day.
The Lancers.
A most humorous story, with a never-to-be-forgotten moral, inculcating
contentment.
The Working Fairies.
In this story Industry is held up for attainment, and Idleness receives
a severe rebuke. The style and language, though perfectly intelligible
to children, are worthy of a Beecher.
The Princess.
A story of wrong and suffering.
Little Red-Head.
A true story of a bird.
The Little Preacher.
A sweet story, introducing bird and insect life, and conveying more
truth and instruction to children, than can be found in a dozen ordinary
sermons.
TAGGARD & THOMPSON, Publishers,
29 CORNHILL, BOSTON.