Instead of embarking on Monday at Genoa, we were delayed (in consequence
of the boat's being a day later when there are thirty-one days in the
month) until Tuesday. Going aboard that morning at half-past nine, we
found the steamer more than full of passengers from Marseilles, and in a
state of confusion not to be described. We could get no places at the
table, got our dinners how we could on deck, had no berths or sleeping
accommodation of any kind, and had paid heavy first-class fares! To add
to this, we got to Leghorn too late to steam away again that night,
getting the ship's papers examined first--as the authorities said so,
not being favourable to the new express English ship, English
officered--and we lay off the lighthouse all night long. The scene on
board beggars description. Ladies on the tables, gentlemen under the
tables, and ladies and gentlemen lying indiscriminately on the open
deck, arrayed like spoons on a sideboard. No mattresses, no blankets,
nothing. Towards midnight, attempts were made by means of an awning and
flags to make this latter scene remotely approach an Australian
encampment; and we three lay together on the bare planks covered with
overcoats. We were all gradually dozing off when a perfectly tropical
rain fell, and in a moment drowned the whole ship. The rest of the night
was passed upon the stairs, with an immense jumble of men and women.
When anybody came up for any purpose we all fell down; and when anybody
came down we all fell up again. Still, the good-humour in the English
part of the passengers was quite extraordinary. There were excellent
officers aboard, and the first mate lent me his cabin to wash in in the
morning, which I afterwards lent to Egg and Collins. Then we and the
Emerson Tennents (who were aboard) and the captain, the doctor, and the
second officer went off on a jaunt together to Pisa, as the ship was to
lie at Leghorn all day.
The captain was a capital fellow, but I led him, facetiously, such a
life all day, that I got almost everything altered at night. Emerson
Tennent, with the greatest kindness, turned his son out of his state
room (who, indeed, volunteered to go in the most amiable manner), and I
got a good bed there. The store-room down by the hold was opened for Egg
and Collins, and they slept with the moist sugar, the cheese in cut, the
spices, the cruets, the apples and pears--in a perfect chandler's shop;
in company with what the ----'s would call a "hold gent"--who had been
so horribly wet through overnight that his condition frightened the
authorities--a cat, and the steward--who dozed in an arm-chair, and all
night long fell headforemost, once in every five minutes, on Egg, who
slept on the counter or dresser. Last night I had the steward's own
cabin, opening on deck, all to myself. It had been previously occupied
by some desolate lady, who went ashore at Civita Vecchia. There was
little or no sea, thank Heaven, all the trip; but the rain was heavier
than any I have ever seen, and the lightning very constant and vivid. We
were, with the crew, some two hundred people; with boats, at the utmost
stretch, for one hundred, perhaps. I could not help thinking what would
happen if we met with any accident; the crew being chiefly Maltese, and
evidently fellows who would cut off alone in the largest boat on the
least alarm. The speed (it being the crack express ship for the India
mail) very high; also the running through all the narrow rocky channels.
Thank God, however, here we are. Though the more sensible and
experienced part of the passengers agreed with me this morning that it
was not a thing to try often. We had an excellent table after the first
day, the best wines and so forth, and the captain and I swore eternal
friendship. Ditto the first officer and the majority of the passengers.
We got into the bay about seven this morning, but could not land until
noon. We towed from Civita Vecchia the entire Greek navy, I believe,
consisting of a little brig-of-war, with great guns, fitted as a
steamer, but disabled by having burst the bottom of her boiler in her
first run. She was just big enough to carry the captain and a crew of
six or so, but the captain was so covered with buttons and gold that
there never would have been room for him on board to put these valuables
away if he hadn't worn them, which he consequently did, all night.
Whenever anything was wanted to be done, as slackening the tow-rope or
anything of that sort, our officers roared at this miserable potentate,
in violent English, through a speaking-trumpet, of which he couldn't
have understood a word under the most favourable circumstances, so he
did all the wrong things first, and the right things always last. The
absence of any knowledge of anything not English on the part of the
officers and stewards was most ridiculous. I met an Italian gentleman on
the cabin steps, yesterday morning, vainly endeavouring to explain that
he wanted a cup of tea for his sick wife. And when we were coming out of
the harbour at Genoa, and it was necessary to order away that boat of
music you remember, the chief officer (called aft for the purpose, as
"knowing something of Italian,") delivered himself in this explicit and
clear manner to the principal performer: "Now, signora, if you don't
sheer off, you'll be run down; so you had better trice up that guitar of
yours, and put about."
We get on as well as possible, and it is extremely pleasant and
interesting, and I feel that the change is doing me great and real
service, after a long continuous strain upon the mind; but I am pleased
to think that we are at our farthest point, and I look forward with joy
to coming home again, to my old room, and the old walks, and all the old
pleasant things.
I wish I had arranged, or could have done so--for it would not have been
easy--to find some letters here. It is a blank to stay for five days in
a place without any.
I don't think Edward knows fifty Italian words; but much more French is
spoken in Italy now than when we were here, and he stumbles along
somehow.
I am afraid this is a dull letter, for I am very tired. You must take
the will for the deed, my dear, and good night.
Ever most affectionately.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]