CROSSING THE 'FERRY.'
Robert Wynn returned home to Dunore, having gained nothing by his
London trip but a little of that bitter though salutary tonic called
experience. His resolve did not waver--nay, it became his day-dream; but
manifold obstacles occurred in the attempt to realize it. Family pride
was one of the most stubborn; and not until all hope from home resources
was at an end, did his father give consent.
About a month after his meeting with Hiram Holt in the London
coffee-house, he and his brother Arthur found themselves on board a fine
emigrant vessel, passing down the river Lee into Cork harbour, under the
leadership of a little black steam-tug. Grievous had been the wailing of
the passengers at parting with their kinsfolk on the quay; but, somewhat
stilled by this time, they leaned in groups on the bulwarks, or were
squatted about on deck among their infinitude of red boxes and brilliant
tins, watching the villa-whitened shores gliding by rapidly. Only an
occasional vernacular ejaculation, such as 'Oh, wirra! wirra!' or, 'Och
hone, mavrone!' betokened the smouldering remains of emotion in the
frieze coats and gaudy shawls assembled for'ard: the wisest of the
party were arranging their goods and chattels 'tween-decks, where they
must encamp for a month or more; but the majority, with truly Celtic
improvidence, will wait till they are turned down at nightfall, and have
a general scramble in the dusk.
Now the noble Cove of Cork stretches before them, a sheet of glassy
water, dotted with a hundred sail, from the base of the sultry hill
faced with terraces and called Queenstown, to the far Atlantic beyond
the Heads. Heavy and dark loom the fortified Government buildings of
Haulbowline and the prisons of Spike Island, casting forbidding
shadows on the western margin of the tide. Quickly the steam-tug
and her follower thread their way among islets and moored barques and
guard-ships, southward to the sea. No pause anywhere; the passengers of
the brig Ocean Queen are shut up in a world of their own for a while;
yet they do not feel the bond with mother country quite severed till
they have cleared the last cape, and the sea-line lies wide in view; nor
even then, till the little black tug casts off the connecting cables,
and rounds away back across the bar, within the jaws of the bay.
Hardly a breath of breeze: but such as blows is favourable; and
with infinite creaking all sail is set. The sound wakes up emigrant
sorrow afresh; the wildly contagious Irish cry is raised, much to the
discomposure of the captain, who stood on the quarterdeck with Robert
Wynn.
'The savages! they will be fitting mates for Red Indians, and may add
a stave or two to the war-whoop. One would think they were all going
to the bottom immediately.' He walked forward to quell the noise, if
possible, but he might as well have stamped and roared at Niagara. Not a
voice cared for his threats or his rage, but those within reach of his
arm. The choleric little man had to come back baffled.
'Masther Robert, would _ye_ like 'em to stop?' whispered a great hulking
peasant who had been looking on; 'for if ye would, I'll do it while ye'd
be taking a pinch of snuff.'
Andy Callaghan disappeared somewhere for a moment, and presently emerged
with an old violin, which he began to scrape vigorously. Even his tuning
was irresistibly comical; and he had not been playing a lively jig for
ten minutes, before two or three couples were on their feet performing
the figure. Soon an admiring circle, four deep, collected about the
dancers. The sorrows of the exiles were effectually diverted, for that
time.
'A clever fellow,' quoth the captain, regarding Andy's red hair and
twinkling eyes with some admiration. 'A diplomatic tendency, Mr. Wynn,
which may be valuable. Your servant, I presume?'
'A former tenant of my father's, who wished to follow our fortunes,'
replied Robert. 'He's a faithful fellow, though not much more civilised
than the rest.'
That grand ocean bluff, the Old Head of Kinsale, was now in the offing,
and misty ranges of other promontories beyond, at whose base was
perpetual foam. Robert turned away with a sigh, and descended to the
cabins. In the small square box allotted to them, he found Arthur lying
in his berth, reading Mrs. Traill's _Emigrant's Guide_.
'I've been wondering what became of you; you've not been on deck since
we left Cork.'
'Of course not. I should have been blubbering like a schoolboy; and as I
had enough of that last night, I mean to stay here till we're out of
sight of land.'
Little trace of the stoicism he professed was to be seen in the tender
eyes which had for an hour been fixed on the same page; but Arthur was
not yet sufficiently in manhood's years to know that deep feeling is an
honour, and not a weakness.
Towards evening, the purple mountain ranges of Kerry were fast fading
over the waters; well-known peaks, outlines familiar from childhood to
the dwellers at Dunore, were sinking beneath the great circle of the
sea. Cape Clear is left behind, and the lonely Fassnet lighthouse; the
Ocean Queen is coming to the blue water, and the long solemn swell
raises and sinks her with pendulum-like regularity.
'Ah, then, Masther Robert, an' we're done wid the poor ould counthry for
good an' all!' Andy Callaghan's big bony hands are clasped in a tremor
of emotion that would do honour to a picturesque Italian exile. 'The
beautiful ould counthry, as has the greenest grass that ever grew, an'
the clearest water that ever ran, an' the purtiest girls in the wide
world! An' we're goin' among sthrangers, to pull an' dhrag for our bit
to ate; but we'll never be happy till we see them blue hills and green
fields once more!'
Mr. Wynn could almost have endorsed the sentiment just then. Perhaps
Andy's low spirits were intensified by the uncomfortable motion of
the ship, which was beginning to strike landsmen with that rolling
headache, the sure precursor of a worse visitation. Suffice it to say,
that the mass of groaning misery in the steerage and cabins, on the
subsequent night, would melt the heart of any but the most hardened 'old
salt.' Did not Robert and Arthur regret their emigration bitterly, when
shaken by the fangs of the fell demon, sea-sickness? Did not a chance of
going to the bottom seem a trivial calamity? Answer, ye who have ever
been in like pitiful case. We draw a curtain over the abject miseries of
three days; over the Dutch-built captain's unseasonable joking and
huge laughter--he, that could eat junk and biscuit if the ship was in
Maelstrom! Robert could have thrown his boots at him with pleasure,
while the short, broad figure stood in the doorway during his diurnal
visit, chewing tobacco, and talking of all the times he had crossed
'the ferry,' as he familiarly designated the Atlantic Ocean. The sick
passengers, to a man, bore him an animosity, owing to his ostentatiously
rude health and iron nerves, which is, of all exhibitions, the most
oppressive to a prostrate victim of the sea-fiend.
The third evening, an altercation became audible on the companion-ladder,
as if some ship's officer were keeping back somebody else who was
determined to come below.
'That's Andy Callaghan's voice,' said Arthur.
'Let me down, will ye, to see the young masthers?' came muffled through
the doors and partition. 'Look here, now,'--in a coaxing tone,--'I don't
like to be cross; but though I'm so bad afther the sickness, I'd set ye
back in your little hole there at the fut of the stairs as aisy as I'd
put a snail in its shell.'
At this juncture Robert opened their state-room door, and prevented
further collision. Andy's lean figure had become gaunter than ever.
'They thought to keep me from seeing ye, the villains! I'd knock every
mother's son of 'em into the middle o' next week afore I'd be kep' away.
Sure I was comin' often enough before, but the dinth of the sickness
prevented me; an' other times I was chucked about like a child's marvel,
pitched over an' hether by the big waves banging the side of the vessel.
Masther Robert, asthore, it's I that's shaking in the middle of my
iligant new frieze shute like a withered pea in a pod--I'm got so thin
intirely.'
'We are not much better ourselves,' said Arthur, laughing; 'but I hope
the worst of it is over.'
'I'd give the full of my pockets in goold, if I had it this minit,' said
Andy, with great emphasis, 'to set me foot on the nakedest sod of bog
that's in Ould Ireland this day! an' often I abused it; but throth, the
purtiest sight in life to me would be a good pratiefield, an' meself
walkin' among the ridges!'
'Well, Andy, we mustn't show the white-feather in that way; we could
not expect to get to America without being sick, or suffering some
disagreeables.'
'When yer honours are satisfied, 'tisn't for the likes of me to
grumble,' Andy said resignedly. 'Only if everybody knew what was before
them, they mightn't do many a thing, maybe!'
'Very true, Andy.'
'So we're all sayin' down in the steerage, sir. But oh, Masther Robert,
I a'most forgot to tell ye, account of that spalpeen that thought to
hindher yer own fosther-brother from comin' to see ye; but there's the
most wondherful baste out in the say this minit; an' it's spoutin' up
water like the fountain that used to be at Dunore, only a power bigger;
an' lyin' a-top of the waves like an island, for all the world! I'm
thinkin' he wouldn't make much of cranching up the ship like a hazel
nut.'
'A whale! I wonder will they get out the boats,' said Arthur, with
sudden animation. 'I think I'm well enough to go on deck, Bob: I'd like
to have a shot at the fellow.'
'A very useless expenditure of powder,' rejoined Robert. But Arthur,
boy-like, sprang up-stairs with the rifle, which had often done execution
among the wild-fowl of his native moorlands. Certainly it was a feat to
hit such a prominent mark as that mountain of blubber; and Arthur felt
justly ashamed of himself when the animal beat the water furiously and
dived headlong in his pain.
Now the only other cabin passengers on board the brig were a retired
military officer and his family, consisting of a son and two daughters.
They had made acquaintance with the Wynns on the first day of the
voyage, but since then there had been a necessary suspension of
intercourse. And it was a certain mild but decided disapproval in Miss
Armytage's grave glance, when Arthur turned round and saw her sitting on
the poop with her father and little sister, which brought the colour to
his cheek, for he felt he had been guilty of thoughtless and wanton
cruelty. He bowed and moved farther away. But Robert joined them, and
passed half an hour very contentedly in gazing at a grand sunset. The
closing act of which was as follows: a dense black brow of cloud on the
margin of the sea; beneath it burst a flaming bolt of light from the
sun's great eye, along the level waters. Far in the zenith were broad
beams radiating across other clouds, like golden pathways. Slowly the
dark curtain seemed to close down over the burning glory at the horizon.
'How very beautiful!' exclaimed Miss Armytage.
'Yes, my dear Edith, except as a weather barometer,' said her father.
'In that point of view it means--storm.'
'Oh, papa!' ejaculated the little girl, nestling close--not to him, but
to her elder sister, whose hand instantly clasped hers with a reassuring
pressure, while the quiet face looked down at the perturbed child,
smiling sweetly. It was almost the first smile Robert had seen on her
face; it made Miss Armytage quite handsome for the moment, he thought.
Miss Armytage, caring very little for his thought, was occupied an
instant with saying something in a low tone to Jay, which gradually
brightened the small countenance again. Robert caught the words, 'Our
dear Saviour.' They reminded him of his mother.
Captain Armytage was correct in his prediction: before midnight a fierce
north-easter was raging on the sea. The single beneficial result was,
that it fairly cured all maladies but terror; for, after clinging to
their berths during some hours with every muscle of their bodies, lest
they should be swung off and smashed in the lurches of the vessel, the
passengers arose next morning well and hungry.
'I spind the night on me head, mostly,' said Andy Callaghan. 'Troth, I
never knew before how the flies managed to walk on the ceilin' back
downwards; but a thrifle more o' practice would tache it to meself, for
half me time the floor was above at the rafters over me head. I donno
rightly how to walk on my feet the day afther it.'
This was the only bad weather they experienced, as viewed nautically:
even the captain allowed that it had been 'a stiffish gale;' but
subsequent tumults of the winds and waves, which seemed tremendous to
unsophisticated landsmen, were to him mere ocean frolics. And so, while
each day the air grew colder, they neared the banks of Newfoundland,
where everybody who could devise fishing-tackle tried to catch the
famous cod of those waters. Arthur was one of the successful captors,
having spent a laborious day in the main-chains for the purpose. At
eventide he was found teaching little Jay how to hold a line, and how to
manage when a bite came. Her mistakes and her delight amused him: both
lasted till a small panting fish was pulled up.
'There's a whiting for you, now,' said he, 'all of your own catching.'
Jay looked at it regretfully, as the poor little gills opened and shut
in vain efforts to breathe the smothering air, and the pretty silver
colouring deadened as its life went. 'I am very sorry,' she said,
folding her hands together; 'I think I ought not to have killed it only
to amuse myself.' And she walked away to where her sister was sitting.
'What a strange child!' thought Arthur, as he watched the little figure
crossing the deck. But he wound up the tackle, and angled no more for
that evening.
The calm was next day deepened by a fog; a dense haze settled on the
sea, seeming by sheer weight to still its restless motion. Now was the
skipper much more perturbed than during the rough weather: wrapt in a
mighty pea-coat, he kept a perpetual look-out in person, chewing the
tobacco meanwhile as if he bore it an animosity. Frequent gatherings
of drift-ice passed, and at times ground together with a disagreeably
strong sound. An intense chill pervaded the atmosphere,--a cold unlike
what Robert or Arthur had ever felt in the frosts of Ireland, it was so
much more keen and penetrating.
'The captain says it is from icebergs,' said the latter, drawing up the
collar of his greatcoat about his ears, as they walked the deck. 'I wish
we saw one--at a safe distance, of course. But this fog is so
blinding'--
Even as he spoke, a vast whitish berg loomed abeam, immensely
higher than the topmasts, in towers and spires snow-crested. What
great precipices of grey glistening ice, as it passed by, a mighty
half-distinguishable mass! what black rifts of destructive depth! The
ship surged backward before the great refluent wave of its movement. A
sensation of awe struck the bravest beholder, as slowly and majestically
the huge berg glided astern, and its grim features were obliterated by
the heavy haze.
Both drew a relieved breath when the grand apparition had passed. 'I
wish Miss Armytage had seen it,' said Arthur.
'Why?' rejoined Robert, though the same thought was just in his own
mind.
'Oh, because it was so magnificent, and I am sure she would admire it.
I could almost make a poem about it myself. Don't you know the feeling,
as if the sight were too large, too imposing for your mind somehow? And
the danger only intensifies that.'
'Still, I wish we were out of their reach. The skipper's temper will be
unbearable till then.'
It improved considerably when the fog rose off the sea, a day or two
subsequently, and a head-wind sprang up, carrying them towards the Gulf.
One morning, a low grey stripe of cloud on the horizon was shown to the
passengers as part of Newfoundland. Long did Robert Wynn gaze at that
dim outline, possessed by all the strange feelings which belong to the
first sight of the new world, especially when it is to be a future home.
No shame to his manhood if some few tears for the dear old home dimmed
his eyes as he looked. But soon that shadow of land disappeared, and,
passing Cape Race at a long distance, they entered the great estuary
of the St. Lawrence, which mighty inlet, if it had place in our little
Europe, would be fitly termed the Sea of Labrador; but where all the
features of nature are colossal, it ranks only as a gulf.
One morning, when little Jay had gone on deck for an ante-breakfast run,
she came back in a state of high delight to the cabin. 'Oh, Edith, such
beautiful birds! such lovely little birds! and the sailors say they're
from the land, though we cannot see it anywhere. How tired they must be
after such a long fly, all the way from beyond the edge of the sea! Do
come and look at them, dear Edith--do come!'
Sitting on the shrouds were a pair of tiny land birds, no bigger than
tomtits, and wearing red top-knots on their heads. How welcome were the
confiding little creatures to the passengers, who had been rocked at
sea for nearly five weeks, and hailed these as sure harbingers of solid
ground! They came down to pick up Jay's crumbs of biscuit, and twittered
familiarly. The captain offered to have one caught for her, but, after a
minute's eager acquiescence, she declined. 'I would like to feel it in
my hand,' said she, 'but it is kinder to let it fly about wherever it
pleases.'
'Why, you little Miss Considerate, is that your principle always?' asked
Arthur, who had made a great playmate of her. She did not understand his
question; and on his explaining in simpler words, 'Oh, you know I always
try to think what God would like. That is sure to be right, isn't it?'
'I suppose so,' said Arthur, with sudden gravity.
'Edith taught me--she does just that,' continued the child. 'I don't
think _she_ ever does anything that is wrong at all. But oh, Mr. Wynn,'
and he felt a sudden tightening of her grasp on his hand, 'what big bird
is that? look how frightened the little ones are!'
A hawk, which had been circling in the air, now made a swoop on the
rigging, but was anticipated by his quarry: one of the birds flew
actually into Arthur's hands, and the other got in among some barrels
which stood amidships.
'Ah,' said Arthur, 'they were driven out here by that chap, I suppose.
Now I'll give you the pleasure of feeling one of them in your hands.'
'But that wicked hawk!'
'And that wicked Jay, ever to eat chickens or mutton.'
'Ah! but that is different. How his little heart beats and flutters! I
wish I had him for a pet. I would love you, little birdie, indeed I
would.'
For some days they stayed by the ship, descending on deck for crumbs
regularly furnished them by Jay, to whom the office of feeding them was
deputed by common consent. But nearing the island of Anticosti, they
took wing for shore with a parting twitter, and, like Noah's dove, did
not return. Jay would not allow that they were ungrateful.