THE SALT-DROGHERS, AND GERMAN EMIGRANT SHIPS
Surrounded by its broad belt of masonry, each Liverpool dock is a
walled town, full of life and commotion; or rather, it is a small
archipelago, an epitome of the world, where all the nations of
Christendom, and even those of Heathendom, are represented. For, in
itself, each ship is an island, a floating colony of the tribe to which
it belongs.
Here are brought together the remotest limits of the earth; and in the
collective spars and timbers of these ships, all the forests of the
globe are represented, as in a grand parliament of masts. Canada and
New Zealand send their pines; America her live oak; India her teak;
Norway her spruce; and the Right Honorable Mahogany, member for
Honduras and Campeachy, is seen at his post by the wheel. Here, under
the beneficent sway of the Genius of Commerce, all climes and countries
embrace; and yard-arm touches yard-arm in brotherly love.
A Liverpool dock is a grand caravansary inn, and hotel, on the spacious
and liberal plan of the _Astor House._ Here ships are lodged at a
moderate charge, and payment is not demanded till the time of
departure. Here they are comfortably housed and provided for; sheltered
from all weathers and secured from all calamities. For I can hardly
credit a story I have heard, that sometimes, in heavy gales, ships
lying in the very middle of the docks have lost their
top-gallant-masts. Whatever the toils and hardships encountered on the
voyage, whether they come from Iceland or the coast of New Guinea, here
their sufferings are ended, and they take their ease in their watery
inn.
I know not how many hours I spent in gazing at the shipping in Prince’s
Dock, and speculating concerning their past voyages and future
prospects in life. Some had just arrived from the most distant ports,
worn, battered, and disabled; others were all a-taunt-o—spruce, gay,
and brilliant, in readiness for sea.
Every day the Highlander had some new neighbor. A black brig from
Glasgow, with its crew of sober Scotch caps, and its staid,
thrifty-looking skipper, would be replaced by a jovial French
hermaphrodite, its forecastle echoing with songs, and its quarter-deck
elastic from much dancing.
On the other side, perhaps, a magnificent New York Liner, huge as a
seventy-four, and suggesting the idea of a Mivart’s or Delmonico’s
afloat, would give way to a Sidney emigrant ship, receiving on board
its live freight of shepherds from the Grampians, ere long to be
tending their flocks on the hills and downs of New Holland.
I was particularly pleased and tickled, with a multitude of little
salt-droghers, rigged like sloops, and not much bigger than a
pilot-boat, but with broad bows painted black, and carrying red sails,
which looked as if they had been pickled and stained in a tan-yard.
These little fellows were continually coming in with their cargoes for
ships bound to America; and lying, five or six together, alongside of
those lofty Yankee hulls, resembled a parcel of red ants about the
carcass of a black buffalo.
When loaded, these comical little craft are about level with the water;
and frequently, when blowing fresh in the river, I have seen them
flying through the foam with nothing visible but the mast and sail, and
a man at the tiller; their entire cargo being snugly secured under
hatches.
It was diverting to observe the self-importance of the skipper of any
of these diminutive vessels. He would give himself all the airs of an
admiral on a three-decker’s poop; and no doubt, thought quite as much
of himself. And why not? What could Caesar want more? Though his craft
was none of the largest, it was subject to _him;_ and though his crew
might only consist of himself; yet if he governed it well, he achieved
a triumph, which the moralists of all ages have set above the victories
of Alexander.
These craft have each a little cabin, the prettiest, charmingest, most
delightful little dog-hole in the world; not much bigger than an
old-fashioned alcove for a bed. It is lighted by little round glasses
placed in the deck; so that to the insider, the ceiling is like a small
firmament twinkling with astral radiations. For tall men, nevertheless,
the place is but ill-adapted; a sitting, or recumbent position being
indispensable to an occupancy of the premises. Yet small, low, and
narrow as the cabin is, somehow, it affords accommodations to the
skipper and his family. Often, I used to watch the tidy good-wife,
seated at the open little scuttle, like a woman at a cottage door,
engaged in knitting socks for her husband; or perhaps, cutting his
hair, as he kneeled before her. And once, while marveling how a couple
like this found room to turn in, below, I was amazed by a noisy
irruption of cherry-cheeked young tars from the scuttle, whence they
came rolling forth, like so many curly spaniels from a kennel.
Upon one occasion, I had the curiosity to go on board a salt-drogher,
and fall into conversation with its skipper, a bachelor, who kept house
all alone. I found him a very sociable, comfortable old fellow, who had
an eye to having things cozy around him. It was in the evening; and he
invited me down into his sanctum to supper; and there we sat together
like a couple in a box at an oyster-cellar.
“He, he,” he chuckled, kneeling down before a fat, moist, little cask
of beer, and holding a cocked-hat pitcher to the faucet—“You see, Jack,
I keep every thing down here; and nice times I have by myself. Just
before going to bed, it ain’t bad to take a nightcap, you know; eh!
Jack?—here now, smack your lips over that, my boy—have a pipe?—but
stop, let’s to supper first.”
So he went to a little locker, a fixture against the side, and groping
in it awhile, and addressing it with—_“What cheer here, what cheer?”_
at last produced a loaf, a small cheese, a bit of ham, and a jar of
butter. And then placing a board on his lap, spread the table, the
pitcher of beer in the center. “Why that’s but a two legged table,”
said I, “let’s make it four.”
So we divided the burthen, and supped merrily together on our knees.
He was an old ruby of a fellow, his cheeks toasted brown; and it did my
soul good, to see the froth of the beer bubbling at his mouth, and
sparkling on his nut-brown beard. He looked so like a great mug of ale,
that I almost felt like taking him by the neck and pouring him out.
“Now Jack,” said he, when supper was over, “now Jack, my boy, do you
smoke?—Well then, load away.” And he handed me a seal-skin pouch of
tobacco and a pipe. We sat smoking together in this little sea-cabinet
of his, till it began to look much like a state-room in Tophet; and
notwithstanding my host’s rubicund nose, I could hardly see him for the
fog.
“He, he, my boy,” then said he—“I don’t never have any bugs here, I
tell ye: I smokes ’em all out every night before going to bed.”
“And where may you sleep?” said I, looking round, and seeing no sign of
a bed.
“Sleep?” says he, “why I sleep in my jacket, that’s the best
counterpane; and I use my head for a pillow. He-he, funny, ain’t it?”
“Very funny,” says I.
“Have some more ale?” says he; “plenty more.” “No more, thank you,”
says I; “I guess I’ll go;” for what with the tobacco-smoke and the ale,
I began to feel like breathing fresh air. Besides, my conscience smote
me for thus freely indulging in the pleasures of the table.
“Now, don’t go,” said he; “don’t go, my boy; don’t go out into the
damp; take an old Christian’s advice,” laying his hand on my shoulder;
“it won’t do. You see, by going out now, you’ll shake off the ale, and
get broad awake again; but if you stay here, you’ll soon be dropping
off for a nice little nap.”
But notwithstanding these inducements, I shook my host’s hand and
departed. There was hardly any thing I witnessed in the docks that
interested me more than the German emigrants who come on board the
large New York ships several days before their sailing, to make every
thing comfortable ere starting. Old men, tottering with age, and little
infants in arms; laughing girls in bright-buttoned bodices, and astute,
middle-aged men with pictured pipes in their mouths, would be seen
mingling together in crowds of five, six, and seven or eight hundred in
one ship.
Every evening these countrymen of Luther and Melancthon gathered on the
forecastle to sing and pray. And it was exalting to listen to their
fine ringing anthems, reverberating among the crowded shipping, and
rebounding from the lofty walls of the docks. Shut your eyes, and you
would think you were in a cathedral.
They keep up this custom at sea; and every night, in the dog-watch,
sing the songs of Zion to the roll of the great ocean-organ: a pious
custom of a devout race, who thus send over their hallelujahs before
them, as they hie to the land of the stranger.
And among these sober Germans, my country counts the most orderly and
valuable of her foreign population. It is they who have swelled the
census of her Northwestern States; and transferring their ploughs from
the hills of Transylvania to the prairies of Wisconsin; and sowing the
wheat of the Rhine on the banks of the Ohio, raise the grain, that, a
hundred fold increased, may return to their kinsmen in Europe.
There is something in the contemplation of the mode in which America
has been settled, that, in a noble breast, should forever extinguish
the prejudices of national dislikes. Settled by the people of all
nations, all nations may claim her for their own. You can not spill a
drop of American blood without spilling the blood of the whole world.
Be he Englishman, Frenchman, German, Dane, or Scot; the European who
scoffs at an American, calls his own brother _Raca,_ and stands in
danger of the judgment. We are not a narrow tribe of men, with a
bigoted Hebrew nationality—whose blood has been debased in the attempt
to ennoble it, by maintaining an exclusive succession among ourselves.
No: our blood is as the flood of the Amazon, made up of a thousand
noble currents all pouring into one. We are not a nation, so much as a
world; for unless we may claim all the world for our sire, like
Melchisedec, we are without father or mother.
For who was our father and our mother? Or can we point to any Romulus
and Remus for our founders? Our ancestry is lost in the universal
paternity; and Caesar and Alfred, St. Paul and Luther, and Homer and
Shakespeare are as much ours as Washington, who is as much the world’s
as our own. We are the heirs of all time, and with all nations we
divide our inheritance. On this Western Hemisphere all tribes and
people are forming into one federated whole; and there is a future
which shall see the estranged children of Adam restored as to the old
hearthstone in Eden.
The other world beyond this, which was longed for by the devout before
Columbus’ time, was found in the New; and the deep-sea-lead, that first
struck these soundings, brought up the soil of Earth’s Paradise. Not a
Paradise then, or now; but to be made so, at God’s good pleasure, and
in the fullness and mellowness of time. The seed is sown, and the
harvest must come; and our children’s children, on the world’s jubilee
morning, shall all go with their sickles to the reaping. Then shall the
curse of Babel be revoked, a new Pentecost come, and the language they
shall speak shall be the language of Britain. Frenchmen, and Danes, and
Scots; and the dwellers on the shores of the Mediterranean, and in the
regions round about; Italians, and Indians, and Moors; there shall
appear unto them cloven tongues as of fire.