The “Great Eastern” was indeed preparing to sail. Already volumes of
black smoke were issuing from the five chimneys, and hot steam filled
the engine-rooms. Some sailors were brightening up the four great
fog-cannons which were to salute Liverpool as we sailed by. The top-men
climbed the yards, disentangled the rigging, and tightened the shrouds
on the thick ropes fastened to the barricades. About eleven o’clock the
carpenters and painters put the finishing touches to their work, and
then embarked on board the tender which awaited them. As soon as there
was a sufficient pressure, the steam rushed into the cylinders of the
rudder engine, and the engineers had the pleasure of seeing that this
ingenious contrivance was an entire success.
The weather was fine, with bright gleams of sunshine darting through the
rapidly-moving clouds. There must have been a strong breeze at sea, but
we did not feel it.
The officers were all dispersed about the deck, making preparations for
getting under sail. The ship’s officers were composed of the Captain,
the first officer, two assistant officers, five lieutenants, of whom one
was a Frenchman, M. H——, and a volunteer who was also French.
Captain Anderson holds a high place in the commercial marine of England.
It is to him we are indebted for the laying of the Transatlantic cable,
though it is true that if he succeeded where his predecessors had
failed, it was because he worked under more favourable circumstances,
having the “Great Eastern” at his command. Be it as it may, his success
gained for him the title of “Sir.” I found him to be a very agreeable
commander. He was a man of about fifty years of age, with that tawny
complexion which remains unchanged by weather or age; a thorough
Englishman, with a tall figure, a broad smiling face, and merry eyes;
walking with a quiet dignified step, his hands never in his pockets,
always irreproachably gloved and elegantly dressed, and invariably with
a little piece of his white handkerchief peeping out of the pocket of
his blue and gold-laced overcoat.
The first officer presented a singular contrast to Captain Anderson, and
his appearance is easily described:—an active little man, with a very
sunburnt skin, a black beard almost covering his face, and legs which
defied every lurch of the vessel. A skilful, energetic seaman, he gave
his orders in a clear, decided tone, the boatswain repeating them with a
voice like the roaring of a hoarse lion. The second officer’s name was
W——: I think he was a naval officer, on board the “Great Eastern” by
special permission; he had all the appearance of a regular “Jack-tar.”
Besides the ship officers, the engines were under the command of a chief
engineer, assisted by eight or ten engineering officers, and a battalion
of two hundred and fifty men, some stokers, others oilers, who hardly
ever left the engine-rooms.
This army of men was well occupied night and day, having ten boilers
with ten furnaces and about a hundred fires to attend to.
As for the crew of the steam-ship proper, what with quartermasters,
top-men, steersmen, and cabin-boys, it comprised about one hundred men,
and besides these, there were two hundred stewards employed for serving
the passengers.
Every man was at his post; the pilot who was to conduct the vessel out
of the Mersey had been on board since the evening before. I saw also a
French pilot, who was to make the passage with us, and on her return to
take the steam-ship into anchorage at Brest.
“I begin to think we shall sail to-day,” said I to Lieutenant H—.
“We are only waiting for our passengers,” replied my countryman.
“Are there many?”
“Twelve or thirteen hundred.”
At half-past eleven the tender was hailed, laden with passengers, who,
as I afterwards learnt, were Californians, Canadians, Americans,
Peruvians, English, Germans, and two or three Frenchmen. Among the most
distinguished were the celebrated Cyrus Field of New York, the
Honourable John Rose of Canada, the Honourable J. Mac Alpine of New
York, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Cohen of San Francisco, Mr. and Mrs. Whitney
of Montreal, Captain Mc Ph—— and his wife. Among the French was the
founder of the “Great Eastern Freight Company,” M. Jules D——,
representative of the “Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company,”
who had made a contribution of twenty thousand pounds to the fund.
The tender ranged herself at the foot of a flight of steps, and then
began the slow, interminable ascent of passengers and luggage.
The first care of each passenger, when he had once set foot on the
steamer, was to go and secure his place in the dining-room; his card, or
his name written on a scrap of paper, was enough to insure his
possession.
[Illustration: THEN BEGAN THE SLOW INTERMINABLE ASCENT.]
I remained on deck in order to notice all the details of embarkation. At
half-past twelve the luggage was all on board, and I saw thousands of
packages of every description, from chests large enough to contain a
suite of furniture, to elegant little travelling-cases and fanciful
American and English trunks, heaped together pell-mell. All these were
soon cleared from the deck, and stowed away in the store-rooms; workmen
and porters returned to the tender, which steered off, after having
blackened the side of the “Great Eastern” with her smoke.
I was going back towards the bows, when suddenly I found myself face to
face with the young man I had seen on Prince’s Landing-Stage. He stopped
on seeing me, and held out his hand, which I warmly shook.
“You, Fabian!” I cried. “You here?”
“Even so, my dear friend.”
“I was not mistaken, then; it was really you I saw on the quay a day or
two since.”
“It is most likely,” replied Fabian, “but I did not see you.”
“And you are going to America?”
“Certainly! Do you think I could spend a month’s leave better than in
travelling?”
“How fortunate that you thought of making your tour in the ‘Great
Eastern’!”
“It was not chance at all, my dear fellow. I read in the newspaper that
you were one of the passengers; and as we have not met for some years
now, I came on board, in order to make the passage with you.”
“Have you come from India?”
“Yes, by the ‘Godavery,’ which arrived at Liverpool the day before
yesterday.”
“And you are travelling, Fabian?” I asked, noticing his pale, sad face.
“To divert my mind, if I can,” interrupted Captain Mac Elwin, warmly
pressing my hand.