The work of weighing anchors was resumed; with the help of the
anchor-boat the chains were eased, and the anchors at last left their
tenacious depths. A quarter past one sounded from the Birkenhead
clock-towers, the moment of departure could not be deferred, if it was
intended to make use of the tide. The captain and pilot went on the
foot-bridge; one lieutenant placed himself near the screw-signal
apparatus, another near that of the paddle-wheel, in case of the failure
of the steam-engine; four other steersmen watched at the stern, ready to
put in action the great wheels placed on the gratings of the hatchings.
The “Great Eastern,” making head against the current, was now only
waiting to descend the river with the ebb-tide.
The order for departure was given, the paddles slowly struck the water,
the screw bubbled at the stern, and the enormous vessel began to move.
The greater part of the passengers on the poop were gazing at the double
landscape of Liverpool and Birkenhead, studded with manufactory
chimneys. The Mersey, covered with ships, some lying at anchor, others
ascending and descending the river, offered only a winding passage for
our steam-ship. But under the hand of a pilot, sensible to the least
inclinations of her rudder, she glided through the narrow passages, like
a whale-boat beneath the oar of a vigorous steersman. At one time I
thought that we were going to run foul of a brig, which was drifting
across the stream, her bows nearly grazing the hull of the “Great
Eastern,” but a collision was avoided, and when from the height of the
upper deck I looked at this ship, which was not of less than seven or
eight hundred tons burden, she seemed to me no larger than the tiny
boats which children play with on the lakes of Regent’s Park or the
Serpentine. It was not long before the “Great Eastern” was opposite the
Liverpool landing-stages, but the four cannons which were to have
saluted the town, were silent out of respect to the dead, for the tender
was disembarking them at this moment; however, loud hurrahs replaced the
reports which are the last expressions of national politeness.
Immediately there was a vigorous clapping of hands and waving of
handkerchiefs, with all the enthusiasm with which the English hail the
departure of every vessel, be it only a simple yacht sailing round a
bay. But with what shouts they were answered! what echoes they called
forth from the quays! There were thousands of spectators on both the
Liverpool and Birkenhead sides, and boats laden with sight-seers swarmed
on the Mersey. The sailors manning the yards of the “Lord Clyde,” lying
at anchor opposite the docks, saluted the giant with their hearty
cheers.
But even the noise of the cheering could not drown the frightful discord
of several bands playing at the same time. Flags were incessantly
hoisted in honour of the “Great Eastern,” but soon the cries grew faint
in the distance. Our steam-ship ranged near the “Tripoli,” a Cunard
emigrant-boat, which in spite of her 2000 tons burden looked like a mere
barge; then the houses grew fewer and more scattered on both shores, the
landscape was no longer blackened with smoke; and brick walls, with the
exception of some long regular buildings intended for workmen’s houses,
gave way to the open country, with pretty villas dotted here and there.
Our last salutation reached us from the platform of the lighthouse and
the walls of the bastion.
At three o’clock the “Great Eastern” had crossed the bar of the Mersey,
and shaped her course down St. George’s Channel. There was a strong
sou’wester blowing, and a heavy swell on the sea, but the steam-ship did
not feel it.
Towards four o’clock the Captain gave orders to heave to; the tender put
on full steam to rejoin us, as she was bringing back the doctor. When
the boat came alongside a rope-ladder was thrown out, by which he
ascended, not without some difficulty. Our more agile pilot slid down by
the same way into his boat, which was awaiting him, each rower provided
with a cork jacket. Some minutes after he went on board a charming
little schooner waiting to catch the breeze.
Our course was immediately continued; under the pressure of the paddles
and the screw, the speed of the “Great Eastern” greatly increased; in
spite of the wind ahead, she neither rolled nor pitched. Soon the shades
of night stretched across the sea, and Holyhead Point was lost in the
darkness.