The next day, the 3rd of April, from early dawn the horizon wore that
peculiar aspect which the English call “blink.” It was of that misty
white colour which signifies that icebergs are not far distant; in fact
the “Great Eastern” was ploughing those seas on which float the first
blocks of ice detached from the icebergs in Davis’ Straits. A special
watch was kept, in order to avoid the rude collision with these enormous
blocks.
There was a strong westerly wind blowing; strips of clouds, or rather
shreds of vapour, hung over the sea, through which glimpses of blue sky
appeared. A dull thudding noise came from the waves tossed by the wind,
and drops of water, seemingly pulverized, evaporated in foam.
Neither Fabian, Captain Corsican, nor Doctor Pitferge had yet come on
deck, so I went towards the bows, where the junction of the bulwarks
formed a comfortable angle, a kind of retreat, in which like a hermit,
one could retire from the world. I took my place in this corner, sitting
on a skylight, and my feet resting on an enormous pulley; the wind being
dead ahead passed over without touching me. This was a good place for
reflection. From here I had a view of the whole immensity of the ship; I
could see the long slanting ropes of the rigging at the stern. On the
first level a top-man, hanging in the mizen-shrouds, held himself up
with one hand, whilst with the other he worked with a remarkable
dexterity. On the deck below him paced the officer on watch, peering
through the mists. On the bridge, at the stern, I caught a glimpse of an
officer, his back rounded, and his head muffled in a hood, struggling
against the gusts of wind. I could distinguish nothing of the sea,
except a bluish horizontal line discernible behind the paddles. Urged on
by her powerful engines, the narrow stem of the steam-ship cut the
waves, with a hissing sound, like that when the sides of a boiler are
heated by a roaring fire. But the colossal ship, with the wind ahead,
and borne on three waves, hardly felt the movement of the sea, which
would have shaken any other steamer with its pitchings.
[Illustration: HIS BACK ROUNDED, AND HIS HEAD MUFFLED IN A HOOD.]
At half-past twelve the notice stated that we were in 44° 53´ North
lat., and 47° 6´ W. long., and had made two hundred and twenty-seven
miles in twenty-four hours only. The young couple must have scolded the
wheels which did not turn, and the steam which was not at all strong
enough to please them.
About three o’clock the sky, swept by the wind, cleared up; the line of
the horizon was once more clearly defined, the wind fell, but for a long
while the sea rose in great foam-crested billows. Such a gentle breeze
could not cause this swell; one might have said that the Atlantic was
still sulky.
At twenty-five minutes to four a three-mast ship was hailed to larboard.
She hoisted her name; it was the “Illinois,” an American ship, on her
way to England.
At this moment Lieutenant H—— informed me that we were passing Cape Race
point. We were now in the rich coasts where are obtained cod-fish, three
of which would suffice to supply England and America if all the roe were
hatched. The day passed without any remarkable occurrence; no accident
had as yet thrown Fabian and Harry Drake together, for the Captain and I
never lost sight of them. In the evening the same harmless amusement,
the same reading, and songs in the grand saloon called forth, as usual,
frantic applauses. As an extraordinary occurrence a lively discussion
broke out between a Northerner and a Texian. The latter demanded an
Emperor for the Southern States. Happily this political discussion,
which threatened to degenerate into a quarrel, was put an end to by the
timely arrival of an imaginary despatch, addressed to the “Ocean Times,”
and conceived in these terms: “Captain Semmes, Minister of War, has made
the South compensate for its ravages in Alabama.”