Scarcely had the “Great Eastern” tacked and presented her stern to the
waves, than the pitching gave way to perfect steadiness; breakfast was
served, and the greater part of the passengers, reassured by the ship’s
stillness, came into the dining-rooms, and took their repast without
fear of another shock. Not a plate fell off the table, and not a glass
emptied its contents on to the cloth, although the racks had not even
been put up. But three quarters of an hour later the furniture was set
in motion again, and the crockery clattered together on the pantry
shelves, for the “Great Eastern” had resumed her westerly course, which
for the time had been interrupted.
I went on deck again with Dr. Pitferge, who seeing the man belonging to
the dolls said to him,—
“Your little people have been put to a severe test, sir; those poor
babies will never prattle in the United States.”
“Pshaw!” replied the enterprising Parisian, “the stock was insured, and
my secret has not perished with it.”
It was evident my countryman was not a man to be easily disheartened, he
bowed to us with a pleasant smile, and we continued our way to the
stern, where a steersman told us that the rudder-chains had been jammed
in the interval between the two swoops.
“If that accident had happened when we were turning,” said Pitferge to
me, “I cannot say what would have become of us, for the sea would have
rushed in, in overwhelming torrents; the steam pumps have already begun
to reduce the water, but there is more coming yet.”
“And what of the unfortunate sailor?” asked I of the Doctor.
“He is severely wounded on his head, poor fellow! he is a young married
fisherman, the father of two children, and this is his first voyage. The
Doctor seems to think there is hope of his recovery, and that is what
makes me fear for him, but we shall soon see for ourselves. A report was
spread that several men had been washed overboard, but happily there was
no foundation for it.”
“We have resumed our course at last,” said I.
“Yes,” replied the Doctor, “the westerly course, against wind and tide,
there is no doubt about that,” added he, catching hold of a kevel to
prevent himself from rolling on the deck. “Do you know what I should do
with the ‘Great Eastern’ if she belonged to me? No. Well, I would make a
pleasure-boat of her, and charge 10,000 francs a head; there would only
be millionnaires on board, and people who were not pressed for time. I
would take a month or six weeks going from England to America; the ship
never against the waves, and the wind always ahead or astern; there
should be no rolling, no pitching, and I would pay a 100_F._ in any case
of sea-sickness.”
“That is a practical idea,” said I.
“Yes,” replied Pitferge, “there’s money to be gained or lost by that!”
In the meantime the “Great Eastern” was slowly but steadily continuing
her way; the swell was frightful, but her straight stem cut the waves
regularly, and shipped no more water. It was no longer a metal mountain
making against a mountain of water, but as sedentary as a rock; the
“Great Eastern” received the billows with perfect indifference. The rain
fell in torrents, and we were obliged to take refuge under the eaves of
the grand saloon; with the shower the violence of the wind and sea
assuaged; the western sky grew clear, and the last black clouds vanished
in the opposite horizon; at ten o’clock the hurricane sent us a farewell
gust.
At noon an observation was able to be made and was as follows:—
Lat. 49° 50´, N.
Long. 61° 57´, W.
Course, 193 miles.
This considerable diminution in the ship’s speed could only be
attributed to the tempest, which during the night and morning had
incessantly beaten against the ship, and a tempest so terrible that one
of the passengers, almost an inhabitant of the Atlantic, which he had
crossed forty-four times, declared he had never seen the like. The
engineer even said that during the storm, when the “Great Eastern” was
three days in the trough of the sea, the ship had never been attacked
with such violence, and it must be repeated that even if this admirable
steam-ship did go at an inferior speed, and rolled decidedly too much,
she nevertheless presented a sure security against the fury of the sea,
which she resisted like a block, owing to the perfect homogeneity of her
construction.
But let me also say, however powerful she might be, it was not right to
expose her, without any reason whatever, to a baffling sea; for however
strong, however imposing a ship may appear, it is not “disgraced”
because it flies before the tempest. A commander ought always to
remember that a man’s life is worth more than the mere satisfaction of
his own pride. In any case, to be obstinate is blameable, and to be
wilful is dangerous. A recent incident in which a dreadful catastrophe
happened to a Transatlantic steamer shows us that a captain ought not to
struggle blindly against the sea, even when he sees the boat of a rival
company creeping ahead.