On Sunday it was very cold, and the wind, still contrary, rose higher and higher; it was impossible to set any sail, but I still kept on deck, and thus avoided sickness. Soon after breakfast I saw a white foam rising in different places occasionally, and was told that it was whales spouting; I saw a great number, and enjoyed it highly. Presently some one called out, "An iceberg!" and, far off against the sky, I saw this floating wonder. It was very beautiful; such a dazzling white, so calm and majestic, and so lonely; it was shaped, as I thought, like an old cathedral, but others thought like a sleeping lion, taking what I called the ruined tower for his head and mane.
Soon after this, the man on the lookout cried, "Steamship America;" and in a few moments more we saw her coming swiftly towards us with her sails all set, for the wind was fair for her. Captain Leitch then told me that he should stop his vessel and send a boat on board, and that he would send a letter by it if I would write one quickly; to others he said the same thing. In a moment the deck was cleared, and in a few more moments all had returned with their letters; and never was there a more beautiful sight than these two fine steamers manoeuvring to stop at a respectful distance from each other; then our little boat was lowered, and O, how pretty it was to see her dancing over the rough waves to the other steamer! We sent to the America the sad news of the loss of the Kestrel. After what seemed to us a long time, the boat returned and brought papers, &c., but no important news; and in a few moments the two steamers courtesied to each other, and each went on her way.
After six days, the waves had risen to a terrible height; the wind was all but a gale; the ocean, as far as one could see, was one roaring foam; one after another the angry billows rose to the height of twenty or thirty feet, and rolled on, curling over their green sides, and then broke with a voice of thunder against our vessel.
I crawled out of the cabin, assisted by two gentlemen, and from the lower deck saw the sublime commotion over the bulwarks, when the ship rolled over on the side where I was sitting. The sea broke over our vessel repeatedly; it went over the top of the smoke pipe, and struck the fore-topsail in the middle but did, not hurt either of them. The fourth officer was washed out of his berth by a sea when he was asleep. One of the paddles broke, but in a very short time was replaced. One of the wheels was often entirely out of water, but no harm was done us by any of these disasters; and on we went safe through the troubled waters.
At night, when we were planning how we should secure ourselves from rolling about the cabin, there came a sudden lurch of the ship, and every thing movable was sent SLAM BANG on one side of the cabin; and such a crash of crockery in the pantry! A few minutes after came a sound as if we had struck a rock. "What is that?" I asked of the stewardess.
"Only a sea, ma'am," she replied. In my heart I hoped we should not have another such box on the ear.
We had a horrid night, but the next day it grew quieter, though it was still rough, and the wind ahead. Soon after, it grew fair, and the captain promised us that on Monday, before twelve o'clock, we should see Ireland; and sure enough it was so. I was on deck again just at twelve; the sun came out of the clouds, and the mate took an observation.
"That is worth five pounds," said he; "now I know just where we are."
Then the captain went up on the wheel-box, and we heard the welcome sound, "Tory Island." We were then greatly rejoiced; this was the twelfth day of our voyage. At night, for one hour, the wind blew a gale, and the ship rocked in a very disagreeable manner; but at six o'clock on Tuesday morning we were on deck, and there was the beautiful Welsh coast, and Snowdon just taking off his night-cap; and soon we saw "England, that precious stone set in a silver sea."
Next to the thought of friends whom we had parted from for so long a time, my mind during the voyage was occupied with the idea of Columbus. When I looked upon the rude, boundless ocean, and remembered that when he set out with his little vessel to go to a land that no one knew any thing of, not even that there was such a land, he was guided altogether by his faith in its existence; that he had no sympathy, but only opposition; that he had no charts, nothing but the compass, that sure but mysterious guide,—the thought of his sublime courage, of his patient faith, was so present to my mind, that it seemed as if I was actually sometimes in his presence.