The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrants

by Friedrich Gerstäcker

"We are coming presently to a couple of very low bridges," said the man at the helm to the passengers of the foremost boat, who were bivouacked about the deck in picturesque attitudes, and were beguiling their time partly by stories, and partly by card-playing. "They are much lower than those we have passed," he continued, when he saw that his first warning was unheeded; "and besides, we have taken a great deal of the cargo out of this boat, which will therefore graze much nearer to the timbers than the hindmost boat. You had better go below."

For awhile, all remained lying still; at last, however, the tailor rose, and said, "No; I can't swim, and I don't want to be shoved overboard! Come along!"

Most of them followed him. The glazier alone lay where he was, saying, with a yawn, "I need not stand up—it's much pleasanter here than below, in that box!"

The rest slowly retired to the interior of the boat. The shoemaker and brewer alone stood beside the helmsman, and looked back at the second boat, which followed at the distance of a hundred yards.

"I say!" remarked the brewer, laughing, "wont it sound comical, when our town is built, and people say—'It's so many miles to the Hoffnung (Hope),' or, 'I live near to the Hope'? or, 'I live in the Hope, No. 7, on the third floor;' people will think it is a public house! What name did you vote for?" The brewer would, doubtless, have replied, if both he and the shoemaker had not forgotten the question; for in the same moment they saw that the helmsman stooped down, heard the loud laugh of the glazier, and just as they were turning round, were seized by the low bridge, and unmercifully shoved overboard, head foremost. But the canal was not deep, and they soon re-appeared, spluttering and blowing, and had the satisfaction, besides, of being well laughed at from the second boat, in which all pressed to the windows and to the entrance. When they got on board again, of course they were obliged to change their clothes; but they avoided coming too near the helmsman, as the tailor would have it that he had done it on purpose.

The glazier had enjoyed the joke royally, but would not leave the deck, although the American at the helm assured him that the next bridge was lower still. Stretching himself comfortably, he declared that that was the best place in the whole boat—and remained.

All the passengers, with the exception of this one, were employed in various ways in the interior of the boat, when suddenly the voice of the helmsman was heard. "Take care!" he cried; but with so loud, so anxious a voice, the warning seemed so earnest and urgent, that all, as if seized by something which they could not explain, remained motionless, in the attitudes they were in, and a deathlike silence ensued. But this was broken by such a fearful yell, that it made the blood even of the bravest run cold. Immediately afterwards the former stillness prevailed, and the settlers heard the steersman call to the drivers to stop the horses, while he jumped upon deck. All now rushed up, to see what could have happened, to drive even the quiet Pennsylvanian from his post. But what a horrible spectacle presented itself to their view! Pressed together, with his head shattered and his clothes torn, the glazier lay there—a corpse, and the American turned away with a shudder, when, on attempting to raise his head with his hand, he saw the brain, which pressed out of the wound. The dreadful event was explained in few words—the man had remained on deck in spite of all warnings, the bridge had struck him, and unfortunately his head was raised upon his arms, which hastened the certain death.

All assembled round the body; but help had come too late; and the conductor was compelled to proceed, in order to give notice to the authorities of the next town of what had occurred, and to bury the remains there. Fortunately, the place was not far distant; and the horses, as though wishing to flee from the fearful load which they dragged after them, put all their strength and mettle to the draught. In less than an hour, the boat stopped alongside of the broad masonry quay of the canal, whence the news of the casualty quickly spread, and half the town came out to the boat.

The settlers had to leave the burial of the body to some of their German countrymen resident there, as the boats would not wait so long on any condition; and paying the expenses out of the little stock of the deceased, they quitted, with anything but cheerful feelings, the spot where they had left the first of their company dead behind them.