A general demand now arose for herrings and such like things, for those who began to recover and to get back their appetites could not make up their minds to the hard ship's biscuit and the salt beef and pickled pork, and lamented for something comfortable to the stomach.
Here again, Pastor Hehrmann, who, more by accident than from any hope of their utility, had brought a small barrel of herrings with him, was at hand to assist them, and he divided the herrings willingly and gladly among the convalescent.
The wind remained moderate, and everything promised a prosperous voyage.
On the fourth day they came in sight of the French town of Calais, and the town of Dover, on the opposite English coast; sailed on the following morning past the Isle of Wight—and on the evening of the sixth day they entered the Atlantic Ocean.
Scarcely recovered from sea-sickness, the little community in the steerage had by no means adapted itself with contented mind to the novelty and inconvenience of its situation; on the contrary, they already lived in discord and hatred among themselves, and their minds were becoming more and more embittered.
Pastor Hehrmann, indeed, did all he could to restore peace, and was partially successful; but fresh outbreaks were constantly occurring, and the committee thought themselves called upon to interfere.
A cabinet-maker, who had travelled in Russia and Poland, in Denmark and Sweden, in Prussia and Austria, as he had related a hundred times to his patient hearers, got into a quarrel with a stout brewer—had called the latter by some opprobrious epithet, and was knocked down in consequence by the brewer, who had a mind to put an end to the matter at once. The cabinet-maker was quieted, it is true, but the brewer had a harder combat before him, for nearly all the women took part with the vanquished, and such a storming and scolding as now arose had never before been heard on board the Hoffnung.
Meanwhile the committee had determined to interfere, and its members betook themselves to the hatchway of the steerage, whence a confused murmur of voices met them.
M. Von Schwanthal, a good, amiable man, but not of the cleverest, volunteered to allay the ferment by a short speech, and although Mr. Becher opposed this, the rest were content. M. Von Schwanthal, therefore, descended backwards a few steps of the stairs, little better than a ladder, which led below, till he thought he had got far enough to overlook the interior, and then turned round and addressed the assembly below politely, with—"Gentlemen," (Ladies would have been more appropriate,) when unfortunately his feet slipped forward, and he arrived at the feet of the breakers of the peace more speedily than he had purposed.
"Good morning, M. Von Schwanthal," said the brewer, quietly, who, notwithstanding the noise and disturbance around him, sat very comfortably on his large round-topped chest, filling a pipe of tobacco.