Our gipsies are quite hors de combat, and wretchedly seasick and helpless. On Sunday, our last day at sea, the weather was rough, wet, and excessively disagreeable. We were up at five o’clock. Only four passengers, and Captain Nicholson, appeared at breakfast when we sat down.
A Mr. McG——, an old veteran fishing-tackle maker, was never sea-sick, and particularly hardy. The Honourable Mr. V——, who had camped out in America, with his tent, and the tall owner of the Rus Vand, were amongst the passengers, who seem quite at home during the voyage.
The Honourable Mr. V—— was a fine-looking, handsome fellow, who had been fishing between Christiansand and Throndjhem.
Amongst other passengers we had an American gentleman, and his wife, and courier. His courier was apparently Spanish, and was much interested in our gipsies. He expatiated on the El Capitano of the gipsies at Granada. The tall, intelligent American gentleman, and his wife, we had observed at the table-d’hôte at the Victoria Hotel.
Before landing, he told several of us he was going to Ireland to examine for himself, and ascertain how it was possible so many uneducated, bigoted, quarrelsome, discontented, drunken people could be annually sent to the American shores, from any country supposed to be civilized, and under a good government.
Some passenger suggested, he would see the bright side of society when he reached Ireland, the Irish being extremely kind and hospitable.
The American passenger, said he would see the dark side also. He was a tall, intelligent-looking man, and evidently a man of observation.
Few of the passengers escaped sea-sickness. The captain told our gipsies that we stood the sea exceedingly well; our appetite was very good, and we were never unwell all the voyage.
Land was announced about eight o’clock. John Smith began lighting the saloon lamps; when they did not light readily, he said, “God bless the Queen and all the Royal Family!” which fervent, and loyal ejaculation seemed to facilitate amazingly the undertaking on hand.
When the saloon was lighted up, we could enjoy the views on the saloon panels, of Windsor Castle, and the King of Sweden’s palace at Stockholm, until John Smith suddenly said we had twenty-five miles of river before landing, which apparently dulled most of the passengers’ appreciation of the beautiful.