But to go on with our adventures: we embarked on board the steamer at 9 A.M. on Wednesday, the 1st December. The view of the harbour of Boston, formed by a variety of islands, was most beautiful, in spite of the deep snow which covered them. The day was brilliantly sunny, but intensely cold, and it continued bitterly cold till we reached Halifax on Thursday night. The Boston steamers always touch at that place, and the liability to detention by fogs in making the harbour, renders this passage often a disagreeable one in the foggy season; but when the weather is as cold as now, it is invariably clear, and we steered up the beautiful harbour of Halifax with no interruption but that caused by the closing in of the day, rendering it necessary to slacken our speed as we neared the town. It was dark when we arrived, but having two hours to spare, we took a walk, and after passing through the town-gate, saw what we could of the place, respecting which I felt great interest, from my father having been Chief-justice there many years; his picture by West, of which we have a copy in D. P. H. by West himself, is at the Court House; but of course we could not see it so late at night; and, in fact, could only go to one or two shops to make some purchases as memorials of the place. It began to snow hard before we returned on board, and the cold was so intense, though less so since the snow began, that the upper part of the harbour above where we stopped was frozen over.
We took Sir Fenwick Williams, of Kars, and a great many other officers, on board at Halifax, and sailed again at midnight. Next day the intense cold returned, and a severe north-wester made it almost impossible to keep on deck. Every wave that dashed over us, left its traces behind in a sheet of ice spread over the deck, and in the icicles which were hanging along the bulwarks, and formed a fringe to the boats which were hanging inside the ship; one poor passenger, with a splendid beard, told us he found it quite hard and stiff, and we could have told him how much we admired the icicles which were hanging to it. The thermometer, however, was only at 15°, it being the wind that made it so intensely cold. I did not get on deck, for, owing to the coating of ice, walking on it became a service of some danger; and I did my best to keep Papa from going up, though he often insisted on doing so, to enjoy the beauty of the scene. The captain says that it is sometimes most trying to be on this coast in winter, as the thermometer, instead of being 15° above zero as it was then, is often 15° below, when the ropes and everything become frozen. This cold lasted till Monday, when we were clear of "the banks," and fairly launched into the wide Atlantic. The wind continued to blow strongly from the north-west, with a considerable amount of sea, which put an end to my even thinking of going on deck, but Papa persevered, and every day passed many hours there, walking up and down and enjoying it much, especially as it was daily getting warmer. I wished much I could have accompanied him, but by this time I was completely prostrated by sea-sickness.
The weather, though blowy, continued very fine till Tuesday at four o'clock, when Papa came down and told me to prepare for a gale; an ominous black cloud had shown itself in the north-west horizon; this would not of itself have created much sensation, had it not been accompanied by an extraordinary fall in the barometer; it had, in fact, been falling for twenty-four hours, for at noon on Monday it stood rather above 30, and at midnight was as low as 29·55, which, in these latitudes, is a great fall. But on Tuesday, at nine A.M., it had fallen to 28·80, when it began rapidly to sink, till at half-past three it stood at 28·40, showing a fall of more than an inch and a half since the preceding day at noon. It seems that this is almost unprecedented, so that when the little black cloud appeared, every sail was taken in, and the main topmast and fore top-gallantmast lowered down on deck, and this was not done a bit too soon, for by half-past four, it blew a hurricane. The captain told a naval officer on board, that he had thought of putting the ship's head towards the gale, to let it blow past, but on further consideration, he put her right before it, though at the expense of losing a good deal of ground, as it made us go four points out of our course. Papa, who was on deck, said it was most magnificent to hear the fierce wind tearing past the vessel, and to see the ship not swaying in the least one way or another, but driving forwards with the masts perpendicular, as if irresistibly impelled through the water, without appearing to feel the waves. But alas, alas, this absence of motion, which was a paradise to me, lasted but some twenty minutes, while the fury of the blast continued. We ran before the gale for the next four hours, when it sufficiently moderated to enable us to resume our proper course.
The gale continued, however, till four next morning, and such a night I never passed. The doctor said, neither he nor any officer in the ship could sleep, and next morning the poor stewardess and our peculiar cabin boy mournfully deplored their fate, the former being forced to confess that, though for years accustomed to the sea, she had been desperately sick. In fact no one had ever known the vessel to roll before as she did this night, and the sounds were horrible. The effect of one sea, in particular, striking the ship was appalling, from the perfect stillness which followed it. The vessel seemed quite to stagger under the blow and to be paralysed by it, so that several seconds must have elapsed before the heavy rolling recommenced. This, and the creaking and groaning of the vessel, had something solemn about it; but some minor sounds were neither so grand nor so philosophically borne by either Papa or myself. One of the most persevering of these arose from my carelessness in having forgotten to bolt the door of a cupboard which I made use of, in our cabin, the consequence of which was that, with every lurch of the vessel, the door gave a violent slam, and our lamp having been put out at midnight, as it invariably was, we were in total darkness, and without the means of ascertaining whether the irritating noise proceeded, as we suspected, from the cupboard door, or from one of the doors having been left open in the passage adjoining our cabin. It would have been dangerous to have got up in the dark, and with a violent lurching of the vessel, to discover the real cause of this wearisome noise. I had a strong feeling of self-reproach in my own mind at having brought such a calamity on poor Papa, when it could have been avoided if I had been a little more careful before going to bed. On, therefore, the noise went, for the rest of that night, with great regularity—slam—slam—slam—defying every attempt to obtain even five minutes of sleep. With the first gleam of dawn I plainly saw that our own peccant door was the cause, and I was able by that time, with some caution, to rise and secure the bolt, and thus relieve ourselves, and probably our neighbours, from the weary sound.
Sleep, however, on my part was, under any circumstances, out of the question, for I was under great anxiety lest Papa should be pitched out of his berth, as he slept in the one above mine. Before retiring for the night I had consulted the surgeon on the subject, having heard that a steward had been once thrown out of his berth in this vessel under similar circumstances. The surgeon assured me that he had never heard of such an accident, and Papa reminded me that his height would save him from such a calamity, for the berths being only six feet long he could, by stretching himself out to his full length, wedge himself in and hold on by his head and heels, and so, in fact, he did; but many passed the night on the floors in their cabin, particularly the children, who had not the advantage of being six feet three. Next morning the surgeon said he would not himself have slept where Papa did, and I suspect few of the upper berths were occupied. So much for the value of a medical opinion!
I was very sorry I could not go on deck on either of the following days, for though the gale had abated, the wind continued sufficiently strong to keep up a splendid sea. Papa, however, says that it was more the force of the wind when the gale first began, than the height of the sea that was remarkable, as the gale did not last long enough to get up a proper sea, though what that would have been I cannot imagine, as the effects, such as they were, were sufficiently serious for me. Since then, things have gone on prosperously, but we have only to-night come in sight of the lights on Cape Clear. The sea mercifully is somewhat smoother, and has allowed me to write this long story; and I am going to bed with a fairer prospect of sleep than I have had for the last few nights.
Sunday night, Sept. 12th.—The wind got up again in the night, and has delayed us much, so that we are still outside the bar of the Mersey: for some hours it has been doubtful whether we should land to-night in Old England, or pass another night on board. The uncertainty of our fate has caused an evening of singular excitement, owing to several of the passengers going perpetually on deck and bringing down news, either that we were in the act of crossing the bar, or that we had crossed it, or that all this was wrong and that we were still outside. As often as it was announced, and that with the most positive assertion, that we should land to-night, there was great joy and glee among all the passengers, excepting ourselves and a few others who had visions of a late Custom House examination in a dark and dismal night with pouring rain, and a conviction that landing before morning would not bring us to London any sooner than doing so early to-morrow, and so we secretly hoped all the time that we were neither on nor over the bar. Betting, as usual, began on the subject, and the excitement was still at its height when official information was brought to us that we neither had attempted nor meant to attempt to cross the bar till five o'clock to-morrow morning. We have therefore easily made up our minds to what I fear is a disappointment to many. We trust now to have a quiet night, for we are lying-to, and are as still as at anchor, and hope on awaking to-morrow morning, to find ourselves in the dock at Liverpool; in which case we shall rush up by an early train to London.
Here, therefore, ends our Journal; but before closing it, I must add a few lines to say what cause we have had to feel deeply thankful for all the mercies that have followed us by land and by sea. We have travelled a distance of nearly 6000 miles, in a country where accidents frequently occur, both on the railways and in steam-boats, and have never for one moment been exposed to peril, or experienced one feeling of anxiety. We have met everywhere with great attention, kindness, and hospitality, and have been preserved in perfect health. Besides our land and river journeys, we have made two long voyages across the wide Atlantic, and in the midst of a tempest, which was a very severe one, the Hand of God protected us and preserved us from danger, and, better still, kept our minds in peace and confidence, and in remembrance that He who ruleth the waves, could guide and succour us in every time of need, so that even I felt no fear; Papa has had more experience of storms at sea, and was less likely to feel any, but his confidence, too, was in knowing that we were under Divine protection, and that our part was to TRUST; and in this we had our reward.
In thus enumerating the many subjects of thankfulness during our absence from home, I must reckon as one of the chief of our blessings, the comfort we have experienced in so constantly receiving the very best accounts of you all; and when we think of the many thousands of miles that have separated us, we may indeed feel full of gratitude that, neither on one side of the ocean nor the other, have we had any reason for anxiety concerning each other. In a few hours more, we shall, I trust, have the joy and gladness of seeing all your dear faces again, and be rejoicing together over our safe return from our interesting and delightful expedition to the New World.