Rollo on the Atlantic

by Jacob Abbott

"Well,—and then,"—said Rollo, looking a little perplexed again, and speaking rather doubtingly,—"then,—why, I suppose that father will send somebody there to find us."

Jennie was not convinced; but she had nothing more to say, and so she was silent.

Rollo's plan, however, of taking care of himself in the landing seemed not likely to be realized; for there were not less than three different arrangements made, on the evening of the arrival, for taking care of him. In the first place, his father and mother were at the Adelphi Hotel, in Liverpool, awaiting the arrival of the steamer, and intending to go on board as soon as the guns should announce her coming. In the second place, Mr. Chauncy, Maria's brother, said that they should go with him and Maria. He would take the children, he said, to a hotel, and then take immediate measures to find out where Mr. Holiday was. In the third place, the captain came to Rollo just after sunset, and made a similar proposal.

Rollo, not knowing any thing about his father's plan, accepted Mr. Chauncy's offer; and then, when the captain came, he thanked him for his kindness, but said that he was going with Mr. Chauncy and Maria.

"Then you will go in the night," said the captain; "for Mr. Chauncy is the bearer of despatches."

Rollo did not understand what the captain meant by this, though it was afterward explained to him. The explanation was this: Every steamer, besides the passengers, carries the mails. The mails, containing all the letters and papers that are passing between the two countries, are conveyed in a great number of canvas and leather bags, and sometimes in tin boxes; enough, often, to make several cartloads. Besides these mails, which contain the letters of private citizens, the government of the United States has always a bag full of letters and papers which are to be sent to the American minister in London, for his instruction. These letters and papers are called the government despatches. They are not sent with the mails, but are intrusted usually to some one of the passengers—a gentleman known to the government as faithful and trustworthy. This passenger is called the bearer of despatches.

Now, the steamers, when they arrive at Liverpool, cannot usually go directly up to the pier, because the water is not deep enough there, except at particular states of the tide. They accordingly have to anchor in the stream, at some distance from the shore. As soon as they anchor, whether it is by day or by night, a small steamer comes alongside to get the mails and the despatches; for they must be landed immediately, so as to proceed directly to London by the first train. The bearer of despatches, together with his family, or those whom he has directly under his charge, are, of course, allowed to go on shore in the small steamer with the despatch bag, but the rest of the passengers have to wait to have their trunks and baggage examined by the custom-house officers. If the vessel gets to Liverpool in the night, they have to wait until the next morning. This was what the captain meant by saying, that, if the children went on shore with Mr. Chauncy, they would go in the night; for he then expected to get to his anchoring ground so that the boat for the mails would come off to the ship at about half past twelve.

Accordingly, that evening, when bedtime came, Maria and the children did not go to bed, but they lay down upon the couches and in their berths, in their dayclothes, awaiting the summons which they expected to receive when the small steamer should come. In the mean time, the ship went on, sometimes going very slowly, and sometimes stopping altogether, in order to avoid a collision with some other vessel which was coming in her way. The night was foggy and dark, so that her progress, to be safe, was necessarily slow. At length, Maria and the children, tired of waiting and watching, all three fell asleep. They were, however, suddenly aroused from their slumbers about midnight by the chambermaid, who came into their state room and told them that Mr. Chauncy was ready.

They rose and hurried up on deck. Their trunks had been taken up before them. When they reached the deck, they found Mr. Chauncy there and the captain, and with them two or three rather rough-looking men, in shaggy coats, examining their trunks by the light of lanterns which they held in their hands. The examination was very slight. The men merely lifted up the things in the corners a little, and, finding that there appeared to be nothing but clothing in the trunks, they said, "All right!" and then shut them up again. All this time the steampipe of the little steamer alongside kept up such a deafening roar that it was almost impossible to hear what was said.

The way of descent to get down from the deck of the great steamer to the little one was very steep and intricate, and it seemed doubly so on account of the darkness and gloom of the night. In the first place, you had to climb up three or four steps to get to the top of the bulwarks; then to go down a long ladder, which landed you on the top of the paddle box of the steamer. From this paddle box you walked along a little way over what they called a bridge; and then there was another flight of stairs leading to the deck. As all these stairs, and also the sides of both the steamers, were painted black, and as the water looked black and gloomy too, the whole being only faintly illuminated by the lurid glare of the lanterns held by the men, the prospect was really very disheartening. Maria said, when she reached the top of the bulwark and looked down, that she should never dare to go down there in the world.