On Thursday, August 13, we bade our kind and hospitable California friends farewell, and went down to embark on the steamer Golden Age. The kindness of our friends did not end when we left their houses, as beautiful bouquets and baskets of fruit in our staterooms testified. We parted from them with regret, for we had received nothing but kindness from their hands. Farewells were said, and San Francisco soon faded from our sight. We were again on the restless ocean, but we were homeward bound!
XXII.
Homeward Bound.
"AUNTY, aunty, please come and tell us our story," said little Alice; "we are all waiting. You know this is our last story, for we go home to-morrow." So down I went.
We were fairly at sea again. Our steamer was a very good one, and we had pleasant accommodations. Grandpa and grandma had a fine, large stateroom, and as there were not a great number of passengers, I, also, had a stateroom all to myself. I had the lower berth taken out, and my trunks brought up and placed under my berth; then I spread down my rug, and brought in my deck chair, and my room had quite a cozy, homelike air; and I took a great deal of comfort in it. The officers on the boat were very pleasant, and we became acquainted with some of the passengers.
On Sabbath morning, eight of the younger people met together and formed a choir, practiced sacred music, and sung in the morning service, when Rev. Mr. McMonagle preached. In the afternoon we went to the forward part of the steamer, and grandpa preached to the steerage passengers, on "Christ in the ship in the storm." The choir sung, and the poor people looked so gratified and pleased to have preaching and singing that it did one's heart good.
We used to sing songs almost every evening, and it was very pleasant as we sat on the quarter-deck looking off on the water. The moon cast her radiance over the ocean; the white foam, in a long line back, marked our track; and the brilliant stars, seeming far brighter than they do in our northern heavens, looked like diamonds in God's firmament. We sailed along easily and smoothly until the morning of August 30, when we were wakened early by the rolling of the ship, and found a hurricane upon us. It was almost impossible to dress, but after being tossed against both sides of my stateroom several times, I succeeded. What a dismal scene met my eye as I opened my door! Carpets rolled up, sofas and chairs piled in together, the marble tops of the tables taken off and lashed to the floor, skylights leaking, so that we had to choose our footing carefully, or the slippery floors and the ship's rolling would soon bring us down to the floor. On every hand crashes were heard from unlucky lamp-shades, bottles, pitchers, or anything breakable that was not properly secured. The waves seemed mountain high, and the wind was so strong that their crests were blown off in spray.
After a while the captain ordered us all below. The scene in the lower cabin was dismal in the extreme. Passengers—many of them only half dressed, most of them pale from sea-sickness or fear—all crowded together on the sofas on one side of the saloon; for the vessel lay over so that we could sit only on one row of sofas. A dozen people, perhaps, were leaning over the backs of the sofas at one time, all sea-sick. Children were crying from hunger or fright. What a scene! We shipped wave after wave with a shock that made the vessel tremble from stem to stern. Crash followed crash. At one time the cases filled with dishes in the pantry gave way, and what a noise of broken crockery! Three enormous baskets were filled with the pieces. One of the bulkheads was knocked out, and eleven sheep were washed overboard. The butcher's shop was washed away, and two barrels of beef, one of mackerel, and one of table butter went with the rest. The heavy stoves in the steerage cook-room were turned half-way round, and the capping of the huge smokestack was moved several inches. The terrible wind lifted the hurricane-deck, so that six of its props fell out. There was danger of the upper deck and stateroom being blown away. That was a time to try people's souls, to make them consider whether they were the Lord's or not. It was a blessed thing to feel that we were in God's hands, that even if the water closed over our bodies, it would be only the gate of heaven! What happiness to be able to feel in one's heart: "My Father rules the storm." Many of us thought of grandpa's sermon on the Sabbath, when he said, "With Christ in the ship, we may smile at the storm."
The wind was so violent that the men doing duty on deck had to lie down, and pull themselves about, or creep on their hands and knees. For two hours our forward rail was three feet under water, the vessel lay so much on one side, and for some time the ship would not mind her helm, and lay in the trough of the sea. Finally, they rigged a small sail aft, and that brought her up. He who rules the wind and the sea caused the storm to abate, and towards evening it was comparatively calm. We had had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours, which will give you some idea of the storm. Staterooms and clothes were in many instances wet; but no one complained, for all felt thankful for our escape. In the evening there was a meeting in the saloon, and almost all the passengers assembled with the officers of the vessel to give thanks to God for his preserving mercy.