Considering the immense traffic between Europe and the New World, I was surprised at the paucity of vessels that crossed the field of our view; during the whole passage, we only saw three! We spoke with two of these; one was a whaler, in search of those monsters of the deep, of which we had seen no less than nine.
After we had cleared the banks, we were favoured with an auspicious gale that carried us along at a rapid rate, till we were very near land; but, before we had the happiness to enjoy the sight of that desired object, we were surrounded by another dense fog. We continued, however, to scud along for several hours, till the captain judged it prudent to take in sail; observing, that according to his reckoning, we must be close upon land; and, that if the fog would permit him to discover a particular floating light, he would take in the vessel the same night without the assistance of a pilot. This, however, was not the case.
This evening, we of the cabin missed several things, on arranging our luggage for landing. To those whom such advice will benefit, I would say “Take from your main store, as few valuables as possible, that are conveniently portable; and furnish yourselves with common articles, if you wish to keep your superior ones.” The chief loss of my party was in books, spoons, and children’s forks. I had provided the two latter articles expressly for the occasion, in anticipation of what might occur; and those who “borrowed” them, no doubt have discovered ere this, that “it is not all gold that glitters”—nor yet silver.
The next morning’s sun shone bright to every eye on board.—The cry of “Land off the larboard bow” was hailed with rapturous cheers—there indeed it was, plain enough, and only about half a league from the vessel—and there was the floating light, dimly flickering from the head of an old hulk, moored at a similar distance on the starboard. When we considered the thousands of miles we had sailed—the extremes of latitude to which we were driven (from 40° to 65°)—the impracticability of taking an observation for the two preceding days on account of the weather—we were surprised at the judgement of the captain, who could, under such disadvantages, bring a vessel through a fog within a few cables’ length of land, and declare her position!
We sailed past Sandy Hook to the usual rendezvous of all vessels bound to the city of New York—the quarantine ground. This place is situated about seven miles from the city; it is a narrow channel, formed by the near approximation of Staten Island and Long Island.
Close by the water’s edge on Staten Island, stands an hospital, for the reception of invalids from all quarters of the world. It is chiefly supported by a capitation tax of two dollars, which is demanded from every foreigner before he lands; and in case of default, he is taken to prison! But more of this hereafter. We were boarded and examined by a surgeon, who found all to be in health, except one old woman, who, to our consternation, was discovered in the steerage dangerously ill. She was placed in a boat, and rowed to the shore with all expedition, and died just as she entered the hospital. Had the poor old creature departed ten minutes sooner, we should have been quarantined, I understand for twenty days. After remaining here for nearly twelve hours, we weighed anchor and floated with the tide to the city.
CHAPTER II.
DESCRIPTION OF NEW YORK.—CHURCHES.—THEATRES.—AUCTIONS.—UNCLE SAM.
The bay of New York is a fine piece of water, studded with islands, and is usually first viewed with sensations of agreeable surprise. From its designation, I expected to find it presenting a semicircular form, like most other bays; but to the eye of an individual entering from the Atlantic, it assumes the appearance of a fine circular lake, about eight miles in diameter; and, I think, that term would describe it more correctly than the one adopted. In strict propriety, either is a misnomer—it is an estuary. This magnificent sheet of water, by whatever name it may be known, is bounded on the north by Manhatten Island, on the southern extremity of which stands the city of New York.
It was just before sun set, on a delightful evening in the month of October, allowed to be, by far the pleasantest period of a transatlantic year, when we approached this commercial metropolis of the New World. Here the atmosphere like that of Italy, is extremely clear; it imparts a charming lustre to the surrounding landscape, and clothes the scenery with an appearance of inconceivable brilliancy. Under these advantages the prospect was most delightful. We seemed as if gently gliding over a sea of fluid gold. In the distance, guarded by unnumbered vessels stood the city, occupying a dignified station on the banks, and just at the point of confluence of two of the finest rivers in the world. These, the magnificent Hudson and the Eastern River, were seen pouring their tributary floods of liquid light, into the bosom of this splendid estuary. On the right, were the heights of Long Island—far off, on the left, was Jersey City, stationed on the coast to which it gives its name. The whole prospect, enriched by a pleasing variety of wood and water, and viewed through the bright medium of this clear atmosphere, rendered still more brilliant by the setting sun, combined to form a scene most enchantingly beautiful—too grand, indeed, for the most sanguine imagination to conceive.
My husband, with three of the other gentlemen, impatient at being detained at the quarantine ground, had embraced the opportunity offered by a passing steamer, of proceeding to the city before us; and, having made arrangements for our accommodation, was waiting to receive us. Those will sympathize with my feelings, on first setting foot on dry land, who, like myself, have endured five weeks’ confinement in a ship; which is indeed, nothing more than a floating prison, differing only from a stationary one, in the probable event of a general jail delivery by drowning.