On the following morning, Melville was up early. “Opened my bull’s eye window, and looked out to the East. The sun was just rising—the horizon was red;—a familiar sight to me, reminding me of old times. Before breakfast, went up to the mast-head by way of gymnastics. About ten o’clock the wind rose, the sun fell, and the deck looked dismally empty. By dinner time, it blew half a gale, and the passengers mostly retired to their rooms, sea-sick. After dinner, the rain ceased, but it still blew stiffly, and we were slowly forging along under close-reefed top-sails—mainsail furled. I was walking the deck, when I perceived one of the steerage passengers looking over the side; I looked too, and saw a man in the water, his head completely lifted above the waves,—about twelve feet from the ship, right amast the gangway. For an instant, I thought I was dreaming; for no one else seemed to see what I did. Next moment, I shouted ‘Man Overboard!’ and turned to go aft. I dropped overboard the tackle-fall of the quarter-boat, and swung it toward the man, who was now drifting close to the ship. He did not get hold of it, and I got over the side, within a foot or two of the sea, and again swung the rope toward him. He now got hold of it. By this time, a crowd of people—sailors and others—were clustering about the bulwarks; but none seemed very anxious to save him. They warned me, however, not to fall overboard. After holding on to the rope, about a quarter of a minute, the man let go of it and dropped astern under the mizzen chains. Four or five of the seamen jumped over into the chains and swung him more ropes. But his conduct was unaccountable; he could have saved himself, had he been so minded. I was struck by the expression of his face in the water. It was merry. At last he dropped off under the ship’s counter, and all hands cried ‘He’s gone!’ Running to the taffrail we saw him again, floating off—saw a few bubbles, and never saw him again. No boat was lowered, no sail was shaken, hardly any noise was made. The man drowned like a bullock. It afterward turned out, that he was crazy, and had jumped overboard. He had declared he would do so, several times; and just before he did jump, he had tried to get possession of his child, in order to jump into the sea, with the child in his arms. His wife was miserably sick in her berth.”
In the steerage another crazy man was reported. But his lunacy turned out to be delirium tremens, consequent upon “keeping drunk for the last two months.”
Sunday the fourteenth was “a regular blue devil day; a gale of wind, and everybody sick. Saloons deserted, and all sorts of nausea heard from the state-rooms. Managed to get thro’ the day somehow, by reading and walking the deck, tho’ the last was almost as much as my neck was worth. Saw a lady with a copy of Omoo in her hand two days ago. Now and then she would look up at me, as if comparing notes. She turns out to be the wife of a young Scotchman, an artist, going out to Scotland to sketch scenes for his patrons in Albany, including Dr. Armsby. He introduced himself to me by mentioning the name of Mr. Twitchell who painted my portrait gratis. He is a very unpretending young man, and looks more like a tailor than an artist. But appearances are etc.—” The portrait painted by Mr. Twitchell is now not known to exist.
Monday broke fair. “By noon the passengers were pretty nearly all on deck, convalescent. They seem to regard me as a hero, proof against wind and weather. My occasional feats in the rigging are regarded as a species of tight-rope dancing. Poor Adler, however, is hardly himself again. He is an exceedingly amiable man, and a fine scholar whose society is improving in a high degree. This afternoon Dr. Taylor and I sketched a plan for going down the Danube from Vienna to Constantinople; thence to Athens on the steamer; to Beyrout and Jerusalem—Alexandria and the Pyramids. From what I learn, I have no doubt this can be done at a comparatively trifling expense. Taylor has had a good deal of experience in cheap European travel, and from his knowledge of German is well fitted for a travelling companion thro Austria and Turkey. I am full (just now) of this glorious Eastern jaunt. Think of it:—Jerusalem and the Pyramids—Constantinople, the Egean and also Athens!—The wind is not fair yet, and there is much growling consequently. Drank a small bottle of London stout to-day for dinner, and think it did me good. I wonder how much they charge for it? I must find out.”
On the sixteenth his journal looks back towards home. “What’s little Barney about?” he asks of his son Malcolm. And of his wife: “Where’s Orianna?” Four days later, having been “annoyed towards morning by a crying baby adjoining” he repeats this simple catechism.
The entire morning of the eighteenth—the day delightful and the ship getting on famously—Melville spent “in the maintop with Adler and Dr. Taylor, discussing our plans for the grand circuit of Europe and the East. Taylor, however, has communicated to me a circumstance that may prevent him from accompanying us—something of a pecuniary nature. He reckons our expenses at $400.” Though Melville played with this idea of the trip into the East for some days, he in the end was forced by lack of funds to give it up. Not until 1856 did he see Greece, and Constantinople, and the Holy Land, and then under tragic circumstances.
The rest of the week went by eventlessly. Melville read, lounged, played cards, went into the Ladies’ Saloon for the first time, there to “hear Mrs. Gould, the opera lady, sing.” When he comes to Sunday, October 21, he is unusually laconic: on ship board at least, Melville was in a mood to sympathise with Fielding’s liberties with the calendar in Tom Jones in counting six secular days as a full week. “Cannot remember what happened to-day,” he writes; “it came to an end somehow.” But on the morrow, his memory cleared. “I forgot to mention that last night about 9:30 P. M., Adler and Taylor came into my room, and it was proposed to have whiskey punches, which we did have accordingly. Adler drank about three tablespoons full—Taylor four or five tumblers, etc. We had an extraordinary time and did not break up till after two in the morning. We talked metaphysics continually, and Hegel, Schlegel, Kant, etc., were discussed under the influence of the whiskey. I shall not forget Adler’s look when he quoted La Place the French astronomer—‘It is not necessary, gentlemen, to account for these worlds by the hypothesis’, etc. After Adler retired, Taylor and I went out on the bowsprit—splendid spectacle.” Three days later there was further inducement to metaphysical discussion. “By evening blew a very stiff breeze and we dashed on in magnificent style. Fine moonlight night, and we rushed on thro’ snow-banks of foam. McCurdy invited Adler, the Doctor and I into his room and ordered champagne. Went on deck again and remained till near midnight. The scene was indescribable—I never saw such sailing before.”
On Saturday, October 27: “Steered our course in a wind. I played shuffle-board for the first time. Ran about aloft a good deal. McCurdy invited Adler, Taylor and I to partake of some mulled wine with him, which we did, in my room. Got—all of us—riding on the German horse again. Taylor has not been in Germany in vain. We sat down to whist, and separated at about three in the morning.”
On the morrow, “Decks very wet, and hard work to take exercise. (‘Where dat old man?’) Read a little, dozed a little and to bed early.” So passed another vacant Sabbath. In the margin opposite “Where dat old man?” Melville’s wife has added in pencil: “Macky’s baby words.” Melville thrice quotes this question of Malcolm’s—and each time Mrs. Melville explains it in the margin, and initials her explanation each time. The third time she writes: “First words of baby Malcolm’s. E.S.M.”