A Ramble of Six Thousand Miles through the United States of America

by S. A. Ferrall

On the day of my departure for Europe, is was announced to the merchants of New York, that the West India ports were opened to American vessels.

This is a heavy blow to the interests of the British colonies; and it does not appear that even Great Britain herself has received any equivalent for inflicting so serious an injury on a portion of the empire by no means unimportant. The Canadians and Nova Scotians found a market for their surplus produce in the West Indies, for which they took in return the productions of these islands—thus a reciprocal advantage was derived to the sister colonies. But now, from the proximity of the West Indies to the Atlantic cities of the United States, American produce will be poured into these markets, for which, in return, little else than specie will be brought back to the ports of the Republic.

It may be said, that an equivalent has been obtained by the removal of restrictions hitherto laid on British shipping. This I deny is any thing like an equivalent, as the trade with America is carried on almost exclusively in American bottoms. I particularly noted at New Orleans, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York, the paucity of British vessels in those ports; and ascertained that it was the practice among American merchants, who it must be observed are nearly all extensive ship-owners, to withhold cargos, even at some inconvenience, from foreign vessels, and await the arrival of those of their own country. I do not positively assert that the ships of any other nation are preferred to those of England; but, as far as my personal observations on that point have gone, I am strongly inclined to think that such is the fact.

The mercantile and shipping interests of Great Britain must continue to decline, if the government suffers itself continually to be cajoled into measures of this nature, and effects treaties the advantages of which appear to be all on one side, and in lieu of its concessions receives no just equivalent; unless a little empty praise for "liberal policy" and "generosity," can be so termed. I am well aware that it may have been of some small advantage to the West Indies to be enabled to obtain their supplies from the United States; but with reference to the policy of the measure, I speak only of the empire at large. Nearly all the Canadians with whom I conversed, freely acknowledged that they have not shaken off the yoke of England, only because they enjoyed some advantages by their connexion with her: but as these are diminished, the ties become loosened, and at length will be found too weak to hold them any longer. Disputes have already arisen between the people and the government relative to church lands, which appropriations they contend are unjust and dishonest.

No doubt the question of tariff duties on the raw material imported into England, is one of great delicacy as connected with the manufacturing interests of the country; yet it does appear to me, that a small duty might without injury be imposed on American cottons imported in American bottoms. This would afford considerable encouragement to the shipping of Great Britain and her colonies, and could by no means be injurious to the manufacturing interests. The cottons of the Levant have been latterly increasing in quantity, and a measure of this nature would be likely to promote their further and rapid increase; which is desirable, as it would leave us less dependent on America, than we now are, for the raw material. The shipping of America is not held by the cotton-growing states; and although the nationality of the southerns is no doubt great, yet their love of self-interest is much greater, and would always preponderate in their choice of vessels. It would be even better, if found necessary, to make some arrangement in the shape of draw-back, than that a nation which has imposed a duty on our manufactured goods, almost amounting to a prohibition, should reap so much advantage from our system of "liberal and generous" policy. I shall conclude these rambling sketches by observing, that there are two things eminently remarkable in America: the one is, that every American from the highest to the lowest, thinks the Republican form of government the best; and the other, that the seditious and rebellious of all countries become there the most peaceable and contented citizens.

We sailed from New York on the 1st of October, 1830. The monotony of a sea voyage, with unscientific people, is tiresome beyond description. The journal of a single day is the history of a month. You rise in the morning, and having performed the necessary ablutions, mount on deck,—"Well Captain, how does she head?"—"South-east by east"—(our course is east by south).—"Bad, bad, Captain—two points off." You then promenade the quarter-deck, until the black steward arrests your progress—grins in your face, and announces breakfast. Down you go, and fall foul of ham, beef, pommes de terre frites, jonny-cakes, and café sans lait; and generally, in despite of bad cooking and occasional lee-lurches, contrive to eat an enormous meal. Breakfast being despatched, you again go on deck—promenade—gaze on the clouds—then read a little, if perchance you have books with you—lean over the gunwale, watching the waves and the motion of the vessel; but the eternal water, clouds, and sky—sky, clouds, and water, produce a listlessness that nothing can overcome. In the Atlantic, a ship in sight is an object which arouses the attention of all on board—to speak one is an æra, and furnishes to the captain and mates a subject for the day's conversation. Thus situated, an occasional spell of squally weather is by no means uninteresting:—the lowering aspect of the sky—the foaming surges, which come rolling on, threatening to overwhelm the tall ship, and bury her in the fathomless abyss of the ocean—the laugh of the gallant tars, when a sea sweeps the deck and drenches them to the skin—all these incidents, united, rather amuse the voyager, and tend to dispel the inanity with which he is afflicted. During these periods, I have been for hours watching the motions of the "stormy petrel" (procellaria pelagica), called by sailors, "mother Carey's chickens." These birds are seldom seen in calm weather, but appear to follow the gale, and when it blows most heavily they are seen in greatest numbers. The colour is brown and white; the size about that of the swallow, whose motions oh the wing they resemble. They skim over the surface of the roughest sea, gliding up and down the undulations with astonishing swiftness. When they observe their prey, they descend flutteringly, and place the feet and the tips of the wings on the surface of the water. In this position I have seen many of them rest for five or six seconds, until they had completed the capture. The petrel is to be seen in all parts of the Atlantic, no matter how distant from land; and the oldest seaman with whom I have conversed on the subject, never saw one of them rest. Humboldt says, that in the Northern Deserta, the petrels hide in rabbit burrows.

A few days' sail brought us into the "Gulf stream," the influence of which is felt as high as the 43° north latitude. We saw a considerable quantity of fucus natans, or gulf weed, but it generally was so far from the vessel, that I could not contrive to procure a sprig. Mr. Luccock, in his Notes on Brazil, says, that "if a nodule of this weed, taken fresh from the water at night, is hung up in a small cabin, it emits phosphorescent light enough to render objects visible." He describes the leaves of this plant as springing from the joints of the branches, oblong, indented at the edges, about an inch and a half long, and a quarter of an inch broad. Humboldt's description is somewhat different: he calls it the "vine-leaved fucus;" says, "the leaves are circular, of a tender green, and indented at the edges, stem brown, and three inches long."—What I saw of this weed rather agrees with that described by Humboldt—the leaves were shaped like the vine leaf, and of a rusty-green colour. That portion of the Atlantic between the 22d and 34th parallels of latitude, and 26th and 58th meridians of longitude, is generally covered with fuci, and is termed by the Portuguese, mar do sargasso, or grassy sea. It was supposed by many, from the large quantities of this weed seen in the Gulf stream, that it grew on the Florida rocks, and by the influence and extension of the current, was detached and carried into this part of the Atlantic. However, this position is not tenable, as a single branch of fucus has never been found on the Florida reef. Humboldt, and other scientific men, are of opinion that this weed vegetates at the bottom of the ocean—that being detached from its root, it rises to the surface; and that such portion of it as is found in the stream, is drawn thither by the sweeping of the current along the edge of the weedy sea. Moreover, the fuci that are found in the northern extremity of the Florida stream are generally decayed, while those which are seen in the southern extremity appear quite fresh—this difference would not exist if they emanated from the Gulf.

We stood to the north of the Azores, with rather unfavourable winds, and at length came between the coast of Africa and Cape St. Vincent. Here we had a dead calm for four entire days. The sky was perfectly cloudless, and the surface of the ocean was like oil. Not being able to do better, we got out the boat and went turtle fishing, or rather catching, in company with a very fine shark, which thought proper to attend us during our excursion. In such weather the turtles come to the surface of the water to sleep and enjoy the solar heat, and if you can approach without waking them, they fall an easy prey, being rendered incapable of resistance by their shelly armour. We took six. Attached to the breast of one was a remora, or "sucking fish." The length of this animal is from six to eight inches—colour blackish—body, scaleless and oily—head rather flat, on the back of which is the sucker, which consists of a narrow oval-shaped margin with several transverse projections, and ten curved rays extending towards the centre, but not meeting. The Indians of Jamaica and Cuba employed this fish as falconers do hawks. In calm weather, they carried out those which they had kept and fed for the purpose, in their canoes, and when they had got to a sufficient distance, attached the remora to the head of the canoe by a strong line of considerable length. When the remora perceives a fish, which he can do at a considerable distance, he darts away with astonishing rapidity, and fastens upon it. The Indian lets go the line, to which a buoy is attached to mark the course the remora has taken, and follows in his canoe until he thinks the game is exhausted; he then draws it gradually in, the remora still adhering to his prey. Oviedo says, "I have known a turtle caught by this method, of a bulk and weight which no single man could support."

For four days we were anxiously watching for some indications of a breeze, but were so frequently deceived with "cat's paws," and the occasional slight flickering of the dog vane, that we sank into listless resignation. At length our canvass filled, and we soon came within sight of the Straits of Gibraltar. On our left was the coast of Spain, with its vineyards and white villages; and on our right lay the sterile hills of Barbary. Opposite Cape Trafalgar is Cape Spartel, a bold promontory, on the west side of which is a range of basaltic pillars. The entrance to the Mediterranean by the Straits, when the wind is unfavourable, is extremely difficult; but to pass out is almost impossible, the current continually setting in through the centre of the passage. Hence, onwards, the sail was extremely pleasant, being within sight of the Spanish coast, and the Islands of Yvica, Majorca, and Minorca, successively, until we reached the Gulf of Lyons. When the northerly wind blows, which, in Provence, is termed the mistral, the waves roll against the coast of Provence, and the recoil produces that ugly chopping sea for which this gulf is renowned. In the Mediterranean, even in the calmest weather, a light pleasant breeze springs up after sunset; this and the cloudless sky, and unobscured brilliancy of the stars, are attractions sufficient to allure the most somnolent and unromantic mortal to remain on deck.

The molusca, or oceanic insect, which emits a phosphorescent light, appeared here in vast quantities, which induced me to try experiments. I took a piece of black crape, and having folded it several times, poured some sea water taken fresh in a bucket, upon it: the water in the bucket, when agitated by the hand, gave out sparkling light. When the crape was thoroughly saturated with water, I took it to a dark part of the cabin, when it seemed to be studded with small sparkling stars; but more of the animals I could not then discern. Next day I put some water in a glass tumbler, and having exposed it to a strong solar light, with the help of a magnifying glass was enabled distinctly to discern the moluscæ. When magnified, they appeared about the size of a pin's head, of a yellowish brown colour, rather oval-shaped, and having tentaculæ. The medusa is a genus of molusca; and I think M. le Seur told me he reckons forty-three or forty-four species of that genus.