Weighed down under a pressure of despondency, arising partly from temporary illness, and partly from the greatness of the enterprise I had undertaken, and whose event was so uncertain, I left Wilbraham on Thursday morning, June 3d, 1841. A pleasant passage, by the way of Springfield and Hartford, brought us into New York early the next morning. By the following Monday, the 7th of June, we were all snugly stowed in a state-room of the second cabin[31] on board the splendid packet-ship, George Washington, bound for Liverpool.
Before we sailed, however, I was fleeced of seven dollars by the cook of the ship. As passengers in the second cabin, we had the privilege of furnishing ourselves with provisions. For the sum just mentioned, the cook had agreed to do all our cooking at the galley, insisting, however, on being paid in advance, because, he averred, several passengers, on former occasions, had obtained his services and failed to pay him; besides, he wanted to leave all the money he could with his wife. These arguments were, of course, unanswerable, and I paid him the sum demanded. Judge, then, of my surprise, when, a few minutes before we hauled off, the captain engaged another cook; the first having suddenly made himself among the missing. Should the reader ever have occasion to voyage, he may profit by the remembrance of this anecdote.
We then hauled off into the stream; towed by a steamboat, we soon cleared the harbor of New York. Sandy Hook speedily lay behind us; the pilot wished us a pleasant voyage, and away we dashed into the wide Atlantic, buoyed up by the confidence of the hope that a few weeks would behold us safely landed on the shores of dear old England.
The details of a voyage across the Atlantic have been so often laid before the public by travellers, that they have now lost most of that interest which they would possess were they less familiar. I shall not, therefore, detain the reader with the particulars of my passage, except to quote the experience of one day from my journal.
Saturday, June 12th. Went on deck early in the morning; found it very warm. We passed two ships on the same course with ourselves. I saw a rainbow on our starboard quarter, which reminded me of the old saying among sailors, “Rainbow in the morning, sailors take warning.” It was then blowing a stiff breeze from the west. All the sails were up, studding sails out below and aloft. The wind increased during the morning, with rain. We soon had heavy thunder, with sharp lightning; the weather growing squally, we took in our studding sails. Passed another ship; wind increasing with violent rain.
One o’clock, P. M. Sailors have plenty to do to shorten sail. Furled top-gallant sails, reefed mizzen topsail, fore topsail, and main topsail. We are running before the wind like a race-horse, at the rate of twelve knots an hour.
Two o’clock, P. M. More thunder and lightning, which threatened vengeance on our poor ship. The lightning is very sharp; we have no conductor up; it plays all around us, and, as it strikes the water, it hisses like red-hot iron. Several of the sailors felt a shock in descending the rigging, especially the first and second mates. We expected it would strike us every moment, but a kind Providence protected us. The sea runs very high, and the ship flies about as if crazy. We have two men at the helm, who can scarcely keep her right; it seems that she will pitch under every moment.
Eight and one-half o’clock, P. M. Sea still rolling heavily; we have shipped several heavy seas.
Nine o’clock, P. M. Wind has shifted, and the weather is clearing off.