CHAPTER I.
NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN—CORK.
On Saturday the 12th day of April, 1878, at half-past 3 p. m., the good Inman steamer City of Richmond, with us on board, loosed her cables, and the floating palace moved out into North River majestically,—as only such vessels can move,—passed the forts, and sailed on, till at dusk, yet before dark, the Highlands of Neversink—a misnomer to us then—retired from view, and, Byron-like, we felt and said,
"My native land, good-night."
Suppered, and enjoyed the look of that waste of sky and waters till ten o'clock, and then consigned ourselves to the embrace of
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."
The morrow was Sunday. We were up betimes, and on deck for new views, fresh air, and to see how things compared with those of last night. All was well,—comparatively smooth sea, and good breeze. We had sailed 224 miles, and so were that much from home. Breakfasted, and on deck again,—this time to see nearly all our cabin passengers, about one hundred complete. They appeared well, and we thought our lot had been cast in a pleasant place; and so it proved. There were conspicuous the essentials of comfort for the voyage,—among them inclined-back, cane-finished lounging-chairs, and good blanket robes, brought by providential people who had travelled before, or who had friends who had journeyed and in whose advice they had confidence. No matter if it be July or August, it is a good friend who effectually advises one to carry a great coat, shawl, or blanket robe.
The sun shone bright, and the inhabitants of the City of Richmond were happy. At 10 a. m. came the roll-call of sailors and table-waiters, arranged in squads at special points. An officer and the captain passed in front, the name of each was distinctly called, the old, old response, Here, passed along the line, and the work was done. Of course a large part of the passengers were near by, inspecting, and they were presuming enough to think all was going on right, and the work well done.
Next came an officer giving information that divine service was to be held in the cabin at 11 a. m., and inviting singers to be at a certain location. One of our party, having before tried the ship's piano, was installed as pianist. At the hour appointed, nearly all on board, including the sailors, had assembled, and it seemed very like a church meeting. The pulpit was a desk placed on a common table, covered with a cloth; a Bible and prayer-book were on it, and our captain officiated,—a man of fine physique, apparently about sixty years old, and, but for the absence of clerical robes, very bishop-like in appearance. He went finely through the service of the Church of England, employing about an hour, and concluded by saying: "I am now to preach my usual sermon, which is to take up a collection for the widows and orphans of sailors." A good charity,—and a befitting response was made.