“Ah! yes. I believe you are right, Hedward.”
Hedward was a steward on board the Lima, to whose fostering care the writer was entrusted.
The Lady from Idaho had reached that point of sea-sickness when one does not want the trouble even of getting better. We carried her on deck, however, and laid her, well wrapped up, on one of the cushioned seats. The circular horizon of many days was being broken by the Irish coast just coming into view. The mere sight of land seemed to revive the fair Idaho traveller. As we neared the coast, and the green of the fields and trees could be seen, she said:
“Oh! what a goodly sight. What a beautiful country! I could chant its praises with the most enthusiastic Irishman of them all!”
We feasted our eyes on the beautiful coast until darkness fell upon it and its outline was marked for us only by the lights which traced the curves of the shore.
We exchange rocket-signals with the shore and with other steamers lying in the bay. The land-breeze has set the Lady from Idaho on her feet again. The tug comes alongside to take the mails and those passengers who wish to land at Queenstown. All is bustle and excitement. There are regretful leave-takings between fellow-passengers whom the traditional “stand-offishness” of English-speaking people prevented from enjoying each other's society until it was almost time to part. Among those who go on shore at Queenstown are the Lady from Idaho—poor seasick [pg 409] soul! she would have gone on shore days ago, if she could have found any shore to go on; a young Irishman bringing his American bride home for inspection by his friends in “the Black North”; some American ladies and gentlemen making their first European tour, evidently determined to be pleased with everything they see; some specimens of young and infant America, and the writer.
There's not much provision for the comfort of passengers on board the tug. The night is rather moist, but the cabin is “stuffy” and ill-ventilated, and we prefer remaining on deck.
The “Cove of Cork” is certainly a beautiful place by day or night. But the night effect is the finer, me judice. The rows of lights rising above each other, tier on tier, on the heights, cast a magic glamour over the scene.
The tug has reached her dock. The custom-house officers have come on board. Horrid moment! Worse, however, in anticipation than in reality, everywhere except on the trans-Atlantic docks of New York City.
“Have you any cigars or tobacco?”