Читать книгу The Young Emigrants - Catherine Laura Johnstone - Страница 4

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IF Mr. Evans had not known the way to the docks and landing-stage from the Lime Street Station in Liverpool, there were plenty of people to tell him; for numbers from all parts of England and Scotland were going the same way. The boys’ boxes were all conveyed on a large cart; but each carried his railway rugs, as they marched like young soldiers through the streets. There was the tender moored to the landing-stage, from which they were to embark to reach the huge ship anchored far out in the river Mersey; and close by, Mr. Evans bought each of the boys a tin mug, spoon, plate, and little can. A few of them also invested in a sixpenny pillow and a ninepenny straw mattress, to make the hammocks in which they would have to sleep warmer and more comfortable.

There was a great crowd on the landing-stage—Germans, going to Canada to escape being obliged to serve as soldiers in their own country; tall, fair-haired Norwegians; a family that looked almost like Chinese, but who spoke German, and told Mr. Evans, who knew their language, that they had come from a distant part of the German Empire, close to Russian Poland; Scottish crofters, Irishmen, all mingled together; and another crowd consisting of friends who had come to say good-bye. Ah! many of them will never meet again till in the life which knows no partings; and several seemed to realize this, for they looked very sad.

A sharp wind blew down the river from the sea, making the landing-stage somewhat unsteady, and giving everybody a very slight foretaste of what they would have to endure in the Irish Sea. The vessel was loading nearly all the day; for the first-class passengers were not obliged to be on board till four p.m. Then at six the anchor was slowly lifted, and the Sardinian sailed out of the river in time to cross the bar, or large sandbank at the mouth of the Mersey, with the high tide, and before dark. The sea-gulls flew about the masts of the ship, and occasionally dipped into the sea, and floated on the waves. Gradually the Liverpool houses and spires disappeared, and the other ships sailing in the Mersey were left behind. Then the land itself began to disappear, and by night the ship was pushing through the rough waves on the Irish Sea, which were breaking against the vessel with a loud splash. All the passengers were in their berths and hammocks by that time, and Johnnie wrapped up in his railway rugs was fast asleep in his. The hammocks swung with the motion of the vessel, and lulled their occupants into quiet repose. The young man who talked of taking a first-class berth if he did not like the look of the second class, had done so, but he did not sleep so well as Johnnie. His cabin was close and stuffy, for there were two other men in it, who kept the door and ventilator shut; while Johnnie was near one of the ship’s ventilators, where the air was always fresh and pure, so he did not suffer from sea-sickness. When the morning came they were stopped at Moville on the coast of Ireland, to pick up the London mails which were brought up Lough Foyle in a small steamer from Londonderry. Then another start was made, and in a few hours the Sardinian was fairly on the Atlantic, with nothing to be seen but the sea and sky.

There were over a thousand people on board, so the deck was crowded every fine day. A few of them at first thought they could not eat the provisions served out to the steerage passengers—the tea poured out of a watering-can, the potatoes boiled in their skins, and the butter after a day or two having rather a strong smell and flavour; but the sea air soon made them so hungry that they were very glad when dinner-time came. The bread was baked fresh every day, and large rolls, two or three for everybody, were light and white enough for the Queen herself. The pea-soup was also excellent. Mr. Evans used to come and talk to the boys and men in the forecastle, and as one of them possessed an accordion, they used to sing hymns to it as well as sea songs. There was a concert given on board in the first-class saloon, and Mr. Evans invited all his boys to attend it.

On Sunday a service was held in the saloon, which was crammed. Mr. Evans and another clergyman conducted it, using part of the form of prayer for those at sea which is found at the end of the English prayer-book. The sermon was specially addressed to the young emigrants. The preacher reminded them that almost all of them had left behind fond parents or other relations, anxiously hoping to hear from them, and probably most of them were at that very time offering up prayers on their behalf. Some of the young men, he said, had perhaps given a good deal of trouble at home, and were now thinking of this, and regretting that they had not shown more gratitude for the parental love and care bestowed upon them. But they might still show it in the new life that lay before them, by comporting themselves steadily and industriously, doing their best to make the parental name an honoured one on the other side of the Atlantic; writing regularly to their relations, and occasionally assisting them if they were in need. Life in the colonies had temptations as elsewhere, and they were more easily met and conquered at first than when they had once been allowed to gain the mastery. The Almighty never permits us to be tempted beyond what we are able to withstand. To yield to these temptations (which the preacher enumerated) showed weakness of character—weakness unbecoming to a Christian, weakness unbecoming to a man. It would be very unlikely that he would ever have the opportunity of addressing any of them again, certainly not all together as they were now; so he availed himself of the chance to speak plainly, and to remind them of the vows taken for them in their baptism, and which many of them had renewed on their own behalf when they were brought for confirmation to the bishop.

There were several pocket-handkerchiefs brought out when the preacher alluded to the fond parents at home; and that night many of the listeners offered up the petitions, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” more fervently than they had ever done. “Prayers without thoughts never to heaven can go,” wrote Shakespeare three hundred years ago, but young people are very apt to forget this.

The next day two enormous icebergs were seen in the distance; the sun shining upon them made them reflect different colours like a rainbow. The ship was nearing the coast of Newfoundland, and they came in sight of large fields of ice. There was actually a vessel stuck fast in the ice, and it had left Liverpool a week before the Sardinian, which, by putting on extra steam, contrived to avoid the same fate. Ah, how glad all on board were when they saw land on both sides, and found they had entered the great river St. Lawrence! The ship stopped for a few minutes while the English mail-bags were put off on to a boat to convey them to Fort Rimouski on the shore, whence they would go by railway to all parts of Canada. One very impatient traveller landed there too with his portmanteau, for he thought he had had quite enough of the sea. Eleven days after leaving Liverpool the Sardinian was moored alongside the quay at Quebec.