Читать книгу The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrants - Gerstäcker Friedrich - Страница 3

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The majority of the intending passengers by the new and smart bark, the "Hoffnung," Commander Wellbach, bound for New York, were assembled at Meier's, the host of the Hull Arms Tavern, in the ancient Hanse-town of Bremen, prior to their departure, to hear the laws read, which had been drawn up by a committee chosen by themselves, from among their leading men, and to subscribe these laws. They related not only to the voyage across the ocean, but also to the proceedings of the Emigrants on their arrival in their new home, and were intended, as the preamble expressed it, "to unite firmly the Emigrants in a band of friendship for the attainment of one great object."

The committee consisted of six members—namely, the Lutheran clergyman, or, as he is styled, the Pastor Hehrmann; Becher, an advocate; a Mr. Von Schwanthal; two brothers, merchants, named Siebert; and a gentleman named Herbold, formerly a landed proprietor. They were zealous for the general welfare, and had, by these laws, reserved equal rights and assigned equal duties to each, so far at least as was compatible with the foregone determination of buying a block of land somewhere in the United States, immediately on their arrival in New York, of occupying it, of tilling it, and of harvesting it in common; and such of the party as had never handled a plough or a spade, were as pleased as children with the thought of working hard in the New World—in the primeval forest—and pictured to themselves how well they should relish the bread to be raised by the toil of their own hands.

The requisite funds for the voyage, as well as a small surplus for a beginning, had been previously handed over by each of the little community to the elder Siebert, as treasurer, who had accordingly bargained with the broker and paid for the passage; and when all the passengers had signed the laws there no longer appeared to be any obstacle to their future happiness, or, at all events, none to their future concord and good-fellowship.

Scarcely had this been concluded before a clerk of the shipbroker entered the room, and announced that one Peter, the master of a river craft, would start on the following morning at seven, with the passengers and lighter part of the baggage, such as they might want to get at during the voyage, for the "Hoffnung," a new copper-fastened and fast-sailing ship, then moored at Bremerhafen, waiting for them.

There remained, therefore, but one night more in their native land; even the most callous among them felt their spirits droop at the thought, and several wrung their hands in silence.

"How shall we feel, then," said Pastor Hehrmann, who noticed this movement, "when the last grey strip of land disappears in the distance, when the great desert of waters surrounds us, and our native land, which is still ours, torn from us, perhaps for ever? 'Tis a serious step we are taking, and let us all recollect how necessary it is for us to hold together with heart and soul. We are to face these dangers together, we must therefore act together for the common good, and not only unite our interests, but sincerely love each other as brothers."

Pastor Hehrmann was a worthy man, and meant what he said, and those who were acquainted with him knew it and honoured him. A long pause followed; at length, the elder Siebert, not without reason, reminded the Emigrants of their approaching departure, and that, no doubt, there must be many little matters to buy and to provide. This string once more touched, soon caused a universal movement and bustle; the feelings were forgotten, and the body, particularly the stomach, for which they had to provide, asserted its just claims.

Two large boats received the Emigrants at the hour fixed on the ensuing morning, and all of them—including the committee and a few others of the travellers who had preferred passing the thirty-eight miles, which separated them from the ship, in the steamer which started five hours later, but was so much faster—were before long under way for the ship to which they were about to confide their property and their lives, for an uncertain and perhaps a dangerous voyage.

They were a motley company these two boat-loads of human beings—men, women, children, girls, and young men, all mixed together: and, as a sharp although light wind began to curl the waves, and rocked the boats a little, many a one felt a strange sinking at the heart, and some even inquired of the watermen whether sea-sickness was ever known to break out on the Weser-boats; however, they reached unscathed the large ship which lay in the offing near Bremerhafen, whither she had been already towed out; there, all climbed on board in confused haste, the luggage followed, and a new world surrounded them.

But there was not much time left for reflection; the sun had nearly run his course, and every one had yet to make arrangements for passing the night, which seemed no easy task in the narrow space which was pointed out to them.

A mason, who had quitted home with a wife and three little children, asked the mate, with downcast spirit, whether they were all to find quarters in that hole; the answer was, "Yes." Nor was this all; chest after chest, trunk upon trunk, were let down into a hold of about eleven yards in length by but a few yards in breadth, for the sleeping berths on either side almost filled it up, so that it appeared a puzzle to most of the travellers how the captain was to stow his living freight, if he had no more "rooms" for the purpose than this.

Their surveys and conjectures were cut short for awhile, by a signal from the ship's cook, explained by the mate to mean "feeding time," which called all of them to a small kitchen, painted green, and fastened to the deck by plaited ropes and iron hooks, there to "catch hold," as the cook expressed it, of their tea and biscuit. Now, although doubtless hands were given us to "catch hold" with, yet it did not appear how they were to be applied for that purpose to the tea, all their vessels and earthenware being carefully packed up in their chests and boxes.

The consequence was, that most of them had to go without tea for that evening. There was a tanner, however, on board with a large family, who quietly expressed his opinion that those who would go to America must know how to help themselves, and taking hold of a large bucket, whereon a capital "H" was painted, he got the cook, who laughingly did as he wished, to pour the tea for his whole family into the bucket.

"I say, that's too strong for the children," quoth his wife, as she stared into the bucket; "you had better pour some more water into it."

"But I've got none hot," pleaded the husband, who would not understand the tea's being too strong.

"Well, then, take some cold," replied his better half; "why, the tea is boiling hot."

The tanner with a sigh obeyed, and asked a sailor who was just hauling up a bucketful for some of it, which request the latter, so soon as he had been told what it was for, willingly granted, and with the most obliging countenance in the world, he diluted the tea for them which had been pronounced too strong.

The sailor remained standing beside them.

The tanner's wife, after merely touching the mixture with her lips, to see that it was not too hot, poured a spoonful down the throat of her youngest child; no sooner was it partly down, however, than he sung out lustily, struck about him with hands and feet, and spluttered out that which he had just taken in great haste. Frightened to death, the woman took a gulp of the beverage herself, fearing lest she had scalded the child; it was cool enough, but it produced nearly the same symptoms in her as it had in the child—the tea was completely—pickled.

The sailor went back to his work, chuckling inwardly, first whispering to the husband, "Now, do you see, you're on salt water."

Fortunately there was plenty of tea left for that evening, and the cook gave them a second allowance.

But the time had now arrived for them to look after their sleeping places before it was quite dark, and all crept with their mattresses and blankets into one or other of the "berths," as the square boxes, fixed two and two, one over another, are called, in order to have some place to lay their heads for this night at all events, if not for the whole voyage.

It was a scene of disorder and confusion; chests, boxes, umbrellas, hat-cases, blankets, mattresses, and cooking apparatus, and even here and there human beings stretched out upon them, laid about higgledy-piggledy, in the thickening twilight, and looked like some shapeless chaos.

The water, fortunately, remained quiet, so that no danger was to be feared from the motion of the ship; but as the rays of the following morning's sun lighted up the steerage, they gave the unfortunate occupants some notion of the miseries of a sea voyage.

For, some sailors letting themselves suddenly down the two hatchways, as though they had descended from the clouds, soon disturbed the tranquillity which, notwithstanding the confusion, seemed to reign below; indeed some had passed the night in such break-neck positions that they hardly dared to move when the dawn discovered their relations to external objects.

However, compelled by necessity, most of them clambered on deck, and left the luggage to the sailors, who chocked and made it all fast to the uprights, with ropes and cords, so that it might not be thrown about by a rough sea.

The committee, who had arrived about two hours earlier than the two boats, had taken up their quarters in the cabin, where they had arranged themselves tolerably comfortably, with the exception of the Pastor Hehrmann, who, remaining true to the resolution, "that we all are equal," would have no preference over the poorer class, and had taken possession of one of the berths close under the after hatchway, as being one of the most airy and healthy parts of the steerage.

Everything was arranged on this day; each person had a permanent berth allotted to him, as also a certain allowance of butter for the week, and of beef or salt pork for the day; that done, Pastor Hehrmann read a short prayer, and as soon as supper was over, most of the passengers went to rest wearied with the exertions of the day.

Towards morning a light wind arose; sufficient to determine the captain to get under weigh. The heavy anchor was weighed, and the majestic vessel slowly stretched out towards the mouth of the river.

When they arrived there the breeze died away altogether, and the slack sails hung about the mast; but at ten o'clock, when the greater part of the emigrants were assembled on deck, some little black clouds arose in the south-east, spreading themselves out and covering the whole sky; the wind, with extraordinary rapidity, howled over the excited waters towards the ship, filled the sails and laid her quite on one side, and passed on over the as yet slightly curled waves.

At this stage most of the travellers who were below, more particularly the female part of them, rushed out of the cabin, calling for the Captain, "for," said they, "the ship is falling over." In vain did the mate and some of the crew assure them to the contrary. "No, they had the evidence of their senses that the ship lay all on one side, and of course it must fall over, whether it would or no;" and then, alas! the consequences which they painted were so dreadful, that they filled them afresh with horror, and crying and sobbing, and no longer able to stand, they held on by the water-casks which were fastened to the deck.

But a mightier soother than mate or captain either, now trod upon the scene, one that not only pacified their spirits, but within a few hours made them all as indifferent to storms and waves as though they were reposing on their respectable stable mother-earth—this was sea-sickness. Excited by the winds, the waves raised their crests higher and higher, and the ship rose and fell with them; but, the higher the waves rose the more were the hearts of the poor emigrants dejected, and they lay about the deck with chalk-coloured faces, regardless of the sprays which washed over them and wet them to the skin.

Pastor Hehrmann and another, a young doctor, named Werner, who, to escape from the water which flooded the deck, had climbed into the lower cross-trees, and taken up his quarters there, were the only persons who were spared by the ruthless sea-tyrant; they kept in the open air and did not feel the least inconvenience.

Things were not much better in the cabin than in the steerage; Mr. Herbold seemed to bear it better than the rest, but even he appeared pale and ill. The others were in a pitiable state, and the elder Siebert, who lay in one of the lower berths, two and two having a little cabin to themselves, at length dare not venture his head out at all; so exactly did his brother, who rested, or rather tortured himself above, seem to lie in wait for the opportunity of having a fresh attack of this dreadful and not to be suppressed sickness.

Mr. Becher accounted himself as one doomed to death, and M. Von Schwanthal affirmed that as for him he existed only in his stomach.

Fortunately this state of things was not of long continuance, for already on the following day the wind abated, and also the waves, although the ship continued to dance up and down merrily, and as yet but few of the sick had completely recovered.

A general demand now arose for herrings and such like things, for those who began to recover and to get back their appetites could not make up their minds to the hard ship's biscuit and the salt beef and pickled pork, and lamented for something comfortable to the stomach.

Here again, Pastor Hehrmann, who, more by accident than from any hope of their utility, had brought a small barrel of herrings with him, was at hand to assist them, and he divided the herrings willingly and gladly among the convalescent.

The wind remained moderate, and everything promised a prosperous voyage.

On the fourth day they came in sight of the French town of Calais, and the town of Dover, on the opposite English coast; sailed on the following morning past the Isle of Wight—and on the evening of the sixth day they entered the Atlantic Ocean.

Scarcely recovered from sea-sickness, the little community in the steerage had by no means adapted itself with contented mind to the novelty and inconvenience of its situation; on the contrary, they already lived in discord and hatred among themselves, and their minds were becoming more and more embittered.

Pastor Hehrmann, indeed, did all he could to restore peace, and was partially successful; but fresh outbreaks were constantly occurring, and the committee thought themselves called upon to interfere.

A cabinet-maker, who had travelled in Russia and Poland, in Denmark and Sweden, in Prussia and Austria, as he had related a hundred times to his patient hearers, got into a quarrel with a stout brewer—had called the latter by some opprobrious epithet, and was knocked down in consequence by the brewer, who had a mind to put an end to the matter at once. The cabinet-maker was quieted, it is true, but the brewer had a harder combat before him, for nearly all the women took part with the vanquished, and such a storming and scolding as now arose had never before been heard on board the Hoffnung.

Meanwhile the committee had determined to interfere, and its members betook themselves to the hatchway of the steerage, whence a confused murmur of voices met them.

M. Von Schwanthal, a good, amiable man, but not of the cleverest, volunteered to allay the ferment by a short speech, and although Mr. Becher opposed this, the rest were content. M. Von Schwanthal, therefore, descended backwards a few steps of the stairs, little better than a ladder, which led below, till he thought he had got far enough to overlook the interior, and then turned round and addressed the assembly below politely, with—"Gentlemen," (Ladies would have been more appropriate,) when unfortunately his feet slipped forward, and he arrived at the feet of the breakers of the peace more speedily than he had purposed.

"Good morning, M. Von Schwanthal," said the brewer, quietly, who, notwithstanding the noise and disturbance around him, sat very comfortably on his large round-topped chest, filling a pipe of tobacco.

"But, my good people," cried M. Von Schwanthal, jumping quickly upon his feet—the rest of his address was unheard, a roar of laughter drowned his words, and mortified, and swearing inwardly, M. Von Schwanthal regained the deck.

However, he had attained his object—peace was restored for the moment at all events, for the people now only laughed at the mishaps of their committee-man. But new squabbles arose daily, and the ill feeling extended towards the committee-men whom they had themselves elected, and who, it was suggested behind their backs, might have taken their passage in the steerage like the rest, "for in America all men are equal."

Some Alsatian peasants were particularly warm in support of these opinions. Their words sounded like thunder. They swore that they would no longer be ridden over roughshod by the gentry, as they had been, but intended to give them a bit of their mind at the earliest opportunity.

On the other hand, a little troop of Oldenburghers, consisting of twelve stout young fellows, lived contentedly enough; they troubled themselves about nothing, came upon deck regularly three times a day to receive their meat and drink, and laid themselves quietly down again on their mattresses in their berths to rest themselves, as they called it.

The whole of these worthies wore large wooden shoes, to the great vexation of their fellow passengers; and when they lay in bed, as they did during the greater portion of the day, they placed these shoes in front of their berths, so that people had often tumbled over them in the narrow dark passage through which they had to wind their way. The Oldenburghers, notwithstanding the threats and remonstrances of the others, would not remedy the grievance, contending that they were as good as the rest, that in America all people were equal, and that nobody had any right to forbid them from placing their wooden shoes where they thought proper.

Some of the women felt their position amidst these constant bickerings and squabbles to be a very unpleasant one, and amongst others, the wife and daughters of the Pastor Hehrmann, who, surrounded in the steerage by clamour, scarcely liked to leave the deck, when evening closed over them, to venture down again into the dark hold.

The Captain, it is true, several times good naturedly offered them the cabin for their abode, but Pastor Hehrmann would not accept it, dreading, not without cause, lest he should thereby excite more discontent amongst his restless countrymen, already ill enough disposed towards their "genteel" committee-men.

Pastor Hehrmann's daughters were respectively seventeen and nineteen years of age, and two more tender and amiable creatures never traversed the Atlantic to accompany their parents in search of a home beyond it.

They were slim and well grown, and in their almost black hair and dark glowing eyes one could scarcely recognise daughters of the North. They tended their delicate mother, who had suffered seriously from sea sickness, with care and love, and did all in their power to smoothe her disagreeable position.

The Hoffnung had in this manner left about a hundred German miles (nearly five hundred English miles) behind her, when one morning the wind suddenly ceased, the sea became as smooth as glass, the ship stood immovable, and the sun shone down clearly and cheerfully from the pure unclouded sky.

It was such a day at sea as restores sick persons to balmy health, and causes healthy persons to forget that they are floating on a few boards over an almost bottomless abyss cut off from all human aid. The day passed in rejoicing, in singing and dancing, and it was nigh midnight before the last of the travellers betook themselves to rest, leaving the deck to the sailors of the watch.

All was still, when a dark figure cautiously and noiselessly emerged from the steerage; it carried something under its arms and in its hands, approached the bulwarks and threw it over; it fell on the water with a splash; all was silent once more, and the figure disappeared through the hatchway.

Two sailors sitting in the bows had been spectators of this proceeding, and endeavoured to make out what it was which the unknown person had confided to the deep; but it was too dark, and they leaned back into their former attitudes of repose to resume the yarn which one of them had been spinning, when again the same figure appeared, and again, cast something, whatever it might be, overboard.

"I say, Jack," whispered one of them to the other, "what can it be that yon fellow is throwing overboard? it splashes so in the water; let us see what it is."

"Oh, never mind," answered his messmate; "whatever it may be, it's nothing belonging to us, for he fetched it out of the steerage; but I think I see something floating on the water."

"By Jove, and so do I," replied the other; "come along; I should like to know what it can be."

The two sailors advanced, but the figure had already withdrawn itself; they could, however, distinctly make out some light objects upon the smooth sea, and were still speculating upon what it could be, when the mysterious one re-appeared for the third time, loaded as before; he paused a moment on perceiving the two sailors, but his irresolution did not last long, for stepping gently forward, he looked cautiously round for a moment, and then laughingly showed the curious spectators several pairs of wooden shoes, which he launched into the Atlantic, like the rest.

"Well," said he, when the last consignment had been duly forwarded, "we're rid of them, anyhow, but don't say a word, for God's sake," he continued, seizing by the arms the two sailors, who were just about to roar out. "Hush! I beg of you. If those bumpkins were to know that it is I who played them this trick, they would be the death of me. But one of them trod so heavily on my poor corns the other day with his wooden machines, that I vowed to do it; but not a word—you promise that?"

The sailors laughingly gave their word not to betray the least hint, and the little mischievous journeyman tailor, who, as a South German, had a native hatred to the Low Germans, slipped down unobserved to his rest, perfectly satisfied.

Who shall describe the noise, the abuse, and the threats on the one side, or the rejoicing on the other, the following morning, when the Oldenburghers, wanting to get up to breakfast, were unable to find their wooden shoes in their accustomed places, but in lieu thereof discovered them floating round the vessel at a distance of some hundred yards.

They cursed and threatened loudly, and requested the Captain, who was just coming up the companion stairs, with his hands in his pockets, and could hardly conceal his amazement, that he would let a boat be put out to fish up the lost sheep. But he replied gravely, that the weather looked much too suspicious; that a squall might spring up at a moment's notice, and therefore he could not venture to leave the ship in a small boat.

"But, Captain," said one of the much-injured lads, "where is the squall to come from? The sky is all blue!"

"Do you see that black cloud, down yonder, near the horizon, in the west?" asked the Captain, pointing at the same time towards that quarter.

"No!" was the unanimous answer of the Oldenburghers.

"You don't see it? Well, it's all one—I see it! Besides, you can't tell sky from sea yet! But the cloud looks suspicious—and I wouldn't lose a boat and four hands for all the wooden shoes that were ever made!"

With these words he turned upon his heel, and walked down the companion stairs again.

The Oldenburghers now applied to the committee, and demanded that they should recover their property for them. But Mr. Becher, with a shrug of the shoulders, gave it as his opinion that the jurisdiction of the committee extended, it is true, to the whole of the vessel, but not for an indefinite number of yards round her into the sea; therefore, that the gentlemen must either make themselves comfortable—or else, fetch the shoes themselves.

One of them was in the act of proposing, as the sea was so still, to jump in, and to collect the fugitives by swimming; while the rest were uttering maledictions on the head of the author of their troubles, and announcing how they would all thrash him, if they could but catch him, when suddenly the cry, "A shark! a shark!" was heard from the cross-trees. It was young Werner, above alluded to, who had chosen that elevated place as his favourite resort, and to whom all eyes were now turned, to learn the direction in which the sea monster was to be found.

Werner pointed to the streak of light formed by the sun upon the water, and all the voyagers distinctly perceived from the deck the dorsal fin of the shark, standing six or seven inches out of the water.

Although several of these voracious creatures had been already round the ship, still probably few of the travellers had seen one of them, and all pressed to the ship's side to view the fish, as it came nearer and nearer to the ship and the surrounding wooden shoes.

"Well, I should like to know whether he eats wooden shoes!" said the Brewer, rubbing his hands complacently, and watching every movement of the creature.

His wish seemed on the point of being fulfilled, for the fish, approaching the first sabot, described a circle round it, and all expected the immediate disappearance of the same, when a fearful cry—such a cry as can only issue from the breast of a terrified mother—was heard from the midst of the crowd which had pressed, full of curiosity, to the bulwarks, and in the same moment, a heavy body fell on the smooth surface of the waters, and sank beneath it.

"My child! my child!" cried the woman, in the very act of throwing herself after the helpless being, which now re-appeared on the surface, struggling and gurgling. But those who surrounded her held her back, and gazed, in apprehension of the worst, at the swiftly-approaching shark, which now shot forward like an arrow, its attention being aroused by the splash of the object in the water.

Both the daughters of Pastor Hehrmann had witnessed the child's fall; and the eldest of them, in a voice almost choked by terror, cried, "Help! help! for God's sake!" "Launch the boat!" cried the Captain. But there was some delay. A few seconds more must decide the fate of the child—for the shark was scarcely ten yards distant from him, and already seemed to scent its prey. It was then that the young man in the cross-trees glided down a rope with the activity of a sailor, and before any one could guess his purpose, or hinder him, sprang into the crystal flood beneath, right before the very jaws of the fish, and coming to the surface again, seized the child, which had just reappeared for the third time.

A cry of admiration at this desperate boldness arose from sailors as well as passengers; but the shark, frightened by the loud dash, and rendered uneasy by the cries and noise on board the ship, drew back from the booty he had almost reached, and careered around the brave swimmer in narrow circles.

"Strike with your hands—splash—kick—make as much noise as you can!" cried the seamen with one accord. But the Captain had caught up a rope, and threw it to the young man, who, holding the child in his left arm, seized the rope with the right one, and held himself afloat by it, while he kicked out with all his force, and splashed the water far around him.

"Sling the rope round your elbow," called the Captain, "and we can haul you up." The young man did so; but all his bold and generous sacrifice seemed in vain, for the shark, who by this time had found that there was no danger to be apprehended from this quarter, shot forward once more.

The sailors, indeed, hauled the rope with their utmost strength and goodwill, but their help seemed to come too late; for the monster was but a few feet off from him, and was just about to turn on its back, to snap at the body of the unhappy man, when—in that very moment—when every one in breathless and fearful dread awaited to see the worst—a heavy piece of meat fell into the sea, close to the open fangs of the shark, and was swallowed by him as quick as lightning.

It is true, that this mouthful only seemed to have whetted his appetite for more, for he turned again, and made a second movement to seize the body of the bold swimmer, who was already half drawn up from his watery grave; but, suddenly the shark began to lash the water with his tail, started back several feet, and dived down.

Nobody troubled himself at the moment as to the cause of this almost inexplicable salvation, for all that had hands hauled away to get the poor fellow, who was almost terrified to death, on board; and he had scarcely handed the living child to its mother, before he fell back senseless in the arms of those around him.

But there was not a woman on board who would not now have pressed forward to call back the fainted one into life; and the mother of the saved child threw herself on her knees, and audibly besought the Almighty not to rob her so soon of the saviour of her only joy. Meanwhile, the attention of the travellers was distracted from the patient, whom, besides, they knew to be in good hands, towards the sea, whence a great splashing and noise resounded anew.

It was the shark, which, caught by the hook which the cook had fastened in the lump of meat, and thrown to him in the nick of time, was striking and tearing in the vain endeavour to regain his lost freedom. All hands laid hold of the rope, and after a time the immense fish (for he was about fourteen feet long) floundered on the deck, striking it till the planks shook again.

But he did not live long—passengers as well as sailors caught hold of whatever came to hand, and the creature, with its head shattered, soon writhed in its own blood.

While the men, on the one hand, were thus busied with the destruction of the life of their adversary, the women, on the other, were tending their charge with tender care, and watching anxiously every symptom which might announce returning consciousness.

There was no surgeon on board—as, indeed, there hardly ever is on board of ships destined for emigrants—but the Captain had abandoned his medicine-chest to them, and Hoffman's drops, sal volatile, and several other powerful remedies were applied to bring the colour back to the pale cheeks, and open the closed eyelids.

At last a deep sigh escaped from the breast of the unconscious one; the women uttered cries of joy, and Hehrmann's elder daughter clasped her sister's hand fervently, and called her a good, dear girl, while a tear glistened in her own eye.

Young Werner recovered, though but slowly; and it was touching to see the woman, with the rescued child on her arm, fall down on her knees before him, and kiss his hand, so that he could hardly prevent her. Even the hardy sailors felt their hearts warm and soften at the sight.

All squabbles and disputes were put an end to by this occurrence, at least for a time, and even the Oldenburghers tried to forget their wooden shoes, particularly as, towards evening, a light East wind sprang up and filled the slack sails, and removed the ship more and more from them.

About midnight, however, a fresh favourable South-easter sprang up, that sent the Hoffnung pretty fast on her destination; the sails were filled, and the white spray splashed from her bows; the wind did not increase for some days, so that the sea was not much agitated, the motion of the ship gentle, and the travellers, who by degrees became accustomed to the rocking to and fro, suffered little from sea-sickness; even Mrs. Hehrmann, who had dropped the title of "pastoress" at Bremen, began to recover, and was often on deck.

Young Werner, who by his boldness had made himself the favourite of the whole ship, attached himself more especially to the family of the Hehrmanns, and in particular was attentive to the women in contriving and executing a number of little comforts to better or smoothe their situation, which was by no means one of the pleasantest. Many a kind look from the elder daughter, Bertha, was his reward, and on these occasions he felt that a new and glad world opened itself before him, as though he had already, on the desert seas, found a home, which he had hoped to find in foreign distant climes.

It was late one evening; the moon, that but shortly before had poured her friendly light upon the slightly curled sea, hid her disk, which was nearly at the full, behind thin clouds, that floated past her quicker and quicker, that covered her closer and closer, till at last a faint glimmer announced the spot where she tried in vain to break a passage, and to dispel the closing shadows.

Werner, wrapped in his cloak, had been relating the tale of his life, a simple one, to old Hehrmann; how he had, yonder, lost all that was dear to him; how he was bound, with the rest of his fortune, to that strange country which is the hope and the silent longing of thousands, either to found a new home among strangers, or else, at all events, not to be daily reminded that he had once possessed such, and now was banished from the threshold of his paternal house, tenanted by strange people.

The two girls, wrapped closely in their mantles, and leaning against their father, had listened with breathless attention, when the loud orders of the Captain, who issued his commands quickly through a speaking-trumpet, disturbed the confidential conversation, and called the attention of the friends to what was passing around them.

An ominous rustling and whispering from the sea greeted the ear, and the dark waves, sprinkled as it seemed with millions of glistening stars, rolled and tumbled together more uneasily.

The Captain's voice sounded louder and shorter, and the sailors climbed like cats up the shrouds, ran along the yards, and fastened the loosened and fluttering sails to them. Scarce was this dangerous work over before a distant howling was heard. With fearful rapidity it hurried nearer, and in a few minutes more the ship flew, with her jib and foresail only set, like an arrow through the heaving waves.

The passengers, warned by the Captain, forsook the deck, and Pastor Hehrmann and Werner were the only ones who defied the weather, for the waves looked terrifically beautiful in their dark grandeur, when the white and glowing looking foam shot past on their crests, and dissolved itself in a thousand little sparks. At last, however, they were obliged to quit the deck, for heavy drops fell from the clouds that towered themselves closer and closer. They descended, not without casting many an inquiring and fearful look towards the threatening sky, with some reluctance into the dark between decks, whence a suffocating vapour waved against them, and where they required some minutes before they got used to the close and vitiated air, and ventured to breathe it freely.

A hollow sea was running; the waves struck heavily against the sides of the ship, which quivered at each blow. Still the wind had not had time to raise the sea much, and the good ship, heeling over to leeward, which gives a vessel a more secure, and even a more quiet position than when the sea is right abaft, and the lofty structure rolls from side to side, shot forward rapidly through the dark flood, dashing the white foam before her, so that most of the travellers sank into the arms of sleep, quietly and heedlessly.

And Werner, too, crept into his berth, and listened for a long time, with his ear pressed close to the ship's side, to the surging and dashing and thundering of the waves without, until his eyes also were weighed down by weariness, and he found in his dreams the happiness that he was now driving through storms and waves to seek.

A wild and confused cry, the lumbering and crashing of heavy objects, and an almost stupifying acute pain in the head, awoke him. He opened his eyes in terror and wonder; but although pitchy darkness surrounded him, he could distinguish that the ship must have changed her course, and therefore now leaned over on the side he was on, for his head laid low down, while his feet were elevated. He quickly changed his position. But the fearful noise between decks continued, and, creeping out of his berth, he soon became aware of the shocking condition in which he, as well as all his fellow-passengers, was placed.

In the space which separates the two rows of sleeping places, there stand beams or pillars, ten feet apart from each other, destined as well for the support of the deck, which rests upon them, as for the security of the luggage within, and to these the chests and boxes, the trunks and packages, which are to be used, or their contents consumed, by the travellers on the passage, and therefore cannot be put into the hold, are lashed with ropes; and this is always done by the sailors, in order that, in the event of a sudden squall, or of continued stormy weather, the heavy baggage may not be hurled hither and thither in the narrow space, and endanger the limbs or lives even of its closely-packed tenants.

This had been, and properly, done on board the Hoffnung, and that in such wise that most of the lids and covers could be opened, and so permit the free use of their provision and clothes' stores; but one of the countrymen, not comprehending the evil consequences of its omission, had unfastened one of the ropes—notwithstanding the cautions of several of his fellow-passengers—to enable him to take something out of his chest more conveniently.

The little tailor, who lay in the berth over his, probably had some indistinct vision of chests and boxes dancing about, for he tried to fasten the rope again, but not being initiated in the mystery of tying such knots, he was only partially successful. When, therefore, the ship began to rise and jerk about, when the whole weight of the luggage swung over, first to this side and then to the other, the knot was loosened, and first the little packages and boxes came tumbling down from their elevations, and at last the heavy artillery, the immense storehouses of the emigrants, followed.

It is true that, with praiseworthy zeal, several of these latter jumped out of their berths so soon as they observed the danger, but such was the mad motion of the ship that they could hardly keep on their legs, much less govern these heavy bodies, and a sudden movement of the ship throwing every thing towards them, compelled them hastily to retreat to their berths, which were protected by stout planks, in order to avoid being injured or crushed by the approaching chests.

Their position was a fearful one, and was rendered more so by the cries of a young lad who had been trying to reach the opening towards the deck, and had been seriously hurt by one of the chests which rolled against him; while on all sides the shrieks of women, the cries of children, and the groans and retching of the sea-sick, resounded from the berths. It was a scene of dreadful confusion, and in vain did they all call for the sailors to help them; none of them could have been of any use in the darkness, had they had leisure to attend to the unhappy passengers.

It was then, when every one believed that the terror had reached its height, and could not be increased, that a cry of dread and agony pierced through the noise and tumult, and even the children and the sick stopped their lamentations to listen to that sound, and to the momentary complete silence which succeeded the tumult; but it was only for a moment that cry of fear; "A corpse, a corpse!" echoed from berth to berth, from mouth to mouth.

Among the passengers on board the Hoffnung there was an old woman, a widow, and her only daughter, who had gone out at the request of her son, a cabinet-maker in New York. He, being in tolerably easy circumstances, wished to have his poor old mother, who fared poorly enough in Germany, beside him; and had sent home the means to enable her and his sister to make the voyage over, to come and live with him.

The poor old woman, however, who was ailing when she came on board, and had been much shaken by the sea sickness, no doubt in the confusion and terror of that night considered the destruction of the ship inevitable, and fear hastened the catastrophe for which bodily weakness and illness had prepared the way.

She died, pressed to the heart of her daughter, who convulsively embraced her; and it was the latter, feeling her mother's body at her breast grow cold, who had uttered the shriek of terror and agony.

But all their prayers for help were vain; the poor young girl was alone obliged to preserve the corpse from the rolling of the ship, and there she lay for some hours with her dead mother in her arms.

Day, which had been so ardently and fearfully longed for, broke at last, and with it came help in their really shocking need.

Eight sailors and the second mate came below to the unfortunate people, and in danger of their lives, and not without several severe bruises, made fast the chests and boxes once more, while the ship heaved yet more madly, and rolled from side to side.

The first thing to be done was to remove the corpse from between decks; but in vain did the second mate beg of the girl to part with her mother's body to him; she only clasped it more tightly and declared that she would only part with her in death. In vain did Pastor Hehrmann endeavour to persuade the poor creature, and to induce her to give way to the reasonable and pressing request of the seaman; she would not, and her wild and incoherent words led to fears of the worst for herself; it was only when, exhausted by the exertions and the horrors of the night, she fell back in a swoon, that the sailors succeeded in taking from her the stiffened corpse, which was quickly, then and there, sewed in a large piece of sail cloth for more convenient transport on deck, and in order thence to be committed to the deep.

The Captain, meanwhile, had made room in the cabin for Pastor Hehrmann's family, and had the women at least, and their beds, removed thither. Mrs. Hehrmann, indeed, was more dead than alive, and she scarcely could have got through such another night of terror. The Pastor himself no longer opposed this removal, for he could not help seeing that his family, although not brought up in luxury, yet never had been exposed to similar sufferings, and could hardly have borne a life surrounded by such scenes—but he himself would not forsake the steerage.

There the scene was a shocking one, and pen or pencil would be too weak to attempt its description.

The corpse was carried by the sailors towards the hatchway, and there handed to those above, who laid it on a plank and bore it to the lee side of the vessel.

In spite of the rolling of the ship, in spite of the constant washing of the waves across the deck, although none other of the passengers, no, not even the committee, came to his side, the worthy Pastor Hehrmann, amidst the howling of the storm and the dashing of the waves, spoke a brief service for the dead over the body of the poor old woman, for whom the wild waves, instead of the arms of an affectionate son, now waited. The corpse was then lifted on the edge of the bulwarks, which were gliding, with an arrow's speed, through the foaming waters, and scarcely two feet elevated above them, (so inclined was the ship,) and in the next minute the sea engulfed its victim.

But where, in this time of need and sorrow, was the committee, who had pledged themselves to provide during the voyage for the well-being and comfort of the travellers who had confided themselves to their care?

Where was this committee, when all were calling for them, and wished for their help, or at all events their sympathy? Alas, the poor committee itself lay in the most pitiable condition, sea sick to a fearful degree, up and down about the cabin. The Captain could not be blamed if he swore a little, and declared that in whatever part of his cabin he got to, he could not help treading upon some member of this "extensive" committee, who, deaf to everything beside, only sighed and groaned, and called on death to relieve him from his misery.

When the Captain told them of the case of death in the steerage, M. Von Schwanthal, raising himself a little by a leg of a camp stool, dolefully exclaimed, "Alas, who could the old woman be!" and sank back again exhausted, whilst the other members said nothing, but merely shook their heads gently and significantly.

Mid-day approached, and the cook's call to dinner was heard, but few followed this call; and again, scarce a third of these few executed their bold resolve, under such circumstances, of eating, as well as fetching, their dinners. The Brewer got as far as the hatchway ladder, where he remained lying, and was only aroused by a dishful of rice, which, with its bearer, a journeyman tailor, came flying down on the top of him. But he bore no malice. Misfortune had made all equal; they remained lying near each other; and one of the sailors remarked, that "that was the fattest piece of beef he had ever met with in the rice-soup."

The sea was majestic to behold—the gigantic waves which were excited, rolled and lifted up themselves, shaking off, when at their greatest height, the white foam from their crests, and then plunging down again, and with their powerful shoulders pressing forward another, often a yet more gigantic mass of foaming ocean.

Whole companies of large porpoises, rolled and tumbled about in the angry element, allowed themselves to be lifted up to the very summit of the waves, and then leapt, as in play, from the descending wave out into the dark blue flood, streaked and marbled with veins of white foam, constantly repeating their play anew till they disappeared behind the watery mountains, and were only visible again for a moment when the ship was raised on some gigantic wave, and could survey, as from a tower, the whole excited foaming and boiling desert of water.

The storm lasted during three days; the ship with her jib only set, for they had been obliged to take in the foresail, drove to leeward, the rudder was lashed, and the sailors upon duty on deck were obliged to secure themselves by ropes from being washed overboard by the sea, which struck over the ship with fearful violence. At last, on the fourth day, the storm seemed inclined to abate. It is true that the sea ran as high as before, for the monster could not pacify itself at once; but a hope was now revived at least of more peaceable times, and that partially allayed the despair of the passengers; but it was not until the sixth day, when the sea had almost entirely abated, and the ship flew through it, leaning on one side, but no longer rocking backwards and forwards as before, when the sails could be set and the rudder managed, that the sea-sick recovered, and even some individual members of the committee made their appearance on deck, pale, and with sunken cheeks and lack-lustre eyes.

Mrs. Hehrmann improved rapidly in health during the last few days: the sickness seemed to have exhausted its virulence upon her, and to have yielded to a stronger nature. Her improvement was almost visible; and she passed nearly the whole day upon deck, where, attended by her daughters, and strengthened by the more generous diet of the cabin, she appeared to absorb new life-juices from the pure sea air.

The poor girl, from whom, when in an unconscious state, they had taken the dead mother, did not fare so well. Her reason had, it is true, returned; but she lay in her berth in a high fever. In the stillness of the night, her mind often wandered to her mother, and in her delirium she spoke words of comfort to her, and assured her that she would soon, very soon, see her son again.

The women took the poor creature under their care, and nursed her as well as they could.

But now the old grudge, which festered in the hearts of the steerage passengers towards the committee, began to ferment afresh: How much had not the committee promised, and how little, how very little had it performed! Were they to bear it quietly, and without grumbling? Were they to look on, while they were neglected, and, perhaps, even laughed at behind their backs? Were they to let these fellows carry themselves so high, while they suffered tortures which they had not before thought possible? No, they would argue the matter at least; no one could forbid that; for as to acting, unfortunately they had themselves parted with their weapons for the purpose. For, before leaving Bremen, where the separate articles of agreement were drawn up, all had by mutual contract, and by the deposit of a small fund in the hands of the treasurer, M. Siebert, sen., who was chosen by acclamation, obliged themselves, upon their arrival in their adopted country, to buy a certain number of acres of land, as many as their means would permit, in a district to be chosen by the committee, and, as already stated, to clear it and to cultivate it in common. For this purpose, there were not only agriculturists for the tillage itself, but they had also a smith, a wheelwright, brewer, tailor, shoemaker, glazier, cabinet-maker, weaver, and almost all other necessary artisans, so that, as observed by the committee, they were assured against accident, and dependent upon nobody.

They had even provided themselves with tools; and although the Captain, before starting, warned them against carrying over German utensils and tools, and indeed in general, as he expressed it, "from carrying over German customs, and German iron, and little German silver," yet neither the committee nor the rest could be brought to see it in this light, and some seventy hundredweight of agricultural and other implements—such as axes, hatchets, saws, chains, ploughs, scythes, and even carts and waggons, had been got on board and brought across. The freight on board ship, it is true, was not very high, and although the captain here again called their attention to the expensive carriage to their place of settlement in America, yet all the members of the committee, with the exception of the Pastor Hehrmann, who was inclined to believe in the reasoning of the old seaman, had read too much about America, and the manners and usages there, not to be aware that tools were very dear in the interior, and even that in certain places they were not to be had; it is true that they did not exactly know whether they should alight upon these certain places; but they thought that they ought to provide for the worst, since it was possible that they might. The great mass cordially approved of this; indeed, most of the emigrants could not imagine how they could work with tools of a different construction from those to which they had been accustomed from infancy upwards, and in this particular were well satisfied with their committee.

The expense of the passage and of the land journey to their ultimate destination was to be defrayed out of the deposited money, and then the residue was to be applied, so far as it would extend, in the purchase of land, and the committee undertook to subscribe such funds as might be required for any further needful expenses themselves. But the committee were especially to see that a healthy and good tract of land was selected, and that it should be conveyed and assured to them in due form as their sole property; for there was not one of the party but had heard of the frequent occurrence of frauds there, and who did not fear them; that, then, everything should be divided and allotted, according to right and justice, as well labour as property; and it was one of the chief conditions—and indeed one that was of course—that the committee were, generally, not only in their adopted country, but on the voyage out, to keep in view the interests of the members who had confided in them, to protect and to provide for them.

Mr. Becher for this purpose had made an extraordinary address to the meeting, at the Hull Arms, in Bremen, with which all were particularly pleased, if for no other cause, because he addressed them invariably as "Citizens;" one expressed his opinion, before they went on board, that never before had any one made such a speech to them. They confided implicitly in the committee; but this concord received a severe shock from the complete neglect with which the poorer portion of the emigrants were treated even on board ship; sea-sickness, it is true, quieted their minds for a time; but the storm which had left the ocean, passed into the hearts of the steerage passengers, and they would not admit the propriety of the committee eating their pudding while they got only bacon and split pease.

It might be borne, the Brewer considered, if they did not carry the savoury dishes from under their very noses, but that it was just as if they did it on purpose to make game of them. The steward, or cabin attendant, namely, was obliged to pass through amongst them, every time that he carried the dinner into the cabin, and the smell of the roast meat and pastry had contributed not a little to raise their bile against the committee.

It happened, one morning, when Pastor Hehrmann (who otherwise always quieted the dissatisfied by his reasonable representations—remedied that which he himself considered wrong—and kept the disturbers of the peace in order,) was seated beside his family, near the wheel, and was gazing at the broad and sunny expanse, dotted here and there with a distant sail, that the revolt grew apace, and the good people did, as most others in their place would have done—they resolved to revolt, if they did not actually do it.

But, in order to bring their grievances before those who were to blame, they agreed to send deputies to the committee to represent to the latter the irregularity of their proceedings; to request a change; and to get the promise, which they had formerly made, renewed by them, or otherwise to demand the return of the deposits, so that each of them might again do as they liked.

This last point, in particular, found many supporters, and so far all was well; but the little circumstance remained—who was to say all this to the committee?

Unquestionably the tailor had the best tongue, but he was only a journeyman. One of them—it was the brewer—therefore proposed Werner, and all immediately concurred in the choice.

As he was not present, they sent everywhere in search of him, to fetch him, and to communicate the resolution to him.

But he was sitting up aloft, gazing dreamily, not at the wide rolling sea, not at the distant ships that steered past with their sunny sails, not at the sea-mews or the Mother Carey's chickens, that were wantoning about the Hoffnung, sometimes skimming over the surface of the splashing waters, as if the top of each wave must reach the bold creatures and drag them down—sometimes diving with the quickness of lightning into the flood, as bright as crystal, and coming to the surface again loaded with their booty; no, he gazed at the steerer, who, wheel in hand, was looking earnestly, first at the compass, then at the top-gallant sails, to see that they caught the wind fully.

And who was this helmsman?—some rough strong figure, in a coarse blue jacket and Scotch bonnet—some bearded physiognomy, with dark brows and sunburnt features? No; he wore a gay-coloured light dress, a light-blue silk handkerchief, loosely slung round the white neck, dark curls, lifted by the soft south wind and fluttering round the dear rosy face—in short, it was Pastor Hehrmann's elder little daughter, Bertha—who was here learning to steer the ship from the chief mate, and indeed showed herself so teachable, that the grave man let her hold the helm herself and stood looking on, and smiling when the ship would not immediately answer the rudder, and she leaned with all her strength on the spokes; and then, when she saw her come round and follow the prescribed track, merrily shook the long flowing curls from her face; perhaps, also, at the same time, she stole a shy, pleased glance upwards—of course merely to observe the sails.

Thrice already had a sailor, dispatched by the brewer, been into the top, and pressingly requested Werner to come below, before he obeyed the call; and then, discontented and grumbling at being obliged to quit his perch, slid down a rope. Hardly had he arrived in the steerage before all thronged round him, and twenty at once tried to make him comprehend a story which he could not understand from any of them—at last, he found out what was passing, and what was wanted of him. However, he briefly declined the honourable offer, as he called it, giving as his sole reason for so doing, that he did not belong to the association formed in Bremen, and consequently had no right to act as its mouthpiece; that he could not interfere with what the committee might commit or omit; and that if he were to do so, they would merely have to ask him what business it was of his, and he should be silenced. He thanked them in brief and friendly words for their confidence, and quickly climbed aloft again. Now good counsel was scarce, and they really knew not whom to choose.