Journal of a Residence in America - Fanny Kemble

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Moore's melodies; and at ten o'clock (for the first time since our second day on board) we of the petticoats adjourned to the gentlemen's cabin to drink "sweethearts and wives," according to the approved sailors' practice. It made me sad to hear them, as they lifted their glasses to their lips, pass round the toast, "Sweethearts and wives!" I drank in my heart—"Home and dear H——." One thing amused me a good deal:—the Captain proposed as a toast, "The Ladies—God bless them," which accordingly was being duly drunk, when I heard, close to my elbow, a devout, half audible—"and the Lord deliver us!" This, from a man with a face like one of Retsch's most grotesque etchings, and an expression half humorous, half terrified, sent me into fits of laughter. They sang a song or two, and at twelve we left them to their meditations, which presently reached our ears in the sound, not shape, of "Health to Bacchus," in full chorus, to which tune I said my prayers.

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      Did not rise till late—dressed and came on deck. The morning was brilliant; the sea, bold, bright, dashing its snowy crests against our ship's sides, and flinging up a cloud of glittering spray round the prow. I breakfasted—and then amused myself with finding the lessons, collects, and psalms for the whole ship's company. After lunch, they spread our tent; a chair was placed for my father, and, the little bell being rung, we collected in our rude church. It affected me much, this praying on the lonely sea, in the words that at the same hour were being uttered by millions of kindred tongues in our dear home. There was something, too, impressive and touching in this momentary union of strangers, met but for a passing day, to part, perhaps, never to behold each other's faces again, in the holiest of all unions, that of Christian worship. Here I felt how close, how strong that wondrous tie of common faith that thus gathered our company, unknown and unconnected by any one worldly interest or bond, to utter the same words of praise and supplication, to think perhaps the same thoughts of humble and trustful dependence on God's great goodness in this our pilgrimage to foreign lands, to yearn perhaps with the same affection and earnest imploring of blessings towards our native soil and its beloved ones left behind.—Oh, how I felt all this, as we spoke aloud that touching invocation, which is always one of my most earnest prayers, "Almighty God, who hast promised when two or three are gathered together in thy name," etc. * * * The bright cloudless sky and glorious sea seemed to respond, in their silent magnificence, to our Te Deum.—I felt more of the excitement of prayer than I have known for many a day, and 'twas good—oh! very, very good!

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      'Tis good to behold this new universe, this mighty sea which he hath made, this glorious cloudless sky, where hang, like dew drops, his scattered worlds of light—to see all this, and say—

      "These are thy glorious works, parent of good!"

      After prayers, wrote journal. Some sea-weed floated by the ship to-day, borne from the gulf stream; I longed to have it, for it told of land: gulls too came wheeling about, and the little petterels like sea-swallows skimmed round and round, now resting on the still bosom of the sunny sea, now flickering away in rapid circles like black butterflies. They got a gun, to my horror, and wasted a deal of time in trying to shoot these feathered mariners; but they did not even succeed in scaring them. We went and sat on the forecastle to see the sun set: he did not go down cloudless, but dusky ridges of vapour stretched into ruddy streaks along the horizon, as his disk dipped into the burnished sea. The foam round the prow, as the ship made way with all sail set before a fair wind, was the most lovely thing I ever saw. Purity, strength, glee, and wondrous beauty were in those showers of snowy spray that sprang up above the black' ship's sides, and fell like a cataract of rubies under the red sunlight. We sat there till evening came down: the sea, from brilliant azure, grew black as unknown things, the wind freshened, and we left our cold stand to walk, or rather run, up and down the deck to warm ourselves. This we continued till, one by one, the stars had lit their lamps in heaven: their wondrous brilliancy, together with the Aurora Borealis, which rushed like sheeted ghosts along the sky, and the stream of fire that shone round the ship's way, made heaven and sea appear like one vast world of flame, as though the thin blue veil of air and the dark curtain of the waters were but drawn across a universe of light. Mercy, how strange it was! We stood at the stern, watching the milky wake the ship left as she stole through the eddying waters. Came back to our gipsy encampment, where, by the light of a lantern, we supped and sang sundry scraps of old songs. At ten came to bed.

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      Took an observation of the sun's altitude at noon, and saw them hoist a main-top-royal sail, which looked very pretty as it was unreefed against the clear sky.

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      Calm—utter calm—a roasting August sun, a waveless sea, the sails flapping idly against the mast, and our black cradle rocking to and fro without progressing a step. They lowered the boat, and went out rowing—I wanted to go, but they would not let me! A brig was standing some four miles off us, which, by the by, I was the first to see, except our mate, in my morning watch, which began at five o'clock, when I saw the moon set and the sun rise, and feel more than ever convinced that absolute reality is away from the purpose of works of art. The sky this morning was as like the sea shore as ever sand and shingle were, the clouds lying along the horizon in pale dusky yellow layers, and higher up, floating in light brown ribbed masses, like the sands which grow wrinkled under the eternal smiling of the sea. Against the dim horizon, which blended with the violet-coloured sky, the mate then showed me, through the glass, the brig standing on the sea's edge, for all the world like one of the tiny birds who were wheeling and chirping round our ship's stern. I have done more in the shape of work to-day than any since the two first I spent on board; translated a German fable without much trouble, read a canto in Dante, ending with a valuation of fame. "O spirito gentil!" how lived fair wisdom in your soul—how shines she in your lays!—Wrote journal, walked about, worked at my cap, in the evening danced merrily enough, quadrilles, country dances, La Boulangère, and the monaco; fairly danced myself tired. Came to bed. But oh! not to sleep—mercy, what a night! The wind blowing like mad, the sea rolling, the ship pitching, bouncing, shuddering, and reeling, like a thing possessed. I lay awake, listening to her creaking and groaning, till two o'clock, when, sick of my sleepless berth, I got up and was going up stairs, to see, at least, how near drowning we were, when D——, who was lying awake too, implored me to lie down again. I did so for the hundred and eleventh time, complaining bitterly that I should be stuffed down in a loathsome berth, cabined, cribbed, confined, while the sea was boiling below, and the wind bellowing above us. Lay till daylight, the gale increasing furiously; boxes, chairs, beds, and their contents, wooden valuables, and human invaluables, rolling about and clinging to one another in glorious confusion. At about eight o'clock, a tremendous sea took the ship in the waist, and, rushing over the deck, banged against our sky-light, and bounced into our cabin. Three women were immediately apparent from their respective cribs, and poor H—— appeared in all her lengthy full-length, and came and took refuge with me. As I held her in my arms, and put my cloak round her, she shook from head to foot, poor child!—I was not the least frightened, but rather excited by this invasion of Dan Neptune's; but I wish to goodness I had been on deck.—Oh, how I wish I had seen that spoonful of salt water flung from the sea's boiling bowl! I heard afterwards, that it had nearly washed away poor Mr. ——, besides handsomely ducking and frightening our military man. Lay all day on my back, most wretched, the ship heaving like any earthquake; in fact, there is something irresistibly funny in the way in which people seem dispossessed of their power of volition by this motion, rushing hither and thither in all directions but the one they purpose going, and making as many angles, fetches, and sidelong deviations from the point they aim at, as if the devil had tied a string to their legs and jerked it every now and then in spite—by the by, not a bad illustration of our mental and moral struggles towards their legitimate aims. Another horrible night! oh horror!

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