CHAPTER II.
The Hamburgh packet—an old, wide, uneasy vessel—slowly made her way up the Thames on a spring morning with something short of a hundred emigrants on board. Amongst them were Carl and Bertha.
A few days in London, and the Black Warrior was to sail with a human cargo of some hundreds of German and Irish emigrants from the London Docks. She was a crack ship, was the Black Warrior. “Very sharp forward,” said the knowing; “likely to get across in a month.”
Babel knew no worse confusion than the decks of the Black Warrior on the fine May morning that saw Carl, his wife, and their children on the pier-head of the London Docks.
“Those Dutchmen coming aboard, Captain?” said the hoarse-voiced mate.
“Yes, by G—, and two hundred and fifty others, too. I saw the boarding-house keeper, and he said they’d be here at nine: that’s them coming in at the gate, now.”
“Barge alongside, sir, with luggage.”
“Mr. Smith, rig out a tackle on the larboard side; get those boxes in; we shall miss this tide, if you don’t look sharp.”
And now came Babel’s parody; what with the lowing of cows; the hee-haw of donkeys; the agonized squalling of pigs; the bleating of sheep; the hoarse cries of the men at the capstan getting the anchor over the side; the shriller, quicker, voices of the men getting in the boxes, “hand over hand;” the blowing-off of the tug just outside; the farewells of the Irish, in a high key; the growlings of the English in a low key; and the guttural babbling of the Germans in no key at all,—there was noise enough to furnish one with an indistinct notion of the nature of the vocal accompaniments to the drama of “The Perplexed Builders.”
At last it’s over; the ropes out; the Black Warrior is fairly out of dock, and the customary three cheers by the crew are mingled with the feeble “Heep, heep, heep, you rar” of a few of the imitative German enthusiasts on board, while country and home are forgotten in the general scramble for best berths.
The Germans establish themselves in one quarter, while a mixed colony of English and Irish appropriate another; and for the delicately minded English there is a separate portion for the married and families, the partition being a lattice-work of boards, three inches wide and three inches apart; but then shawls are very good curtains at nightfall, and there’s no interruption of the current of air during the day.
The Germans, who manage without partitions, are tolerably soon, and well, employed in devouring black bread and sausages, both from their appearance, heir-looms, for sustenance on special occasions; special now, because nothing else will be obtained, till, as the mate observes, they are “a little to rights.”
Past Gravesend; past the Nore; and night shuts out the view.
“Carpenter, see those Dutchmen put those lights out at eight o’clock.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” And from eight o’clock to