Due West: or, Round the World in Ten Months. Ballou Maturin Murray
embarked on board the steamship Belgic, of the Occidental and Oriental line, from San Francisco, October 10, in a heavy rain storm, amid the usual bustle and commotion attendant upon the departure of a large passenger ship for a long voyage. Everything looked very cold, very dreary, and very damp, causing our spirits to partake of the same nature, when we realized that for three weeks or more this was to be our floating home. With space so circumscribed, ventilation was inadequate, and the cook's galley pungent. Finally the United States mail was passed on deck, the last loiterer was on board, the gangway was hauled on to the wharf by the stevedores; the engine gave three distressing whistles, not clear and sharp, but asthmatic ones, as though not having clearly made up its mind to whistle at all; the pilot took his station on the bridge, and the screw began to revolve. The bow-line was let go, so that the ship might swing by her stern hawser well clear of the wharf, then the order to let go the stern line was shouted, and we had literally bidden good-by to America for many a long month.
Presently, when we passed through the narrow strait known as the Golden Gate, and laid our course westward, we began to realize that five thousand miles of ocean flowed between us and the shore towards which we were steering. One is apt to have some serious reflections on such an occasion. What lay before us in the many thousand miles of land and ocean travel? What perils and experiences were to be encountered? Who could say that we should all, or indeed any of us, live to return to our several homes? At San Francisco our company was augmented by the addition of an Englishman, Mr. D – , of London, a stranger to us, but who came thither to join the party, making our number six in all.
Hundreds of large white sea-gulls hovered over and about the ship, as we lay our course due west. The harbor of Sail Francisco swarms with these marine birds, and a score of them followed the ship after the pilot left us. As we were watching them, an officer of the Belgic remarked: "They will follow us across the Pacific;" and certainly that number of sea-gulls actually appeared to do so, though whether they were always the same birds, it would be impossible to say. The flight of a sea-gull at times exceeds twenty miles an hour, while the Belgic, at her maximum speed, scarcely exceeded half that; and thus these swift-winged creatures often flew far ahead of the ship, but soon settled back again to watch our wake, from whence they got their food supply.
There were twenty-five cabin passengers, and about three hundred Chinese in the steerage. The latter were returning home after some years of labor and saving in this country, for few if any of them emigrate except with a fixed purpose of returning to the Celestial Empire sooner or later. The purser of the ship informed us that there was not one of them who had not at least a thousand dollars in specie with him, and many had three times that amount, which would be sufficient to support them for life and without labor in their native land. The same authority assured us that it did not cost over ten cents a day each to feed these men, they being quite content with boiled rice, three times a day, seasoned with a little dried fish or curry. Their passage money costs them forty-five dollars each, including food, so there is a liberal margin for profit to the ship. A careful estimate was made which showed that these passengers were taking out of the country over half a million of dollars in specie, though they had landed on our shores without a dollar in their pockets, and the number returning by the Belgic was below the general average. This proved the complaint of the people of San Francisco to be correct so far as figures went, namely, that the Chinese came to take away what they earned, and that they do not spend any of their wages in this country, living on almost nothing and hoarding what they receive. Still, there is another side to this case. We must remember that they leave behind them the result of their labor at least, which in fact represents just so much capital. It is Chinese labor which has built the railroads of California, dug her canals, forwarded her public works, erected the houses of San Francisco, discharged and loaded her shipping, until she has grown up to her present high position in the political and commercial world.
Six of our cabin passengers were missionaries, four ladies and two gentlemen, bound to Japan and China; the rest were travelers intent upon business or pleasure. Of these some were seriously prostrated by seasickness, and especially the ladies; but this finally passed away, the greatest sufferers being exempt from it during the last half of the voyage. The inevitable monotony of our daily life was somewhat oppressive, there being few events to vary it. Occasionally a whale was sighted, throwing up a small column of water, as it rose at intervals to the surface, and thus marking its course, leading the passengers to some discussion as to the nature of this monster of the deep, whether it was properly a fish at all. A whale can be as surely drowned in the water as a man, but this cannot be said of a fish. A whale differs also in many other respects from the finny tribe proper. They bring forth living young, they breathe atmospheric air through their lungs, in place of water through the gills, having a double heart and warm blood, like land animals. Their blow-holes on the top of the head answer to the nostrils of terrestrial animals. Many of these simple facts were quite new to some of our intelligent companions.
Flying-fish were frequently seen, queer little creatures with the nature of a fish and the ambition of a bird. Dolphins sometimes played round the ship for hours together, and a few hideous man-eating sharks kept in our wake day after day, as if they hoped for a stray victim to tumble from the decks and appease their cannibal appetites. The sea-gulls, already mentioned, with tireless pinions followed the ship thousands of miles to pick up the refuse from the cook's galley, – the mystery being how they could sustain such continuous flight, for though they were seen to light upon the water it was but for a moment, and they did not fail to keep up with the Belgic in her steady headway. Save the objects named there was nothing to engage the eye except the endless expanse of waters, which seemed to typify infinite space. Our course did not lie in the track of commerce, nor did we sight ship or land from the hour we sank the shores of America until just three weeks later, when the picturesque coast-line of Japan appeared upon the horizon. It was a voyage of storms and calms combined, sometimes the ocean for days being like a small inland lake, and then again in its rage tossing our ship about as though she were a mere fishing skiff, – the waves often making a clean breach over the hull, thoroughly drenching everything and everybody who happened to be on deck.
Persons who have only witnessed a storm in narrow seas, or near the coast, would be surprised to realize the difference in the waves on the broad Pacific. The short, chopping sea is changed into long, heavy swells, covering the expanse of waters with vast parallels separated by deep valleys, the distance from crest to crest being from one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet, when a heavy gale prevails. The height of the waves is measured from the trough to the crest, and is of course conjecture, but in a continuous storm which we realized on board the Belgic was certainly some thirty feet. One aspect was to us an unsolved problem: the storm being on our starboard quarter was so nearly aft as to give us some idea of the velocity of the waves, which was clearly much greater than that of the ship's progress, and yet they increased the speed of the Belgic scarcely at all. That is to say, these waves exercised little if any propelling force, but seemed to pass under our keel, causing the hull to pitch and roll so that it was quite impossible to stand without holding on to some substantial fixture. Old George Herbert, in his quaint way, advises people to praise the sea, but to keep on dry land.
Life on shipboard, as has been intimated, becomes a little trying after a week or ten days' experience. Tedium and monotony have a tendency to bring out the less amiable characteristics of passengers who are thus crowded together under peculiar circumstances. Even the most equable disposition is liable sometimes to exhibit weakness. Where there are many passengers thorough agreement becomes hardly possible. Hasty confidences and abrupt prejudices are both the outgrowth of such enforced association. Reading is a great and intelligent resort at sea, but do not let the student flatter himself that he will find time and opportunity for study. Sea-life is antagonistic to such an idea, and the best resolves in that direction will end in idleness and disappointment.
The crew, the waiters, and the cooks of the Belgic were all Chinamen, and it must be admitted that in each capacity the service rendered was excellent. It seems to be generally acknowledged that when a Chinaman knows what is required of him, he will faithfully perform the duty, and, entirely unlike most employees, does not need the watchful eye of a master constantly over him. The ship was well officered by Englishmen, was scrupulously neat and clean; there was no loud talk or reiterated orders in its management; the effective arm of discipline was felt but not seen. To observe