The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4). Frederick Whymper
for only a few seconds longer, the dock would have stranded—perhaps for ever. She righted, however, and the Terrible steaming hard ahead, she passed the most dangerous point of the inlet, and at last rode securely in smooth water, within a few cables’ length of her future berth, after a singularly successful voyage of thirty-six days.
It says much for the naval and engineering skill of all concerned in the transport of this unwieldy mass of iron, weighing 8,000 tons, over nearly 4,000 miles of ocean, without the loss of a single life, or, indeed, a solitary accident that can be called serious. The conception, execution, and success of the project are wholly unparalleled in the history of naval engineering.
Leaving Bermuda, whither away? To the real capital of America, New York. It is true that English men-of-war, and, for the matter of that, vessels of the American navy, comparatively seldom visit that port, which otherwise is crowded by the shipping of all nations. There are reasons for this. New York has not to-day a dock worthy of the name; magnificent steamships and palatial ferry-boats all lie alongside wharfs, or enter “slips,” which are semi-enclosed wharfs. Brooklyn and Jersey City have, however, docks.
Who that has visited New York will ever forget his first impressions? The grand Hudson, or the great East River, itself a strait: the glorious bay, or the crowded island, alike call for and deserve enthusiastic admiration. If one arrives on a sunny day, maybe not a zephyr agitates the surface of the noble Hudson, or even the bay itself: the latter landlocked, save where lost in the broad Atlantic; the former skirted by the great Babylon of America and the wooded banks of Hoboken. Round the lofty western hills, a fleet of small craft—with rakish hulls and snowy sails—steal quietly and softly, while steamboats, that look like floating islands, almost pass them with lightning speed. Around is the shipping of every clime; enormous ferry-boats radiating in all directions; forests of masts along the wharfs bearing the flags of all nations. And where so much is strange, there is one consoling fact: you feel yourself at home. You are among brothers, speaking the same language, obeying the same laws, professing the same religion.
MAP OF NEW YORK HARBOUR.
New York city and port of entry, New York county, State of New York, lies at the head of New York Bay, so that there is a good deal of New York about it. It is the commercial emporium of the United States, and if it ever has a rival, it will be on the other side of the continent, somewhere not far from San Francisco. Its area is, practically, the bulk of Manhattan or New York Island, say thirteen miles long by two wide. Its separation from the mainland is caused by the Harlem River, which connects the Hudson and East Rivers, and is itself spanned by a bridge and the Croton aqueduct. New York really possesses every advantage required to build a grand emporium. It extends between two rivers, each navigable for the largest vessels, while its harbour would contain the united or disunited navies, as the case may be, of all nations. The Hudson River, in particular, is for some distance up a mile or more in width, while the East River averages over two-fifths of a mile. The population of New York, with its suburban appendages, including the cities of Brooklyn and Jersey City, is not less than that of Paris.
The harbour is surrounded with small settlements, connected by charmingly-situated villas and country residences. It is toward its northern end that the masts, commencing with a few stragglers, gradually thicken to a forest. In it are three fortified islands. By the strait called the “Narrows,” seven miles from the lower part of the city, and which is, for the space of a mile, about one mile wide, it communicates with the outer harbour, or bay proper, which extends thence to Sandy Hook Light, forty miles from the city, and opens directly into the ocean, forming one of the best roadsteads on the whole Atlantic coasts of America. The approach to the city, as above indicated, is very fine, the shores of the bay being wooded down to the water’s edge, and thickly studded with villages, farms, and country seats. The view of the city itself is not so prepossessing; like all large cities, it is almost impossible to find a point from which to grasp the grandeur in its entirety, and the ground on which it is built is nowhere elevated. Therefore there is very little to strike the eye specially. Many a petty town makes a greater show in this respect.
Those ferry-boats! The idea in the minds of most Englishmen is associated with boats that may pass over from one or two to a dozen or so people, possibly a single horse, or a donkey-cart. There you find steamers a couple of hundred or more feet long, with, on either side of the engines, twenty or more feet space. On the true deck there is accommodation for carriages, carts, and horses by the score; above, a spacious saloon for passengers. They have powerful engines, and will easily beat the average steamship. On arrival at the dock, they run into a kind of slip, or basin, with piles around stuck in the soft bottom, which yield should she strike them, and entirely do away with any fear of concussion. “I may here add,” notes an intelligent writer,115 “that during my whole travels in the States, I found nothing more perfect in construction and arrangement than the ferries and their boats, the charges for which are most moderate, varying according to distances, and ranging from one halfpenny upwards.”
The sailor ashore in New York—and how many, many thousands visit it every year!—will find much to note. The public buildings of the great city are not remarkable; but the one great street, Broadway, which is about eight miles long, and almost straight, is a very special feature. Unceasing throngs of busy men and women, loungers and idlers, vehicles of all kinds, street cars, omnibuses, and carriages—there are no cabs hardly in New York—pass and re-pass from early morn to dewy eve, while the shops, always called “stores,” rival those of the Boulevards or Regent Street. Some of the older streets were, no doubt, as Washington Irving tells us, laid out after the old cow-paths, as they are as narrow and tortuous as those of any European city. The crowded state of Broadway at certain points rivals Cheapside. The writer saw in 1867 a light bridge, which spanned the street, and was intended for the use of ladies and timid pedestrians. When, in 1869, he re-passed through the city it had disappeared, and on inquiry he learnt the reason. Unprincipled roughs had stationed themselves at either end, and levied black-mail toll on old ladies and unsophisticated country-people.
So extreme is the difference between the intense heat of summer and the equally intense cold of winter in New York, that the residents regularly get thin in the former and stout in the latter. And what a sight are the two rivers at that time! Huge masses of ice, crashing among themselves, and making navigation perilous and sometimes impossible, descending the stream at a rapid rate; docks and slips frozen in; the riggings and shrouds of great ships covered with icicles, and the decks ready for immediate use as skating-rinks. The writer crossed in the ferry-boat from Jersey City to New York, in January, 1875, and acquired a sincere respect for the pilot, who wriggled and zig-zagged his vessel through masses of ice, against which a sharp collision would not have been a joke. When, on the following morning, he left for Liverpool, the steamship herself was a good model for a twelfth-night cake ornament, and had quite enough to do to get out from the wharf. Five days after, in mid-Atlantic, he was sitting on deck in the open air, reading a book, so much milder at such times is it on the open ocean.
BROOKLYN BRIDGE.
But our leave is over, and although it would be pleasant to travel in imaginative company up the beautiful Hudson, and visit one of the wonders of the world—Niagara, to-day a mere holiday excursion from New York—we must away, merely briefly noting before we go another of the wonders of the world, a triumph of engineering skill: the great Brooklyn bridge, which connects that city with New York. Its span is about three-quarters of a mile; large ships can pass under it, while vehicles and pedestrians cross in mid-air over their mast tops, between two great cities, making them one. Brooklyn is a great place for the residences of well-to-do New Yorkers, and the view from its “Heights”—an elevation covered with villas and mansions—is grand and extensive. Apart from this, Brooklyn is a considerable city, with numerous churches and chapels, public buildings, and places of amusement.
FERRY-BOAT, NEW YORK HARBOUR.