SCARCELY had the Great Eastern, tacked and presented her stern to the waves, than the pitching gave way to perfect steadiness; breakfast was served, and the greater part of the passengers, reassured by the ship’s stillness, came into the dining-rooms, and took their repast without fear of another shock. Not a plate fell off the table, and not a glass emptied its contents on to the cloth, although the racks had not even been put up. But three quarters of an hour later the furniture was set in motion again, and the crockery clattered together on the pantry shelves, for the Great Eastern, had resumed her westerly course, which for the time had been interrupted.
I went on deck again with Dr. Pitferge, who seeing the man belonging to the dolls said to him;
“Your little people have been put to a severe test, sir; those poor babies will never prattle in the United States.”
“Pshaw!” replied the enterprising Parisian, “the stock was insured, and my secret has not perished with it.”
It was evident my countryman was not a man to be easily disheartened, he bowed to us with a pleasant smile, and we continued our way to the stern, where a steersman told us that the rudder-chains had been jammed in the interval between the two swoops.
“If that accident had happened when we were turning,” said Pitferge to me, “I cannot say what would have become of us, for the sea would have rushed in, in overwhelming torrents; the steam pumps have already begun to reduce the water, but there is more coming yet.”
“And what of the unfortunate sailor?” asked I of the Doctor.
“He is severely wounded on his head, poor fellow! he is a young married fisherman, the father of two children, and this is his first voyage. The Doctor seems to think there is hope of his recovery, and that is what makes me fear for him, but we shall soon see for ourselves. A report was spread that several men had been washed overboard, but happily there was no foundation for it.”
“We have resumed our course at last,” said I.
“Yes,” replied the Doctor, “the westerly course, against wind and tide, there is no doubt about that,” added he, catching hold of a kevel to prevent himself from rolling on the deck. “Do you know what I should do with the Great Eastern if she belonged to me? No. Well, I would make a pleasure-boat of her, and charge 10,000 francs ahead; there would only be millionnaires on board, and people who were not pressed for time. I would take a month or six weeks going from England to America; the ship never against the waves, and the wind always ahead or astern; there should be no rolling, no pitching, and I would pay a 100l. in any case of sea-sickness.”
“That is a practical idea,” said I.
“Yes,” replied Pitferge, “there’s money to be gained or lost by that!”
In the meantime the Great Eastern, was slowly but steadily continuing her way; the swell was frightful, but her straight stem cut the waves regularly, and shipped no more water. It was no longer a metal mountain making against a mountain of water, but as sedentary as a rock the Great Eastern, received the billows with perfect indifference. The rain fell in torrents, and we were obliged to take refuge under the eaves of the grand saloon; with the shower the violence of the wind and sea assuaged; the western sky grew clear, and the last black clouds vanished in the opposite horizon; at ten o’clock the hurricane sent us a farewell gust.
At noon an observation was able to be made and was as follows:—
Lat. 49° 50´, N.
Long. 61° 57´, W.
Course, 193 miles.
This considerable diminution in the ship’s speed could only be attributed to the tempest, which during the night and morning had incessantly beaten against the ship, and a tempest so terrible that one of the passengers, almost an inhabitant of the Atlantic, which he had crossed forty-four times, declared he had never seen the like. The engineer even said that during the storm, when the Great Eastern, was three days in the trough of the sea, the ship had never been attacked with such violence, and it must be repeated that even if this admirable steam-ship did go at an inferior speed, and rolled decidedly too much, she nevertheless presented a sure security against the fury of the sea, which she resisted like a block, owing to the perfect homogenity of her construction.
But let me also say, however powerful she might be, it was not right to expose her, without any reason whatever, to a baffling sea; for however strong, however imposing a ship may appear, it is not “disgraced” because it flies before the tempest. A commander ought always to remember that a man’s life is worth more than the mere satisfaction of his own pride. In any case, to be obstinate is blameable, and to be wilful is dangerous. A recent incident in which a dreadful catastrophe happened to a Transatlantic steamer shows us that a captain ought not to struggle blindly against the sea, even when he sees the boat of a rival company creeping ahead.