TO CALIFORNIA AND RETURN.4.1.ON THE STEAMER.New York, Oct.13, 1868.
The steamer Ariel starts for California at noon.
Her decks are crowded with excited passengers, who instantly undertake to "look after" their trunks and things; and what with our smashing against each other, and the yells of the porters, and the wails over lost baggage, and the crash of boxes, and the roar of the boilers, we are for the time being about as unhappy a lot of maniacs as was ever thrown together.
I am one of them.I am rushing around with a glaring eye in search of a box.
Great jam, in which I find a sweet young lady, with golden hair, clinging to me fondly, and saying, "Dear George, farewell!"--Discovers her mistake, and disappears.
I should like to be George some more.
Confusion so great that I seek refuge in a stateroom which contains a single lady of forty-five summers, who says, "Base man! leave me!" I leave her.
By and by we cool down, and become somewhat regulated.
NEXT DAY
When the gong sounds for breakfast we are fairly out on the sea, which runs roughly, and the Ariel rocks wildly.Many of the passengers are sick, and a young naval officer establishes a reputation as a wit by carrying to one of the invalids a plate of raw salt pork, swimming in cheap molasses.I am not sick; so Iroll round the deck in the most cheerful sea-dog manner.
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The next day and the next pass by in a serene manner.The waves are smooth now, and we can all eat and sleep.We might have enjoyed ourselves very well, I fancy, if the Ariel, whose capacity was about three hundred and fifty passengers, had not on this occasion carried nearly nine hundred, a hundred, at least of whom were children of an unpleasant age.Captain Semmes captured the Ariel once, and it is to be deeply regretted that that thrifty buccaneer hadn't made mince-meat of her, because she is a miserable tub at best, and hasn't much more right to be afloat than a second-hand coffin has.I do not know her proprietor, Mr.C.Vanderbilt.
But I know of several excellent mill privileges in the State of Maine, and not one of them is so thoroughly "Dam'd" as he was all the way from New York to Aspinwall.
I had far rather say a pleasant thing than a harsh one; but it is due to the large number of respectable ladies and gentleman who were on board the steamer Ariel with me that I state here that the accommodations on that steamer were very vile.If I did not so state, my conscience would sting me through life, and I should have harried dreams like Richard III.Esq.
The proprietor apparently thought we were undergoing transportation for life to some lonely island, and the very waiters who brought us meals, that any warden of any penitentiary would blush to offer convicts, seemed to think it was a glaring error our not being in chains.
As a specimen of the liberal manner in which this steamer was managed I will mention that the purser (a very pleasant person, by the way) was made to unite the positions of purser, baggage clerk, and doctor; and I one day had a lurking suspicion that he was among the waiters in the dining-cabin, disguised in a white jacket and slipshod pumps.
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I have spoken my Piece about the Ariel, and I hope Mr.Vanderbilt will reform ere it is too late.Dr.Watts says the vilest sinner may return as long as the gas-meters work well, or words to that effect.
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We were so densely crowded on board the Ariel that I cannot conscientiously say we were altogether happy.And sea-voyages at best are a little stupid.On the whole I should prefer a voyage on the Erie Canal, where there isn't any danger, and where you can carry picturesque scenery along with you--so to speak.
II.--THE ISTHMUS.
On the ninth day we reach Aspinwall in the Republic of Granada.
The President of New Granada is a Central American named Mosquero.
I was told that he derived quite a portion of his income by carrying passengers' valises and things from the steamer to the hotels in Aspinwall.It was an infamous falsehood.Fancy A.
Lincoln carrying carpet-bags and things! and indeed I should rather trust him with them than Mosquero, because the former gentleman, as I think some one has before observed, is "honest."I intrust my bag to a speckled native, who confidentially gives me to understand that he is the only strictly honest person in Aspinwall.The rest, he says, are niggers--which the colored people of the Isthmus regard as about as scathing a thing as they can say of one another.
I examine the New Grenadian flag, which waves from the chamber-window of the refreshment saloon.It is of simple design.
You can make one.
Take half of a cotton shirt, that has been worn two months, and dip it in molasses of the Day & Martin brand.Then let the flies gambol over it for a few days, and you have it.It is an emblem of Sweet Liberty.
At the Howard House the man of sin rubbeth the hair of the horse to the bowels of the cat, and our girls are waving their lily-white hoofs in the dazzling waltz.
We have a quadrille, in which an English person slips up and jams his massive brow against my stomach.He apologizes, and I say, "all right, my lord." I subsequently ascertained that he superintended the shipping of coals for the British steamers, and owned fighting cocks.
The ball stops suddenly.
Great excitement.One of our passengers intoxicated and riotous in the street.Openly and avowedly desires the entire Republic of New Grenada to "come on."In case they do come on, agrees to make it lively for them.Is quieted down at last, and marched off to prison, by a squad of Grenadian troops.Is musical as he passes the hotel, and smiling sweetly upon the ladies and children on the balcony, expresses a distinct desire to be an Angel, and with the Angels stand.After which he leaps nimbly into the air and imitates the war-cry of the red man.
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