A Trip Across the Atlantic Ocean

(written by Edward A. Slack a week before Christmas 1863; he was 10 years old.)
(Click here for a simulated hand script version.)

It was about a week before Christmas in the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty three that my mother started from England with my brother, my sister, and myself. My brother was about eleven and one-half years of age, my sister nine, and myself ten. We sailed in the good ship Liverpool (a sailing vessel) outward bound from London to New York.

The sailors worked the vessel out of the basin into the river by means of the windlass on the vessel and the posts along the shore.

After we got out into the river away from the vicinity of the buildings so that the wind could reach us, we traveled some faster. Just as we were coming out of the mouth of the river we saw the white cliffs of Dover stretching out before us and we appeared to be sailing right against them. Before we arrived very close the captain put the ship about, which sent us south of them into the English Channel. After passing down a short distance we found the water a good deal rougher.

It began to grow dark about this time and we thought it best to go below and get into our bunks. About midnight we were awakened by a great deal of tramping overhead, tackling blocks rolling around, and ropes creaking. We did not know what was the matter until morning; we found then that there had been a squall during the night.

We youngsters were up as early as the rest of the folks investigating everything we could.

The wind blew pretty fresh and before noon we children all became seasick. Consequently, we did not have much fun that day. We passed “Lands End” after dark and saw the light at Edystone Lighthouse.

The first squall we had in the daytime struck our vessel quite suddenly and caused it to rock violently for a few minutes so that we could not stand up without holding on to something.

The time passed by rather monotonously after this with the exception of a few storms. At such times my favorite position was to stand with my side to the bulwark of the vessel and, looking astern, imagine myself out in the waters watching the vessel pitching and rolling on the great deep.

We had been out nearly three weeks when we had about a week of stormy weather and head winds. One day, about an hour before noon, one of the ladies of the second cabin came down and said there was a ship showing signs of distress; we rushed up on deck and saw a vessel off on the horizon with her main mast gone and the foremast (what there was left of it) floating the flag of distress.

The captain ordered all sail to be crowded on that our vessel would sail under, and we were soon skimming over the water at a rapid pace. I should judge we were about ten or fifteen miles from the vessel when we first saw her but it did not take us an hour to come up with her.

When we got alongside we were not more than a couple of rods from the wreck so we could hear the men when they spoke to our captain through their speaking trumpet. It was too rough for the vessels to remain so close together, so our captain passed by and went around on the other side, about a quarter of a mile from the wreck.

He asked for volunteers to go off in the lifeboat to get the men from the wreck. The second mate volunteered as coxswain. Then they needed four men to man the oars; some of the sailors refused to go altogether, “They did not intend to throw away their lives.”, they said. But there were four sailors who were men enough to want to help save their fellow beings.

It was getting rougher all the time and they must start if they meant to do anything. It was quite difficult launching the boat. They had to lower it and be ready both to cast off the tackling and push away from the vessel as soon as the boat touched the water. Otherwise, it might get swamped by the rolling of the vessel. They succeeded in launching it safely and started off over the waves to the wreck. At one moment they would be on the crest of a wave and we could see both ends of the boat clear out of the water. The next moment they would be down in the trough of the sea and we could not see them at all, and would fear they were lost until we would see them climbing the next wave.

They reached the wreck in safety and, throwing a line on board, all the men but one and a Newfoundland dog got off. The boat started back with its additional load and it seemed longer returning than it was going. When they were back and the men they had taken from the wreck got on board, the crew of the boat had some doubts about going back again, as it had become so much rougher than it was when they went the first time. They went, however, and when they arrived at the wreck the man (he was a lame man) either jumped too soon and could not keep up until the boat reached him, or he did not jump far enough from the vessel and was drawn under the vessel as it rolled. The boat started back without them (as the dog shared the same fate as the man) but the waves were so large by this time that it looked doubtful about their getting back.

After much hard work and considerable danger, they reached the vessel where they had another quite difficult job before them. Namely, the getting the boat back to its place on the vessel again.

This was accomplished by watching their chance when the vessel was heeled over towards them and fastening the tackling in the rings on the bow and stern of the boat. Then, when the vessel rolled the other way, the boat was lifted out of the water and could be drawn up in safety.

The captain of the wreck was a miserable coward and not deserving of the name of captain. He came off with the first load, leaving his lame nephew on the wreck alone instead of staying there himself, which was his duty for any captain that is a man will be the last to leave his vessel.

Our vessel stood off on its course again, leaving the wreck drifting off behind us. There was considerable bustle on our vessel while they were giving the rescued sailors their quarters, which was in one of the sail rooms opening off the steerage.

On account of the increase in our number of passengers, all on board with the exception of the officers and crew of the vessel and the children were put upon short allowance.

We children had a way of our own of making our sea biscuits palatable; it was as follows: we would haul up a bucket of sea water, soak our biscuits in it and lay them upon the stove in the galley. The salt water not only moistened but seasoned them.

We had some very severe weather a few weeks before we landed. It was cold and snowy and the sides of our vessel were covered with ice where the spray had dashed against her and frozen. I remember one day it was so cold that our captain ordered the helm to be lashed fast and let the vessel drift.

A vessel crossed our path about three or four hundred miles from New York, which seemed to act rather queer. She seemed to loiter along as though she was waiting for our vessel to come up. Our captain did not like her actions as he knew a war was being carried on in this country. We saw more vessels around us as we drew nearer this country and we longed to set our feet upon “terra firma” once more.

We kept a sharp lookout for the pilot, as we expected to be boarded by one before long. He came on board on Thursday night before we got to New York and the sailors were all eager to get a fresh supply of tobacco from him.

We dropped anchor with the expectation of getting into harbor the next morning. We arose filled with anticipation and impatience and, our windlass being out of order, it took us more than twice as long to “weigh anchor’ than it would have done otherwise.

We started off merrily and before noon we were in sight of New York harbor and very soon we could discern the forests of masts and finally got amongst them. We had to wait until the officers came on board to see if there was any disease amongst us. Then we left our vessel and got on board of one of the tug boats and steamed down to Castle Garden and landed.

** Finis **