Across The Plains | Page 4

Robert Louis Stevenson
of the child paid the least
attention to my act. It was not till some time after that I understood
what I had done myself, for to ward off heavy boxes seemed at the
moment a natural incident of human life. Cold, wet, clamour, dead
opposition to progress, such as one encounters in an evil dream, had
utterly daunted the spirits. We had accepted this purgatory as a child
accepts the conditions of the world. For my part, I shivered a little, and
my back ached wearily; but I believe I had neither a hope nor a fear,
and all the activities of my nature had become tributary to one massive
sensation of discomfort.
At length, and after how long an interval I hesitate to guess, the crowd
began to move, heavily straining through itself. About the same time
some lamps were lighted, and threw a sudden flare over the shed. We
were being filtered out into the river boat for Jersey City. You may
imagine how slowly this filtering proceeded, through the dense,
choking crush, every one overladen with packages or children, and yet
under the necessity of fishing out his ticket by the way; but it ended at
length for me, and I found myself on deck under a flimsy awning and
with a trifle of elbow-room to stretch and breathe in. This was on the
starboard; for the bulk of the emigrants stuck hopelessly on the port
side, by which we had entered. In vain the seamen shouted to them to
move on, and threatened them with shipwreck. These poor people were
under a spell of stupor, and did not stir a foot. It rained as heavily as
ever, but the wind now came in sudden claps and capfuls, not without
danger to a boat so badly ballasted as ours; and we crept over the river

in the darkness, trailing one paddle in the water like a wounded duck,
and passed ever and again by huge, illuminated steamers running many
knots, and heralding their approach by strains of music. The contrast
between these pleasure embarkations and our own grim vessel, with her
list to port and her freight of wet and silent emigrants, was of that
glaring description which we count too obvious for the purposes of art.
The landing at Jersey City was done in a stampede. I had a fixed sense
of calamity, and to judge by conduct, the same persuasion was common
to us all. A panic selfishness, like that produced by fear, presided over
the disorder of our landing. People pushed, and elbowed, and ran, their
families following how they could. Children fell, and were picked up to
be rewarded by a blow. One child, who had lost her parents, screamed
steadily and with increasing shrillness, as though verging towards a fit;
an official kept her by him, but no one else seemed so much as to
remark her distress; and I am ashamed to say that I ran among the rest.
I was so weary that I had twice to make a halt and set down my bundles
in the hundred yards or so between the pier and the railway station, so
that I was quite wet by the time that I got under cover. There was no
waiting-room, no refreshment room; the cars were locked; and for at
least another hour, or so it seemed, we had to camp upon the draughty,
gaslit platform. I sat on my valise, too crushed to observe my
neighbours; but as they were all cold, and wet, and weary, and driven
stupidly crazy by the mismanagement to which we had been subjected,
I believe they can have been no happier than myself. I bought
half-a-dozen oranges from a boy, for oranges and nuts were the only
refection to be had. As only two of them had even a pretence of juice, I
threw the other four under the cars, and beheld, as in a dream, grown
people and children groping on the track after my leavings.
At last we were admitted into the cars, utterly dejected, and far from
dry. For my own part, I got out a clothes-brush, and brushed my
trousers as hard as I could till I had dried them and warmed my blood
into the bargain; but no one else, except my next neighbour to whom I
lent the brush, appeared to take the least precaution. As they were, they
composed themselves to sleep. I had seen the lights of Philadelphia,
and been twice ordered to change carriages and twice countermanded,

before I allowed myself to follow their example.
TUESDAY. - When I awoke, it was already day; the train was standing
idle; I was in the last carriage, and, seeing some others strolling to and
fro about the lines, I opened the
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