Our Hundred Days in Europe | Page 6

the
generosity of a sea-sick sufferer in giving away the delicacies which
seemed so desirable on starting is not ranked very high on the books of
the recording angel. With us three things were best: grapes, oranges,
and especially oysters, of which we had provided a half barrel in the
shell. The "butcher" of the ship opened them fresh for us every day, and
they were more acceptable than anything else.
Among our ship's company were a number of family relatives and

acquaintances. We formed a natural group at one of the tables, where
we met in more or less complete numbers. I myself never missed; my
companion, rarely. Others were sometimes absent, and sometimes came
to time when they were in a very doubtful state, looking as if they were
saying to themselves, with Lear,--
"Down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element's below."
As for the intellectual condition of the passengers, I should say that
faces were prevailingly vacuous, their owners half hypnotized, as it
seemed, by the monotonous throb and tremor of the great sea-monster
on whose back we were riding. I myself had few thoughts, fancies,
emotions. One thing above all struck me as never before,--the terrible
solitude of the ocean.
"So lonely 'twas that God himself Scarce seemed there to be."
Whole days passed without our seeing a single sail. The creatures of the
deep which gather around sailing vessels are perhaps frightened off by
the noise and stir of the steamship. At any rate, we saw nothing more
than a few porpoises, so far as I remember.
No man can find himself over the abysses, the floor of which is paved
with wrecks and white with the bones of the shrieking myriads of
human beings whom the waves have swallowed up, without some
thought of the dread possibilities hanging over his fate. There is only
one way to get rid of them: that which an old sea-captain mentioned to
me, namely, to keep one's self under opiates until he wakes up in the
harbor where he is bound. I did not take this as serious advice, but its
meaning is that one who has all his senses about him cannot help being
anxious. My old friend, whose beard had been shaken in many a
tempest, knew too well that there is cause enough for anxiety.
What does the reader suppose was the source of the most ominous
thought which forced itself upon my mind, as I walked the decks of the
mighty vessel? Not the sound of the rushing winds, nor the sight of the
foam-crested billows; not the sense of the awful imprisoned force
which was wrestling in the depths below me. The ship is made to

struggle with the elements, and the giant has been tamed to obedience,
and is manacled in bonds which an earthquake would hardly rend
asunder. No! It was the sight of the boats hanging along at the sides of
the deck,--the boats, always suggesting the fearful possibility that
before another day dawns one may be tossing about in the watery
Sahara, shelterless, fireless, almost foodless, with a fate before him he
dares not contemplate. No doubt we should feel worse without the
boats; still they are dreadful tell-tales. To all who remember Géricault's
Wreck of the Medusa,--and those who have seen it do not forget it,--the
picture the mind draws is one it shudders at. To be sure, the poor
wretches in the painting were on a raft, but to think of fifty people in
one of these open boats! Let us go down into the cabin, where at least
we shall not see them.
The first morning at sea revealed the mystery of the little round tin box.
The process of shaving, never a delightful one, is a very unpleasant and
awkward piece of business when the floor on which one stands, the
glass in which he looks, and he himself are all describing those
complex curves which make cycles and epicycles seem like simplicity
itself. The little box contained a reaping machine, which gathered the
capillary harvest of the past twenty-four hours with a thoroughness, a
rapidity, a security, and a facility which were a surprise, almost a
revelation. The idea of a guarded cutting edge is an old one; I
remember the "Plantagenet" razor, so called, with the comb-like row of
blunt teeth, leaving just enough of the edge free to do its work. But this
little affair had a blade only an inch and a half long by three quarters of
an inch wide. It had a long slender handle, which took apart for packing,
and was put together with the greatest ease. It was, in short, a
lawn-mower for the masculine growth of which the proprietor wishes
to rid his countenance. The mowing operation required no