The “Great Eastern” was indeed preparing to sail

A Floating City and The Blockade Runners by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. CHAPTER III

CHAPTER III.

The “Great Eastern” was indeed preparing to sail. Already volumes of black smoke were issuing from the five chimneys, and hot steam filled the engine-rooms. Some sailors were brightening up the four great fog-cannons which were to salute Liverpool as we sailed by. The top-men climbed the yards, disentangled the rigging, and tightened the shrouds on the thick ropes fastened to the barricades. About eleven o’clock the carpenters and painters put the finishing touches to their work, and then embarked on board the tender which awaited them. As soon as there was a sufficient pressure, the steam rushed into the cylinders of the rudder engine, and the engineers had the pleasure of seeing that this ingenious contrivance was an entire success.

The weather was fine, with bright gleams of sunshine darting through the rapidly-moving clouds. There must have been a strong breeze at sea, but we did not feel it.

The officers were all dispersed about the deck, making preparations for getting under sail. The ship’s officers were composed of the Captain, the first officer, two assistant officers, five lieutenants, of whom one was a Frenchman, M. H——, and a volunteer who was also French.

Captain Anderson holds a high place in the commercial marine of England. It is to him we are indebted for the laying of the Transatlantic cable, though it is true that if he succeeded where his predecessors had failed, it was because he worked under more favourable circumstances, having the “Great Eastern” at his command. Be it as it may, his success gained for him the title of “Sir.” I found him to be a very agreeable commander. He was a man of about fifty years of age, with that tawny complexion which remains unchanged by weather or age; a thorough Englishman, with a tall figure, a broad smiling face, and merry eyes; walking with a quiet dignified step, his hands never in his pockets, always irreproachably gloved and elegantly dressed, and invariably with a little piece of his white handkerchief peeping out of the pocket of his blue and gold-laced overcoat.

The first officer presented a singular contrast to Captain Anderson, and his appearance is easily described:—an active little man, with a very sunburnt skin, a black beard almost covering his face, and legs which defied every lurch of the vessel. A skilful, energetic seaman, he gave his orders in a clear, decided tone, the boatswain repeating them with a voice like the roaring of a hoarse lion. The second officer’s name was W——: I think he was a naval officer, on board the “Great Eastern” by special permission; he had all the appearance of a regular “Jack-tar.”

Besides the ship officers, the engines were under the command of a chief engineer, assisted by eight or ten engineering officers, and a battalion of two hundred and fifty men, some stokers, others oilers, who hardly ever left the engine-rooms.

This army of men was well occupied night and day, having ten boilers with ten furnaces and about a hundred fires to attend to.

As for the crew of the steam-ship proper, what with quartermasters, top-men, steersmen, and cabin-boys, it comprised about one hundred men, and besides these, there were two hundred stewards employed for serving the passengers.

Every man was at his post; the pilot who was to conduct the vessel out of the Mersey had been on board since the evening before. I saw also a French pilot, who was to make the passage with us, and on her return to take the steam-ship into anchorage at Brest.

“I begin to think we shall sail to-day,” said I to Lieutenant H—.

“We are only waiting for our passengers,” replied my countryman.

“Are there many?”

“Twelve or thirteen hundred.”

At half-past eleven the tender was hailed, laden with passengers, who, as I afterwards learnt, were Californians, Canadians, Americans, Peruvians, English, Germans, and two or three Frenchmen. Among the most distinguished were the celebrated Cyrus Field of New York, the Honourable John Rose of Canada, the Honourable J. Mac Alpine of New York, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Cohen of San Francisco, Mr. and Mrs. Whitney of Montreal, Captain Mc Ph—— and his wife. Among the French was the founder of the “Great Eastern Freight Company,” M. Jules D——, representative of the “Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company,” who had made a contribution of twenty thousand pounds to the fund.

The tender ranged herself at the foot of a flight of steps, and then began the slow, interminable ascent of passengers and luggage.

The first care of each passenger, when he had once set foot on the steamer, was to go and secure his place in the dining-room; his card, or his name written on a scrap of paper, was enough to insure his possession.

I remained on deck in order to notice all the details of embarkation. At half-past twelve the luggage was all on board, and I saw thousands of packages of every description, from chests large enough to contain a suite of furniture, to elegant little travelling-cases and fanciful American and English trunks, heaped together pell-mell. All these were soon cleared from the deck, and stowed away in the store-rooms; workmen and porters returned to the tender, which steered off, after having blackened the side of the “Great Eastern” with her smoke.

I was going back towards the bows, when suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man I had seen on Prince’s Landing-Stage. He stopped on seeing me, and held out his hand, which I warmly shook.

“You, Fabian!” I cried. “You here?”

“Even so, my dear friend.”

“I was not mistaken, then; it was really you I saw on the quay a day or two since.”

“It is most likely,” replied Fabian, “but I did not see you.”

“And you are going to America?”

“Certainly! Do you think I could spend a month’s leave better than in travelling?”

“How fortunate that you thought of making your tour in the ‘Great Eastern’!”

“It was not chance at all, my dear fellow. I read in the newspaper that you were one of the passengers; and as we have not met for some years now, I came on board, in order to make the passage with you.”

“Have you come from India?”

“Yes, by the ‘Godavery,’ which arrived at Liverpool the day before yesterday.”

“And you are travelling, Fabian?” I asked, noticing his pale, sad face.

“To divert my mind, if I can,” interrupted Captain Mac Elwin, warmly pressing my hand.

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This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (2022). A Floating City and The Blockade Runners. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/files/67829/67829-h/67829-h.htm

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