Enos Christman, his friend Atkins and most of the other 50 passengers aboard the Europe suffered from seasickness through the first two months of the voyage. After passing the equator on Aug. 31, boredom set in, followed by peril. Following are a few snippets from Christman's journal:
Sept. 9 - There is nothing to be seen from one end to the other but a dreary waste of blue sky above the rolling water below... But notwithstanding all that has been said of its charms, its novelty is now over and it hath no charms any longer for me. It is nearly 10 weeks since we left port. Truly a long time to see nothing but sky and water and our own good ship, and yet it will be a long while again before we reach port...
Sept. 30 - Deep, low mutterings usually ensue after meals, and not without cause, as this is an almost intolerable place as far as table luxuries are concerned. Our bread now contains worms half an inch in length, and is a little musty, and our duff is very badly cooked, not better than mere dough heated. Complaint was made to the Captain and he gave us directions to flog the cook next time it came to us in such a manner. I shall go to bed supperless. I have been much below par and in bed the greater part of the day.
Oct. 21 - A tremendous wave struck the vessel Tuesday morning, covering the deck with several feet of water and rolling some of the passengers from side to side, ducking them most thoroughly. The same wave rolled a volume of water down the hatchway, covering the greater part of our cabin with three to six inches, which floated some of the trunks about and wet some of their contents… Friday morning the startling announcement was made that on account of this continual tossing about by the storms and waves, we had unexpectedly lost about 1,400 gallons of water out of a large square iron tank and as a consequence, the passengers would be allowed but one quart per day for all purposes...
Dec. 19 - Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Sterling's little boy met with a slight fall, and in the evening he was seized with a severe fit... About 11 o'clock this forenoon the child died. This afternoon his body was sewed up in a piece of canvas, with three cannon balls at the feet to make it sink, and then placed on a plank with the American flag around it… and his mortal remains were cast into the ocean.
Jan. 12 - While lying in the harbor in Valparaiso (Chile) we were almost devoured by fleas, but we were not troubled long after we left. Since then a new scourge has been sent to trouble us. For a few weeks past some have been unable to sleep on account of something biting and creeping over them. Upon search they found their bunks to be infested with bedbugs of monstrous growth and great numbers...
Feb. 7 - About nine o'clock the joyful cry of "Land, ho!" was heard and by going aloft to the fore-topsail guard, I was able to see the dim outline of several ridges of land. At the first sight of the land of promise, oh how my heart leaped with joy!
But for Enos and his friend, their greater hardship was only just beginning.
1 comment:
And I thought staying at a Motel 6 was roughing it. Although I do seem to remember once being stuffed into a sack with cannon balls during a drunken party at Dutch Fork Lake. Those madcap friends of mine!
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