As the incidents related herein took place during voyages between England andAmerica, I dedicate this book to the Vagabond Club of London, and theWitenagemote Club of Detroit, in the hope that, if any one charges me withtelling a previously told tale, the fifty members of each club will rise as oneman and testify that they were called upon to endure the story in question frommy own lips prior to the alleged original appearance of the same.
R. B.
Mr. George Morris stood with his arms folded on the bulwarks of the steamshipCity of Buffalo, and gazed down into the water. All around him was thebustle and hurry of passengers embarking, with friends bidding good-bye. Amongthe throng, here and there, the hardworking men of the steamer were gettingthings in order for the coming voyage. Trunks were piled up in great heapsready to be lowered into the hold; portmanteaux, satchels, and hand-bags, withtags tied to them, were placed in a row waiting to be claimed by thepassengers, or taken down into the state-rooms. To all this bustle andconfusion George Morris paid no heed. He was thinking deeply, and his thoughtsdid not seem to be very pleasant. There was nobody to see him off, and he hadevidently very little interest in either those who were going or those who werestaying behind. Other passengers who had no friends to bid them farewellappeared to take a lively interest in watching the hurry and scurry, and inpicking out the voyagers from those who came merely to say good-bye.
At last the rapid ringing of a bell warned all lingerers that the time for thefinal parting had come. There were final hand-shakings, many embraces, and nota few tears, while men in uniform with stentorian voices cried, “All ashore.”The second clanging of the bell, and the preparations for pulling up thegang-planks hurried the laggards to the pier. After the third ringing thegang-plank was hauled away, the inevitable last man sprang to the wharf, theequally inevitable last passenger, who had just dashed up in a cab, flung hisvalises to the steward, was helped on board the ship, and then began the lowpulsating stroke, like the beating of a heart, that would not cease until thevessel had sighted land on the other side. George Morris’s eyes were