DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.11448#0028
a THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS. lc» *-p. »
and was thus a mere observer of the partings and departings of
the "Outward bound."
Mrs. Norton's noble song has given a definite form of poetry
to what many a rugged heart has felt that phrase imply. One
cannot look upon a hundred people, leaving their native country
for years, if not for ever, and think of it as an indifferent event-
One iaows that all these queer-looking externals of dre&tj and
feature are rude hieroglyphics, containing as deep a meaning of
exile, adventure, dangers, and self-sacrificing love, as ever agi-
tated the heart of a Tancred, a Columbus, or the pilgrim fathers,
and that's a pretty wide range. Nor are such the only cares
that distract those pea-jacketed bosoms at a time like this : many
a parting pang is shared by solicitude about a portmanteau, and
many an exile starts from a home-sick reverie—to wonder " what
the deuce they've done with his carpet-bag."
On mounting the ship's side, I found the lower deck one vast
pile of luggage, vainly endeavoring to be identified by its dis-
tracted owners. It seemed as if some village of valises and
boxes had been overthrown by an earthquake, and the surviving
inhabitants were rushing about among the ruins, vainly seeking
for their dead. No one seemed to find anything they wanted ;
cyclopean portmanteaus, " to be opened at Calcutta," presented
themselves freely; saddlery and bullock-trucks were quite ob-
trusive ; but little " indispensables" for the voyage were no-
where to be found—night garments were invisible, and remedies
for sea-sickness reserved themselves for the overland journey.
Search and suspense were soon terminated by the sinking of
the whole chaotic mass into the yawning depths of the hold, and
the tomb-like hatches closed over our " loved and lost." After
this bereavement, we all assembled on the upper-deck, in in-
voluntary and unconscious muster, each inspecting and inspected
by his fellow-travellers.
With the exception of two or three families, every one seemed
to be a stranger to every one, and each walked the deck in a
solitude of his own. There were old men, with complexions as
yellow as the gold for which they had sold their youth, returning
to India in search of the health which their native country,
longed for through life, denied them. There were young cadets,
and was thus a mere observer of the partings and departings of
the "Outward bound."
Mrs. Norton's noble song has given a definite form of poetry
to what many a rugged heart has felt that phrase imply. One
cannot look upon a hundred people, leaving their native country
for years, if not for ever, and think of it as an indifferent event-
One iaows that all these queer-looking externals of dre&tj and
feature are rude hieroglyphics, containing as deep a meaning of
exile, adventure, dangers, and self-sacrificing love, as ever agi-
tated the heart of a Tancred, a Columbus, or the pilgrim fathers,
and that's a pretty wide range. Nor are such the only cares
that distract those pea-jacketed bosoms at a time like this : many
a parting pang is shared by solicitude about a portmanteau, and
many an exile starts from a home-sick reverie—to wonder " what
the deuce they've done with his carpet-bag."
On mounting the ship's side, I found the lower deck one vast
pile of luggage, vainly endeavoring to be identified by its dis-
tracted owners. It seemed as if some village of valises and
boxes had been overthrown by an earthquake, and the surviving
inhabitants were rushing about among the ruins, vainly seeking
for their dead. No one seemed to find anything they wanted ;
cyclopean portmanteaus, " to be opened at Calcutta," presented
themselves freely; saddlery and bullock-trucks were quite ob-
trusive ; but little " indispensables" for the voyage were no-
where to be found—night garments were invisible, and remedies
for sea-sickness reserved themselves for the overland journey.
Search and suspense were soon terminated by the sinking of
the whole chaotic mass into the yawning depths of the hold, and
the tomb-like hatches closed over our " loved and lost." After
this bereavement, we all assembled on the upper-deck, in in-
voluntary and unconscious muster, each inspecting and inspected
by his fellow-travellers.
With the exception of two or three families, every one seemed
to be a stranger to every one, and each walked the deck in a
solitude of his own. There were old men, with complexions as
yellow as the gold for which they had sold their youth, returning
to India in search of the health which their native country,
longed for through life, denied them. There were young cadets,