Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 65, No. 403, May, 1849Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 65, No. 403, May, 1849
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
All dogs can swim, but only water-dogs have the foot webbed and the
hair shaggy. The Englishman is the only one you can thoroughly salt,
and make all his bread biscuit, so that he can both be a boy at fifty,
and yet chew all the hardships of experience without getting conscious
of his wisdom.
So I reflected, at any rate, half joke, half earnest, while hastening
to the Liverpool steamer, which lay broadside to the quay, and,
betwixt letting off steam and getting it up, was blowing like a mighty
whale come up to breathe. The passengers were streaming up the plank,
across by her paddle-boxes, as it were so many Jonahs going into its
belly; amongst whom I was glad to see my nautical friends taking a
shorter cut to the steerage, and establishing themselves with a sort
of half-at-home expression in their sunburnt weatherly faces. In a
little while the "City of Glasgow" was swimming out of the firth, with
short quick blows of her huge fins, that grew into longer and longer
strokes as they revolved in the swells of the sea; the jib was set out
over her sharp nose to steady her, and the column of smoke from her
funnel, blown out by the wind, was left, in her speed, upon the
larboard quarter, to compare its dark-brown shadow with the white
furrow behind. At the beginning of the long summer evening the round
moon rose, white and beautiful, opposite the blue peaks of Arran,
shining with sunset. By that time the steamer's crowded and lumbered
decks had got somewhat settled into order; the splash of the paddles,
and the clank of the engine, leaping up and down at the window of its
house, kept up a kind of quiet, by contrast, in spite of the
different noises going on around. Amongst such, a nuisance apparently
inseparable from and peculiar to steamboats, is a blind fiddler, whose
everlasting infernal scrape, squeaking away on the foredeck, one
cannot help blending with the thump and shudder of those emetic
machines on a large scale, and considering it not the least element in
producing the disagreeable phenomena so well known on board of them.
One of these said floating musicians, who thus wander probably in
imitation of Arion, and in revenge for his fate, was now performing to
the groups near the paddle-boxes. Beyond them, however, by the
steamer's patent iron windlass, there was a quiet space at the bow,
where, in a short time, I perceived the figures of the sailors
relieved against the brisk sea-view above the insignificant bowsprit.
I went forward out of the privileged regions to smoke a cigar, and
found the two elder ones sitting over the windlass in conversation
with another seafaring passenger, evidently less thoroughbred,
however. The rest were walking backwards and forwards to a side, with
the quick rolling walk, limited in extent, so characteristic of the
genus _nauta_--the negro turning his head now and then to grin as he
heard the music, but otherwise above mixing in the rabble of already
disconsolate-looking people behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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