The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrantsGerstäcker, Friedrich
General
The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrants
Gerstäcker, Friedrich
Germany -- Emigration and immigration -- Fiction; Immigrants -- Fiction
Several of the passengers had zealously studied English aboard ship; the
tailor had been particularly industrious in this respect, and he now
determined to make a trial of his acquirements, as he naturally supposed
himself to be surrounded by Englishmen, or rather by persons who spoke
nothing but English. With a face of great importance, therefore, he
walked up to the bar, and asked loudly, and, as he supposed, distinctly,
for a "A porschen hemm," (a portion or plateful of ham.)
He was taken aback very much by the simple answer of the hostess, who,
in broad German, smacking a good deal of the Swabian twang, asked him,
for Heaven's sake, to speak German, for she understood that much better
than his English.
The passengers were not a little pleased to meet with a countrywoman,
who was already in America, and the evening passed with incredible
swiftness, amidst full bowls, and good, strengthening, and long-missed
food.
Werner had remained but a short time beside them, and had gone and
seated himself on the beach, gazing dreamily out upon the wide sea that
had borne him thither. Long and steadfastly did his eye rest upon the
proud ship whose red-and-white chequered flag fluttered in the fresh
wind, resting upon the waters with sails taken in, like some wearied
bird, and only slightly rocked by the gently heaving waves. Yonder
structure contained all to which his heart was attached, and he felt
almost impelled to swim across and climb up its side in infinite
longing.
He still sat there when deep night had sunk upon the misty expanse of
waters, and the hull of the ship and the water on which it rested
disappeared in the dull darkness; the sharp line of the masts alone
stood out in relief against the lighter horizon, in which many a
friendly star glanced through the driving clouds, when he thought that
he heard something move in the bushes behind him--he looked round, he
listened--all was quiet--only the lights shone from out the not distant
houses, and human voices sounded from them over towards him.
He arose; it began to grow cool; the night air was damp; he cast but
another glance towards the peaceful ship, from whose cabin also a light
now shone out, and turned towards the neighbouring inn, when two dark
figures rushed upon him, and at the same instant a blow from a stick,
narrowly missing his temples, at which it was aimed, descended upon him.
"Help!" cried he, seizing one of his aggressors, who he now saw were
negroes, by the throat; but a second better directed blow descended with
fearful force upon his forehead, protected only by a thin cap; his
senses left him, and he sank down unconscious.
How long he might have lain there he knew not; when he came to himself
again he found himself in the midst of his travelling companions in the
Quarantine-house, and the poor girl whom he had healed, and the woman
whose child he had saved, supporting his head and bathing his wounds.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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