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So much has been
written from time to time about the pleasures, and about the trials
to some people, of the voyage across the Atlantic, that there seems
little that is new to be said upon the subject. The embarkation at
Liverpool, the partings of friends, the starting of the big ship,
the process of settling down in one’s cabin, and the preparations
for possible disagreements with the Atlantic rollers, have
frequently been dilated upon ; and it is the same story over and
over again. After one or two trips the novelty of these things is
apt to wear off, and they are taken as matters of course; but still
there is much to interest the observant mind always. Most of the
passengers, or many of them, are strangers to one another, and for
the first few days much speculation takes place as to who’s who, the
names of the people, destinations, business, and so on; and it is
sometimes amusing to hear the stories that are circulated by
gossips—individuals always to be found on every ship.
Our vessel was the
good ship Parisian, cf the Allan Line—a favourite boat with Canadian
passengers, and we cast off from the Alexandra Dock on a sunny
afternoon in August; but, owing to the tide or some other cause, we
did not leave the Mersey until late at night. That meant curtailing
our stay at Moville, the delightful little village on Loch Foyle,
off which the Canadian mail steamers generally wait for the mails to
be brought down on a tug from the famous city of Derry. The steamer
usually stays there for five or six hours, giving the passengers an
opportunity to land, to drive on a jaunting car to Green Castle, or
wherever their fancy leads them, to buy shamrocks and Irish soil,
blackthorns, and “potheen”—a vile concoction of various kinds of
abomination purchased on the assurance that it is genuine “crathur”
manufactured at home, guaranteed not to have paid duty. As
the Parisian only reached Moville just before the arrival of the
mails, these pleasures wore not available to her passengers, and all
they could do was to buy “shillelaghs,” at prices much above their
value, and to listen to the airs of “ould Ireland,” as played by an
old fiddler who came on board.
Soon after we made
our final start from Ireland, passengers, on the deck, became less
numerous than before, and there were many vacant chairs at the
tables. The weather was not especially baa, but there was evidently
more motion going on than was comfortable to some of our friends,
and they showed that they did not appreciate it by staying in their
cabins—some of them lamenting loudly.
But these
disagreements soon came to an end, and the ship’s company was as
lively and friendly as is usually the case after two or three days
out. Such amusements as are possible on board, like quoit3 and
shuffleboard, became popular, and pools on the run of the ship were
of daily occurrence. Then, two or throe days before entering the St.
Lawrence, preparations began for the concert always held in aid of
the Liverpool Seamen’s Orphanage, and its organisation and the
special programme to be arranged when there are any artists on
board, entailed a good deal of work upon the willing few who
undertook the responsibility. Needless to say, the concert was a
great success—they always are—and a good round sum was realised for
the benefit of the orphans. On the night of our arrival at Rrimouski—a
village on the River St. Lawrence, about 180 miles from Quebec,
where the mails are landed and conveyed to all parts of Canada by
special trains—a dance was arranged, with the consent of the
captain, and the young people on board enjoyed themselves to their
hearts’ content.
One of the great
advantages of the St. Lawrence route is the fact that the last three
days of the voyage is in the comparatively smooth waters of the gulf
and river of that name. The scenery along the shores, when they can
be seen, for it must be remembered that both the Gulf and River are
of magnificent proportions, is most picturesque. Mountains and
hills, with their coverings of pine and other timber, seem to rise
almost from the water’s edge, and hero and there the pretty
French-Canadian villages form quite a feature of the landscape.
At noon the day
after leaving Rimouski we sighted grand old Quebec—the Gibraltar of
Canada. Nothing can be finer than the first sight of its ramparts
and spires on a clear day, and those who had never been to Canada
before were charmed with the view, while those of us who knew it
before were glad to see it again. Some of us landed at Quebec, and
made our way up the winding, narrow streets and stairways to the top
of the hill to see the magnificent new hotel—the Chateau Frontenao
—in the erection of which the Canadian Pacific Railway Company have
been largely instrumental. It occupies a splendid site at tho
northern end of the Dufferin Terrace, and gorgeous views are
obtained from its windows, of the river and mountain scenery of the
famous St. Lawrence. The destination of our good ship was Montreal,
180 miles still further up the river, and from the Terrace, an hour
or so after we left the wharf, we saw her on the move again for the
commercial metropolis of Canada.
Although I have
written so far of the saloon passengers on the Parisian, and can
testify as to the efficiency of the means taken to ensure their
convenience and comfort, I am able also to offer similar testimony
with regard to the second and third class passengers. The
accommodation provided for them is good, considering all the
circumstances, and they were well looked after by the captain and
the officers of the ship. |
