The Journey
Atlantic
Monday, December 6th, 1847
In this gale, no vessel could have done much, so we lay all day long, & all another night, & most of the next day, head to wind, storm sails set, & the engines doing their best, but making nothing ahead. The howling of squalls through the rigging was one of the most frightful sounds I ever heard. I think our party at dinner was more jovial than usual, though the ship was tumbling about so much that although the storm tables were on we could scarcely keep anything in its place. In taking wine the only plan was to hold the bottle in one hand, fill your glass, empty it & lay it down flat, whilst you handed the bottle to your neighbour to do likewise. The dishes & plates were held fast by the ledges, but that was no security for what was in them. Soup was poured on your knees instead of your mouth, & you sometimes saw a large piece of meat sail majestically off its dish into a neighbouring plate. It was a most ridiculous thing too to see the whole of the chairs on one side of the table with their owners parting company with the table.
