USA > Wisconsin > Rock County > Beloit > Past made present : the first fifty years of the First Presbyterian Church and congregation of Beloit, Wisconsin together with a history of Presbyterianism in our state up to the year 1900 > Part 18
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28
With unanimous approval this was named Camp Enjoyment. Guards were appointed to pay our guests proper attention and keep fire all night, the rest retired to somewhat chilly slumbers.
Tuesday, 18th. Wind N. Our morning meal enjoyed, Wat. tries fish- ing and gains a two-pound success. Port., to whom the constant neatness of our boat is mainly due, washes the Gypsy. Ed. P. and Art., now skilled professors of camping and voyaging, soon have the tent down and baggage packed in the Rover. "Where are our visitors?" "Gone !" "Where is our tomahawk ?" Also gone! In the club photograph, however, it remains, stuck in the mast. (See page 210. )
"All aboard ! Cast off ! ! Pull on that stroke oar !" is shouted. Main- sail and jib are both spread to the light, favorable breeze. "Starboard, two points ! " cries the pilot, and we glide smoothly and swiftly on our way. In order to give an equal division of the labor and pleasures of navigating, all occupy in succession each working positions, viz .:
(1) As acting pilot stand on deck before the mast, to watch for snags, find the channel and give directions for steering. (2) Manage the jib lines. (3) Pull bow oar. (4) Hold main sheet and manage the mainsail. (5) Work the boat pump. (6) Steer, with oar or rudder, as the water is shal- low or deep. (7) Hold a gun, for passing game. (8) Rest. (9) Pull stroke oar. Much of the time positions 2, 4, 5 and 7 are like ideal government sinecures, affording plenty of enjoyment with nothing to do but to whittle and advise the pilot or captain. When, however, P., as pilot, cries out, " Larboard, seventeen hands and a half?" or, "Starboard, one quart !" (instead of "two pints") we all ignore the inaccuracy and rejoice rather in our legitimate freedom.
Sailing by Waupaton, on our right and alongside the C. D. & Minn. R. R., which here follows the bank, under high, wooded bluffs, at noon we made Spechts Ferry, a town of four buildings and the boat, J. M. McCoy,
218
3 P. M. found us striking sail in a wider channel, under the bold bluff near Dubuque, called Eagle Point. Against adverse winds and waves, rowing down to the dockyard became almost hard work, but there we made sail again. Slowly beating up into the wind by successive tacks, at 6 P. M. the Gypsy rounded a long point, towards the east and we landed near a quarry, about a mile north of Dunleith. Steward and Art. immediately started after supplies for a famishing crew. Our tent was set up " on a stern and rock- bound coast," abounding only in lime-stone fossils and driftwood. Did our Pilgrinı Fathers, after fasting since 8 A. M .. ever walk a mile along a rocky shore, vainly fish half an hour in the dusk off a log raft, and then hear an old Dutch fisherman say, "There ain't no fish in this cove?" B. thinks they did not. He did. Art. was long (gone) and time was fleeting. But our mild endurance of delay was embalmed in the name, Camp Patience. And when at 8 P. M. the supplies and supper time arrived, that patience individually secured its own full reward.
Wednesday, 19th. Wind S. Our last whole day, together, saw us off at 8 A. M. Passing on our left the dangerous sirens and a cave (not that of Aeolus), with mast up we swept under the fine Illinois Central R. R. bridge and rowed across to the Iowa shore. Dubuque, with its graceful steeples, solid brick blocks, long stairways, and houses clinging to terraced hillsides, lay before us and was duly visited. (No time for calls, Lewis. )
On our way again, having smoothed the row-locks with fresh grapes, at noon of this bright day we made Fever river, in the best of health and good spirits. That peaceful afternoon sky was filled with fleecy clouds, and the smoothly flowing river reflected them so perfectly that we seemed floating between two heavens.
6 P. M. finds the Gypsy at Belleview, a place of 1,500 inhabitants. "It is twenty-five miles to Savannah," says Captain R., "and we want to take the morning train to-morrow. Shall we camp or keep on?" Onward, by all means! The night is still and mild, and a rising moon promises to light our way. After a frugal supper on board, we push off, inconsistently sing- ing, " Pull for the shore," and enter upon the new experience of a night voyage. Chaplain B. was kindly favored with a comfortable place in the Rover, towed astern, and the rest kept watch and watch in the Gypsy. Cool night air drove us to our blankets and the steadily flowing river lulled us to sleep. When late at night the first company of four was relieved, if some one did not sing, "Larboard watch ! ahoy !" B. must have dreamed it.
Excepting a few brief stops on shoals, all went well until the witching hour of midnight. Captain R. was sitting on deck looking out far ahead through the fairy moonlight for snags and bars, dreamily thinking-he knows what, when suddenly the boat struck an unseen snag and our gallant Captain made a fine leap into the water, after-perhaps he doesn't know what. Was it after reflection? W R. affects to have had a rather dry plunge on the whole, but the patience with which he quietly turned and turned, like a Persian devotee, before the fire that night, his friends should not mention or his enemies know.
Having learned from passing raftsmen that Savannah was only two miles below, at 2:30 A. M. we drew to the right bank, built a roaring fire and rolled up in our blankets on the sandy shore. Under a starlit sky and with the " never sleeping One " to watch over us, all slept in peace.
219
Thursday, Sept. 20th, 1877. With the first light of dawn all arose to a meagre toilet and an ample breakfast, our last Gypsy meal. This conclud- ing camp was significantly named ." Farewell."
When at 8:30 we launched from shore, the "Silas Wright " was just passing with a large lumber raft. By permission of Capt. Turner and the courteous pilot, J. S. Walker, our Gypsy was fastened on and we leisurely dismantled. "We had already heard about you," said Mr. W. "My rafts- men told me last night that they passed a company of gentlemen coming down. 'Knew them by the way they said 'Thank you, thank you !'" On so slender a reputation we did not attempt to float any farther than opposite the great elevator at Savannah, where we cast off with expressions of mutual good will. Ran the Gypsy and the Rover to shore at a landing near the depot, with more than an hour to spare before our 11:40 A. M. train. By means of three extra men and a couple of dollies, or rollers, the Gypsy was drawn out of the water, up the steep bank and upon the platform. There she lies before me, ready to be shipped with the Rover to Beloit. The cruise of the Gypsy is now ended. " Farewell, lifeless friend. You shall live at least in our memory, and, perhaps, yet again bear us on some equally pleasant voyage."
Without any serious accident, mistake or personal differences, we had finished one of life's most enjoyable experiences, and were now to separate. All took a cool drink out of the Chaplain's completed cup and then-did we form a sentimental circle and chokingly promise undying remembrance ? Not at all ! When the train arrived we looked in each other's tanned faces with mutual respect, gave a hearty right hand of fellowship, and said as we say to you, kind reader,
"GOOD BYE."
220
The Journal of a Voyage from new York to California,
WHICH BEGAN FEB. 1ST, AND ENDED AT SAN FRANCISCO, MARCH 19TH, 1861. Written on the way by Mrs. J. S. Twist, formerly Miss Julia S. Peck. (See page 49.)
JULIA S. TWIST.
Friday evening, Feb. 1st. Safe on board- the ship Ariel. At a quarter before 12 the gong sounded, and above the tumultuous din the stentorian voice of a darkey was heard crying out, "In fifteen minutes, all aboard for San Francisco!" The rope is thrown off. Three cheers arise from the crowd on the pier, and as we sail from port waving hats and handkerchiefs are seen. Farewell, New York, with your dirty streets, insolent porters, miserable beggars and des- picable steamboat agents. A home on the broad Atlantic is far preferable to a day's sojourn in your midst.
The passengers are mostly in high glee. Occasionally one retires to a corner of the cabin looking sad and by an audible sigh reveals a troubled heart. At five the gong sounded for supper. A general rush is made for the table. Having had no dinner, all have good appetites. The one who has the most teeth, the largest mouth and the longest arm stands the best chance. Our room contains three berths and I select the upper one, always preferring to live on the top shelf.
Saturday, Feb. 2d, 1861. On awaking this morning found myself hard- ly able to keep my berth. The boat tosses like a cork. on the waves. I climb down and find my companion unable to rise, her children both sick. What a scene in the cabin ! The heaving of the ship and of the passengers is extremely sickening. The gong sounds for breakfast. A few gentlemen go reeling towards the dining room. I stood and watched their journey for a moment and then commenced the crooked march myself. The Captain laughs as I enter and says, "I am glad to see one lady out." There are no gluttons now. All eat with indifference. They have as much as they can do to hold on to their seats and their plates, and get their forks into their mouths and not into their eyes. The cabin also has a gloomy aspect, and the stewardess is being hailed from almost every room. One wants a cup of tea, another a bowl of water, yet another the basin, while a fourth cries, "Send the doctor to No. 26, quick !" The cabin maid and myself are continually trotting to the dining saloon for water. Being the only women who can perform this feat we have lively times. As I pass through the cabin one and another asks, "How long have you traveled the seas?" Many a one calls out to me, "Say, stewardess, bring me some water." I step up on deck for a few moments to get some fresh air, and the scene presented is grand. The waves roll high. For one instant you are on the crest, seem- ingly between the heavens and the sea, gazing into blue depths below ; the next you are in the trough, spray dashes at your feet and you catch some of the wave in your hand as it comes foaming angrily towards you. The air
221
is mild and soft like a Wisconsin April ; the weather very cloudy and rainy. Weare now nearing Cape Hatteras, and for the next twenty-four hours must expect a rough sea.
Returning to my patients, I find Mrs. Quince quite sick and suffering also from the blues, and have endeavored to comfort her with the assurance that ocean and stomach will be at rest tomorrow. I am thankful for the ability to wait on her and the children.
Sunday, Feb. 3d, 1861. Passed a restless night on account of its being so rough that I had to hold on with might and main in order to prevent being thrown from my berth. The waves strike our boat with repeated shocks, like the blows of some great giant. Occasionally a wave sweeps the upper deck. In the next stateroom a lady falls from her berth, and I can only hope that she is not injured. Before daylight Mrs. Q. called out in an agonized tone, "Quick, Julia, my child is dying." Springing from my berth I found the little one in spasms, and ran for the doctor, who came and prescribed for the child and relieved it.
In the morning the rain continued but the sea grew calmer. I went to breakfast, as before, the only lady at table. Our bill of fare is inviting, but there are few to enjoy it. The captain says, "I think you are a brave woman, and deserve a premium." My reply was that after paying $200.00 I could not afford to lose my meals.
The weather is much warmer, and Mrs. Q. is able to sit by the window of our room. Last Sabbath I was riding between huge snow-banks, closely enveloped in a buffalo robe, while today I sit on deck without bonnet or shawl. Two boys are standing near, barefooted, with mops in hand, to dry the deck. This evening the stars are shining like specks of fire on the water.
Monday, Feb. 4th, 1861. This morning, was awakened again by Mrs. Q. Her baby boy was in another fit, but one of short duration. The doctor says he is cutting teeth and that we need not be alarmed.
Again the day is rainy and the sea rough. Most of the passengers are getting out, but they look pale and sick. We were called to the purser's office today to receive our meal tickets. To prevent confusion each seat is num- bered. The first bell is for second-cabin passengers, the next for nurses and children, and the third for first-cabin. On the table is found everything in the line of eatables, and there are darkies in abundance to wait on us.
Today straw hats and summer clothes are seen on deck. At noon the sun shone out warm and pleasant. Soon, however, rain descended in tor- rents and we were obliged to return to the cabin. Thus far we have had strong head winds.
There are seventy passengers in the first-cabin, about twenty of them children. These have all been sick, but judging by the noise today, I think they must be getting better.
Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 1861. There is bright sunshine and a calm sea. Instead of white-capped waves, acres of seaweed float by, and occasionally a gull breaks the monotony of the scene. Men are gathered in little com- panies, and the subject of discussion is Secession. Apples, oranges and lemons on board are five cents each. The weather grows warmer. Trunks must be opened and thin dresses brought out.
Our boat is not the largest on the line but is a well-built, substantial
222
side-wheel steamer, and makes good headway, heeding "nor wind nor wave." On the "Ariel's" broad decks I am perfectly at home. I can eat as much as any one, and feel as well as a fish. The sea breeze strengthens me.
Wednesday, Feb. 6th, 1861. Weather still warmer. Passengers all out. Sometimes a flying-fish is seen. Yesterday one visited our deck, was cap- tured, inspected and returned to his native element. It is too warm to stay in our rooms, The decks and the dining tables are crowded, and all have good appetites. Our tables are loaded with soups, whose names would puzzle a lawyer, all kinds of meats, also lobsters, clams, nuts, figs, raisins, apples and oranges. Today a slaver was seen. For the first time land appears in the distance, supposed to be one of the Bahamas. The boat makes no land- ing until we reach Aspinwall, which will be on Sunday next. One of our passengers, a young lady ill with erysipelas, is hardly expected to live until we get there. I have put on lawn dress and sun-bonnet, the pain and sore- ness in my lungs is gone entirely, and I am as contented as the proverbial clam.
We have on board a number of Spaniards, rather fine looking men, who sit quietly by themselves smoking cigarettes. Many of our company are Southerners, having their negro servants with them. Notwithstanding that fact, they require many favors of stewardess, Anna. But Miss A., like all of her class, is quite independent and will not run at every call. Mrs. Q. gave her half a dollar, and she waits on the children and on us very kindly.
Thursday, Feb. 7th, 1861. Clear, still and warm as July weather at home. Scarcely a ripple on the water. All are in high glee. Yesterday we passed so near land that, with a glass, houses were seen. We are fourteen hours behind time and may not reach Aspinwall until Monday. Some of the passengers are quite disappointed, but I shall be contented if we are out two weeks longer.
Yesterday we saw some large black fish, probably porpoises. The even- ing was beautiful, and all on deck seemed to be enjoying themselves. We begin to get acquainted with our fellow passengers. There is an old bach- elor, sandy complexion, red hair, coarse features, very polite to the ladies, and trying to be unusually sociable with our colored stewardess. She answers his questions in an off hand way, and by the toss of her head gives him to understand that she has seen fools before. Here comes a person from Massachusetts, an important appearing chap, who condescends for the pres- ent to sit on the same bench with a certain lady. He is dressed in black, excepting his blue coat, and is called by us the blue-tailed fly Presently he will walk aft, where a number of men seem eager to gain the attention of two New York ladies. These give no one the preference, but laugh and chat freely with all.
The door of the Spaniards' room is open and we venture to peep in. They are seated on the floor, while one of their number entertains the com- pany from an instrument like an accordeon, but producing much finer music. They have with them three cages of birds. In the next stateroom are a Jew and Jewess. He is a fine looking man, but she ! At the table she noses everything, being suspicious of the presence of pork, eats pudding with knife and fork, and wipes her hands and mouth on the table cloth. Near us sits a portly man from Connecticut, whom we call Fatty. He is uncomfortable in this warm climate, but very pleasant and agreeable.
223
Here comes one who judged by the lower part of his face would be thought a grizzly bear, by the upper part a sleek otter, out of his proper element.
It is evening now. Come below with me to the dining saloon. There are twenty or thirty, playing cards, some for apples, cider or champagne, and others for the dimes. Ah, here comes the stewardess, saying, "Sit down dar, honey, an' res' yeself." "Yes, Anna, but only for a moment. I left Mrs. Quince on deck and she will not know where to look for me." "Never you mine, chile. Her can 'quire ahfta you." A hand is laid on my shoulder. "Why, Julia, I have been looking in every part of the boat for you. I almost made up my mind that you had jumped overboard." "He! he! Wall I 'clar for't now. Was you scart a'most to death ? She was safe enuff with nie." So much for Anna's talk. As we go through the cabin to retire, let me merely introduce you to a French lady, Mrs. Richards, who has been to place her son at school in Paris, and is now on her way back to their home at Humbolt Bay. We have on board also a star actress, Mrs. Mowbray, returning from Europe, where she has been to settle the Mowbray estate.
Friday, Feb. 8th, 1861. Very sultry. Calm without but squally within. Last night it was so hot that the children got little rest, and so today they are peevish and cross, very naturally. Our sick girl seems prostrated by the heat, yet better. Have spent the evening on deck, the scene enlivened with plenty of music. About five o'clock we came in sight of Cuba.
As darkness came on the light of a lighthouse was plainly seen but not that part of the coast which is inhabited. We passed St. Domingo this morning and are now literally sailing in the Caribbean sea. A light, favor- able breeze sprang up this afternoon and our sails are hoisted for the first time. We have on board a horse which belongs to the Captain of the steamer on the other side (of the isthmus) and is going to San Francisco. His stall is on deck closely covered so that only the horse's head is visible. He is strongly lashed but is a fiery animal, suffers with the heat and has twice broken loose and kicked down his box.
This evening we passed the North Star, homeward bound and exchanged complimentary rockets. Our star, Mrs. Mowbray, is producing a sensation on deck. She is talented, witty, fine looking, a fascinating woman, who by her lively sallies of wit and humor makes sport for us all.
Saturday, Feb. 9th, 1861. To-day our trunks are being taken from our rooms, carried on deck, weighed and checked for crossing the isthmus. For all weight over fifty pounds we must pay ten cents per pound. Many, not knowing this, have brought three or four trunks besides chests, which cost them no small sum. My baggage weighing 75 1bs., I had only $2.50 to pay. Mrs. Quince's 140 1bs. cost her $9.00. There is dissatisfaction on all sides, and some have had to pay $30.00, $40.00, and $60.00 extra. It was a swindle from the beginning. We had to deposit two dollars with the purser in order to get a key to our room. Some think we shall not get that back but I am going for mine to-day.
Sunday evening, Feb. 10th, 1861. About two o'clock this afternoon the hills of Panama were seen in the distance. The coast is rugged and rough. But my pen cannot describe the grandeur of the scenery for the mountains reach apparently to the clouds. At 3 P. M. we enter the harbor of Aspinwall. A number of vessels are at anchor there. The town is larger
224
than I expected and from a distance the buildings look well, but on closer inspection many of these appear dilapidated. As soon as we come to land the natives rush on board, a singular race of beings and very anxious to carry your baggage for you.
We remain here until four o'clock in the morning and then the pas- sengers must all go on shore to some public house. It is said that of every ship's company who stay here over night some are sure to get the fever. But that is usually because they are imprudent about eating fruit or being out at night inhaling the miasma which rises from neighboring swamps.
The Captain has given me, with a few others, permission to stay on the steamer. We went on shore for a short time to see the curiosities and this town was indeed a sight. The streets are hard and swept clean in the mid- dle but on the sides the filth is beyond description. You see there dead dogs, cats, monkeys, parrots, fish and all sorts of carrion. Some of the native ladies are dressed gaudily while others are nearly naked and some entirely so. They stare at you, yell after you as you pass and look fright- ful in the extreme. There is a fandango to-night and people dance in the street to the music of some instrument which I can't describe. Stores are open, for they depend on the trade from steamers for their support, and linen goods are very cheap. Here we find also an abundance of oranges, limes, bananas, pine apples, cocoanuts and all the tropic fruits. The streets are shaded with cocoanut trees which are loaded with fruit. Women sit on the street corners rubbing their teeth with little bundles of roots called soap root, an excellent article it is said for cleansing the teeth and making them smooth and white. The foliage is luxuriant and flowers are in full bloom. One lady asked a man who spoke a little English, if they ever had any snow. "Do you mean ice?" "No; something like ice." "No, madam," he replied, "it does not grow here."
Monday evening, Feb. 11th, 1861. On board the steamer Uncle Sam. We left Aspinwall by the railway at 4 A. M. and reached Panama about seven o'clock. After being on the water so long the ride on the cars was much enjoyed by us all, especially when it became light enough to see the country. Most of the way was rough and mountainous, but there is such a variety of timber, shrubbery and flowers that the scenery is beautiful. The cocoanut trees and the great banana plants are the most curious of all the growths. The lime looked very showy, without leaves, but loaded with bright yellow flowers. Occasionally we passed beautiful country residences. At short intervals along the track are shanties occupied by a race of beings hardly fit to be classed as human. They are nearest to the brute creation of any I have yet seen. Their huts are made by placing posts in the ground and covering these with cocoa leaves. On the hard earth in the centre of each hut is the family fire and all sit around it. When we stopped at Gor- gona, the half way station, some of them ran out of their cabins with oranges for sale, the largest I ever saw. The R. R. track winds around between the hills like the course of a snake and we crossed a number of little streams and some as large as Rock river.
At Panama we had to walk about a mile from the cars to the small boat which conveyed us to the ship. It was amusing to see such a company of emigrants, one carrying a child and leading another, many loaded with
225
satchels, band boxes, bundles, sacks of fruit, chairs, bedding, overcoats and shawls, but all in high glee. "This is romantic," cries one, and another, "This is the overland route," while a third compares our company to the children of Israel in Exodus. The town of Panama is much larger than Aspinwall, being one of the old Spanish towns. Formerly it was an important place but now presents only a mass of old ruinous buildings.
On the Pacific, Tuesday, Feb. 12th, 1861. The weather is very warm, and the sea interspersed with islands is calm. The scenery is beautiful, for while some of the islands are small, others, covered with verdure to the water's edge, rear their lofty heads to the clouds. Some of the passengers seem very busy with their pencils, particularly Mrs. M. She is very talented, writes for two papers and is now preparing an account of her jour- ney, which is to be published in the London News. She has plenty of money and is free with it. She drinks ale every day in English style. Her account of travels in Europe is very interesting, so her society is sought for by all on board. She is quite dressy and her person is adorned with several thousand dollars worth of diamonds. From the fact that I resemble a particular friend of hers she has taken quite a fancy to me, and urges me to call upon her in California. As a rule ship acquaintances should be forgotten when we land.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.