Travels Through North America, v. 1-2

Travels Through North America, v. 1-2

Berhard Saxe-Weimar Eisenach

5.0
Comment(s)
1
View
28
Chapters

Travels Through North America, v. 1-2 by Berhard Saxe-Weimar Eisenach

Chapter 1 No.1

Departure from Ghent.-Sojourn at Hellevoetsluis-Arrival at Spithead.

On the 4th of April, 1825, I set out from Ghent for Antwerp. This ancient and noble city is in every point of view interesting; to the admirers of the fine arts, on account of the unique treasures she possesses; to the military observer for her long defence against the army of the Duke of Parma, and for her military and maritime importance obtained in modern times through him who long guided the destiny of Europe; and to the philanthropist, who derives satisfaction from the increasing prosperity of mankind, for numerous reasons. Long the victim of politics and the jealousy of her neighbours, which kept the mighty Scheld, the harbour of Antwerp, blockaded, she now powerfully lifts her head above her rivals, and her commerce, nearly as flourishing as under the Hanseatic league, is annually becoming more extensive, thanks to the foresight of the wise prince whom Providence has placed at the head of our country's government.

A government yacht received us at Antwerp, and with a fair wind and most delightful spring weather, conveyed us, by the evening of the 6th of April, to the road of Hellevoetsluis, where the corvette Pallas was lying at anchor, which had orders to sail on the following day. The first part of the voyage to Hellevoetsluis is down the Scheld; the beautiful steeple of the cathedral of Antwerp long remains in sight; the forts on both shores attract the attention of military men, and perhaps remind them of the remains of the great bridge between forts St. Mary and St. Philip, by which Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma, crossed the stream and forced the city to surrender.

At an hour's sail below Antwerp, the Scheld forms a large basin, and divides into two arms the East and West Scheld, which are separated by the island of Zuid-Beveland. The West Scheld is the deepest, and flows into the North Sea: we sailed on the eastern branch to the place of our destination.

A century ago South Beveland was well cultivated, and contained a town and numerous villages: it was swallowed up by the water, and still remains overflowed. It may be reserved for the creative spirit peculiar to our existing government and its illustrious chief, to give employment to the plough of the industrious farmer on the spot where at present the poor fisherman protracts a wretched existence.

We afterwards left the East Scheld, and sailed past several well cultivated islands, protected against the violence of the stormy waves by artificial dams. We entered upon the stream formed by the confluence of the Maas and Rhine, and advanced immediately to Hellevoetsluis, whence in former times the victorious fleets of Holland frequently sailed to the remotest parts of the world, and dictated terms to her enemies. The ships which convey the treasures of the tropical regions to the rich city of Rotterdam, or carry the products of our own industry, as well as the defenders of our extensive possessions, are often obliged, by contrary winds, to remain here for various periods. Hence Hellevoetsluis is generally very lively.

The corvette Pallas, in which our government permitted me to sail for America, was a new vessel, fitted out as an instruction ship. A selection of young naval officers was made for this voyage, as midshipmen. To these were added a young naval architect named Tromp, a worthy descendant of historically renowned ancestors, whose deep knowledge, distinguished talents, and estimable character, I became acquainted with and cherished in the course of the voyage. These selected officers were entrusted to the direction of Captain Ryk, one of our most approved commanders,I.1 who had orders to visit some of the principal English and American naval dep?ts, in order to acquire whatever knowledge might best promote the interests of his country. On this account the corvette was fitted out rather as a packet ship than a man of war. She had no long guns on deck, except two long sixes in the bows as chase guns; her battery consisted of eighteen twenty-four pound carronades. I was established in the captain's cabin, and a swinging cot was suspended at night for my sleeping place.

In consequence of contrary winds and other causes which it is needless to mention, the corvette could not sail as quickly as ordered. In the mean time I stayed at Hellevoetsluis, and employed my forced leisure in examining this small town and its vicinity.

Hellevoetsluis contains upwards of two thousand inhabitants, among whom there is scarcely a poor one to be found. The town properly consists of but one street, on both sides of the harbour, having walled quays, and united by a double drawbridge, built two years ago. Where the town terminates, the dock-yard commences, which contains most of the fortifications. Near the dock-yard are the barracks, which can, if necessary, contain two thousand men. The frigate Rhine lay in harbour as guard-ship. There was one ship repairing in the dock, none building. For the purpose of repairing there is, behind the basin of the dock-yard, a dry, terrace-shaped, walled basin, or dry dock, large enough for a ship. When the ship is brought into this dock, the gates are closed, and the water pumped out by a steam machine of thirty horse-power. This being done, the ship is dry, and may be examined on all sides. When the repairs are completed, the gates are again opened, the water admitted, and the ship floated out. A boat-gate is better adapted to this purpose: a boat-gate consists of a box which exactly enters the canal leading to the dry dock: when brought to the place where it is to be used, a quantity of water is admitted sufficient to sink it to the level of the shores, and then it forms a bridge. When it is necessary to open the gate, the water is pumped out, and the box is withdrawn from the canal. The frigate Kenau Hasselaar was in the basin getting ready for sea, and with the crew of the guard-ship under command of Captain Dibbetz, she was to sail for the East Indies. The frigates Scheld, Maas, Yssel, and Java, with the brig Havic, and about twenty gun-boats, were laid up in ordinary. One of the gun-boats was built after a Danish model, which allows the upper part of the rudder to be taken down and two ports to be opened, by which the stern can be used in battery. The magazines and smithies are not large, but are kept in very neat order.

The admiralty have a very large building here which is used as the residence of the marine commander in chief. From a belvidere of this house there is a fine view of the harbour and surrounding country. In the former, the frigate Amstel, corvette Pallas, brig De Gier, and transport-ship Zeemeeuw rode at anchor, the two latter bound to the Mediterranean. In the dock-yard we remarked a very large mast-crane, which may be seen far at sea, and serves mariners as a landmark. There is also a light-house upon one of the two dams which secure the harbour, also built two years ago.

[From the 11th to the 25th of April, contrary winds detained the corvette at Hellevoetsluis, during which time an excursion was made to Goedereede, Stellendam, &c. After various changes of winds, and a storm while lying at anchor, nothing of interest occurred until four P. M. of the 25th, when the ship weighed anchor and stood out to sea.]

Fair wind and good weather continued until the forenoon of the 27th. About four o'clock we saw the English coast, being the North Foreland, not far from Margate. Here we were obliged to steer to the left to enter the Channel, in order to reach Portsmouth and avoid the dangerous Goodwin Sands. At the same time the barometer had fallen, the air was thick and rainy, and a disagreeable south-west wind began to blow. The passage between these sand-banks was by no means pleasant; the wind was quite boisterous and almost stormy; we lost all hope of reaching the Channel during this day, and were forced to be content with beating about in our perilous situation. The motion of the ship became very vehement towards evening, and I became sea-sick; it was not so bad while I remained motionless in my cot. During the night the ship was in a very dangerous situation, and Captain Ryk remained all the time on deck. The lead was regularly thrown during the night. In attempting to get into my cot, which was very much inclined, and the ship giving a heavy lurch at the same time, I received a heavy fall on my head, which, however, was not productive of much injury. On the morning of the 28th the wind was somewhat lighter, and we discovered that during the night we had been in a situation of extreme danger, and had reason to be thankful to the great Creator for our safety. The weather gradually cleared up, and we enjoyed with great satisfaction the noble prospect of the English coast. Immediately ahead lay Margate with the southern shore of the Thames; farther to the left, Ramsgate, and still farther, Deal. We were moreover surrounded by shipping, and in the Downs we saw the English ship of the line, Ramilies, which cruised this year on this station, lying at anchor.

The wind was now westerly, and our commander having no wish to pass another night as dangerously as the preceding, resolved to cast anchor in the Downs. This determination led me to think of landing at Deal, going to London for a day, and then returning to Portsmouth. In the course of the day, however, an east wind sprung up, which changed all our resolutions. We passed the cape of South Foreland, and entered the Channel prosperously, where we saw the high chalk rock between Deal and Dover, with several castles, and Dover itself, with its ancient and strong castle, near the ruins, &c. We were also delighted with a beautiful view of the French coast, the white rocks of which were illumined by the sun. The wind, as we passed by Dover, was very light, the current was against us, and during the night it rained and blew. The anchor was consequently dropped, and we remained off Dover till one o'clock the following day. In the mean time the weather improved, though the wind continued to be very slight and unfavourable. I embraced this opportunity to visit Dover, in company with Captain Ryk, his nephew, and Mr. Tromp. We breakfasted at Wright's hotel, in which, eighteen months before I had stayed with my family, and at that time took a walk to the fortified camp, that lies westwardly from the town, on an important height. To this place we ascended by stairs cut about twenty years ago. A subterranean passage leads from the town to the foot of these stairs. For a supply of water a well was dug through the rock to the depth of about two hundred feet, and to this well three stairs were cut of two hundred and sixty-eight steps each. These stairways are wide enough to allow two men to walk conveniently abreast. They terminate in a funnel-shaped excavation, whence a stone staircase leads towards four terrace-shaped barracks, built one above the other. Somewhat higher is a pentagonal redoubt, also employed as a barrack, in which at this time a detachment of artillery, the only garrison of Dover was quartered. The redoubt forms the right wing of the position. From this point an irregular line of masonry, partly hewed out of the rock, runs to the left wing, where there is an oblong quadrangular fort. In front of this fort is a tolerably deep valley, through which the London road passes. We were delighted with the view of this beautiful vale and the fresh green of the turf. Messrs. Tromp and Ryk made a sketch of the rocks and mountains, which would make a strong impression upon one who had not beheld them, even upon me who am familiar with their appearance, it produced a very agreeable feeling. From the left wing a line runs en crémaillère, beside which, at an entering angle, a casemated magazine is placed near a small fort that defends the harbour. From this line a door opens towards the high rock called Shakspeare's Cliff, which we had not leisure to visit. The masonry of the fortification is of brick, with a half revêtement. The rock is throughout chalk, containing flint. These flints are much employed in paving roads and streets, to the great injury of the hoofs of horses; some houses in Dover are also built of them. We turned back again towards the corvette, highly gratified with our excursion. We saw two steam-boats arrive at Dover, one from Calais and the other from Boulogne. A water spout was pointed out to me at a distance. At one o'clock the wind began to blow fair, the anchor was weighed, and we stood onwards with fine weather, delighted with the continuous view of the English coast.

On the 30th of April with a fresh wind we made the eastern point of the Isle of Wight, where we hoisted a flag, and fired a gun for a pilot, who did not come on board immediately. We sailed cautiously onwards, came in sight of Portsmouth, and neared St. Helen's point, Isle of Wight. The pilot then came on board, and steered us into Spithead road, off Portsmouth. This town, in which I was so much pleased two years before, has a very handsome appearance. Several ships of the line were lying in the harbour, among which was the Victory, on board of which Lord Nelson was killed. When we saw the admiral's flag floating from her mainmast head, we saluted her with seventeen guns, which she returned with thirteen. We anchored in the road where we found two English corvettes, an East India company's ship, and a Portuguese frigate, which had brought the Portuguese ambassador, the Marquis Palmella, to England.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

Ray Nhedicta
4.7

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

Nap Regazzini
5.0

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.5

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book