1. Across the Ocean (Cont.)

Both sermons were equally interesting and edifying, but of the two preachers their personalities were more interesting to me in the case of the latter. He is a characteristic type of an American preacher. He is extraordinarily sociable, was the first to become acquainted with everyone, an interesting conversationalist, and from the first days became the soul of the entire company. In one of the western cities in America, he has a parish where he serves as pastor and preacher. Now he was setting off for summer rest in Europe, and his parish took upon itself all his travel expenses. By his clothing and appearance, he differed not at all from other passengers, but at the same time he made clear from the first day to all that he was a preacher. Preaching is not only his profession but his very soul. Without preaching he cannot live at all and literally fulfills the apostle’s commandment: “Preach in season and out of season.” Besides Sundays, he also gathered passengers on weekdays in the dining hall and spoke sermons to them with remarkable skill at arousing their interest. Once, dense fog covered the entire ocean; the ship constantly sounded whistles out of fear of collision with some oncoming vessel; passengers out of boredom gathered in the dining hall and drank beer. The preacher appeared in their company, himself offered those present glasses of beer, and just as the Germans clinked glasses to his health, he pulled out his notebook and offered them an edifying lecture. After his beer, it was clearly necessary to listen to his lecture as well, and the Germans indeed became attentive listeners. Only one German, more drunk than the rest, clearly could not concentrate his attention on the edification and took advantage of every ship whistle to punctuate it with an appropriate sound. But the preacher struck the table so forcefully with his fist that the inattentive German was put to shame and quieted down. I found this original scene very interesting. The American preacher not only preached “out of season” according to the apostle’s commandment, but was also able to “exhort and rebuke” with authority.

Two days after Sunday, a blue strip appeared on the eastern edge of the watery circle, which the passengers greeted with joyful cries: “Land, land!” It was the shore of England, the outpost of the Old World. A few more hours, and the ship was passing along the shore itself, which jutted into the ocean as a sharp cliff. On the cliff rose a grandiose building of the transatlantic telegraph, by means of which news was at once sent to New York of the ship’s safe arrival. Two days’ journey remained to Bremen, and according to sailors’ account, this route through the English Channel and the German Sea, due to underwater rocks and shallows, is far more dangerous than the entire ocean crossing. But at the sight of land it was somehow difficult to believe this. Along the way, now a French shore appeared, now an English one, and the variety of ships and steamers, which in great number cut through the water in all directions, inspired a sense of confidence and safety. On June 23, exactly after twelve days of sailing, the ship entered the turbid mouth of the Weser River, cast anchor, and river steamers took the passengers for conveyance to shore.

Joyful as it was to set foot on land, at the same time it was somehow sad to part with the ship. When, as the steamer pulled away, the ship’s orchestra played one final farewell march and the entire crew waved handkerchiefs and hats in farewell, many involuntarily felt tears, and all passengers gave a last rousing cheer to the valiant crew. On shore, the passengers were met by a multitude of friends and relatives, and expressions of joyful reunion were endless. But amid the universal rejoicing, like a terrible phantom of death, stood one white-haired old man. Despair, horror, and boundless grief had twisted his features, and with terrible wandering eyes he gazed at all the arriving passengers. At first he seemed to understand nothing, but then the abyss of his terrible grief opened before his consciousness with all its awful clarity, and he struck against the brick wall of the station and wept like a child. This was the unfortunate father of the unhappy girl who had thrown herself from the ship into the abyss of the ocean. Before leaving America, she had informed him by telegram that she was leaving for Europe and asked him to come meet her at the dock. The old man joyfully came to meet his only daughter, but instead met only boundless grief, which undoubtedly will bring him closer to the grave.

Meanwhile the train whistled and carried the passengers into the city of Bremen itself, situated about thirty versts from the dock, and in this rich and luxurious member of the ancient Hanseatic League, the passengers of the “Danube” parted from one another—perhaps forever. For some, however, the chance acquaintance on the ship led to the closest bond that will link them for life: a young man won the hand of a young female passenger during the voyage, and in Bremen it was decided to have the wedding.