Part 9 (1/2)
Approaching Queenstown, the green forests and fields and little white homes of fishermen and farmers are visible along the receding sh.o.r.e.
Roach's Point, four miles from Queenstown is reached, where the mails are landed and received, if the weather is bad, but Captain Morgan decided to steam into Queenstown Harbor, one of the finest bays in the world, being a sheltered basin of ten square miles, and the entrance strongly fortified. Within the harbor are several islands occupied by barracks, ordnance and convict depots, and powder magazines. This deep and capacious harbor can float the navies of the world. In beauty it compares favorably with the Bay of Naples.
Cove, or Queenstown, as Cove is called, since the visit of Queen Victoria in 1849, has a population of less than ten thousand. It is situated on the terraced and sheltered south side of Great Island. Here for his health came Rev. Charles Wolfe, author of ”Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note.”
In the amphitheatre-shaped town on parallel streets rise tiers of white stone houses, relieved by spire and tower. On neighboring highest hills are old castles, forts, and a tall white lighthouse.
One or more of Her Majesty's armored wars.h.i.+ps may always be seen within the bay. The ”Majestic” dropped anchor in the quiet harbor, and the company's lighter came along side with pa.s.sengers for Liverpool, and to take ash.o.r.e the Queenstown pa.s.sengers, and the mails which, checked out, numbered over 1600 sacks. The transatlantic mail is put aboard the express and hurried to Dublin, thence from Kingston to Holyhead, via a swift packet across St. George's Channel, and to its destination, thus saving valuable hours in its delivery throughout Europe.
Several small boats appeared bringing natives who offered for sale fruit, Irish laces, and canes made of black bog oak, with the shamrock carved on the handles. Mrs. Harris was much pleased to renew her acquaintance with the scenes of her girlhood, having sailed from Queenstown for Boston when she was only ten years old.
The baggage was left on the steamer to go forward to Liverpool, and Alfonso led the way aboard the lighter, and from the dock to the Queen's Hotel. Each carried a small satchel, with change of clothing, till the trunks should be overtaken.
At the hotel Alfonso found the longed-for cablegram from his father which read as follows:--
Harrisville,--
_Mrs. Reuben Harris, Queen's Hotel, Queenstown, Ireland._
Employees still out. Mills guarded. Will hire new men. Searles visits Australia. All well. Enjoy yourselves. Love.
Reuben Harris.
”It's too bad that father and Gertrude couldn't be with us,” said Mrs.
Harris.
The lunch ash.o.r.e of Irish chops, new vegetables, and fruit was a decided improvement on the food of the last few days. The Harrises after a stormy sea voyage were delighted again to put foot on mother earth, to enjoy the green terraces, ivy-clad walls, cottages, and churches, and also to see the shamrock, a tiny clover, which St. Patrick held up before the Irish people to prove the Holy Trinity. Lucille found the pretty yellow furz, the flower which Linnaeus, the famous Swedish botanist, kissed.
Alfonso suggested that they take the part rail and part river route of a dozen miles to Cork, the third city of Ireland. En route are seen beautiful villas, green park-like fields, rich woods, and a terrace that adorns the steep banks of the River Lee. A ruined castle at Monkstown is pointed out, which a thrifty woman built, paying the workman in goods, on which she cleared enough to pay for the castle, except an odd groat, hence the saying, ”The castle cost only a groat.”
A delightful day was spent at Cork, an ancient city, which pagans and Danes once occupied, and which both Cromwell and Marlborough captured.
Here Rev. Thomas Lee, by his preaching, inclined William Penn, ”Father of Pennsylvania,” to become a Quaker. Here was born Sheridan Knowles, the dramatist, and other famous writers.
After visiting the lakes of Killarney and Dublin, the Harris family took a hasty trip through England.
CHAPTER VIII
COLONEL HARRIS RETURNS TO HARRISVILLE
The strong will of Reuben Harris was to meet its match, in fact its defeat. His plans for a well rounded life were nearing a climax when the telegram from his manager Wilson changed all his plans, and standing on the pier, as his family steamed away, he experienced the horrors of a terrible nightmare.
Mechanically he shook his white handkerchief, saw his family carried far out to sea as if to another world, and he longed for some yawning earthquake to engulf him. He stood transfixed to the dock; the perspiration of excitement, now checked, was chilling him when Gertrude caught his arm and said, ”Father, what is the matter?”
Colonel Harris's strong frame trembled like a s.h.i.+p that had struck a hidden rock, and then he rallied as if from a stupor, and taking Mr.
Searles's arm was helped to a carriage.
He said, ”You must pardon me, Mr. Searles, if for a moment I seemed unmanned. It is a terrible ordeal to be thus suddenly separated from my family.”
”Yes, Colonel Harris, I had a similar experience recently on the docks in Liverpool when my family bade me adieu, and I came alone to America.