CHAPTER XXIX
THE STATISTICIAN TO THE FRONT
The next day, Tuesday, the 9th of April, the Great Eastern weighed anchor, and set sail to enter the Hudson, the pilot guiding her with an unerring eye. The storm had spent itself in the night, and the last black clouds disappeared below the horizon. The aspect of the sea was enlivened by a flotilla of schooners, waiting along the coast for the breeze. A small steamer came alongside, and we were boarded by the officer of the New York sanitary commissioners.
It was not long before we passed the light-boat which marks the channels of the Hudson, and ranged near Sandy Hook Point, where a group of spectators greeted us with 2 volley of hurrahs.
When the Great Eastern had gone round the interior bay formed by Sandy Hook Point, through the flotilla of fishing-smacks, I caught a glimpse of the verdant heights of New Jersey, the enormous forts on the bay, then the low line of the great city stretching between the Hudson and East river.
In another hour, after having ranged opposite the New York quays, the Great Eastern was moored in the Hudson, and the anchors became entangled in the submarine cable, which must necessarily be broken on her departure.
Then began the disembarkation of all my fellow-voyagers whom I should never see again: Californians, Southerners, Mormonites, and the young lovers. I was waiting for Fabian and Corsican.
I had been obliged to inform Captain Anderson of the incidents relating to the duel which had taken place on board. The doctors made their report, and nothing whatever having been found wrong in the death of Harry Drake, orders were given that the last duties might be rendered to him on land.
At this moment Cockburn, the statistician, who had not spoken to me the whole of the voyage, came up and said: "Do you know, sir, how many turns the wheels have made during our passage?"
"I do not, sir."
"One hundred thousand, seven hundred and twenty three."
