The moving away of the steamer from the pier had the effect of producing a striking illusion in Jane’s mind.

“Why, Rollo!” she exclaimed, looking up to Rollo, quite alarmed.  “The pier is sailing away from us, and all the people on it.”

“O, no,” said Rollo, “the pier is not sailing away.  We are sailing away ourselves.”

Jane gazed upon the receding shore with a look of bewildered astonishment.  Then she added in a very sorrowful and desponding tone, ­

“O Rollo! you told me that uncle George would certainly come back; and now he is not coming back at all.”

“Well, I really thought he would come back,” said Rollo.  “But never mind, Jennie, we shall get along very well.  We shall not have to get out of this ship at all till we get to Liverpool; and we shall find father at Liverpool.  He will come on board for us at Liverpool, I am sure, before we land; and mother, too, I dare say.  Just think of that, Jennie!  Just think of that!”

This anticipation would doubtless have had considerable influence in calming Jennie’s mind, if she had had any opportunity to dwell upon it; but her thoughts were immediately diverted to the spectacle which was exhibiting itself on the pier.  The great throng of people which had assembled there seemed to be pressing on toward the end of the pier, accompanying the ship, as it were, in its motion, as it glided smoothly away.  As they thus crowded forward, all those who had opportunity to do so climbed up upon boxes and bales of merchandise, or on heaps of wood or coal, or on posts or beams of wood, wherever they could find any position which would raise them above the general level of the crowd.  This scene, of course, strongly attracted the attention both of Rollo and of Jane.

And here it must be remarked, that there are three distinct scenes of bidding farewell that an Atlantic steamer passes through in putting to sea.  In the first place, the individual voyagers take leave of their several friends, by words of good by and other personal greetings, on the decks and in the cabins of the ship, before she leaves the pier.  Then, secondly, the company of passengers, as a whole, give a good by to the whole company of visitors, who have come to see the ship sail, and who remain standing on the pier as the vessel goes away.  This second good by cannot be given by words, for the distance is too great to allow of words being used.  So they give it by huzzas, and by the waving of hats and handkerchiefs.

This second farewell was now about to be given.  The gentlemen on the pier took off their hats, and, waving them in the air, shouted hurrah in concert, three times, with great energy.  The company of passengers on board the ship then responded, by shouting and waving their hats in return.  The ladies, both on the pier and in the ship, performed their part in this ceremony by waving their handkerchiefs and clapping their hands.  By this time the steamer, which had been rapidly increasing the speed of its motion all the while, was now getting quite out into the stream, and was turning rapidly down the river.  This change in the direction in which the steamer was going carried the pier and all the people that were upon it entirely out of the children’s view and they saw themselves gliding rapidly along the shore of the river, which was formed of a long line of piers, with forests of masts surmounting them, and long ranges of stores and warehouses beyond.  Nearer to the steamer, on the water of the river, and on either hand, were to be seen sloops, ships, ferry boats, scows, and every other species of water craft, gliding to and fro in all directions.  While gazing with great interest on this scene, as the steamer moved along, Jane was suddenly startled and terrified at the sound of a heavy gun, which seemed to be fired close to her ear.  It was soon evident that the gun had been fired from on board the steamer, for a great puff of smoke rose up into the air from the bows of the vessel, and slowly floated away.  Immediately afterward another gun was fired, louder than the first.

I have said that there were three farewells.  The first is that of the individual passengers to their individual friends.  The second is that of the whole company of passengers to the company of spectators on the pier.  The third is the ship’s farewell to the city.  Of course, for a ship to speak to a city, a very loud voice is required.  So they provide her with a gun.  In fact, a great steamer proceeding to sea may be considered as, in some respects, like a mighty animal.  The engine is its heart; the paddle wheels are its limbs; the guns are its voice; the captain is its head; and, finally, there is a man always stationed on the lookout in the extreme forward part of the ship, who serves the monster for eyes.

Jane was quite terrified at the sound of the guns.

“O Rollo!” exclaimed she, “I wish they would not fire any more of those dreadful guns.”

“I don’t think they will fire any more,” said Rollo.  “In fact, I am sure they will not, for they have fired two now, and they never fire more than two.”

Rollo was mistaken in this calculation, though he was right in the general principle that the number of guns usually discharged by a steamer going to sea, as its parting salute, is two.  In this case, however, the steamer, in passing on down the river, came opposite to a place in Jersey City, where a steamer of another line was lying moored to her pier, waiting for her own sailing day.  Now, as the Pacific passed by this other steamer, the men on board of the latter, having previously made every thing ready for the ceremony, fired two guns as a salute to her, by way of bidding her farewell and wishing her a good voyage.  Of course, it was proper to respond to the compliment, and this called for two guns more.  This made, in fact, a fourth farewell, which having been spoken, the firing was over.  The Pacific, having thus taken leave of the city, and also of her sister steamer on the Jersey shore, had now nothing to do but to proceed as fast as possible down the harbor and out to sea.

The scenes which are presented to view on every hand in passing down New York Harbor and Bay are very magnificent and imposing.  Ships, steamers, long ferry boats, tugs, sloops, sail boats, and every other species of water craft, from the little skiff that bobs up and down over the waves made by the steamboat swell to the man-of-war riding proudly at anchor in the stream, are seen on every hand.  The shores, too, present enchanting pictures of rich and romantic beauty.  There are villas and cottages, and smooth grassy lawns, and vast fortifications, and observatories, and lighthouses, and buoys, and a great many other objects, which strongly attract the attention and excite the curiosity of the voyager, especially if he has been previously accustomed only to travelling on land.

While the children were looking at these scenes with wonder and admiration, as the ship passed down the harbor, a young-looking man, who appeared to belong to the ship, came to them and told them that, if they wished to remain on deck, they had better go and sit upon the settees.  So saying, he pointed to several large and heavy-looking settees, which were placed near the middle of the deck, around what seemed to be a sort of skylight.  These settees were all firmly secured to their places with strong cords, by means of which they were tied by the legs to some of the fixtures of the skylights.  In obedience to this suggestion, the children went and took their places upon a settee.  Jane carried the cage, containing Tiger, which she had kept carefully with her thus far, and put it down upon the settee by her side.  The man who had directed the children to this place, and who was a sort of mate, as they call such officers at sea, looked at the kitten with an expression of contempt upon his countenance, but said nothing.  He took the camp stools which the children had left, and carried them away.

“I am sure I don’t know what we are to do next,” said Jane, mournfully, after sitting for a moment in silence.

“Nor I,” rejoined Rollo, “and so I am going to follow uncle George’s rules.”

Mr. George had given Rollo this rule, as a sort of universal direction for young persons when travelling alone: ­

1.  Do as you see other people do.

2.  When you cannot find out in this or in any other way what to do, do nothing.

In accordance with this advice, Rollo concluded to sit still upon the settee, where the ship’s officer had placed him, and do nothing.  In the mean time, however, he amused himself in watching the ships and steamers which he saw sailing to and fro about the harbor, and in pointing out to Jane all the remarkable objects which he observed from time to time along the shores.

Among other things which attracted his attention, he noticed and watched the movements of a man who stood upon the top of one of the paddle boxes on the side of the ship, where he walked to and fro very busily, holding a speaking trumpet all the time in his hand.  Every now and then he would call out, in a loud voice, a certain word.  Sometimes it was port, sometimes it was starboard, and sometimes it was steady.  Rollo observed that it was always one or the other of those three words.  And what was still more curious, Rollo observed that, whenever the man on the paddle box called out the word, the officer on the deck, who kept walking about there all the time to and fro, would immediately repeat it after him, in a loud but in a somewhat singular tone.  While he was wondering what this could mean, a gentleman, who seemed to be one of the passengers, came and sat down on the settee close by his side.  Rollo had a great mind to ask him who the man on the paddle box was.

“Well, my boy,” said the gentleman, “you are rather young to go to sea.  How do you like it?”

“Pretty well, sir,” said Rollo.

“We are going out in fine style,” said the gentleman.  “We shall soon be done with the pilot.”

“The pilot?” said Rollo, inquiringly.

“Yes,” said the gentleman.  “There he is, on the paddle box.”

“Is that the pilot?” asked Rollo.  “I thought the pilot was the man who steered.”

“No,” replied the gentleman, “he is the man who gives directions how to steer.  He does not steer himself.  The man who steers is called the helmsman.  There he is.”

So saying, the gentleman pointed toward the stern of the ship where there was a sort of platform raised a little above the deck, with a row of panes of glass, like a long narrow window, in front of it.  Through this window Rollo could see the head of a man.  The man was standing in a recess which contained the wheel by means of which the ship was steered.

“The pilot keeps a lookout on the paddle box,” continued the gentleman, “watching the changes in the channel, and also the movements of the vessels which are coming and going.  When he wishes the helm to be put to the right, he calls out Starboard!  When he wishes it to be put to the left, he calls out Port!  And when he wishes the ship to go straight forward as she is, he calls out Steady!”

Just then the pilot, from his lofty lookout on the paddle box, called out, “Port!”

The officer on the deck repeated the command, in order to pass it along to the helmsman, “Port!”

The helmsman then repeated it again, by way of making it sure to the officer that he had heard it and was obeying it, “Port!”

There were two or three dashing-looking young men walking together up and down the dock, and one of them, on hearing these commands, called out, not very loud, but still in such a manner as that all around him could hear, and imitating precisely the tones in which the pilot’s order had been given, “Sherry!”

Whereupon there was a great laugh among all the passengers around.  Even the stern and morose-looking countenance of the officer relaxed into a momentary smile.

“Now look forward at the bows of the ship,” said the gentleman, “and you will see her change her course in obedience to the command of the pilot to port the helm.”

Rollo did so, and observed the effect with great curiosity and pleasure.

“I thought the captain gave orders how to steer the ship,” said Rollo.

“He does,” said the gentleman, “after we get fairly clear of the land.  It is the captain’s business to navigate the ship across the ocean, but he has nothing to do with directing her when she is going in and out of the harbor.”  The gentleman then went on to explain that at the entrances of all rivers and harbors there were usually rocks, shoals, sand bars, and other obstructions, some of which were continually shifting their position and character, and making it necessary that they should be studied and known thoroughly by some one who is all the time upon the spot.  The men who do this are called pilots.  The pilots of each port form a company, and have established rules and regulations for governing all their proceedings.  They go out to the mouth of the harbor in small vessels called pilot boats, where they wait, both in sunshine and storm, for ships to come in.  When a ship approaches the coast and sees one of these pilot boats, it makes a signal for a pilot to come on board.  The pilot boat then sails toward the ship, and when they get near enough they let down a small boat, and row one of the pilots on board the vessel, and he guides the ship in.  In the same manner, in going out of port, the pilot guides the ship until they get out into deep water, and then a pilot boat comes up and takes him off the ship.  The ship then proceeds to sea, while the pilot boat continues to sail to and fro about the mouth of the harbor, till another ship appears.

“And will this pilot get into a pilot boat and go back to New York?” asked Rollo.

“Yes,” replied the gentleman, “and the passengers can send letters back by him, if they wish.  They often do.”

“And can I?” asked Rollo.

“Yes,” replied the gentleman.  “Write your letter, and I will give it to him.”

Rollo had a small inkstand in his pocket, and also a pocket book with note papers folded up and envelopes in it.  This was an apparatus that he always carried with him when he travelled.  He took out one of his sheets of note paper, and wrote upon it the following letter: ­

DEAR UNCLE GEORGE: 

This is to inform you that we have found a good seat, and are
getting along very well.

Your affectionate nephew,
R. HOLIDAY.

Rollo made his letter shorter than he otherwise would have done, on account of having been informed by the gentleman, when he had just written the first line, that the pilot boat was coming in sight.  So he finished his writing, and then folded his note and put it in its envelope.  He sealed the envelope with a wafer, which he took out of a compartment of his pocket book.  He then addressed it to his uncle George in a proper manner, and it was all ready.  The gentleman then took it and carried it to the pilot, who was just then coming down from the paddle box and putting on his coat.

By this time the pilot boat had come pretty near to the ship, and was lying there upon the water at rest, with her sails flapping in the wind.  The engine of the ship was stopped.  A small boat was then seen coming from the pilot boat toward the ship.  The boat was tossed fearfully by the waves as the oarsmen rowed it along.  When it came to the side of the ship a sailor threw a rope to it, and it was held fast by means of the rope until the pilot got on board.  The rope was then cast off, and the boat moved away.  The engine was now put in motion again, and the great paddle wheels of the ship began to revolve as before.  Rollo watched the little boat as it went bounding over the waves, afraid all the time that it would be upset, in which case his letter would be lost.  At length, however, he had the satisfaction of seeing the skiff safely reach the pilot boat, and all the men climb up safely on board.

“There!” exclaimed Rollo, in a tone of great satisfaction, “now he will go up to the city safe, and I am very glad he has got that letter for uncle George.”

In the mean time the captain mounted the paddle box where the pilot had stood, and, with his speaking trumpet in his hand, began to give the necessary orders for the vigorous prosecution of the voyage.  The sails were spread, the engines were put into full operation, the helmsman was directed what course to steer, and the ship pressed gallantly forward out into the open sea.