Castle Clinton National Monument
New York City, New York County, New York, USA
The Immigrant's Progress
Scribner's Monthly
© September 1877
Pages 577-588
Part I
THERE is scarcely a hamlet in all
England which has not been invaded by the
emissaries of one of the great steamship
lines. Either in the tavern, the reading-room,
or the apothecary's shop, a bold red-and-black
placard is displayed, bearing the
names of half a dozen vessels and the dates
of their sailings. Honest Giles, sitting of
an evening in his accustomed place by the
fireside of the village inn, has it constantly
before him, and makes it the text of many
long chats with his neighbors about the
wonderful land in the west. It is loosely
tacked to the edge of a shelf, and rustles
and ripples in the breeze every time the
door is opened to admit a new-comer.
The harrier's son is in America, and the
glowing accounts he sends to his father of
his new home are invariably read aloud to
the assembled company. The general
opinion of the villagers is favorable to "the
States," but the sexton - a bluff, hectoring
fellow with pronounced views in favor of
church and state - bears no love for this
land of liberty and law. Sometimes a
queer paragraph appears in the newspaper
relating an instance of lynch-law in
Arkansas, or of party politics in Louisiana,
and then the sexton cries out against
Americans as a boastful and corrupt people.
He succeeds in turning the current against
them for a few days, but when next week's
paper comes, Giles reads the eloquent words
of praise spoken by Mr. Froude, Mr. Forster,
Professor Huxley or Professor Tyndall,
and is re-established to the old faith.
Some of the old villagers who formerly
sat around the fire and drowsed away all the
evenings of the year are settled in Australia,
Canada or the United States. Letters
often come to the village from them, with
small amounts of money or photographs
which represent the writers as brighter-looking
and in better dress than they ever
appeared at home. The most encouraging
accounts of all come from "the States," and
when honest Giles is sorely pressed with
difficulties, and Mrs. Giles is fading for
want of proper nutriment, and her boys are
running to waste, after long deliberation
and many regrets Giles resolves to sell his
little all and embark for New York. When
he announces his resolution to his cronies
at "The King's Arms," the hostelry is stirred
by a ripple of excitement such as it seldom
experiences, but as the evening advances
Giles is left to himself, and, contemplating
the steamship placard through the clouds
of his tobacco smoke, the gaudy printing
reveals a series of dissolving views of
happiness and prosperity awaiting him across
the sea.
He selects one of the Liverpool steamers,
as they have the best reputation and are
the most convenient. His choice is the
common one. More than half the whole
number of emigrants coming to the United
States, arrive at New York in vessels from
the former port. One morning, then, Giles
finds himself surrounded by his numerous
family and baggage on the Great Landing-stage
at Liverpool. The vast floating pier
is crowded with departing emigrants, who
are as confused and frightened as a flock
of sheep. The majority are English, Irish
and Scotch; but there are also bearded
Russians and Poles, enveloped in frowzy
furs; uncleanly Italians, some of them carrying
dingy musical instruments, with a
considerable number of Germans. It is a
curious fact, by the way, that as many
German emigrants come to America via
Liverpool as come in the German steamers
direct from Hamburg or Bremen. They
are conveyed to Hull by water, and thence
across England to Liverpool by rail.
Mr. Giles is a little dismayed by the
appearance of his prospective traveling
companions. A good many sinister men
and loose women are noticeable, and Giles
thinks sadly of the distant corners of the
earth which must have been swept out in
the gathering of them. But among the
unclean outcasts the sturdy plowman
rejoices to find a few who are like himself
and his wife - neat in dress and cleanly in
person. The busy, gold-laced interpreters
and emigration agents treat all alike,
however, answering questions gruffly or not at
all, and often causing the hot blood to rush
madly into Giles's indignant face.
After much worry and noise, the emigrants
are taken from the landing-stage by
a small steamboat and conveyed to the
large vessel anchored in the stream. As
they pass up the narrow gangway the
tickets are scanned by one officer, while
another orders "single men forrad," and
"single women aft." So the crowd is
divided into two streams, and in the course
of an hour the decks of the big steamship
are reduced to a condition of order.
Each emigrant has a contract ticket
which stipulates for his transportation to
New York in consideration of four, five or
six guineas, according to the current rate
of fare. The company engages to provide
a full supply of wholesome provisions,
cooked and served by its stewards, and the
passenger is required to provide himself
with bedding and cooking utensils. The
weekly allowance of food for each adult is
prescribed by the government and printed
on the contract ticket as follows: "Twenty-one
quarts of water, three and a half pounds
of bread, one pound of wheaten flour,
one pound and a half of oat-meal, rice and
peas, two pounds of potatoes, one and a
quarter pounds of beef, one pound of pork,
two ounces of tea, one pound of sugar, two
ounces of salt, pepper, mustard and vinegar."
The emigrants are berthed by the steerage
stewards, and are then marshaled on
deck again under the scrutiny of a government
inspector who is in search of infectious
diseases Their tickets are also examined
again, and some would-be stowaways are
sent back to the shore in the little tender.
Piteous complaints are made by some
unfortunates among the passengers that
they have been robbed of their money in
the town, or that they have lost their tickets;
but their cries are unavailing and are
drowned in the roar of escaping steam and
the clangor of the bells. By and by the
cabin passengers are brought on board, and
with a full cargo and a thousand souls the
great steamer leaves her moorings.
Let us preface all that we have to say
against the manner in which Giles and his
fellow-voyagers are treated with this frank
admission: Constant improvements are
being made in emigrant passenger vessels.
Less than a hundred years ago the great
majority of emigrants were very poor, - so
poor, indeed, that they could not prepay
their passage. Accepting advances, they
were bonded to the ship-owners, who derived
enormous profits from the sale of their bodies
into temporary slavery. Charles Reade has
given a vivid description of the emigrant
traffic at this period in his delightful story
of "The Wandering Heir." Whenever a
vessel arrived at Philadelphia or New York,
the steerage passengers were sold at
public auction to the highest bidder. The
country people either came themselves
to purchase, or sent agents. Parents sold
their children, that they might remain free
themselves, and families were scattered
never to be re-united. Old people and
widows did not sell well; while healthy
parents with healthy children, and youths.
of both sexes, always found a ready
market. When one or both parents died on
the voyage, the expenses of the whole
family were summed up, and charged to
the survivor or survivors. Adults had to
serve from three to six years, and children
until they became of age. Runaways had
to serve one week for each day, one month
for each week, and six months for each
month of their absence. Technically, the
emigrants were called "indented servants"
but in effect they were slaves.
The last sales of emigrants took place in
Philadelphia during the years 1818 and 1819.
The American government then interfered
with the traffic, and encouraged the emigration
of a superior class of people. But the
accommodations for emigrants remained
shamefully defective, and nearly twenty out
of every hundred passengers died at sea of
fever or starvation. The steerage deck was
usually about five feet high, without
ventilation or light, and in this space the bunks
were ranged in two or three tiers.
The health of the passengers was further
impaired by another evil which, up to a very
recent date, prevailed on board emigrant
vessels. The emigrants were expected to
provide and cook their own food. Many
embarked without any provisions at all, or
an insufficient quantity, and others found no
opportunity to cook what they had. On
the upper deck of the vessel there were two
small "galleys," about five feet wide and
four feet deep, each supplied with a grate,
and these were the only arrangements made
for cooking the food of several hundred
persons.
Thousands never lived to see their destination.
Out of about ninety-eight thousand
laborers sent from Ireland to Canada after
the famine of 1846, nearly twenty-five
thousand perished in consequence of the poor
rations and defective ventilation of the ships.
Later still, in 1868, on one vessel alone, - the
"Leibnitz," from Hamburg, 0ver one hundred
passengers died, out of five hundred.
Giles lives in better days. The mortality
on vessels bringing emigrants to New York
seldom exceeds one and two-thirds per cent.,
and in some instances is no greater than
one-eighth per cent. But Giles is dissatisfied,
and we mean to see whether or not he is
justified in his ill-humor. The great steamer
soon bids good-bye to the Mersey, and rolls
on her way through the cross waters of the
Irish Sea toward Queenstown. The sky is
overcast and sullen; rain and spray patter
on the deck; the wind shrieks in chilly blasts.
Between the gray clouds overhead and the
gray waters beneath, the black hull of the
steamer tosses and groans uneasily. The
great passengers of the first cabin and the
small passengers of the steerage are afflicted
with a common complaint, and are prostrate
in their berths, or in a humiliating attitude
on deck. The weather is always the same
in the Irish Sea - always cold, wet, and
windy. So while the most acute of Giles's
present miseries may be alleviated, it cannot
be altogether averted.
The emigrants are roughly driven hither
and thither, and urged into their places by
much hard swearing and abuse. Neither
officers nor men consider them worthy of
the least respect, and treat them as a drove
of cattle. Some of the vagabonds and
out-casts submit without complaint; but decent
laborers, like Giles, feel indignant and are
inclined to resent the savage words.
Giles can scarcely believe that the steerage
is intended to be a house for human beings.
It is cold, dark, and - at the very outset of
the voyage foul-smelling. It extends nearly
the whole length of the vessel beneath the
saloon deck, and is divided into gloomy
compartments. In each compartment there are
four tiers of berths or bunks, two on each
side. The lower tier is about two feet from
the deck, and the upper tier is about three
feet from the roof. The height of the
steerage is about ten feet, which is advertised
as unusually lofty by the steamship owners.
In each tier there are six berths, eighteen
inches wide and six feet long, formed of
wooden boards, smelling faintly of chlorate
of lime and carbolic acid. One-half of the
passengers have never had softer or more
spacious couches, and accept their lot in
good part; but the other half have been
used to a comfortable home, and are
wretched.
There is no thorough classification of the
passengers. The single men and women
are separated; but Poles, Germans, English
and French are thrown together without
discrimination. A cleanly, thrifty English
or German woman is berthed next to a filthy
Italian woman. Mrs. Giles thinks her bed
would be hard enough, even though it were
isolated, but her misery is intensified by the
presence of a dreadful hag in the next berth.
A dreary sight meets Giles as he comes
into the steerage from the open deck. A
feeble light streams through the ports, which
are occasionally obscured by a wave dashing
against them on the outside. He can dimly
see the women and children sitting or lying
in their berths, and hear the children's cries.
The stewards are fussing about, or making
coarse jokes. By and by preparations are
made for supper, of which only a few eat, and
when the meal is over, the tables are raised
to the roof, leaving a clear space in the
center of the steerage. Anon a few oil lamps
are lighted, to be extinguished again at nine
o'clock. The massive vessel quivers as she
lurches between the waves, and her engines
throb unceasingly as the long night passes
away. Some time during the next morning
she enters the beautiful harbor at Queenstown,
and a few hundred weeping, laughing,
forlorn Irishmen are introduced into the
already overcrowded steerage. At sunset
she has passed the Fastnet Light, and the
ocean voyage has begun.
Giles is probably too much occupied with
other grievances for thought about the
life-saving equipments of the vessel, and would
have no means of satisfying himself were he
inclined to inquire. The vessel herself is as
stanch as iron and steel can make her, and
the line to which she belongs has never lost
the life of a passenger through the carelessness
of its employés. Man has been faithful
and fate kind to those old ship-owners at
Liverpool. No serious accident has ever
happened to their steamers, which have
weathered the cyclones of summer and the
continuous gales of winter for many years.
But what if disaster should befall? Has
every provision that human forethought and
ingenuity could devise been made to meet
it? The largest steamers in the trade carry
ten open boats, each of which, under
favorable circumstances, might accommodate
about seventy persons. But when are
circumstances so favorable that all a ship's
boats can be launched successfully in a time
of panic? Two or three are almost invari-
ably capsized or dashed to pieces against the
iron sides of the vessel; and even supposing
that all are launched, what then? During
a busy season, some of the larger steamers
from Liverpool often bring as many as fifteen
hundred emigrants to New York at a time.
In some instances seventeen hundred per-
sons, exclusive of the crew, have been packed
in the steerage of one vessel. The ten boats
will carry seven hundred at the most, and
there are not rafts or buoys on board for a
hundred more. The consequent loss, in
case of fire or wreck in mid-ocean, would
include the greater part of both passengers
and crew.
Continue to Part II
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Last Modified:
August 27, 2006