{"id":"01KG8AKX5259Q2M1C4HNNT71VY","cid":"bafkreihk6rhmmo2mjwxyybu42ybxbw3lwgfmddjfuuazfqpp6umrnfqdk4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":9595,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","start_line":9532,"text":"quay, this stupefied sailor, with a Scotch cap pulled down over his\r\nclosed eyes, only revealing a sallow Portuguese complexion, was lowered\r\non board by a rope under his arms, and passed forward by the crew, who\r\nput him likewise into a bunk in the forecastle, the crimp himself\r\ncarefully tucking him in, and bidding the bystanders not to disturb him\r\ntill the ship was away from the land.\r\n\r\nThis done, the confusion increased, as we now glided out of the dock.\r\nHats and handkerchiefs were waved; hurrahs were exchanged; and tears\r\nwere shed; and the last thing I saw, as we shot into the stream, was a\r\npoliceman collaring a boy, and walking him off to the guard-house.\r\n\r\nA steam-tug, the _Goliath,_ now took us by the arm, and gallanted us\r\ndown the river past the fort.\r\n\r\nThe scene was most striking.\r\n\r\nOwing to a strong breeze, which had been blowing up the river for four\r\ndays past, holding wind-bound in the various docks a multitude of ships\r\nfor all parts of the world; there was now under weigh, a vast fleet of\r\nmerchantmen, all steering broad out to sea. The white sails glistened\r\nin the clear morning air like a great Eastern encampment of sultans;\r\nand from many a forecastle, came the deep mellow old song _Ho-o-he-yo,\r\ncheerily men!_ as the crews called their anchors.\r\n\r\nThe wind was fair; the weather mild; the sea most smooth; and the poor\r\nemigrants were in high spirits at so auspicious a beginning of their\r\nvoyage. They were reclining all over the decks, talking of soon seeing\r\nAmerica, and relating how the agent had told them, that twenty days\r\nwould be an uncommonly long voyage.\r\n\r\nHere it must be mentioned, that owing to the great number of ships\r\nsailing to the Yankee ports from Liverpool, the competition among them\r\nin obtaining emigrant passengers, who as a cargo are much more\r\nremunerative than crates and bales, is exceedingly great; so much so,\r\nthat some of the agents they employ, do not scruple to deceive the poor\r\napplicants for passage, with all manner of fables concerning the short\r\nspace of time, in which their ships make the run across the ocean.\r\n\r\nThis often induces the emigrants to provide a much smaller stock of\r\nprovisions than they otherwise would; the effect of which sometimes\r\nproves to be in the last degree lamentable; as will be seen further on.\r\nAnd though benevolent societies have been long organized in Liverpool,\r\nfor the purpose of keeping offices, where the emigrants can obtain\r\nreliable information and advice, concerning their best mode of\r\nembarkation, and other matters interesting to them; and though the\r\nEnglish authorities have imposed a law, providing that every captain of\r\nan emigrant ship bound for any port of America shall see to it, that\r\neach passenger is provided with rations of food for sixty days; yet,\r\nall this has not deterred mercenary ship-masters and unprincipled\r\nagents from practicing the grossest deception; nor exempted the\r\nemigrants themselves, from the very sufferings intended to be averted.\r\n\r\nNo sooner had we fairly gained the expanse of the Irish Sea, and, one\r\nby one, lost sight of our thousand consorts, than the weather changed\r\ninto the most miserable cold, wet, and cheerless days and nights\r\nimaginable. The wind was tempestuous, and dead in our teeth; and the\r\nhearts of the emigrants fell. Nearly all of them had now hied below, to\r\nescape the uncomfortable and perilous decks: and from the two\r\n_“booby-hatches”_ came the steady hum of a subterranean wailing and\r\nweeping. That irresistible wrestler, sea-sickness, had overthrown the\r\nstoutest of their number, and the women and children were embracing and\r\nsobbing in all the agonies of the poor emigrant’s first storm at sea.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJSA770PKV5198BNW3617","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKX52AEXFQTEYQYPE0MBY","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKX4S495YF0XSYZGAJEW3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:19.618Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:33.094Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}