August 23

Slowly and without storm, the light wind takes us further, not through the canal but around Scotland’s coast, between the Orkney and Shetland Islands. Will we find the middle?

The wind rises somewhat more freshly. The waves receive white caps where no ship has cut furrows, and the Eagle carries itself higher and mightier. Dolphins swarm around it — pigfish, as the seaman calls them. Blue and green, they gleam beneath the surface; only when they jump out of the water do they betray their yellow color. Gun and revolver are not loaded. A sling somewhat like the sling which our youth in Wursten used for catching fish might not be bad. With a harpoon they could no doubt be hard to strike. Two falcons came to us all exhausted. They sat down on the poles [near] the little birds and devoured them. If I had not read about the Mouse Feed or the Egg of Columbus, they would long have been shot. [Reference is unclear.]

August 24

The people in the Atlantic Ocean will occupy us greatly. They will share work, anxiety, worry but also joy with us. This morning as I found myself on the quarter deck, I spoke about the voyage with the man who makes sails and complained that we were not progressing fast enough. A man out of New York who was helping the sailmaker sew entered our conversation. He expressed the opinion that we had too many holy people in the middle deck and for that reason were not proceeding very fast. My Wursten nature would not let me keep silent. I answered, “Be not deceived, God is not mocked. The operators of brothels from New York have rather caused the delay.” He asked who that might be. “Now,” I answered, “whoever it is, he will know it best.” The man met his match. Now when he sees me, he shows the greatest interest and inquires on occasion about our well-being. Whether I will be successful at getting along with everyone this way, I do not know. But I have the joy that the poor sick people have turned their hearts to me because I supply them with many medicines that bring relief.

August 28

“Let not man tempt the gods.” Neptune with his trident must be a spiteful companion. I just wanted to address a few questions to the sea, but I hardly dared. Then he gives me a few jabs with his fork as an answer. Vulcan in the abdomen does not do any better. Eruptions with such vehemence that sparks spray out of the eyes and leave behind a bloody train. O you frightful seasickness! Fair Iceland, I will never forget the sight of you — not because of your naked steepness and uniqueness, and not because you are the last piece of Europe we will see, and still less because of the dangers we withstood on your coast at night and in fog with strong winds (we luckily passed by). No, that is not what we will keep in our memory. It is the waves of the sea which Psalm 107 addressed (verses 23-32). The waves which we saw for the first time made a fearful impression. The captain, brown from the weather, called it a fresh breeze. Whether it was that or more which brought us the high waves, we will not discuss it. But our ship dipped to its very edge into the sea and the Eagle shook its wooden plumage in vain as if it was trying to dry off. The front part of the ship was and remains covered with foam, dust and water.

My children lie on the floor (if one can call it that), fighting with seasickness and the turns of the ship. Theodora crawled up one time. I stood at the railing and observed her exactly. Her eyes tore wide open as she stared toward a high wave. With a loud cry, she saw this wave fall onto the ship, and crying, she rested her head on the chest of her brother. Frederick also came to me, scared, and hurriedly asked, “My father, my father, are we all entering Beautiful Heaven from this very spot?” My wife was constantly close to unconsciousness less because of fright than because of weakness. Psalm 46:1-3. My reason told me confidently that a ship such as the Eagle, which the brothers Bosse had built, my true friends in this respect, would not fall apart from mere rocking. Later on the Captain told me he could not do otherwise [i.e., strike some sails?]; many sails would have had to be brought from dangerous heights. [Translation does not make sense here.]

What is it that towers in the howling choir?
It is the waves of the sea.

What kind of hills are they with snowy heads?
What has raised itself in rage, bereft of rest?
It is the waves of the sea.

Soon, in an eyelash, they are vanished, sunk.
Where hills first stood, one now sees valleys.
So the waves of the sea sink.

You, Eagle, why do you shake? Is your rump scared?
Why do you creak, shaking? Why do you sigh so mournfully?
Is it fear of the waves at sea?

Why do you not remain quiet, aware of your power
That the raging waves of the sea, chased by the storm, have no power over you?

O traveler, do not ask. This is my custom.
Do you bow your knees before the Almighty when the waves of the sea roar?

August 29

There were dark days for the passengers. How things looked in the middle deck, I do not know. I do not desire to know either. It was dark with us as well. Our mother was the sickest. Sorry to say, the time after the storm is not very good either. As the seaman says, “The wind comes blowing along,” but we make no progress toward our destination. Our companions — Jupiter, Union, Geestemünde and others — appear on the horizon in the course of time. It quiets us that they stick together and none has gone through the canal. A ship — it seems to be the Delius — lies before us. It departed a few days before the Eagle. But if you ask me whether I am sorry that I have undertaken the voyage via sailing ship instead of a steamship, I must definitely say No. Fear during a storm is not very pleasant, but the passage [on a steamer] is not very pleasing either. So the slow sea voyage is a time of preparation for the new home, a good exercise of patience — even if still more time should pass because the wind is quiet.

This important step [emigration] should be carried out with soberness. Many a person has found himself deceived and many have expressed it bluntly: “Yes, had we known it, we would have stayed home.” And yet they have experienced nothing but wind and pea soup. The southern Germans are always of good cheer, even if they are seasick. Among them an old Swiss stands out, who fought for the French in Algiers. He sings his native songs with much yodeling for the general entertainment. One can’t help but be interested in the old fellow. He had the misfortune of seeing his hat swallowed by the waves, sorry to say. So he ran about with an uncovered head, sparing his best hat from the same fate. I presented him with a piece of cloth. He also received some sail cloth from the ship and soon had made himself a beautiful cap — whereupon, to honor me, he dished up one of his better songs.

August 30

If my these lines of mine are not very full of content, think of the seasickness that bothers us. That is my excuse. Today the water-spraying fish [dolphins?] swam around our ship. It was beautiful to see how suddenly a fountain bubbled up out of the green waves. My gun was not loaded. But from now on there will always be a bullet in the barrel; a loud bang will bring something for my friends.

September 2

As Aegidius shows himself, thirty days there’ll be for you.

People have often spoken about the wet and dry deer. We have not yet seen one, but the “bang” which was promised took place. The bullet has escaped the barrel. At what? Don’t be frightened — not at a head, but only at a head cover, which had fallen overboard. I did not have the heart to shoot one of the white seagulls — not because of the old sailors’ tale that the souls of drowned people live therein. No, their smart eyes look into my heart. Since no shark could be sighted on which I might try out my gun, I was glad that a hat went overboard — but I missed it at 150 paces by the width of a hand. It rocked too much.