AFTER Elizabeth's friends had left her, she descended to the steerage: she had no means to take a saloon passage. The deck of the ship and all the surroundings reminded her of her outward voyage, when she had her loved husband to protect her. The vessel was expected to be heavily loaded at the next port, so that very little room was left for steerage passengers. She found at the foot of steps almost perpendicular, a small square compartment, with two narrow deal tables and forms to match, and the only medium of light and air was through the hatchway. The food was served very indifferently. Rusty tins held the eatables, and to one in delicate health the whole appearance did not have a very appetizing effect. No doubt the whole arrangements were ample for what remuneration the company received; still to one in her state of health it was far from desirable. There were nine squalid children constantly making a din, still Elizabeth pitied them, and on the first Sunday she called them together and told them of Jesus and His love.
After twelve hours' passage the vessel arrived at the chief port of the island, where she remained one week. Elizabeth prayed earnestly for grace to bear all the difficulties connected with the steerage. For six days, from early morn till dusk, the stores for England were being hauled down to a place close by her, there being only a thin partition between her and the hold, and the door leading to the spot constantly open, so that watching her child to keep her from danger was Elizabeth's constant occupation. There are warm hearts everywhere, and the fellow passengers though poor, possessed kindly feelings. Some of the women were ever ready to minister to the invalid. A cup of tea was often brought to her cabin door.
A kind-hearted Irishman would go on shore now and then to buy sweets, &c., and then distribute them among the little ones. How often it is that when trouble oppresses us, there are other wounded hearts around us. A poor woman, who had lost her husband a few weeks before, was returning to her native shores with five children, two of them infants. When Elizabeth knew of this, she thought, I am not alone in trouble. Oh, what a time will that be when He will wipe the tear from every eye, and we shall rest eternally where sorrow can never enter.
While Elizabeth was staying with her friends before she embarked, she went to a boarding-house to wish the friend farewell who had first told her that she was a widow. This lady invited her to luncheon, and while the two were seated at a dining-table, a gentleman and his wife walked in, and took seats near them. Elizabeth was introduced to them by her friend. The gentleman had that day heard from England, and in a letter was one enclosed for Elizabeth, which he intended sending to her that day.
It was from an old mutual friend whom she had known from girlhood, and he thought to gain her friends by thus bringing her before their notice. And now in a most remarkable way was she brought before these people in a public restaurant, and nearly one hundred miles from her former place of abode. Her friend said, "This meeting is of the Lord;" but Elizabeth wondered for what purpose.
On the gentleman hearing that she was to start for England so soon, and was to remain in the next port a week, he said there was a friend there whom he knew intimately, and he would write to him at once. Perhaps he might be able in some way to show her kindness. Two days after, Elizabeth and her child arrived at this port about six p.m., and the former was completely prostrated with the effects of the voyage, not well enough to look after her little one, much more to battle with the surroundings.
However, her mind rose above difficulties, and, as has been said, she prayed for grace to bear, and this was not denied her. At eleven a.m. she was told that a lady on deck wished to see her, and when Elizabeth went up she found a friend that she had known in other years, in her native land, and she was also the wife of the gentleman that her new-found friend had written to on her behalf. Sorry indeed was she to see her so situated. She said, “I am sure it would not be the wish of your friends at home that you should be in the steerage.”
Elizabeth said, "They do not know of my coming, neither will they till I am far on the voyage.”
This lady invited her to her house, but Elizabeth was too ill to accept.
On the following Saturday her husband came to see Elizabeth, and showed great sympathy on seeing her so situated, and said, "I will do all I can for you, Mrs. N." Elizabeth did not know what the words were meant to convey, and little did she think of the benefit his noble heart was going to confer upon her.
The next morning being Sunday, and feeling better, she strolled with her child into the town, and never before or since did she experience such a sense of loneliness. She was three hundred miles from her true and tried friends, and twelve thousand miles from her native land. She endeavored to find a meeting of Christians, and was successful after much walking and trouble. A salvation army officer directed her (these people are found in all parts of the globe). How thankful was Elizabeth to rest at last. Oh, how she valued that hour with God's own people! And once again she took the emblems of the Savior's death, and thanksgiving true and heartfelt ascended that morning to the Father of all mercies.
After the meeting was over, friendly faces were around her, and she was taken to one good woman's house, who for the greater part of the day took care of Emmie and nursed her mother. That evening she returned to the vessel, and as she again descended the steps and saw the dim light of the lanterns sending a sombre shade on all around, she determined to accept no more invitations, but to nerve herself to bear, and not to again visit comfortable homes that would only be the means of making her more discontented with her lot by comparison.
She always remembered the words of her friend: "I will do all I can for you;" and was ever eager to look at any stranger descending the steps. Her faith, however, had to be tested once more. The day before the vessel started for England she was put out to sea, as there was a regatta and the chief officers were fearful of the sailors getting intoxicated, so the vessel was anchored far out in the harbor. All hope seemed gone for anything to be done for the weary travelers.
The last day came for the vessel to be in the harbor, and then the last hour. She was, however, soon to be on her way to an earthly haven, and the God of all comfort was guiding her, and He who has the hearts of all in His hands was going to take the fatherless and widow across earth's stormy waters in His arms of love. The poor fragile thing was to taste some of earth's comforts in a remarkable way, till the vessel she had embarked on steered into a harbor of her native land.
A gentleman appeared on the steps, Elizabeth eagerly scanned him; but he was not her long-expected friend. However, as he descended, he seemed to have his eye fixed on Elizabeth, and after speaking to the steward he advanced straight towards her. "I am sent," he said, "by Mr. B. to tell you that he has settled everything for you, and transfers you to the saloon, where you will get every comfort. It was impossible for him to come to you himself, as business calls him away. I am to bid you farewell for him.”
He then turned to the steward and called upon him to take Elizabeth's luggage to the saloon.
Elizabeth wondered if she heard aright, she seemed in a dream. Here in a strange land, so many miles from those dear to her, seated on a rough wooden bench, with nine squalid children around her, the foul air enough to take what little appetite she had from her, and now to be asked to quit this place where she had spent seven of the most miserable days of her life and go to the saloon, no words can fully portray her feelings. Enough to say, that with an alacrity she had not possessed for many a day she ascended the steps, breathed once more the lovely sea breeze, and then followed her guide to the saloon.