32. CHAPTER XXXII.
For more than six weeks, the ship Highlander lay in
Prince's Dock; and during that time, besides making observations
upon things immediately around me, I made sundry
excursions to the neighboring docks, for I never tired of
admiring them.
Previous to this, having only seen the miserable wooden
wharves, and slip-shod, shambling piers of New York, the
sight of these mighty docks filled my young mind with
wonder and delight. In New York, to be sure, I could not
but be struck with the long line of shipping, and tangled
thicket of masts along the East River; yet, my admiration
had been much abated by those irregular, unsightly wharves,
which, I am sure, are a reproach and disgrace to the city
that tolerates them.
Whereas, in Liverpool, I beheld long China walls of
masonry; vast piers of stone; and a succession of granite-rimmed
docks, completely inclosed, and many of them communicating,
which almost recalled to mind the great American
chain of lakes: Ontario, Erie, St. Clair, Huron,
Michigan, and Superior. The extent and solidity of these
structures, seemed equal to what I had read of the old
Pyramids of Egypt.
Liverpool may justly claim to have originated the model
of the Wet Dock,[1]
so called, of the present day; and every
thing that is connected with its design, construction, regulation,
and improvement. Even London was induced to
copy after Liverpool, and Havre followed her example.
In magnitude, cost, and durability, the docks of
Liverpool, even at the present day surpass all others in the
world.
The first dock built by the town was the “Old Dock,”
alluded to in my Sunday stroll with my guide-book. This
was erected in 1710, since which period has gradually
arisen that long line of dock-masonry, now flanking the
Liverpool side of the Mersey.
For miles you may walk along that river-side, passing
dock after dock, like a chain of immense fortresses:—
Prince's, George's, Salt-House, Clarence, Brunswick, Trafalgar,
King's, Queen's, and many more.
In a spirit of patriotic gratitude to those naval heroes,
who by their valor did so much to protect the commerce of
Britain, in which Liverpool held so large a stake; the town,
long since, bestowed upon its more modern streets, certain
illustrious names, that Broadway might be proud of:—
Duncan, Nelson, Rodney, St. Vincent, Nile.
But it is a pity, I think, that they had not bestowed
these noble names upon their noble docks; so that they
might have been as a rank and file of most fit monuments
to perpetuate the names of the heroes, in connection with the
commerce they defended.
And how much better would such stirring monuments
be; full of life and commotion; than hermit obelisks of
Luxor, and idle towers of stone; which, useless to the
world in themselves, vainly hope to eternize a name, by
having it carved, solitary and alone, in their granite. Such
monuments are cenotaphs indeed; founded far away from
the true body of the fame of the hero; who, if he be truly a
hero, must still be linked with the living interests of his
race; for the true fame is something free, easy, social, and
companionable. They are but tomb-stones, that commemorate
his death, but celebrate not his life. It is well enough
that over the inglorious and thrice miserable grave of a
Dives, some vast marble column should be reared, recording
the fact of his having lived and died; for such records are
indispensable to preserve his shrunken memory among men;
though that memory must soon crumble away with the
marble, and mix with the stagnant oblivion of the mob. But
to build such a pompous vanity over the remains of a hero,
is a slur upon his fame, and an insult to his ghost. And
more enduring monuments are built in the closet with the
letters of the alphabet, than even Cheops himself could have
founded, with all Egypt and Nubia for his quarry.
Among the few docks mentioned above, occur the names
of the King's and Queen's. At the time, they often reminded
me of the two principal streets in the village I came
from in America, which streets once rejoiced in the same
royal appellations. But they had been christened previous
to the Declaration of Independence; and some years after,
in a fever of freedom, they were abolished, at an enthusiastic
town-meeting, where King George and his lady were solemnly
declared unworthy of being immortalized by the village
of L—. A country antiquary once told me, that a
committee of two barbers were deputed to write and inform
the distracted old gentleman of the fact.
As the description of any one of these Liverpool docks
will pretty much answer for all, I will here endeavor to
give some account of Prince's Dock, where the Highlander
rested after her passage across the Atlantic.
This dock, of comparatively recent construction, is perhaps
the largest of all, and is well known to American sailors,
from the fact, that it is mostly frequented by the American
shipping. Here lie the noble New York packets, which
at home are found at the foot of Wall-street; and here lie
the Mobile and Savannah cotton ships and traders.
This dock was built like the others, mostly upon the bed
of the river, the earth and rock having been laboriously
scooped out, and solidified again as materials for the quays
and piers.
From the river, Prince's Dock is protected by a long
pier of masonry, surmounted by a massive wall; and on
the side next the town, it is bounded by similar walls, one
of which runs along a thoroughfare. The whole space
thus inclosed forms an oblong, and may, at a guess, be
presumed to comprise about fifteen or twenty acres; but as
I had not the rod of a surveyor when I took it in, I will
not be certain.
The area of the dock itself, exclusive of the inclosed
quays surrounding it, may be estimated at, say, ten acres.
Access to the interior from the streets is had through several
gateways; so that, upon their being closed, the whole
dock is shut up like a house. From the river, the entrance
is through a water-gate, and ingress to ships is only to be
had, when the level of the dock coincides with that of the
river; that is, about the time of high tide, as the level of
the dock is always at that mark. So that when it is low
tide in the river, the keels of the ships inclosed by the quays
are elevated more than twenty feet above those of the vessels
in the stream. This, of course, produces a striking
effect to a stranger, to see hundreds of immense ships floating
high aloft in the heart of a mass of masonry.
Prince's Dock is generally so filled with shipping, that
the entrance of a new-comer is apt to occasion a universal
stir among all the older occupants. The dock-masters,
whose authority is declared by tin signs worn conspicuously
over their hats, mount the poops and forecastles of the various
vessels, and hail the surrounding strangers in all directions:
—“Highlander ahoy! Cast off your bow-line, and
sheer alongside the Neptune!”—“Neptune ahoy! get
out a stern-line, and sheer alongside the Trident!”—
“Trident ahoy! get out a bow-line, and drop astern of
the Undaunted!” And so it runs round like a shock of
electricity; touch one, and you touch all. This kind of
work irritates and exasperates the sailors to the last degree;
but it is only one of the unavoidable inconveniences of inclosed
docks, which are outweighed by innumerable advantages.
Just without the water-gate, is a basin, always connecting
with the open river, through a narrow entrance between
pier-heads. This basin forms a sort of ante-chamber to the
dock itself, where vessels lie waiting their turn to enter.
During a storm, the necessity of this basin is obvious; for
it would be impossible to “dock” a ship under full headway
from a voyage across the ocean. From the turbulent waves,
she first glides into the ante-chamber between the pier-heads,
and from thence into the docks.
Concerning the cost of the docks, I can only state, that
the King's Dock, comprehending but a comparatively small
area, was completed at an expense of some £20,000.
Our old ship-keeper, a Liverpool man by birth, who had
long followed the seas, related a curious story concerning this
dock. One of the ships which carried over troops from England
to Ireland in King William's war, in 1688, entered
the King's Dock on the first day of its being opened in 1788,
after an interval of just one century. She was a dark little
brig, called the Port-a-Ferry. And probably, as her timbers
must have been frequently renewed in the course of a
hundred years, the name alone could have been all that was
left of her at the time.
A paved area, very wide, is included within the walls;
and along the edge of the quays are ranges of iron sheds,
intended as a temporary shelter for the goods unladed from
the shipping. Nothing can exceed the bustle and activity
displayed along these quays during the day; bales, crates,
boxes, and cases are being tumbled about by thousands of
laborers; trucks are coming and going; dock-masters are
shouting; sailors of all nations are singing out at their ropes;
and all this commotion is greatly increased by the resoundings
from the lofty walls that hem in the din.
