The _Britannia_ had
no deck-houses, the uncarpeted, undecorated saloon was the only place
in which to sit, and its furniture consisted of long tables with
swinging racks over them, flanked by benches. This sumptuous apartment
was illuminated at night by no less than forty candles, a source of
immense pride of the chief steward. The sleeping-cabins for a six
weeks' voyage were smaller and less comfortably fitted than those at
present provided for the three hours' trip between Holyhead and
Kingstown; at night one dim oil-lamp glimmered in a ground-glass case
fixed between two cabins, but only up to 10.30 p.m., after which the
ship was plunged into total darkness. As it was before the days of
refrigerators, the fore part of the deck was devoted to live stock.
Pigs grunted in one pen, sheep bleated in another, whilst ducks
quacked and turkeys gobbled in coops on either side of them. No one
ever thought of grumbling; on the contrary, we all experienced that
stupid sense of reflected pride which passengers in a crack liner
feel, for the _Britannia_ then enjoyed a tremendous reputation in
the Pacific. Certainly, seen from the shore, the old _Britannia_
was a singularly pleasing object to the eye, with her clipper bows,
the graceful curve of her sheer, and the beautiful lines of her low
hull unbroken by any deck-houses or top-hamper.
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