Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 425 The Atlantic Has No Lid!
The journey of the "Perel" across the strait was relatively smooth, with the cruise ship gently rising and falling with the waves.

The next day, just as dawn broke, the Perel had already approached the outskirts of the Isles of Scilly, where the wind and waves had noticeably intensified, and the seawater had turned an almost blackish blue.

A Royal Mail shuttle struggled to approach the starboard side of the Perel in the waves.

The crew shouted and carefully handed over the waterproof mailbags with buoys attached, using ropes and nets.

Fifteen minutes later, the shuttle boat sounded its horn, broke contact, and disappeared between the crests and troughs of the waves.

This was the last stop before leaving the European continent. The Perel adjusted its course and resolutely sailed into the vast Atlantic Ocean.

Once we entered the Atlantic Ocean, it felt like stepping into another world!
The captain had warned the first-class passengers at breakfast that the North Atlantic was in the "autumn storm" season and the voyage would not be smooth.

Sure enough, a day later, the temperature plummeted, and the icy sea breeze, carrying salty and damp air, lashed at our faces like a knife; the sky was always leaden gray, and visibility was inconsistent.

Giant waves rose and fell like mountains, sometimes lifting the cruise ship high and sometimes plunging it into deep valleys.

The deck became extremely dangerous, not only because it was slippery, but also because waves were constantly crashing onto it, and apart from the sailors, there were hardly any passengers in sight.

Everyone was forced to huddle together in the cabins of the cruise ship.

In the salon in first class, the writers and journalists initially engaged in lively discussions, but as more and more people became seasick and the novelty wore off, the atmosphere gradually became dull.

The journalists completed two rounds of exclusive interviews, thoroughly exploring the writers' expectations for their trip to the United States, their views on the French literary scene, and even their feelings about the journey, and were now entering a period of fatigue.

People started playing cards around the table or dozing off on the sofa; although the notebooks were spread out on their laps, few people actually wrote anything.

This monotonous life quickly bored the young people.

Lionel, Maupassant, and Huysmann decided to explore the ship, since they had nowhere else to go.

The Perel is a floating steel city with a strict hierarchy.

It has 220 first-class cabins, 260 second-class cabins, and up to 1000 steerage berths, in addition to a crew of 180.

The first-class cabin is located on the upper deck in the front of the ship. It is luxuriously decorated with mahogany paneling, brass ornaments, and velvet curtains. Even the corridors are covered with thick carpets to isolate the noise of the outside world as much as possible.

Second-class cabins are located at the stern and are slightly less comfortable, but each person is still guaranteed a fixed berth and some space to move around.

The tandem cabin (uniform cabin) is located in the bow section below the waterline.

Because it is nearing winter, which is the off-season for transatlantic travel, there are not many wealthy passengers traveling to the United States, and first and second class cabins are rarely full.

This time, however, due to the sensational effect of the French writers' delegation, not only were all the reserved first and second class cabins sold out, but there were even cases of them being resold at high prices on the black market.

Lionel and his companions had no interest in exploring first class or second class, as these passengers were people they encountered daily.

They continued down the narrow gangway, and the deeper they went, the stronger the stench of body odor, musty smell, and cheap tobacco became.

When they finally reached the hatch of the steerage compartment, a strong, hot smell of ammonia hit them like a tidal wave.

Maupassant covered his mouth and nose, staggered back a step, and exclaimed, his face pale, "God! How can this place stink ten times more than my apartment!"

There is almost no natural light here; the only illumination comes from a smoky kerosene lamp hanging on the central pillar.

The cabin roof is low, less than two meters high, and you have to bend over when passing under the thick steam pipes and beams.

The entire space was completely open and packed with people.

The so-called berths didn't exist at all; passengers used their own blankets, cloths, and even hay to fight for a spot on the cold, damp deck.

They huddled together like sardines, some sitting, some lying down, their eyes mostly vacant and numb, bearing the weariness of a long voyage and a bewildered resignation to fate.

The sounds of children crying, occasional coughing, and low murmurs in different languages ​​mingled together, creating a suffocating and noisy atmosphere.

The smell of ammonia was coming from the stern of the hold, where there was a row of simple wooden-lidded buckets, which must have been the toilets.

As the ship rocked violently, filth occasionally spilled from the gaps in the bucket lids, but even the passengers nearby didn't react, seemingly having gotten used to it.

Yusman's voice trembled: "This is no place for a human being. Look at these people's eyes... like their souls have been ripped out."

Lionel watched all of this in silence.

He saw the mother tightly holding her crying baby, her eyes glazed over, no longer making any effort to stop the child from crying;

I saw the old man huddled in the corner, clutching a bag as empty as his body;

Seeing the young man's haggard face, he carefully stretched out his legs in the cramped space;
……

This place is a completely different world from the salons and theater boxes in Paris!
They didn't stay in the steerage cabin for long; the unbearable smell and suffocating atmosphere forced them to leave quickly.

As they ascended the gangway back to the pristine first-class corridor, they couldn't help but take several deep breaths, as if they had just returned to land from underwater. Maupassant grumbled indignantly, "I'd rather spend a whole night drinking cheap beer at the 'Rose House' than go back down there for another second."

I can't believe anyone could survive the entire voyage in those conditions!

Yusman shook his head: "Is this the price of civilization? To cram a portion of the population into the hold like cargo?"

Lionel didn't join their complaints. He turned and looked calmly at his friends: "Then why do so many people spend all their savings to go to America?"
As far as I know, flights from Europe to the United States are always fully booked in steerage.

On the return trip, however, the area is often more than half empty, used to load cargo.

Maupassant and the others were speechless for a moment.

Paul Asilek opened his mouth, wanting to say something about "blindness," "foolishness," or "adventurousness," but ultimately didn't say it.

Seeing their speechless expressions, Lionel sighed softly: "Parisians have always been accustomed to viewing America as a cultural and artistic wasteland, and mocking its crudeness."

But gentlemen, these men and women in the steerage cabins have made their choice with their own feet. They are not taking risks; they are escaping.

They fled poverty, hunger, imprisonment, and a hopeless future, seeking refuge in a place that could offer them food, land, and opportunity.

After a long while, Maupassant finally spoke: "Is Europe really that bad? Can't these people survive?"

Yusman shook his head: "Maybe it's not to the point where we can't survive yet, but it's really bad. I can see those data at the Ministry of the Interior."

The emperor's legal code led to the fragmentation of farmland in France, with each farmer inheriting land that could barely support their own family.

Apart from regions like Bordeaux and Provence, young people in other areas have almost entirely left the countryside.

Henri Céart added, "The French have no land to cultivate, and the Germans lose half a ton for every ton they cultivate."

A few years ago, the United States completed the North-South railroad, and wheat and corn began to be shipped to Europe as if they were free.

The Russians and Austrians, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to drive out all the opposition, either to jail or to put them on a boat…

Everyone here is well-educated, and almost all of them have worked in government departments, so they know that what each other says is true.

Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Leon Ennick comes from a blacksmith's family and knows a lot about it.

He sighed: "With more and more factories, the guilds of handicrafts have basically collapsed, and Bohemian glassmakers and Saxon textile workers have lost their jobs."

Go to the factory; the wages are too low, and you have to work 14 hours a day. Go to the factory in the United States; the wages are $2 a day, which is three times that of your hometown, and you only have to work 12 hours a day.

What would you choose if you were in my shoes?

Lionel looked out the window at the gloomy weather: "In 1862, Americans passed a law that allowed anyone over 21 years of age who was willing to farm for five years to receive 160 acres of land for a $10 registration fee."

Maupassant was startled: "160 acres?"

Lionel nodded: "Yes, 160 acres. A small farmer becomes a landowner overnight. What would you choose?"
The United States is still building railroads at a frenzy, requiring 20 workers every year, each earning $2 a day.

Railway agents in Hamburg and Liverpool solicit passengers by prepaying for tickets; they even go to China to buy laborers.

Maupassant's family background and dissolute lifestyle meant he knew little about these current affairs. This was the first time he had seen and heard these realities firsthand, and he was somewhat overwhelmed by them.

Lionel's tone turned somber: "Perhaps there is no Louvre, no Comédie-Française, no literary salon there yet."

But it has land, factories, mines, and a rapidly expanding railway network; more importantly, it possesses something that Europe is gradually losing—

For ordinary people, it represents a possibility to change their destiny and a tangible source of vitality.

Just think about what it means when the people of Europe, especially the young, start voting with their feet.
The Atlantic Ocean has no lid!

After much thought, Maupassant finally gave his answer: "It means that the 'desert' we mock is constantly drawing nourishment from Europe."

Sooner or later, not only these laborers, but also our skilled workers, engineers, and even artists and writers will be drawn to that powerful attraction.

By then, the center of world culture will no longer be on the banks of the Seine…

These words were like a cold wind, sending a chill down the spines of everyone except Lionel.

Maupassant looked at Lionel: "Lion, so you brought us to America for more than just 'preaching'?"

Lionel shrugged: "Paris isn't the whole world, and neither is Europe. It's never a bad thing to go out and see more of the world."

Just then, Alphonse Daudet appeared in the corridor: "Hey, where have you been? Emile is looking for you. He has an interesting suggestion!"

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(End of this chapter)