After
the meal, some member was supposed to collect the tin utensils and wash
them ready for next time. But the crowd in the wash-room was so great
that about one third of the people chose to rinse off the things with a
dash of drinking water, others never washed their cups and pans. Yet the
emigrant pays half the first-cabin rate for fighting for his food,
serving it himself, and washing his own dishes. The food was in its
quality good, but the manner in which it was messed into one heap in the
big pan was nothing short of nauseating. After the first meal the
emigrants began throwing the refuse on the deck instead of over the side
or into the scuppers. The result can be imagined. It was an extremely
hot night, and the air in the crowded compartment was so foul I could
not sleep. The men and boys about me lay for the most part like logs,
hats, coats, and shoes off, and no more, sleeping the sleep of the
tired.
[Sidenote: Remedy Proposed]
"My wife said the babies in her compartment were crying in relays of
six, the women had scattered bits of macaroni, meat, and potatoes all
over the beds and on the floor, and added dishwater as a final
discomfort. Two thirds of the emigrants were as clean as circumstances
would permit, but the other third kept all in a reign of uncleanliness.
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