CHAPTER LXXI.
SKETCHES AT SEA—MOUNTAINS OF AFRICA—THE FAREWELL.
The Buffalo—The Quoin—Cape Aguilhas—Hangclip—Capo-del-Tornados—Robbin Island—Table Bay—Cape Town—Green Point—The Lion Mountain—St. Helena—Flying-fish—Blue-fish—Island of Ascension—Funeral at Sea—A Sailor’s Grave—A Chinese Calculation—Waterspouts—The Western Isles—St. Michael’s—Pico—Fayal—Christmas Eve—The good Ship “Essex”—Arrival in England—The Pilgrim’s Adieu.
1845, Oct. 29th.—At 9 A.M. I was called on deck to look at the mountains of Africa. The Buffalo, or rather its high peak, soared black and distinct over the white clouds that rolled below, covering the whole length of the mountains: here and there a summit might be distinguished, and the land and hummocks below the clouds were tolerably clear. The sky was of the brightest, purest tint of cobalt blue, the white clouds were crossing it in all directions; the clouds themselves were borne along by the wind to the right, while their tops were carried back towards the left, as if they encountered a contrary current of air aloft. Soon after I had sketched the Buffalo’s most peculiar black peak, a mist spread over the mountains, the wind changed, we went further out to sea, and the line of mountains became too indistinct to afford subject for the pencil. The deep sea line brought up small shells in considerable quantity.
Nov. 1st.—The Quoin lay distant twelve miles from the “Essex,” E. by N., ½ N., and fifty-seven miles from the Cape—Sandy Bay lies between the two points. The Gunner’s Quoin is three or four leagues from Cape Aguilhas, which it resembles. Cape Aguilhas, or Lagullas, was called by its discoverers, the Portuguese, Aguilhas, or Needle’s Cape, because the magnetic needle had no variation there at the time:—the Portuguese name has been corrupted by the English sailors into Lagullas, or Lagullus. Hangclip was the next remarkable object. Horsburgh remarks, “False Bay is formed by the Cape of Good Hope on the west side and Cape False to the eastward, the latter being a steep Bluff, resembling a Quoin, which may be seen at eight leagues’ distance, and appears to lean over to the west when viewed from the southward, from which, probably, it was called Hangclip by the Dutch, but sometimes Hottentot’s Point.”
The outline of the Mountains of Africa was very peculiar as we approached the Capo-del-Tornados, or Cape of Storms, as the Cape of Good Hope was called by its first discoverers, the Portuguese, who afterwards changed the name to that of Capo del Buon Esperanza. At the distance of sixteen miles we beheld the Capo-del-Tornados itself, next to it was the Peak; the high land in False Bay was remarkable, and in the distance, between these points, you caught a view of the back of Table Mountain. The scene was very interesting as we sailed along the range of Mountains, and the fineness of the day allowed us to see them to advantage. Hout’s Bay was very picturesque; deep shadows were around the base of the mountains, and the warm light of the setting sun gilded their summits.
Sunday, 2nd.—At sunrise the scene was beautiful; we gazed on the Lion Mountain opening Green Point,—the Table Mountain was of a very dark plum colour, in strong contrast with the glowing brilliancy of the rising sun, and a dark cloud hung upon the flat surface of the mountain-top. On the opposite side, as we entered Table Bay, lay Robbin or Penguin Island, with breakers to the left,—the Whale also, a sunken rock over which the waves constantly break. The dark Blueberg Mountains to the right finished the picture.
Anchored in Table Bay during a deep cold fog at 10 A.M.—took apartments in an hotel in the Heerengracht,—found the rooms intensely hot at night, and very disagreeable after the pure sea air. We drove in the evening to a friend’s house in the Camp Ground, and gathered a beautiful bouquet from his garden.
My first thought on arriving in Southern Africa was of the Mountain, the next of the flowers. A strelizia was brought to me; it is an indigenous bulb in Africa, and as one flower dies away another bursts forth. On our return to the ship, I took the strelizia on board, and watched the bursting forth of the fresh flowers for some days. A very good sketch of Cape Town may be taken in the Heerengracht, just below Messrs. Dickson and Burnie’s; it gives George’s Hotel, now kept by a man of the name of Duke, the large trees in front, the Dutch Reform Church, and the Table Mountain beyond. Another good point is the Market Square, with its pump in the centre, St. George’s Church, the Town Hall, and the Dutch and Hottentot venders of fruit and vegetables at their stands in the Green Market, as they call it.
Mr. Robertson, a stationer in the Heerengracht, has some admirable water-colour drawings for sale, portraits of the natives of Africa.
7th.—Drove to Green Point with the captain of the “Essex,” to see the lighthouse. I climbed up to the roof through a narrow pigeon-hole, and was well rewarded for my trouble by the beauty of the view. The beach was covered with shells, broken into the smallest fragments by the rolling surf. The view from the rocks, at the end of Green Point, looking over Camp’s Bay, is very beautiful.
10th.—Visited my ayha, whom I had been obliged to send to the hospital on account of the accident which she met with on board, and found her quite comfortable. The poor woman was very glad to see me, and I arranged for her return to Calcutta. I bought a kaross of eighteen heads, as it is technically called, the sole garment worn by the Kafirs, for four pounds; it is very large and handsome, consisting of skins of the red jackal. With the exception of the kaross the Kafir is entirely unincumbered with clothing; these skins are much sought after by officers on service, which is perhaps the reason they are so expensive in Cape Town.
The “Essex” was detained at the Cape in consequence of the repairs that were necessary on account of the damage she received during the gale; to-day, on her being reported fit for sea, we repaired on board.
11th.—At 10 A.M. the “Essex” quitted Table Bay. It was a beautiful day—the white clouds from a south-easter that was blowing were rising over the Table Land,—the sea was a bright transparent green, with white breakers on every wave, and the sky was the colour of the purest cobalt blue.
As you pass Robbin or Penguin Island, the Lion Mountain assumes in a considerable degree the form of a lion reposing, from which appearance it derives its name:—the rump of the lion is formed of the mountain on which the telegraph stands. The scene would have made an excellent sketch, representing the back of the Table Mountain, with the Devil’s Peak to the right, the Lion in front; and Robbin Island at the side. The latter is a low, long, sandy island, with some few houses upon it, and it looks very desolate. Made a run of two hundred and nine miles.
18th.—Rolling down to St. Helena with a fair breeze in most agreeable style.
21st.—A most beautiful and brilliant day. Went on deck about 11 A.M. to see St. Helena in the distance: sketched the island from the forecastle, and paid for my footing. The island then lay N.N.W. distant eight miles: Diana’s Peak, two thousand six hundred and ninety-two feet high, appeared to be nearly in the centre: the Needles and Speery were very distinct, as was also Sandy Bay Point.
St. Helena was discovered by the Portuguese in 1508, on the festival of St. Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constantine the Great. It was taken from the Dutch in 1674 by Admiral Munden, and presented to the East India Company by Charles II.; and it was given up by the Hon. Company to the English Government for the residence of the Emperor Buonaparte. Length of the island, ten miles and a half; breadth, six and three-quarters; circumference at the water’s edge, thirty miles; twelve hundred miles west of Africa, and eighteen hundred east of America. Whales are found off the island. It contains four thousand inhabitants, and thirty thousand acres of arable and pasture land. The air is salubrious, the valleys are fruitful, and flocks of wild goats browze on the hills.
The island rises a mass of rocks from the sea; the only two points for landing are at St. James’s Town, the capital, and at Sandy Bay. When St. Helena lay five miles S.W. the view presented was particularly good: you could see George’s Island, as well as Hercules Island, the flag—staff, Barn Point, the Sugar-loaf Hill, and the plantation at Longwood. The pointed summits of the rocks in the distance, whose peaks turn from each other, are very remarkable.
There is another good view of the island when in front of Barn Cliff, so called from its fancied resemblance to a great barn. Sugar-loaf Hill derives its name from its conical shape. I was told that Sandy Bay was well worth visiting, its scenery being beautiful,—which I can well imagine, from the wild form of the rocks around it, when viewed from a distance.
Opening St. Helena Bay, at the base of the Sugar-loaf, are three batteries, called Buttermilk and Bank’s Upper and Lower Batteries, at a small distance from each other. We came to anchor off James’s Town, near the high perpendicular rock of Ladder Hill, surmounted by its battery and telegraph, above which, in the distance, High Knoll is to be seen. Diana’s Peak, the highest point in the island, is two thousand six hundred and ninety-two feet high; High Peak, or High Knoll, a conical hill, south-west, is about fifty feet less elevated than the former. The rock rises eight hundred feet perpendicular from the sea, with a heavy battery of guns upon it, that command the south-west entrance to the valley and anchorage. James’s Valley is also protected by a high wall and strong line of cannon close to the sea. The Ladder contains six hundred and seventy steps. The flag-staff is in the Government gardens, above the battery. Munden’s Fort and Batteries command the side of James’s Valley, and Rupert’s Battery is at the bottom of a valley of that name.
We anchored a little before 5 P.M.: it was very cold, from the wind rushing down the valley directly upon the anchorage. The sunset was fine, in the midst of dark clouds, contrasted with others of a burning crimson; and to the right the dark rock of St. Helena rose abruptly from the sea. The more I gaze on this desolate-looking and rocky island, the deeper becomes my pity for, and the interest I feel in, the fate of Buonaparte.
The young officers are in high glee, fishing off the poop; they have just caught two small silver mackarel. The gun fires at 9 P.M., after which time no boat will quit the island, and no person is permitted to land. I fear I shall be unable to visit Sandy Bay, on the other side of the island; an officer of the “Winchelsea” told me not to miss seeing that bay on any account; he gave us sixty-two days from the Cape to England, and eleven to St. Helena; we arrived here in ten days and a quarter. The captain of the “Essex” came on deck just before we anchored, he appeared very, very ill,—in my opinion, fearfully so.
22nd.—A rainy and cold morning; it cleared about noon, when I went on shore, and climbed the steps of Ladder Hill for some distance,—they are almost perpendicular; want of time prevented my ascending to the summit of the six hundred and seventy steps. Admired the pretty church just within the gateway, and visited the market; beef and mutton, ten pence to one shilling per pound; grapes, just in, at two shillings and sixpence per pound; the peaches are bad, the loquats the same, and but few vegetables; beet-root and cabbage good; articles of every sort very dear.
A good sketch of the town may be taken from the upper end of the principal street, looking towards the sea. Walked over the Government gardens, in which is a cenotaph, in memory of the officers and men who died in the “Waterwitch” off different parts of the coast of Africa. In a hut near the beach I saw a dried flying-fish, sixteen or eighteen inches in length,—offered the man a shilling for it, which he refused; they are found now and then in the boats off the rocks, into which they sometimes happen to fly or fall; the largest found at St. Helena are twenty-four inches in length, and are very delicate food.
Went down to the foot of the cliff under Ladder Hill, where the breakers were dashing over a fine reef of rocks that run out into the sea in most picturesque style; an old anchor was cast on one of them, and beyond it lay a cannon,—the effect of the anchor cast away on the rocks was good. Several boys were fishing there; they brought me some blue fish, which are very beautiful, of a brilliant deep purplish blue colour, interspersed with crimson streaks,—they are considered great delicacies. They showed me some beautiful fish, spotted with red,—these are also very good for food. I picked up some black sea eggs, young crabs, and limpets; the latter are eaten by the French. Returned on board, much against my will,—I could have spent the day very happily on the rocks which jut out below the great cliff on which the Ladder is built. At 5 P.M. the “Essex” fired a gun; the anchor was raised, which appeared to be hard work in such deep water, and we once more set sail for old England.
23rd.—The captain dangerously ill.
26th.—Since we quitted St. Helena we have made excellent runs daily in a direct line for Ascension, and the vessel has been so steady we have scarcely felt any motion.
27th.—Passed Ascension about 6 P.M.: the island has the appearance of a cluster of mountains of a conical form. One small eminence, Cross Hill, is so called from the cross that surmounts it. Green Mountain is the highest point in the island,—viewed from some points it has a double peak.
30th.—Divine service. Crossed the line with a seven and a half knot breeze. One of the officers reminded me that he was in the “Madagascar” with me when we re-crossed the line under reefed topsails.
Dec. 1st.—A fine favourable breeze. The captain is very ill; I fear he is sinking into his grave. He was in delicate health before the gale, and the exertion he underwent at that time was too much for him; there is but faint hope of his recovery.
5th.—Picked up the north-east trade. The captain’s illness increased at night, and about ten o’clock he expired.
6th.—At 10 A.M. the funeral took place: the corpse having been sewed up in canvas was placed on the main hatch, with the colours spread over it: when the ceremony of the burial of the dead commenced, the body was placed with the feet to the open gangway, on a plank, in a sloping position; the colours had been thrown over it, but you could trace the form of the corpse through them. When the words, “We commit this body to the deep,” were pronounced, the men who stood by the corpse launched it forwards into the sea, and it sank immediately. The chief officer read the service,—he was deeply affected; the captain had been his friend, and he had attended him during his illness with the greatest solicitude; he read the service in a broken and trembling voice,—the tears rolling down his cheeks,—he could scarcely master his agony. It is a fearful sight to witness such a struggle in a firm and powerful man. He was performing the request of his departed friend: a few days before, when he informed the captain of his danger; the latter looked surprised, and said, “Well, B—, my good fellow, I have but one request to make,—give me a sailor’s grave.” The next day he arranged his worldly affairs, and was employed in devotion. Mr. B— bore up during the life of his friend, but to part with him,—to commit his body to the deep,—to read the service over him,—must have been a bitter trial. The crew were all present, and tears ran down many a hardy sunburnt face; the captain was greatly beloved both by the officers and men. The passengers appeared in mourning at the funeral. The day was a most lovely one,—the bright waves flew by the ship as the trade wind bore her onwards, and the breeze tempered the heat of the sun. I thought of the festering and air-poisoning churchyards of London, and felt, as far as I am concerned, how much I should prefer a sailor’s grave,—the bright wave dashing o’er me, and the pure air above, to the heavy sod and the crowded churchyard.
WATERSPOUTS.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس
7th.—And now once more for England. Saw a schule of whales—the fin-back; one of them was near the ship, blowing up the water, about six feet high; the large Greenland whale spouts much higher.
A Chinese calculation was shown us in the evening, which is worthy the trouble of discovering: take a pack of cards,—the ace counts as one, knave, queen, king, as ten each; look at the top card (suppose it be an ace), lay it with its face upon the table, and add to it as many cards as will make the number twelve,—that is, eleven cards on the back of the ace; then take the next card from the pack (suppose it be a knave), place it face downwards, count it as ten, and add to the back of it two cards, which will make it twelve; then take the next card (suppose it a four), place it in the same manner, and add eight cards to it, which will make it twelve, counting each card as one. In this manner dispose of the whole pack; there may be some cards over, lay them aside. The conjurer will then see the number of the packs, and the number of cards remaining over, and will be able by calculation to tell the amount of the pips on the bottom cards, which he has not seen, that are with their faces downwards on the table. This calculation is ingenious, and may be discovered by algebra.
14th.—The nine-knot breeze continues, which we have had for the last two days; and the “SX” pitches so much I can scarcely write.
WATERSPOUTS.
17th.—Lat. N. 32° 15′, long. W. 27° 55′. At noon heavy clouds were around us, and a waterspout appeared astern; it was at a considerable distance. The sea whirled, and rose up to meet it to a great height; it continued for about twenty minutes, and was too far astern to do us any injury. The trade was strong, and we were going nine knots an hour. At the same time another waterspout appeared about three miles off, on the starboard,—it was coming towards the ship from the south-east; it was of considerable size, and whirled and foamed very distinctly; fortunately it passed astern until it gained the point where the first waterspout had been seen, of which a portion above was still visible. Captain B— fired a cannon at it, which appeared to have little or no effect: very heavy clouds were all around the vessel, but as soon as the spouts disappeared in the south-west, the sun came out brilliant as usual. I sketched the second spout just as it came astern, and a remnant of the upper part of the former waterspout was in the distance.
21st.—Passed St. Michael’s to the westward, of which we had a distant view.
PICO.
22nd.—At 7 A.M. we had a good view of the Island of Pico, with its most remarkable peak above the clouds, and an hour afterwards we had a still clearer glimpse of its bell-shaped summit, which is eleven thousand feet above the sea. The smoke of fires burning on the mountain was visible.
At 10 A.M. we were off Fayal, the white buildings of the town appeared to rise from the dark waters, and the effect was most singular. The lookouts are on the cliff. The distant blue land, of which we caught a sight behind the town, is St. George’s Island. Passing along Fayal, the Convent, which is situated nearly in the centre of the island, was distinctly visible; there appeared to be some painting on the outside walls. The vineyards looked green and luxuriant.
At the end of the Island of Fayal is a curious and insulated rock; the turbulent sea has worn a deep cavern in this rock, through which the light is visible. Above, on the main land, are steep perpendicular cliffs; some are of the colour of burnt terra di sienna, others of a bright deep reddish brown: the shadows were heavy, and a brilliant light was caught upon the cliffs—a tremendous swell from the north-east was dashing in breakers half-way up the lofty cliff. I think I never saw breakers rise so high before—on the horizon was a fog-bank—the cavern bearing east four or five miles. The day was beautiful and most favourable: I was delighted with this passing view of the Western Isles, very much gratified; the air was sharp and cold, the sunshine brilliant; and I believe every one on board enjoyed the scene.
PICO.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس
23rd.—The Western Isles invisible.
24th.—The day was cold and raw, nearly a calm. At night the sailors sent off a tar-barrel with a fire in it, which went blazing along; a nautical method of celebrating Christmas Eve.
25th.—A cold raw day, with rain and fog. Divine service was performed in the cuddy. The sea almost a calm.
31st.—With a fine wind we are going nine knots off the Lizard, and looking forward to the termination of our voyage; but I cannot quit the vessel without expressing how much we have been satisfied with all the arrangements on board, which reflect great credit on the owners of the ship; and how much the attention of the commanding officer to our wishes and accommodation has removed the annoyances that old Indians necessarily must experience during a sea voyage: the vessel is well manned, her provisions are excellent and abundant, every attention is shown to the passengers, and the “Essex” is a good ship.
1846, Jan. 1st.—At 6 P.M., off Portland Race, it was bitterly cold, and I began to speculate if it were possible to exist in England.
2nd.—Off Folkstone, at 2 P.M.—I quitted the “Essex” in a Deal boat, over which the waves danced, and the wind was bitterly cold; landed at Folkstone in about four hours, half starved, cold, and hungry, and took refuge at the Pavilion Hotel, where a good dinner and the luxuries of native oysters and fresh butter made us forget all the ills that flesh is heir to.
3rd.—Started per train at 7 A.M., and found ourselves once more in London.