Another appalling scourge of the settlers in the south-west district of Cape Colony is a minute, almost imperceptible insect, of terrible omen, the tsetse-fly (Glossina morsitans), a puncture from which produces such terrible destruction among horses and cattle, that several runs of land are uninhabitable—nay, even the mere passing through districts which they frequent, proves fatal to the draught beasts of the caravans. This insect is principally encountered in copses and brushwood, very seldom in the open country, and is about the size of a common house fly, but with wings a little longer. In colour it resembles the honey bee. The tsetse is uncommonly active, and usually escapes all attempts to catch it with the hand; but in the cool of the morning or evening it is less active and quick in its movements. The poison which it carries is so powerful that the bite of three or four individuals is sufficient to kill the most powerful ox. Many animals, especially such as appear perfectly sound or in the best condition, die speedily after being bitten, but the majority are ill for an entire week, and usually become blind before death. One remarkable circumstance is that the bite of these insects is fatal to dogs, even when fed with milk, while calves and other young animals, so long as they are sucking, remain perfectly exempt from the malefic powers of the tsetse. It is especially noticed that the danger seems to be confined to domesticated animals, while such as are wild or only half reclaimed, such as buffaloes, zebras, jackals, oxen, horses, and wild dogs, have not the slightest occasion to dread this insect; nay more, it attacks man himself without the least ill consequences. The sensation which their bite produces on the hand, or other portion of the human frame, would be confounded by any one travelling in the tsetse district, with that of another minute and most troublesome, though by no means dangerous insect, the flea. Fortunately the tsetse-fly has an appointed circuit to range in, in the south-west of the Cape Colony, which it never changes or extends. The landowner may erect his cattle-pound on one side of the stream in perfect security, although the opposite bank may resound with the hum of swarms of these insects. When the natives, who are acquainted with the localities in which the tsetse-fly abides, are compelled, as they constantly are, to shift their ground, and, in changing their pastures, to transgress upon the district of the tsetse, they usually select the moonlight nights of winter, when the insect, during the quiet hours of the cold season, is not likely to molest their charge.

Many travellers whose draught oxen and horses have been killed by the ravages of this insect, are annually not merely frustrated in their journey, but, it appears, have their personal safety seriously imperilled by being deprived of all means of locomotion. Anderson, in his admirable work upon "Lake Ngami," relates that some twenty aborigines of the Griqua race, who had been elephant-hunting in the north-west of that lake, and were provided with three large waggons and numerous oxen and horses, found, on their return to their encampment, that they had lost the whole of their cattle-team by the bite of the tsetse. So, too, Dr. Livingstone, during a short journey over a district frequented by the tsetse, lost forty-three strong and useful oxen, although by dint of great vigilance scarcely twenty flies had been able to settle among the entire herd. We have dwelt at length on the description of the ravages caused by this so much dreaded insect, with the view of pointing out the numerous and amazing difficulties which present themselves to the traveller or settler in certain localities, and how often not only wild and rapacious animals, but even small, hardly perceptible insects endanger the life of the wanderer, and render large tracts of lands valueless for settlement.[55]

No stranger can well leave Cape Town without having visited Constantia, the chief seat of the wine cultivation of the country. Accordingly we had a day of exceedingly pleasant relaxation while visiting High Constantia. Mr. James Mosenthal, the very hospitable Austrian Consul, had carefully selected the most beautiful spot in the immediate vicinity of Cape Town, the charming residence of his friend Mynheer Van Reenen, at which to get up a splendid fête champêtre on an extensive scale, in honour of the visit of this the first man-of-war that had borne the flag of our country into these remote seas. The entire staff of our frigate was invited, and over a hundred guests, comprising the flower of the fair sex of Cape Town, took part in the festivities. Immense four-horse coaches conveyed the company in the forenoon to the hill of Constantia. The company wandered at leisure under the gigantic oak trees, or in the beautifully laid-out garden of this extensive domain, and after a sumptuous déjeuner, the majority set to dancing. A small orchestra of stringed instruments played alternately with the ship's band in the garden, and in the tastefully decorated apartment. Those who did not care to dance, or whom a burning afternoon sun prevented from walking in the open air, might escape into cool and most elegant cellars, where our hospitable entertainer had stored large quantities of "spiritual treasures." The costly nectar which the Cape, and especially High Constantia, produces, finds its way but seldom to European tables, because the quantity produced is very much below the demand; for although the first cultivation of the grape for wine dates in Cape Colony so far back as 1668, the wine manufacture has only of late years expanded in a marked degree,—viz., 45 per cent. from 1855 to 1856, and 70 per cent. from 1856 to 1857, so that at present the entire quantity produced of red and white Cape wine (Pontac and Frontignac) may be stated at 24,000 pipes, worth £380,000 sterling.

At the conclusion of the fête we sat down to a splendid banquet in the open air, in a shady avenue, so as to admit of all the guests sitting at one long table. At the upper end, under the umbrageous boughs of some venerable oaks, that towered like a canopy overhead, fluttered the flags of England and Austria. The mayor of Cape Town occupied the chair; the toasts customary on such occasions were given and responded to, allusion being made to the pleasure felt at the arrival of an Austrian man-of-war, as also to the gratitude of the members of the Expedition for the hearty welcome prepared for them, and expressing an earnest hope that both Governments may ever continue faithfully allied, as both nations are, by descent, sympathy, and intellectual pursuits. A few days after this splendid entertainment, we returned to Simon's Bay, whence the Novara was already preparing to sail. The several weeks' stay of the frigate at the little settlement of Simon's Bay, together with a certain quantity of repairs, had called forth a most unwonted briskness of business. Amid so circumscribed a population, the sudden influx of more than three hundred additional consumers, with their varying wants, speedily made itself perceptible in every class of the community, the more so as most of the heavy stores for the voyage were bought here, so that the sum set in circulation during these few weeks amounted to some £2,000. At the same time the Expedition were readily permitted to contribute a mite towards building the Catholic Church in Simon's Town, and to present some priests' garments, altar cloths, and church fittings, which had been intended by the Austrian Government for distribution among four Catholic Missionaries in the various quarters of the globe visited.

Some members of the Expedition also set out on an excursion some thirty nautical miles, to where the peninsula of the Cape stretches out to the real Cape of Good Hope itself—a longer, more difficult, but also more interesting expedition, which gave fresher impressions, and conveyed a pretty accurate and more just idea of the physical features of the Peninsula of the Cape, its vegetation, zoology, and geological structure, than could be obtained by a cursory examination, of the natural features of a large portion of South Africa. For whoever has clambered up the torn, broken, rocky masses of Table Mountain, worn out and eaten away by the atmosphere, and has scrambled among its wild hollows, with its forests of the greyish green Pratea Gargentea at his feet, amid its far extending rocky plateaux, full of stagnant water-pools; whoever has strayed thence among the wine-producing terraced hills of Constantia, with their rich vegetation; over the sandy table-lands backed by rocky ridges, over streams of copper-coloured water, and the boggy tracts that extend to the extreme south-west point, as far as the Sandstone rocks, 800 feet high, which, descending sheer into the tempest-tossed, fearsome, boiling ocean, constitutes the actual Cape of Good Hope—obtains a tolerably just and correct idea of the appearance of Southern Africa for one hundred miles into the interior, and along the coast line, 400 English miles in length, which stretches from St. Helena Bay as far as the River Samtoos, west of Algoa Bay. All is sandstone or clay-slate, with occasional granitic knobs cropping out; no trees, but such as are planted in clumps around the sparsely scattered farms, conspicuous from an immense distance; while, on the other hand, in spring, an indescribable flush of blossoms and flowers, and instead of trees, millions of ant-hills, with their regularly shaped cones from three to four feet high, impart a peculiar character to the landscape of South Africa. But on the so-called Lowlands of Algoa Bay, beyond the River Samtoos, Nature assumes an entirely different character in her forest vegetation. Unfortunately, the original designs of the geologists of the Expedition, of Examining the petrified treasures of this renowned district, fell through, which was all the more to be regretted as this geological Eldorado promised a great accession to our collection.

During our stay at Simon's Town, we also experimented with our astronomical instruments, which, at our next station, St. Paul's Island, were to be brought fully into requisition for the first time. On this occasion, as on many others, the unfailing courtesy and kindness of the renowned astronomer and director of the Observatory of Cape Town, Mr. Thomas Maclear, assisted us most materially in the observations for comparison with our own physical instruments.

On the morning of the 26th October it fell calm, changing to variable breezes and light puffs of wind, that made it doubtful whether we could sail that day, as we needed a catspaw from the West in order to weigh anchor. From the English line of battle-ship Boscawen, there floated across the bay as we worked out, the Austrian National Anthem, played as a farewell—a graceful mark of recognition—which was replied to by our band performing the sister hymn, "God Save the Queen."

We steered between Noah's Ark and Roman Rock, coasting along till we made Whittle Rock, but the wind shifting, we were, ere long, compelled to tack. Had we not seized the favourable moment to get away, it would, a couple of hours later, have been impossible to put to sea, as the wind sprang up from the S.E. and blew fresh. Towards sundown, the sky cleared up, and we once more caught sight of the serrated outline of the southernmost point, with its desolate, worn, hollowed-out, rocky masses, which, however, with the souvenirs of the hearty reception that had been accorded us in Cape Town seemed on this occasion much more home-like and habitable. All of us, indeed, carried with us in our breasts the most cordial and agreeable reminiscences of the Cape of Good Hope.

In spite of many drawbacks and deficiencies of physical requisites, which oppose the rapid development of its natural resources, Cape Colony possesses in its healthy climate its valuable indigenous products, and its free political institutions, a guarantee for its perhaps gradual, but on that account more substantial, progress. It is a favourable specimen of a prosperous agricultural colony able to maintain itself, whose inhabitants, seeking in the peaceable cultivation of the soil their sole reward, are exposed to none of those ruinous reverses of fortune, which make life in those lands that are rich only in a metallic currency so stormy and uncomfortable, and render their future so problematical.

A colony, which already employs annually, in its commerce all over the world, a thousand ships, which has a trade valued at nearly £2,000,000 sterling, and before long will be in a position to export 30,000,000 lbs. of wool a year, besides an unlimited quantity of wines already in great demand, whose soil, owing to its prolific nature, returns, under human cultivation, crops of one hundred-fold, while in its unexplored districts as many additional vegetable and mineral treasures lie unavailable as yet—such a colony carries in itself the germs of a splendid development into a great and most enviable future. Provided with laws of a most liberal scope, and institutions corresponding to the spirit of our times, which leave each colonist entirely at liberty to develope his powers and capabilities in whatever direction he pleases, Cape Colony must, ere long, stand forth as the pattern colony for all others in the different countries beyond sea,—a majestic monument of the reward so justly due to the English nation for its policy in promoting the moral and material progress of mankind in the most remote corners of the earth.

We lay a southerly course in order to strike the regular Westerly winds, which we might hope to fall in with in the neighbourhood of 40° S., and already we again saw our old friends, the albatross, the cape pigeon, and the stormy petrel, in innumerable quantities.

By the evening of the 28th we had attained our limit in the South-west, but the West winds had not yet made their appearance, so that we had to contend till 1st November with baffling light winds alternating with calms. At length in 37° 30′ S. and 18° 4′ E., we encountered Westerly breezes, which, ere long, freshened, veered to the southward, and compelled us to shorten sail. We were at this time not quite as yet in the zone of West winds, but had to do with variable winds; which, however, as the prevailing winds must be west or south, could generally be made available to enable us to lay our course for St. Paul. Although in the month corresponding to May in the southern hemisphere, we found ourselves shivering with cold, the thermometer barely reached 18° Cent. (64°·4 Fah.) during the day in the open air, and our bodies, accustomed of late to a milder temperature, felt as though it were twice more rigorous than it actually was, in consequence of the wind coming from the ice-bound antarctic regions.

On the afternoon of 4th November, a great excitement arose on board; a violent shower filled the lifeboats with water, and a large black object was observed swimming in the sea. Fortunately, it was not a man, though it proved to be a great favourite that had fallen overboard. Bessy, an ape, had got loose from her chain, and while being chased, fell in her eagerness into the sea, which fortunately was tolerably smooth. The droll little brute had quickly made itself such a favourite with the crew from its comical attractive ways, that its sudden fall overboard awoke universal sympathy. A boat was lowered, and Bessy rescued, who speedily recovered from her fright, and although dripping wet, proceeded to consume an orange that was handed her with an expression of entire satisfaction.

On reaching 40° S., 31° E., the West winds became more steady, with a perceptible increase of motion, giving an average of 33 feet as the height of the waves, while the frigate rolled heavily. Sometimes several "Rollers" would follow one after the other, which made the ship heel over from 20° to 25° on either side. At each roll, streams of water poured in upon the gun-deck. The cannon-shot kept up a deafening dance from one side to the other, while stools, tables, chests, and in short everything that could move, were unmistakably "lively." The temperature of the air during the night fell to 41° Fahrenheit, and was felt yet more keenly in squalls accompanied by rain, which made our life on board anything but agreeable, although the certainty that we were proceeding favourably with the so-called "Fair" Westerly winds indemnified us in some degree for the discomfort.

On 14th November, in 40° 44′ S., 60° 8′ E., we availed ourselves of a dead calm and smooth sea to try a cast of Brooke's Patent Deep-sea Lead.

While at Rio, we had been supplied, through the kindness of Don José de Barnabé, Commander of the Royal Spanish Frigate Bilbao, with a large quantity of lead-line, after an unsuccessful attempt to purchase it there. Unfortunately, however, the line had become somewhat decomposed by moisture, and gave way at 6,170 fathoms (37,020 English feet) while still running out, so that on this occasion also, we could only tell that bottom had not been reached with the portion of the line paid out.

The times occupied by the line in running out were as follows:—

To the apparatus two 30-lbs. shot were attached, and the first 100 fathoms of line were doubled. By this observation we satisfied ourselves that such soundings are only successful when none but the best materials are employed, and, moreover, that the line becomes deteriorated in an extraordinary degree by long stowage on boardship, so that it is better in long voyages not to take such large supplies of line, but to adopt most stringent measures to prevent its being weakened by damp. Very probably a light coating of tar over the line would tend to keep it in good preservation, and it also seems advisable proportionately to strengthen the first 500 or 1000 fathoms.

On the 18th November the look-out man descried from the main topgallant mast-head the Island of St. Paul, the goal of our wishes, the object which had so long occupied our thoughts, and on which our scientific capabilities were to be called into enviable activity. The necessary arrangements were completed for facilitating astronomical observations, the instruments and other necessaries taken out and got in readiness to be conveyed to the island, and the various stations and duties of the different members specified, so as to admit of the observations being completed in the shortest possible time.

On the 19th November, at daybreak, we found ourselves close in with St. Paul's Island, while on our port-side the outline of New Amsterdam was visible in the shape of two lofty peaks on the horizon. As the wind blew from the N.W., we kept the ship's course past the north promontory of the island, and ranged along the eastern side to the selected anchoring ground. As we doubled the northernmost point, the conical-shaped Nine-Pin Rock came into view, while the high and precipitous margin of the island in the N.E. with the entrance into the crater became visible. How great, however, was our astonishment, when we observed some neatly laid-out terraces, of a fresher green hue than were observed in the upper table-lands of the island! These were evidently spots cultivated by former or present residents in the island. But no traces of habitation were seen, whether of mankind or of the seal. Only flights of albatrosses, bryons, ospreys, and sea-swallows, with now and then the protracted screams (like human groans) of immense flights of penguins, those singular-looking sea-birds, which awaken so deep an interest alike for their striking appearance as by their mode of life.

An examination of the rock of the island showed layers of black lava, alternating with yellow and red tufa, which seemed stratified regularly from the rim of the crater to the extreme circumference of the island. "Thirty fathoms, and no bottom," sung the wearied leadsman; and presently, "Thirty fathoms,"—and a few minutes before 9 a. m. the anchor rattled out, on the 24th day after we left Simon's Bay, after retracing our steps Eastward some 3000 miles. Our anchorage, as we afterwards became aware, was not the best possible, as we ought to have lain closer in to the island. But when one anchors nearer the land in a less depth of water, one is by no means more protected from storms sweeping in from seawards, to which the entire eastern half of the island lies exposed. Only on the west side does the island, with the steep margin of the crater some 700 or 800 feet high, afford any protection against the west winds, which, however, seldom blow here.