VOYAGE TO THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
“Here’s a sigh for those who love me,
And a smile for those who hate;
And whatever sky’s above me,
Here’s a heart for any fate.
“Though the ocean roar around me,
It still shall bear me on;
Though a desert should surround me,
It has springs that may be won.”
Family Sorrows—Departure from England—The Carnatic—A Gale—The
Spirit of the Storm—Sunsets—Peak of Teneriffe—The Trade
Wind—A most Magnificent Comet—Phosphoric Lights—Visit of
Neptune declined—Scarcity of Provisions—Spray Bows—Albatross
caught—Arrival at the Cape of Good Hope.
1843.—I will pass over my wanderings in France, Belgium, and Germany
without comment. My absence from India was prolonged far beyond the time
originally allotted me, by the deep and numerous afflictions that fell
upon me. One by one all those I loved had sunk into the grave: mental
suffering, united to anxiety and bodily exertion, brought on severe
illness, and that buoyancy of spirit which had hitherto supported me was
gone. How can I express my gratitude to those dear friends who nursed me
with such unwearied care and affection during a long and painful illness
of nearly three months’ duration, with which I had to struggle; until,
with health regained, my happy spirits began to resume their empire? It
is a blessed dispensation of Providence, that, “with returning health
returns that energy, without which the soul were given to us in vain; and
which enables us calmly to face the evils of our being, and resolutely
to fulfil its objects: there is but one philosophy (though there are a
thousand schools), and its name is fortitude. To bear is to conquer our
fate.”
On my recovery, contrary to the advice of my medical advisers, I
determined to sail immediately for the Cape, and rejoin my husband, who
had been compelled by illness to quit India, and proceed, for the benefit
of his health, to Southern Africa. Having engaged the larboard stern
cabin on the poop of the “Carnatic,” a vessel of Captain I⸺’s, for £110
to the Cape; and having secured the services of an ayha, to wait upon me
during the voyage, I took leave of my friends, and went to Portsmouth, to
await the arrival of the ship.
_Feb. 8th._—Sailed from Portsmouth at noon; it was stormy, and blew hard,
but the wind was fair; the thermometer 46°—most bitterly cold. I suffered
greatly from _mal de mer_, and was most completely wretched, so miserably
cold and uncomfortable.
_10th._—In the Bay of Biscay we encountered a confusion of seas, all
huddled and jostling together; a strong following wind sent the vessel
swiftly along, the waves roaring after her, whilst, every now and then, a
sea struck her fearfully. I was too ill to quit my couch.
_14th._—A heavy gale came on, and blew incessantly with frightful force
for two days and nights! How the ship pitched and rolled! she groaned as
if all her timbers were being wrenched asunder; this would continue ten
minutes, and then came a pause—perfect silence for a few seconds, after
which the groaning of the timbers recommenced, and the same dead silence
at intervals; it gave me the idea that the vessel beneath me was crazy in
every beam, not sea-worthy.
_16th._—Foul wind and rain; even that was better than the state of the
vessel during the gale, which abated a little this morning. The pitching
and rolling, added to the groans of the timbers, allowed of no rest night
or day; it was to me a life of great suffering, added to which, the ship
was badly provisioned, and the cook a very bad one.
_17th._—The captain of the vessel told me he was never out in such a
gale before; the first officer asserted the same. His course lay outside
Madeira, but the foul wind and heavy sea, in which the captain said the
ship could not live, forced him to decide on taking the course within the
islands.
_18th._—A wild wind and heavy sea, the waves striking the ship, and
pouring over her in fearful style; the galley was washed away, the
live-stock under the large boat was nearly all destroyed, and seven of
the pigs were killed. The deck presented a scene of marvellous confusion;
the sailors, attempting to save the live-stock, were thrown down on
the deck, and the steward, lying in the water that rushed over it, was
holding on to a pig; the animal bit his hand, the steward let go, and the
pig was washed overboard by the next roll of the ship. With the vessel
in such a state the passengers were left to shift for themselves, and
very badly off they were. At dinner-time I crept out to get some food,
my ayha having been unable to procure any thing for me during the whole
day from the steward; the captain apologised for the dinner on table, on
account of the galley having been washed away: it consisted merely of
one great cheese, and each person was supplied with a biscuit! Nineteen
hungry cadets were there; how the boys ate!—the great cheese quickly
disappeared. Every one was in good humour, and glad of biscuit and
cheese; but the news of the loss of so much of the live-stock was far
from agreeable.
_21st._—From the time we quitted Portsmouth until this day I have been
miserably ill with _mal de mer_, added to which, I have scarcely been
able to sleep at night, the weather has been so constantly bad; as for
the poor creatures below, they must be nearly stifled,—the waves, which
are pouring in on the one side of the deck and out on the other, force
them to keep the hatches closed.
The wind was strong and against us; in the evening I saw a beautiful
meteor on the starboard bow, shooting down the sky. At night I was
sitting Hindūstanī fashion on my sofa, playing on the guitar, and singing—
“Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen,
Du, du, liegst mir im Sinn.”
The sea was very heavy, it blew a little hurricane; the wind suddenly
changed, and the “Carnatic” was taken aback; how she pitched and rolled!
There was an uproar on deck, but I went on with my song,—it was useless
to disturb myself for a storm; certainly the time of the music varied as
the heavy pitching sent me backwards and forwards on the sofa.
The next morning the chief officer said, “I was astonished last night
when the ship was taken aback, I heard you singing as quietly as possible
all the time; I did not like it,—it sounded like the spirit of the
storm.” This remark put me in mind of Long Tom Coffin, who, hearing a
midshipman singing during a heavy gale, requested that the captain would
call him from the gun on which he was seated, adding, “For I know, from
having followed the seas my natural life, that singing in a gale is sure
to bring the wind down upon a vessel the heavier; for He who rules the
tempests is displeased that man’s voice shall be heard when He chooses to
send His own breath on the water.”
_23rd._—A quiet day, a pleasant evening, and the first tranquil night
since I have been on board in which I have been able to get the
refreshment of a sound sleep; we are now within the shelter of the
islands.
_24th._—Another quiet day, a beautiful evening, and a quiet night;—what
a luxury! A glorious sunset: the purple clouds stood up from the deep
blue ocean like a wall, above were two brilliant streaks of vivid green,
other streaks of crimson hue were surrounded by purple clouds, and above
all a sky of mottled deep ultramarine blue clouds, of which the edges
were of burnished molten gold, like the brilliant dyes on the back of the
mackarel. A glorious sunset after such wild gales and drenching rains.
_25th._—A nautilus and a tortoise seen. Another sunset, less wild than
that of the evening before, but the finale was brilliant. The clouds
drew back, and the sun—a perfect world of fire—sank in burning brilliancy
into the deep blue sea, which did not appear to catch one tint from
its vivid beams, but remained a deep, cold, clear blue, whilst every
cloud around caught and returned the rays. In these latitudes, at sea,
a sunset is indeed a glorious sight: and what, after the evening shades
have fallen around, and the deck is quiet and nearly forsaken, can be
more calm and refreshing than the star-light night, and the cool and
delightful breeze?—luxurious hours of dreamy contemplation.
_26th._—At 6 A.M. I saw the Peak of Teneriffe: when the sun came out in
power the Peak became beautiful,—its snowy head ridged with furrows, and
glistening like silver in the sun; deep shadows were over the island,
the shape could be traced, but with an uncertain effect that gave it the
appearance of fairy-land; while, above the shadows, contrasted with and
relieved by the unclouded blue sky, the silvery Peak was a beautiful
object. The sea was almost perfectly calm, and a number of the nautilus
were around us.
_27th._—A beautiful day, almost a calm,—Teneriffe and Palma appear to
advantage. Several Portuguese men-of-war near the ship.
_March 1st._—The trade-wind fine and steady, making us all happy and
contented: thermometer 67°,—a most agreeable temperature. My cot came
down by the run; the double-jointed brass screws on which it hung, having
had too much work from the pitching and rolling of the vessel, broke
short off; the old-fashioned common iron screws are far better, give less
motion than the double-jointed brass ones, and will not break.
_4th._—Lat. N. 17° 57′, long. W. 20° 47′.
“The moon is up, but yet it is not night,—
Sunset divides the sky with her.”
A magnificent scene was presented when the sun had disappeared below
the horizon; a most brilliant rose tint overspread both sea and sky;
clouds of the deepest neutral tint were finely contrasted with others
of burning crimson, and two vivid streaks of the brightest green mixed
with the warm glow of sunset. While the waves were still bright with
the rose tints, and two crimson clouds still lingered amidst those of
the darkest hue, the crescent moon arose with the old moon in her arms,
and a beautiful lunar bow was brightly visible, silver-tinted like the
moon. The captain of the ship remarked it was an uncommon and curious
circumstance; the bow remained visible some time. The horizon darkened,
meteoric lights played around the ship, illuminating the waves with
flashes of silver light, and sparkling stars, the glow-worms of the
deep. The trade-wind was blowing, the night was fresh and pure, and most
agreeable.
_5th._—Lat. N. 15° 12′, long. W. 21° 5′.—Some beautiful flying fish were
caught in the shrouds; the captain ruthlessly ordered them to be dressed
for breakfast, the flavour was delicate and delicious. Divine service was
performed for the first time. A shark seen, and the lunar bow was in the
same position as the night before.
_6th._—Lat. 12° 43′, long. 21° 8′.—The lunar bow visible at the same
hour, brighter and of greater length; it has the appearance of an
enormously lengthy comet. The trade-wind good.
_7th._—Lat. 11° 8′, long. 20° 40′.—Light winds; the comet or lunar bow,
whichever it may be, visible as usual.
_8th._—Lat. 9° 21′, long. 20° 55′.—The comet-like appearance very
decided, and with a telescope the star at the head was visible. The comet
appeared at twenty minutes past six P.M.—disappeared at eight P.M. The
light of the tail was of a brilliant silver colour, and it was very much
expanded at the end. The crescent moon still brilliant, the sea calm.
_9th._—Lat. 7° 46′, long. 20° 53′.—The comet is very distinct, and of
enormous size; it appeared in full splendour this evening, was visible
a little later than it was yesterday evening, and disappeared about the
same time as before. It was a beautiful night, the moon, in her third
quarter, was brilliant; Orion shone forth in the deep sky, Aldebaran, the
Pleiades, and α Arietis were in full splendour, and Canopus was beautiful.
_10th._—This morning two of the young men amused themselves with
swimming by the ship’s side during the calm into which we have gradually
fallen. The captain remonstrated with them; and a shark was caught, which
will prevent such folly in future. Thermometer 85°—very warm. The comet
appeared about six, and set about eight P.M.—not so bright this evening
as usual. A waveless ocean.
_11th._—A deep calm—the sunrise very beautiful, foreboding a very warm
day. In the evening the comet, although visible, was obscured by clouds—a
squall, and fresh gale at night.
_12th._—Lat. 4° 28′, long. 20° 10′.—At break of day this morning,
on looking out of the port, the glory of the scene spread before me
rendered me speechless with admiration. Who can describe the grandeur,
the glorious colours of that sunrise? The burning crimson clouds deeply
streaked with the darkest and fullest neutral tints, spread above deep
fantastically shaped clouds that rose like mountains from the sea.
Above the burnished crimson was a bright gleam of greenish blue sky,
and above that was a profusion of clouds, in tones of still deeper and
more burning crimson, mixed with the darkest neutral ones, spread upon
a sky of the most vivid and deep ultramarine colour—the purple waves
rose and swelled glowing with the richest rose tints. On the left, also,
deep neutral clouds stood up from the sea like a dark mountain, with
streams of crimson light thrown upon its head, in front of which the
softest, fullest, and most brilliantly white clouds contrasted with the
dark blue sea, on which they appeared to rest. The man who dedicated
the dim religious gloom and the crimson-tinted lights of a cathedral to
the service of the Almighty must have taken the idea from the feelings
inspired by such a scene, where a gorgeous profusion of solemn tints bows
the soul to Him who hath “spread His glory in the heavens.”
This sunrise has repaid the toil and trouble of the voyage: the sunsets
are magnificent; but who shall describe the glory of the rising sun, the
depth of shade, the burning light;—a scene that can never be forgotten, a
glory that can never pass from the memory, even to the last. Heavy rain
in the evening, the clouds numerous, the comet invisible.
_14th._—Rainy and uncomfortable. At night under the stern of the vessel
the phosphoric light was beautiful: wishing to see what produced it, I
desired the steward to throw out the bucket: he brought up a curious
white jelly-like substance, two inches and a quarter in length, and
three-quarters of an inch in width, at the thickest end, and shaped
somewhat like a finger, covered with rings of small globules emitting
a phosphoric light of a brilliantly transparent emerald colour. It
extinguishes and resumes the light at pleasure. I put it into a
tumbler-full of sea-water: any agitation of the water brought forth
a powerful light. By daylight the next morning it had somewhat the
appearance of a thinly haired dirty-white caterpillar, and its rounded
form had become flat; in this state it weighed one dram one scruple; it
was innocuous to the touch, it emitted no light, and was dead.
_18th._—Neptune wished to come on board, but his company not being
considered agreeable, the visit was declined, and a present promised to
him at the end of the voyage.
_19th._—The stars very bright—a lovely night in the trade winds—the comet
very high, much more vertical; the end of the tail appeared some distance
beyond Rigel in Orion—the stars hid their diminished heads as it passed
over them—it set at a quarter past 9 P.M.; its enormous magnitude was
astonishing.
_22nd._—The calm continued—the weather very warm—eight vessels around
us wind-bound, as well as ourselves. To amuse the younger passengers,
and pass away the time, which hung wearily on their hands, theatricals
were commenced, concerts were given, and a newspaper was established and
continued weekly, entitled “The Comet.”
_23rd._—The Magellan clouds visible—the southern cross, with its pointers
very brilliant—the whole sky gemmed with stars—the moon, Vesta, and Mars,
remarkably beautiful.
_April 1st._—A glorious sunset over Trinidada and Martin Vas rocks.
_4th._—Lat. S. 24° 39′, long. W. 29° 24′. The comet, which has been
gradually diminishing in brightness, was invisible this evening, and we
never beheld it again. The stock of water is very low; of the live-stock
very little remains, and there appears small chance of getting on more
quickly with the voyage.
_9th._—Another calm: are we ever to arrive at the Cape? The water is
nearly expended; of the live-stock alone remain three sheep, two pigs,
four fowls, and one goose. The captain talks of watering the vessel
at Tristan d’Acunha. The stock is in a melancholy condition, and the
solitary lean goose has fallen a victim to the rapacious jaws of nineteen
hungry cadets.
_14th._—A heavy sea; shipping water in large quantities, rolling and
pitching heavily; a sharp wind and strong breeze. On the high foaming
waves astern, the _spray bows_, as they call them, are most remarkably
beautiful,—like small rainbows on the waves, four or five sometimes
visible at the same time; I watched them with great pleasure from the
stern-windows.
_15th._—The sea calmer; eight albatross and numerous small birds astern;
in the evening they collected close to the vessel, following it, and
picking the bait off the hooks thrown out to catch them.
_16th._—Three albatross caught: the smaller one measured nine feet from
tip to tip of its wings. A gentleman had the kindness to prepare it for
me with arsenical soap, and I brought it to England.
_26th._—Anchored at 10 A.M. in Table Bay, after a voyage of seventy-eight
days from Portsmouth, and eighty-nine from the Docks.
My arrival was unexpected, and therefore, I trust, only the more welcome.