On the 3rd of May last, I left Southampton in the s.s. _Spartan_ for
Cape Town. This three weeks' ocean voyage has become one of the most
enjoyable it is possible to take by those who are seeking health or
pleasure on the sea. The steamers of the great companies, which carry on
so admirably the weekly communication between England and South Africa,
are so powerful, handsome, and commodious, their captains and crews are
so attentive and obliging, their food and cabin accommodation so ample
and luxurious, that it seems impossible for anyone, excepting a
confirmed grumbler, to find any reasonable fault with any of their
arrangements, where all are so good. Passengers will select the
particular vessel by which they desire to travel, rather by the
convenience of the date fixed for sailing, than from any particular
choice of the name of the steamer, either belonging to the Castle Mail
Packet Company, the Union Steamship Company, or any other line.
A sea voyage of the kind I have recently taken does not give opportunity
for much striking incident, or exciting variety. If restful and pleasant
to those who are escaping for a while from the bustle and turmoil of
life on shore, it is at all events bound to be somewhat monotonous, in
spite of the many amusements which are daily arranged, including
cricket, tennis, quoits, concerts, dances, etc., of which I experienced
a fair share. On many occasions I was called upon to preside at
concerts, lectures, etc., not only amongst the saloon passengers, but
also in the third class cabin. A rough voyage across the Bay of Biscay,
a view of the Tagus, a brief run on shore to look at the picturesque
capital of Portugal, a gaze at the spot, which marks the memory of the
scene of the fearful earthquake of 1755, which destroyed most of the
town, and 50,000 of its inhabitants; a short stay at the lovely island
of Madeira, sufficient to glance at its beautiful scenery, to breathe
its balmy air, to taste its delicious fruits, and to land at its pretty
town of Funchal, to see some of its charming surroundings; a passing
peep at Teneriffe, which is now receiving so much attention in Europe as
an attractive health resort; a few days' run of exhausting heat through
the tropics; a visit to Saint Helena, enough to allow of a drive to
Longwood, and a look at the room, where the first Napoleon breathed his
last--leaving there the legacy of the shadow of a mighty name to all
time--on this "lonely rock in the Atlantic"; a few days more of solitary
sailing over a stormy sea, a daily look-out for whales, porpoises,
dolphins, flying fish, sharks, and albatrosses; a glance upward, night
after night, into the starry sky, to gaze on the Southern Cross, so much
belauded, and yet so disappointing in its appearance, after the
extravagant encomiums lavished on it; and at length, on the early
morning of May 24, I safely reached Cape Town.
[Illustration: Decorative]
[Illustration: Decorative]