We came very near this deeply interesting spot which for several years
held the attention of the world. We could appreciate the saying of the
notable prisoner there, who spoke of himself as “chained to this rock;”
for the island impresses you as a huge rock. Very few isolated places
seem to have more connection with the world; for twenty-five vessels on
an average each day pass by it, showing their signals, to be reported.
To begin and speak of the place, and the thoughts and feelings which it
suggested, would not be expected. We could not go ashore without first
entering the ship and paying port duties; but we had a full view of
“Longwood,” where Napoleon lived, and where he met death.
We resolved to go on board a British man-of-war which we should pass
not far off. On lowering the largest boat into the water, the seams
proved to have opened, and she soon filled. The gig which we used all
summer in going ashore at Hong Kong was more seaworthy; so we set off
in her for the man-of-war. We took four men to row and one to bail,
which he had to do nimbly, the water gaining on him, obliging the
stroke-oar to lend him a hand. By keeping our feet on a level with
the rail, we managed to reach the “Rattlesnake” without being wet,
though we discussed the question whether a handkerchief at half mast
on an oar would be likely to be seen, if we were swamped. We went and
returned safely, having received from the ship the news of the French
and Prussian war, three months old, and having also received of a New
Bedford whaler some vegetables, which we tried in vain to pay for.
The midshipmen of the “Rattlesnake” said that they were attracted by
a noble American vessel which entered the harbor that morning, and
they asked if we could tell them her name. After listening to their
description, we, with becoming diffidence, informed them that it was
the Golden Fleece.