W.S.L., Worst Steam Line—Table Mountain—The Table-cloth is
Spread—Pic-nic to Constantia—Careless Smoking—Cape Wines—The
“Ireland” Proceeds to India—Melancholy Forebodings—Midnight
Alarm in Simon’s Bay—The Cape Observatory.
At noon of the last day in the month of January, 1857, the “Ireland” cast
anchor in Table Bay, which was crowded with vessels of all sizes and
under every flag. Even the national ensign of England, with the three
talismanic letters, W.S.L., in glaring yellow, was seen flying at the
mizen-peak of a steamer, recognized as the “England,” a sister ship to
the “Ireland,” and belonging to the same line, well known at the Cape of
Good Hope as the “worst steam line” which has yet called at that great
turning point in the navigation between the East and the West.
Immediately on our anchoring, some of the passengers of the “England”
came on board, who informed us that they were on the way to Europe,
and that, between Mauritius and the Cape, they had fallen in with the
tail-end of a hurricane, which had placed them in considerable danger,
but that, having repaired damages, they were going to start for England
in a few hours’ time. Many of our passengers seized the opportunity to
convey to their friends the intelligence of their safe arrival as far as
the Cape of Good Hope.
Of course there was a comparison of “notes” as to the state of these two
vessels, and we found that we were not worse off than the passengers
on board our sister ship. We afterwards learned, from persons residing
at the Cape, who had come in the “England” on her outward voyage, that
previous to their arrival at Cape Town, they ran entirely out of drinking
water, and that, on their making the harbour, they had to telegraph to
the signal staff to send them water, by which means a water-tank was
sent to them before their arrival. They had a large number of soldiers
on board on that occasion, and it was stated that the military officers
had to take matters in their own hands as far as the discipline of the
stewards was concerned.
Fortunately, these two vessels were commanded by gentlemanly, considerate
officers, and their tact and temper kept the discontent within reasonable
bounds. With another vessel, belonging to the same line, matters took
a different course, and on her arrival at the Cape of Good Hope the
passengers were obliged to bind the commander to keep the peace towards
them for the remainder of the voyage. The commander of the “Ireland”
used his best endeavours to make the passage from England in thirty-five
days; but we were forty-three days on the voyage, and would have been
longer had we not been favoured by slants of wind, which, under ordinary
circumstances, we could not have expected on the route adopted. The real
fact was that the vessels were not fitted with sufficiently powerful
machinery, and the space which ought to have been devoted to fuel was
appropriated for cargo.
On arriving at Table Bay, our attention was drawn to a beautiful
phenomenon of nature, by which Cape Town is supplied with water, and of
which the following is a brief description:—
Table Mountain, under which Cape Town is built, is the terminus of a
ridge of high land which covers a considerable portion of the promontory
of the Cape of Good Hope. The side of this mountain, facing the
north-west, and immediately behind the town, is perpendicular, and about
4000 feet in height. From the basin of Table Bay, during that portion of
the twenty-four hours in which the air is warmer than the water, there
is a considerable evaporation, which saturates the warm air overhanging
the basin. The air, saturated with this moisture, rising to the edge of
the cliff or summit of Table Mountain, meets with a cold polar current
of air in the form of the prevalent south-east wind, by which it is
immediately condensed into a cloud, and then precipitated on the ridge
in the shape of dew or rain, according to the relative difference of
temperature of the two currents of air. Thence, falling down the face or
perpendicular side of the mountain, this deposit of dew or rain forms a
stream of cool sparkling water, which affords an abundant supply to the
30,000 inhabitants of Cape Town, and the numerous ships that make this
their port of call. From the harbour this white cloud appears as if ever
pouring over the edge of the ridge, and never able to attain its object,
the foot of the mountain. When dense, so as to entirely cover the top of
Table Mountain, it is the precursor of a storm; so that, when bad weather
is expected, it is usual to say that “the table-cloth is spread.”
While engaged in looking at this beautiful phenomenon of nature, the
increasing size of the table-cloth on the mountain warned us of the
coming storm, and hastened us in our efforts to reach the shore. As
there were a number of ladies and children on board the vessel having no
gentlemen to assist them, and all anxious to reach the shore, after a
passage during which they had suffered considerable privations, my wife
made an offer of my services to provide accommodation for them at Cape
Town, and render them any little assistance during their short stay in
harbour. Accordingly our party was soon formed; a large shore-boat was
provided, and we found ourselves on shore at Cape Town, and assembled
at the custom-house, where the ladies had to remain until accommodation
was provided for them. In consequence of there being so many vessels in
harbour, the hotels, which are remarkably good, were full. After some
little difficulty, always to be encountered in a strange town where one
does not know one street from another, we succeeded in discovering two
houses in which our large party could be accommodated as boarders, and
where we were rendered very comfortable during our stay. The following
day was devoted to viewing the town, already so often described, when the
younger ladies discovered that they had left England without “quite a
number” of little trifles which afforded them an opportunity of parting
with their pin-money, and at the same time drawing a comparison of the
value of “trifles” in England and in her Colonies. In the evening we had
a visit from the young gentlemen passengers, when we were asked to join
a pic-nic, to see one of the wine-producing estates. Preliminaries were
soon arranged, and on the next morning a private omnibus (if I may use
such an expression), with four beautiful horses, made its appearance at
the door of our boarding-house. The hour was early, five in the morning,
and this was supposed to afford an excuse for sundry performances on a
key bugle, which hastened our departure, and considerably disturbed the
neighbourhood. Adding our contribution to the already large supplies of
edibles on the omnibus, and with the ladies comfortably seated inside,
and the gentlemen on the outside, away we started for Constantia, the
well-known estate of the hospitable family of the Vanreenans.
The gale, which had been blowing since our arrival, was at an end; the
rain which had fallen had laid the red dust on the roads, which is the
subject of great annoyance to the residents. The morning was cool, the
air bracing and exhilarating to the spirits. Nature appeared to have put
on her most smiling aspect to welcome us to this portion of her domain.
And, in short, it was one of those charming mornings, so prevalent at the
Cape, when the better nature of man will rise with the song of the birds
in gratitude to the Divine Maker of all.
So sudden and so great a change from the confinement and discomfort of
a vessel had a corresponding effect on us all; and, as the fleet horses
dashed along, we fully enjoyed the scenes of quiet beauty, and the
picturesque views which the road to Constantia revealed to us in that
sunny morning.
There was not a disagreeable person in the party; all the agreeables had
been gathered together, and the contrary natures had been excluded. The
jest and quick repartee followed each other in rapid succession; all were
smiles, and sorrow and sadness appeared to have lost their existence for
that day.
Strange that we had been so long together, and had not until that morning
learned the better part of each other’s nature. How many surprises there
were that day! Some learned that they were related by family ties, others
that they were close neighbours in “the Old Country,” and all that from
that day forth they felt interested in each other’s career.
Arrived at Constantia, we found the whole of those persons engaged on the
estate in great commotion, for here, in this lovely spot, the frightful
element “Fire,” from which we had so lately escaped, had been doing
considerable destruction; and, although the fire had been overcome, it
was not known how soon it might break out again.
It appeared that the fire originated from one of the natives employed
on the estate having carelessly thrown away the ashes of his pipe;
these smouldered for a time, and the vegetation at that season being
dry, when once inflamed, soon created an alarming conflagration, which
rapidly assumed gigantic proportions, threatening to destroy all the
surrounding estates. Fortunately the heavy rain of the previous night
had somewhat arrested the progress of the fire, but, as the sun rose and
the vegetation dried, it required constant vigilance to prevent the fire
breaking out again.
In this state of things, of course our happy party could not think of
intruding on these good people in their distress. But being politely
offered the use of the grounds, we outspanned our horses, procured water,
milk, and eggs, and, having some good housewives among the party, we
enjoyed a most comfortable breakfast of our own providing.
The day was spent in rambling over the country, and making ourselves
somewhat acquainted with the wine-growing of the colony. We were informed
that the vine, from the grapes of which the delicious Constantia wine
is produced, will only grow upon this estate, from which it derives its
name, and only on certain portions of it where the soil is said to be of
a quality peculiar to a few localities of this district.
The grape with which the wine is coloured is grown in a part of the
estate set aside for that purpose, and appeared to us dryer and more
stony than other localities.
The Cape, or South African, wines have been received with considerable
favour in the English market, and are recommended in all our hospitals
for their purity and absence of spirit.
The export of wine from the Cape has increased from 106,067 gallons,
in 1854, to 797,092 gallons, in 1857; and during that period, in
consequence of the failure of the grape in Europe, the price of the wine
has increased three-fold;—a cask of Cape wine, which could be purchased
formerly in England for eighteen pounds, now fetching fifty-four pounds
sterling.
At the present moment, I am inclined to think that the merchants give too
high a price to the producers to enable us to benefit to the extent that
we should in England from the large supplies of wine which we may obtain
from the Cape. But now that roads through newly-discovered mountain
passes are opening up new districts suitable for the production of wine,
such as the Oudts horn, and many others, the increased supply will
naturally decrease its cost in the market.
There is an earthy taste in the South African wines, which greatly
reduces their value; as this is not inherent to the grape, but simply
the effect of the red dust of the district with which the grapes are
covered, more attention in the manufacture of the wines will obviate this
objection, and place them in that position in the markets of Europe to
which their intrinsic merit entitle them.
After passing a most agreeable day, we returned to Cape Town, as the
shades of evening were closing in, and night was about to spread her
mantle over the forest of masts floating in Table Bay.
In two days afterwards the “Ireland” was away on her course to India,
bearing with her those who were to take part in the great Indian drama.
The merry-hearted whip, who handled the ribbons so gracefully; the
mother, with her loving children; the maidens, with their mirthful
laughter; the soldier, with his gallant bearing; the beardless boys,
panting for glory and this world’s renown, who joined us on that festive
day at Constantia—where are they?
Foremost amongst the stormers of Lucknow the soldiers fell; the
merry-hearted whip died, homeward bound, from the effects of his fearful
wounds; the mother, after watching over her babes through dangers worse
than death, arrived in safety at Calcutta, then drooped and died. The
maidens—one, the loveliest of them all, was seized with cholera on her
arrival in India; her beauty vanished and her spirit fled—some are
wedded, while others perished—ask not how.
On landing at Cape Town, I had made inquiries for the Naval
Commander-in-chief, and was informed that Commodore Trotter was up the
Mozambique Channel. In the absence of the chief, I applied to the officer
in charge of the naval station, when I found that, although orders had
been sent out to the Cape, at the request of the Foreign Office, to
forward me to my Post in one of Her Majesty’s ships, no definite steps
had been taken for that purpose.
When the Admiralty orders for the conveyance of Her Majesty’s Consul
for Mozambique to his Post, in a ship of war, reached Simon’s Town, it
appears there was, at that time, the miserable remains of a vessel lying
in the harbour, which, in former times, did duty as a tender to the ship
of the senior officer, but, owing to her being unseaworthy, she had been
condemned. As the orders were imperative, it was supposed that an officer
of some standing, commanding a large steamer, would have to convey me to
Mozambique; as the steamer in question, from her great expenditure of
coals, was worse than useless on the Cape station, to which all the coals
used have to be carried from England at a great expense. This steamer
was a remarkably good sailor, and might have been usefully employed under
canvas, in the Mozambique Channel, instead of lying, month after month,
at Simon’s Bay doing nothing.
The Mozambique Channel is looked upon as one of the most unhealthy
stations in the world; and, therefore, it is but natural that a naval
officer, who has arrived at a position on the Navy List, where he knows
that seniority will alone advance him, should hesitate to go to a part
of the world where he is likely to make a vacancy. On the return of
the Commodore, the destination of the large steamer was pretty well
indicated, and, therefore, it was suggested that the old condemned
schooner “Dart” should be fitted out to take the Consul to Mozambique,
and, by her imposing appearance in that port, awe the slave-dealers of
Eastern Africa.
Accordingly, a lieutenant and a party of men were ordered on board the
“Dart;” her old sails were bent, and with the assistance of some coils
of rope, a few buckets of tar, two or three pounds of putty, and the
expenditure of a pot or two of black paint, all supplied by order from
Her Majesty’s Dockyard at Simon’s Town, the “Dart” began to look quite
smart. The loftier spars were put in their places, the lighter yards
thrown across, the masts nicely stayed, the yards squared, ropes hauled
taut—long, low, and rakish; with a blue ensign abaft, and a long blue
pennant at the mast head, she looked “quite the thing.”
Many smiled at the “Consul’s Yacht” (as I was told they called the “old
Dart done up”); some shook their heads, and ventured to doubt if the
Consul would ever reach his Post in her, and all were on the look out
for the arrival of the “Ireland,” when suddenly, one night, there was
heard, over the harbour of Simon’s Town, a cry of distress proceeding
from the “old Dart done up.” “Help! help! for heaven’s sake, the Consul’s
Yacht is sinking.” Immediately, the boatswain’s mate’s whistles were
heard on board of all the men-of-war in the harbour. “Away there, boat’s
crews—away, there, away!” “Hurry up, lads; that d—d thing of paint and
putty is going down at her anchors!!”
By the exertions of those on board, pumping and baling with buckets, the
“old Dart” was kept afloat until the men-of-war’s boat towed her into
shallow water, when she was again dismantled, being pronounced not even
fit for a “Consul’s Yacht.”
This, I found, was the only step that had been taken towards forwarding
me to my Post, where the slave-trade, in its most revolting form, was
carried on without a hope of being checked, but by my intervention as the
British Consul.
As a large amount of _specie_ was expected from England, which would
have to be carried by one of Her Majesty’s ships from Simon’s Bay to
Algoa Bay, the large steamer was compelled to remain for this important
service, and Her Majesty’s Consul for Mozambique was detained at the
Cape of Good Hope for more than five months, the greater portion of
which time three steam-ships of war were lying in Simon’s, or Table,
or Algoa Bay. To those who may not be initiated in the subject of the
carriage of _specie_, I ought to explain that the Captains of Her
Majesty’s ships receive a certain per centage on all _specie_ carried
by the vessel which they command; while, for carrying Consuls, and other
public servants, they receive only a fairly remunerative amount of
table-money to compensate them for any expense they may have been put to
in entertaining their guest.
When head money for pirates was found to be a premium for murder, it was
very properly abolished. Similarly, let us hope that freight-money for
the carriage of gold and silver will no longer be an inducement to the
neglect of the public service.
As the movements of the squadron at the Cape were wrapt in the most
sublime mystery, it was quite impossible to anticipate the distant period
when one of Her Majesty’s ships could be placed at my disposal.
Under these circumstances, finding that my future movements were _in
nubibus_, I resolved to take time by the forelock. Having made the
acquaintance of Mr. Thomas Maclear, F.R.S., the Astronomer Royal for
the Cape of Good Hope, and, through the courtesy of the Honorable Mr.
Field, Collector of the Customs, being allowed to take my scientific
instruments out of the Custom House, I had my magnetic instruments
conveyed to the Royal Observatory, where Mr. Maclear, with that generous
aid which he is always ready to afford in the cause of science, had a
room placed at my disposal. Lodgings were procured near the Observatory,
and many agreeable hours were passed by my wife and myself in the society
of Mr. and Mrs. Maclear, and their amiable and highly intelligent family,
whose unvarying kindness and attention to us, while resident at the Cape,
will never be forgotten.