INDIAN NEWS.
Overland letters brought me the following intelligence:—
“1839, March 25th.—Her Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī sent a kharita to give me the glad tidings of the safety of the Gaja Rajā Sāhib, and the birth of a daughter; they are both very weak and thin, and her Highness is most anxious about her grand-daughter, as she can scarcely take any nourishment. They have named the child the Chimna Rajā, after the wife of Appa Sāhib.”
Holding rank by courtesy, as “Aunt of my grand-daughter the Gaja Rajā,” this newly-arrived young princess must be my great grand-niece, for which reason perhaps she honoured me by coming into the world on the anniversary of my wedding-day. It is remarkable the ladies of that family are oddly enough styled Rajā, and Rajā Sāhib.
Dec. 15th.—My relative at Landowr wrote to me, saying, “I had a very interesting letter lately from our friend Sturt, of the engineers, from Cabul: he has been appointed engineer to Shah Sūjah, and gets 1000 rupees a month: he had not heard of your being in England; but he begged to be kindly remembered to you. Here is an extract: ‘Give my best salām; I promised her a sketch of the Hills, which I have not forgotten, but never did one to my fancy; but she shall have one of Candahar, Ghuznee, and Cabul, and any thing else this place affords: would she like a lady’s dress? if so, I shall be obliged by her accepting it from me.’ I told Sturt you were at home, but would, I was sure, be delighted to get the sketches.”
How often after the death of Captain Sturt, who distinguished himself so highly, did I regret never having received the promised sketches, and concluded they were lost during the disastrous retreat from Cabul! In 1848, Mr. Hullmandel showed me the work published by General Sale, and told me the lithographs were from sketches by Captain Sturt; that the portfolio was lost during the retreat of the army, but was afterwards discovered and given to Lady Sale. With how much interest I looked over the drawings!—in all probability they were from the very sketches he had taken for me.
“1840, Feb. 15th.—We have just received the news of Lord Auckland’s having been created an Earl and Sir John Keane a Baron: what an unlucky wight Sir Henry Fane has been, to have missed prize-money and a peerage, and having nearly been killed by the only thing he got in the country,—a pukka fever!
“There is no doubt as to the expedition to China, and ‘Teas is riz.’ It will be a short affair of a year, perhaps less; the whole will fall on the shoulders of poor Governor Lin, who may lose his head in addition to his two buttons.”
“July 1st.—The Bombay Government have consented to the Bāiza Bā’ī’s residing at a place called Nassuk, on the banks of the Godavery, not far removed from the Poona district, her own country. Four lākh a year are to be granted her; she is to live there on the same terms as people of her station reside at Benares, or other places in the British territories; but it is clearly understood that her followers are to be subject to the rules and regulations of the country.
“2nd.—We have heard of Sir Henry Fane’s death, for which we were sincerely sorry—poor fellow, his youthful good fortune did not attend his last career. In the Peninsular war he was styled ‘Main de fer.’
“August.—The Bā’ī has been unfortunate, having had a fire in her camp which destroyed her house, shawls, &c., and property to the amount of four or five lākh: it was occasioned by a Mahratta girl’s setting fire accidentally to the parda.”
“Dec.—The Gaja Rajā has recovered from a very severe illness, and the little princess, the Chimna Rajā, is well.
“A subscription was circulated in 1835 at Allahabad for building a church. Mr. Blunt, the Lieutenant-Governor, subscribed 1000 rupees. The building was to be done, provided the funds were sufficient, by Colonel Edward Smith, of the engineers. In February, 1841, the church was consecrated by the Bishop: it does honour to the architect, being a handsome building, and well adapted to the climate. The erection of so expensive a church by so small a society shows great zeal in the cause of religion in the inhabitants of Allahabad.
“We have just received the news of the renewal of hostilities with China, at which I am glad. The celestials will be forced to learn the power of the enemy they have drawn upon them. The new Commissioner, Lin’s successor, is to be made over to the Board of Punishment, and the admiral has been deprived of his button. There is nothing new under the sun; our expression of having ‘a soul above buttons’ must be derived from the Chinese. A great man, for instance, like Admiral Kwang, bearing bravely up against loss of dignity (button) and honour.”
“1841, Feb. 15th.—The Bāiza Bā’ī has crossed over to the opposite side of the Jumna, where she remains until after the eclipse of to-morrow. Appa Sāhib is in Sultan Khusrū’s garden, and will not move, it is said, until some arrangement is first made for him by the Bā’ī or the Government, if not, he says, he will turn fakīr.”
“May.—Captain Fitzgerald, who has charge of the Bāiza Bā’ī, and her Highness, were heard of at Nagpore; she gave no trouble, but was dilatory on the march, the weather being frightfully hot.”
“1842.—A kharita was received from Nassuk, some forty or fifty kos from Bombay. The Brija Bā’ī, one of her Highness’s ladies, was very magrā, i.e. discontented with the hawā pāni, ‘the air and water’ of the place, and complained that she saw no sāhib log (gentlemen), as when at Allahabad.
“How little a man can estimate his real value! The last accounts from Cabul informed us our friend Captain B⸺ was a prisoner, and to be sold for 200 rupees! The price having been paid, he was released from captivity.”
Let me record the death of a faithful servant: on quitting Calcutta, a lame shepherd applied to be taken into employ; the old man had been a sipahī, was wounded in action, and ever after remained lame. When he offered himself as bherī-wālā (shepherd) an objection arose on account of his lameness, it being imagined he could never take the goats five hundred miles up the country. “I am so lame I shall never overdrive them,” said the man;—the reason was unanswerable, he was taken into service.
The old male goat of the flock very often upsets the shepherd; though they are always at war they are great friends.
Poor old Bulwan, our lame shepherd, was bitten by a mad dog, which attacked him when he was driving it off from one of the goats—my favourite black Bengalī, which I had commended to his especial care; he died four days afterwards: he was sent to the hospital, but it was too late. There seems to be no cure but that of cutting out the bitten part, and cauterizing the wound. We gave his son eight rupees to bury him, and shall keep him in his father’s place if he is steady. We regret the old man very much; we used to give him a rupee occasionally to cheer him. Every shepherd knows his own sheep;—and my old man not only knew his own sheep, but had a name for each of his goats, forty-five in number. Like Dandy Dinmont’s terriers, Pepper and Mustard, and Mustard and Pepper, the old man derived the name of all his goats from one, his prime favourite, a beautifully spotted Delhi goat, by name Jūmnī,—“Jūmnī’s daughter,” “Jūmnī’s grandson’s grand-daughter’s son,” “Jūmnī’s nephew’s grandchild,”—every kid in the flock was traced by some means or other to the invaluable Jūmnī: the pedigree of a race-horse was nothing in comparison to the pedigree of the kids!
CHAPTER LXI.
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.
CHAPTER LXII.
RESIDENCE AT CAPE TOWN.
View from the Sea—Wrecks—Cape Town—The Fish Market—The Seasons—Slavery—Washerwomen on the Mountain—Target Practice—Beautiful Flowers—Cape Sheep—The Bushwoman—Green Point—Shells—The Honey-bush—Bracelets of Ivory—High Price of Curiosities—Auctions—Robberies—Camp’s Bay—Fine Aloes—Effect of the Fog-wreaths on the Lion Mountain—The Lion’s Rump—Enormous Bulbs—The Botanical Gardens—Remarkable Trees and Shrubs—The Hæmanthus—Poisoned Arrows—The Puff-adder—The Melaleuca—Curious Trees—The Plaat Clip, or Flat Stone—The Solitary Ruin.
1843, May.—Cape Town, when viewed from the sea, is beautiful and singular; the white houses are close to the shore, surrounded by mountains; the Devil’s Peak, the Table, and the Lion Mountain form a fine picture, enlivened by the number of vessels in the bay, lying close to the town. From the New Jetty, where you land, in the early morning of a clear day, the Blue Mountains, to the right of Robin’s Island, on the opposite side of the bay, are very beautiful. From the Old Jetty under the Table Mountain you see, to the right, the wreck of the “Abercrombie Robertson,” and that of the “Reform;” these lie near together. At the same place the “Waterloo” went on shore, but being rotten, instantly went to pieces, and disappeared. A little to the right, nearer the castle, are two other wrecks, now fast disappearing.
The castle and the barracks are close to this jetty; the latter was formerly the storehouse of the Dutch merchants. The principal street in Cape Town is the Heerengracht, which runs up from the shore: the George Hotel—the best hotel in the place, is in this street: we went there, it was quite full, and the passengers from the “Carnatic” found a difficulty in procuring rooms; from its being the race-week the place was full.
I found my husband residing in the house of a French lady in Roeland-street, close under Table Mountain. This house is reckoned amongst the most respectable houses of the class, and its situation at the farthest end of the town is desirable; you have quiet and fresh air. Had I arrived in the summer season at the Cape I should have preferred a house at Wynberg; during the winter time, Wynberg being damp, the inhabitants generally come into Cape Town. In a boarding-house there are many inconveniences, but you are saved the trouble of house-keeping, which to an Indian is a most vile affair; therefore I was content to remain. The terms at a boarding-house are seven shillings and sixpence a day for each person, which includes one bed-room, food and wine; the food is good; the wine, which is Cape, is only drinkable for those accustomed to it; and the Cape beer I did not venture to taste. House-rent is very cheap, and food also; meat, threepence per pound; an enormous fish costs twopence; a great craw-fish one penny; a fine fowl, thirteen-pence halfpenny; a small cart of fire-wood, seven shillings and sixpence.
The reports I heard in Cape Town respecting house-keeping in the country were not favourable; they say the houses in the country are generally leaky, and the landlords will not repair them; that the servants are thieves and liars, and, moreover, extremely dirty, requiring constant overlooking in the kitchen. The houses in Cape Town are infested with myriads of fleas—and such fleas!—perfect monsters! They have also a fair proportion of bugs.
10th.—I went to the fish market, a square-walled enclosure near the Old Jetty. The scene was curious and animated; Malays, Hottentots, Bushmen, and queer-looking people of all sorts, ages, and tribes, dressed out in their gayest colours, and grinning like so many monkeys, were all huddled together selling or buying fish. Cartloads of the most enormous craw-fish lay on the ground, crawling about and fighting each other; and on the ground near to them were heaps of silver-fish, and quantities of Cape salmon, and fish without scales, with long thin bodies and pointed heads, which were sold for one penny each,—good when salted and smoked; and there were also a number of queer-looking fish, of all sorts and sizes, with unpronounceable names. The porters who attend the market carry the fish away in baskets slung to each end of a long pole balanced on the shoulder;—and such creatures as these porters are! I bought a gielbeck or yellow beak, for which I paid twopence; the palate of the gielbeck is yellow, whence its name. A Malay porter carried it to the house on a stick through its gills, for which his pay was also twopence,—a great price for a very short distance, compared with the price of the fish, which was a very large one. One day I met a Bush-boy dragging off a fish as long as himself; he had a great stick over his shoulder, the end of which was passed through one of the gills of the fish, whilst the tail of the creature swept the ground. The high cheek-boned little black monster laughed and grinned as I could not repress an exclamation at his exceeding and picturesque ugliness.
16th.—The year, they tell me, is divided into two parts, the dry and the wet,—nine months of dry weather, and three months of rain; June, July, and August being the cold and rainy months. This day, the 16th of May, it is very cold, and may be reckoned a winter month; the thermometer in my bed-room at noon 58°. Since my arrival on the 26th April we have had daily showers, and some few days of rain; still, between the heavy showers the sun bursts forth, and a walk is delightful.
At breakfast-time a gentleman related to me an extraordinary history respecting slavery at the Cape; the particulars are as follow:—“The ‘Cleopatra’ has seized a Brazilian vessel—the ‘Progresso;’ she is a slaver. The ‘Cleopatra’ has taken from her thirteen prisoners and forty-eight slaves; with these people she has arrived at Pappendosh, a place near Cape Town, where the slaves have been landed; the rest of the slaves will follow in the ‘Progresso:’ she has not come in at present; she was taken in the Mozambique Channel. The slaves will now be examined and classed according to their ages,—the age is arbitrarily settled. They generally arrive branded; and as without some distinguishing mark they cannot be known, it is supposed those who may happen to have no mark will be branded by the authorities at the Cape. Blank indentures are to be drawn out, in which the age of the slave, his marks, &c., will be shown forth. The slaves are generally young, and they, supposing the age to be about ten years, will be bound to the purchaser of the indenture until the age of twenty-one; these indentures are to be sold by auction on the Parade at Cape Town to the highest bidder. The slaves who may be more aged are to be bound for a certain term of years to the person who buys them, so that their slavery may be the same with those of earlier years. These proceedings are under the authority of the Government; the motive is to conciliate the Dutch, who are generally the purchasers of the slaves.”
As the English hold forth that they abolish slavery, these proceedings appear curious, and I will go, if possible, to see the slaves sold on the parade. Although we do not originally capture the slaves we capture the vessels when carrying them away, take them into the Cape, and sell them for our own profit for a certain term of years to the highest bidder at public auction. It is mentioned in the indentures that the slaves are to be brought up in the Christian religion. It is said the slaves generally have no religion at all, and their masters leave them in utter ignorance.
The Table Mountain is to me a source of constant enjoyment; I delight in its varied appearance: at times a dense white vapour is spread over it,—when that passes away, the deep clear ultramarine blue of the sky, covered with bright clouds, forms a background to the dark mountain, whilst, every now and then, a stormy grey cloud passes over all, and gives a beautiful effect of light and shade.
I roamed the other day up the mountain by the side of the torrent, the bed of which is filled with large stones, over which the stream gurgles and runs with velocity. Hundreds of women and some few men were all employed washing clothes by beating them upon the stones in the stream: some of the women, with their infants tied upon their backs, were washing away, and the whole side of the mountain was covered with linen drying on the grass. How many of the groups would have formed an admirable picture, in spite of the ugliness of these Malay and Hottentot animals! They ask four shillings and sixpence, or three and sixpence a dozen for washing clothes, but will generally take two shillings and sixpence, including large and small. For the ship passengers they wash very badly; for people resident in Cape Town they wash well.
We accompanied a gentleman and his family up the mountain under the Devil’s Peak; he was going to teach his boys to fire at a target. They produced a great heavy old pair of flint pistols, and with these they amused themselves. I was enrolled amongst the Tyros; the two gentlemen were the best shots,—I took rank as the third; my success charmed me, although I was afraid of the pistol,—the crazy old weapon was so heavy I could scarcely take aim. A few evenings afterwards a pretty young French lady accompanied the party, and fired remarkably true.
25th.—The sun during the day is very powerful; it does not answer in these latitudes to expose one’s self to its rays during the noontide heat. At 4 P.M. we went on the mountain to practise pistol-shooting; we found that after sunset there was scarcely any twilight, and warned by the very cold, sharp exhalations from the wet ground, we quitted the spot quickly, but not before we had all taken cold.
June 11th.—The thermometer in my room at noon 53°, the air sharp and very cold. Rambled up Table Mountain, beyond the mill, from which place the narrow pathway is surrounded by flowers, even at this early season. I gathered great branches of what is called in England the Duke of York’s geranium; it was not in flower, but the scent of the leaves was delicious; it grew there most luxuriantly; when in blossom the flower is lilac and white. The purple and white prickly heath, and the white heath, were abundant; the deep orange-coloured aromatic azalia, the bossistroph or honey-plant, the fine white arum, and the tall slender Ixia, with its pendant crimson and graceful blossom, and its small bulb, which shot up every here and there, delighted me with their beauty. These plants, cultivated with so much care in England, were growing wild in every direction surrounding the little stony sheep-path I was ascending.
They say mechanics use the oil from the tip of the tail of the Cape sheep for their machinery, and that it does not become foul in the works. Five pounds’ weight of the tips of the tails of the sheep costs two shillings and sixpence, and produces two quarts and a half of fine clear oil, after having been melted over the fire and strained through a flannel bag. Animals in southern Africa appear to run to tail: see the enormous size of the tail of the sheep into which all the fat of the body appears to be collected: see the pretty mousehunt (a sort of fox), the Hottentot women in Cape Town, and the Bushwomen; all these have the beauty of the Hottentot Venus. Some of the Malays, both men and women, are handsome: the Africanders are too universally well known to need description.