We are, at last, arrived on the confines of Greece, a venerable name, now almost lost in that of Turkey in Europe, and its former splendour so entirely reversed, that I am particularly fortunate in finding a conveyance for a letter. Here are no posts in this neglected country, and the people once so accomplished, are in utter ignorance of what passes in the world, except from the vague reports they get from vessels, which now and then put in here. And this, alas! is the unhappy fate of all the south and eastern coast of Greece.
But before I say any thing more of this place, I must carry you back to Messina, and give you some account of our voyage.
Thursday, October 9th.
We left Messina at eleven o'clock this morning, and at twelve passed Reggio on the coast of Calabria. The country appears extremely barren, but is full of inhabitants and small towns.
Just before midnight, when all below were locked in sleep, and even those upon deck had scarce strength to resist the drowsy langour brought on by four hours duty; in this silent moment, when superstition, ever powerful in the mind of the sailor, gains new force from the surrounding gloom, the watch were rouzed with terror and astonishment, by a sudden illumination of the whole atmosphere. Their eyes, instantly turned to Heaven, were scarce reverted, when every part of the ship appeared in a blaze, and continued so for many seconds.
Struck by so awful a sight, in the dead of the night, a general silence prevailed, and many, unable to divine the cause of so sudden, and so tremendous an apparition, thought the last day was approaching. Their fears were still increased by observing through the sails, an immense ball of fire floating in the air a-head of the ship; but they were, at length, relieved by its falling into the sea.
The account our friends gave us the next morning, led us into a dissertation on fireballs, which philosophers say are produced by an exceeding great power of electricity, gradually accumulated, until the resistance of the atmosphere being no longer able to sustain it, it drops down slowly, and in no particular direction, not being drawn by any substance which would attract this electric matter, in the shape of common lightning.
October 10th.
Sunset. A westerly breeze has carried us past Cape Spartevento, and we are now just an hundred miles from the coast of Sicily. Mount Ætna is still in sight, and the sun setting directly behind it, forms one of those heavenly scenes, which at once affects us with the beautiful and sublime. Notwithstanding our very great distance, the mountain is so many degrees above the horizon, that would day-light continue, we should see it twenty miles farther. How great does nature appear in these wonderful works!
October 11th.