This accident, of which we had like to have been the victims, gives me an opportunity of making the following reflection: When you are bound for the Isle of France, and see that it is impossible to reach the entrance of the port in day-time, prudence requires, that you must take care in time, not to be too much entangled with the land. It is necessary to keep all night on the off side, and to windward of Round-island, not lying-to, but plying to windward, under a good deal of sail, on account of the currents. Besides, there is anchorage between the little isles; we have found from thirty to twenty-five fathom there, and a sandy bottom; but one must only anchor there in an extreme case of necessity.
Anchorage of the Isle of France.
On the 8th, in the morning, we entered the port, where we moored that day. The Etoile appeared at six o’clock in the evening, but could not come in till the next morning. Here we found our reckoning was a day too late, and we again followed the date of the whole world.
Particulars of our proceedings there.
The first day of my arrival, I sent all my sick people to the hospital, I gave in an account of what I wanted in provisions and stores, and we immediately fell to work in preparing the frigate for heaving down. I took all the workmen in the port, that could be spared, and those of the Etoile, being determined to depart as soon as I should be ready. The 16th and 18th we breamed the frigate. We found her sheathing worm-eaten, but her bottom was as sound as when she came off the stocks.
We were obliged to change some of our masts here. Our main-mast had a defect in the heel, and therefore might give way there, as well as in the head, where the main-piece was broken. I got a main-mast all off one piece, two top-masts, anchors, cables, and some twine, which we were in absolute want of. I returned my old provisions into the king’s stores, and took others for five months. I likewise delivered to M. Poivre, the intendant of the Isle of France, all the iron and nails embarked on board the Etoile; my alembic and recipient, many medicines, and a number of merchandises, which now became useless to us, and were wanted in this colony. I likewise gave three and twenty soldiers to the legion, as they asked my leave to be incorporated in it. Messieurs Commerçon and Verron, both consented to defer their return to France; the former, in order to enquire into the natural history of these isles, and of Madagascar; the latter, in order to be more ready to go and observe the transit of Venus in India; I was likewise desired to leave behind M. de Romainville, an engineer, some young volunteers, and some under-pilots, for the navigation in the several parts of India.
Loss of two officers.
We were happy, after so long, a voyage, to be still in a condition to enrich this colony with men and necessary goods. The joy which I felt on this occasion, was cruelly converted into grief, by the loss which we here suffered, by the death of the chevalier du Bouchage, ensign of the king’s ships, and a man of distinguished merit, who joined all the qualities of the heart and mind which endear a man to his friends, to that knowledge which forms a complete sea-officer. The friendly care and all the skill of M. de la Porte, our surgeon, could not save him. He expired in my arms, the 19th of November, of a flux, which had begun at Batavia. A few days after, a young son of M. le Moyne, commissaire-ordonnateur of the marine, who embarked as a volunteer with me, and had lately been made a garde de la marine[[134]], died of a pectoral disease.
In the Isle of France I admired the forges, which have been established there by Messrs. Rosting and Hermans. There are few so fine ones in Europe, and the iron which they make is of the best kind. It is inconceiveable how much perseverance, and how great abilities have been necessary to make this undertaking more complete, and what sums it has cost. He has now nine hundred negroes, from which M. Hermans has drawn out and exercised a battalion of two hundred men, who are animated by a kind of ambition. They are very nice in the choice of their comrades, and refuse to admit all those who have been guilty of the least roguery. Thus we see sentiments of honour combined with slavery[[135]].
1768. December.