So the days passed away without incident, till, one morning, the lookout announced land in sight, and everybody rushed on deck, but only the faintest speck could be discerned on the horizon.
In an hour, with the aid of the glass, they made out Table Mount, and in two hours they could see the whole line of coast, with its bold headlands and deeply-indented inlets. A few hours more of sailing brought them to the entrance of Table Bay, under the shadow of Table Mount.
The ship dropped anchor just as the sun touched the horizon. The sailors were all busy with the rigging. The missionary party hurried forward to view the novel scene; but Miss Conyers, though belonging to them, walked aft, and leaned over the taffrail, to bid good-night to the last sun of the old year, as he sank beneath the wave.
Justin Rosenthal followed her, and stood by her side for a few minutes, watching in reverent silence the rich crimson light fading from the western horizon; and then he said, quietly:
“It is gone! Will you please to take my arm and allow me to lead you forward? The captain will not send a boat on shore to-night; but to-morrow morning we shall all have an opportunity of visiting the colony. In the meantime, the view of the town and its vicinity, from this anchorage, is well worth looking at. Will you come?”
“Thank you—yes,” said Miss Conyers; and she permitted him to draw her hand within his arm, and take her forward, where all her companions were grouped together, gazing upon the new sights before them.
The view, as Justin Rosenthal had truly said, was well worth looking at. First of all, the bay into which they had put was vast enough to accommodate any number of ships, and, indeed, a very considerable number rode at anchor within it. Before them lay Cape Town, nestled at the foot of Table Mount, whose perpendicular sides rose up behind it; while on either hand, like giant sentinels to guard the entrance of the port, stood the barren crags of Lion’s Head and Devil’s Peak. A little back from the shores were sunny, green hills and shady grove trees, among which, half hidden, stood beautiful villas, built in the old Dutch style, with flat roofs and painted walls and broad terraces.
The newly-arrived voyagers remained on deck, gazing on this scene with never-tiring interest, until the short, bright twilight of those latitudes suddenly sank into night, and the stars came out in the purple-black heavens, and the lights shone in the streets and houses of Cape Town. Then they went below to the supper that had long been waiting; and afterward they turned in for the night.
As soon as they were awake in the morning, the whole party arose and dressed, and hurried up on deck to take another look at the harbor, the shipping, the town and the mountain.
“So this is Africa!” exclaimed Mrs. Ely, gazing in open-mouthed wonder upon the scene before them; “and only think—as long as we have been expecting to get here, now that we are here, I feel as if I was in a dream. Africa! Why, law, you know, though I always studied the map of Africa at school, and read about it in geography, I never seemed to realize there was such a place. It always seemed to me only like a place in a story, just as the Happy Valley, or the Cave of Despair. And I am sure it is as strange for me to be standing here, looking at it, as if I suddenly saw before me the Island of Calm Delight, or any other place that was only in a book. How queer! Africa!”