On the 14th of June, 1854, we embarked on board the "Arcturus," bound for China. Our fellow-passengers consisted of four French artistes, going to Calcutta on a musical speculation. In addition to these, we carried thirty-five Chinese in the steerage.
On the fifteenth day of our voyage, we came in sight of the Sandwich Islands. My companion, who up to this time had proved herself an excellent sailor, became all at once languid and melancholy. Two of our Chinese passengers were professed fortune-tellers. Finding that they could both speak a little English, and hoping thereby to amuse Madame Nelson, I summoned them to an exhibition of their talent. Half laughing, half incredulous, my friend offered her hand to their scrutiny. Silently and sadly they looked at it, hesitated, and consulted together. Becoming impatient of this delay, Madame Nelson pressed them for an explanation. "We pause," said they, "because we fear to afflict you." "You are wrong," said she, "for I have no belief in your art." Annoyed, perhaps, by this observation, they framed an evil prophecy. "You have been wealthy," said they (and this was true), "but you seek in vain to accumulate fresh riches. Your days are numbered." Speaking thus, they gazed earnestly upon her, and seemed to read the future in the lines upon her brow.
Painfully impressed by this prediction, my friend yielded to a despondency which I tried in vain to dispel. I then regretted what I had done, and strove to conceal my uneasiness by consulting the necromancers on my own account. The second prophecy made up in a measure for the dreariness of the first. The markings of my hand, said they, were especially favourable. I was destined to prosperity, and should one day become rich. One of them then pointed to a line upon my forehead. "A great misfortune awaits you," said he; "but it will not affect your future prosperity." I only laughed at these predictions, and endeavoured to cheer my poor friend by every means in my power.
The next day she was more dispirited than ever. She contrived, however, to sketch the portraits of our Chinese soothsayers, with which they were much delighted.
Within eight days from this time the state of Madame Nelson's health had become truly alarming. We had no medical man on board, and my anxiety grew daily more and more insupportable. At length one of the Chinese offered to prescribe. In his own country he was a physician, and he proposed administering some pills, which, hitherto, he had never known to fail. These pills were red, and about the size of a pin's head. The French passengers agreed with me that it was better to trust the Chinese than leave Madame Nelson to die without help. We offered her six of the pills. She enquired whence they came, and we were so imprudent as to tell the truth, which immediately prejudiced her against them. Her resistance drove us almost to despair; and when she at length yielded, it was not from conviction, but in compliance with my entreaties. More than six, however, she would not take. Whether their number were too few, or administered too late, I know not; but henceforth she grew rapidly worse. A violent delirium seized her, during which she raved of the Chinese and their prophecies. The delirium was succeeded by spasmodic paroxysms. I bent sorrowfully over her; I drew her head to my bosom; and, seeing that death was close at hand, imprinted a farewell kiss upon her lips. She looked up, smiled languidly, as if to thank me for my love, and gently breathed her last.
That same night the sailors bore her body upon deck, and the captain read aloud the funeral service. This done, they wrapt her in a sheet, slung a cannon-ball to her feet, and consigned her to her grave in the deep sea. That sullen plash found an echo in the hearts of all present.
The death of Madame Nelson left me almost broken-hearted. Far from my friends and my country, I felt more than ever desolate, and lamented the fatal day which bore me from my native land. What was now to become of me, friendless and alone, in a strange and savage country? Alas! what would I not now have given to turn back; but I could not change the course of the ship, or turn the currents of the winds. Go on I must, and submit to my destiny.
The navigation of the Chinese seas is rendered more than commonly hazardous by reason of the sunken rocks which there abound. Threading these securely, we came, one glorious day, upon the Bashee Islands. In three days, said the captain, we should probably arrive at the end of our journey. Just, however, as we were congratulating ourselves on this pleasant intelligence, we were overtaken by a frightful storm of wind and rain. Huge black clouds traversed the sky, and we saw more than one water-spout in the distance. When the tempest at length abated, it was succeeded by a dreary calm, which lasted for nine days. A faint breeze occasionally sprang up, only to die away again, and leave us more impatient than ever. At length, after beating about the Chinese shores for more than twenty days, the captain informed us that our sea-stores were almost exhausted. Hereupon the sailors refused to work, unless some of their number were allowed to take a boat, and venture in search of Hong-Kong, which, we calculated, could not be distant more than thirty miles. The captain despatched eight men. We then cast anchor amid a group of islands, and there awaited the return of these brave fellows who had undertaken to risk their lives for our safety. Twenty-four hours after, they returned with a steamer, which towed us into the Hong-Kong roads, on the 29th of August, after a sea-voyage of seventy-six days. Summoned to the French Consulate to attest the death of my unhappy friend, I made the acquaintance of our vice-consul, M. Haskell, and explained to him all the discomfort of my present position. He advised me to relinquish an enterprise so unfortunately begun. I replied that my only desire was to get back to California. "Suffer me," said the vice-consul, "to make all the arrangements for your return; and I trust that my influence may be sufficient to ensure you every attention during the voyage." I thanked him for his kindness, and from this time became better reconciled to my Chinese expedition.
The island of Hong-Kong contains twenty thousand Chinese, and one thousand European inhabitants. It is situated at the foot of an immense mountain, and is built in the form of an amphitheatre. On entering the principal street, the traveller is surprised to find himself in the midst of elegant European buildings. The houses are very large, surrounded by verandahs, and fitted up with jalousies—a very necessary luxury in all tropical climates. On a height to the left of the harbour stands the town-hall, and, a little farther on, an immense line of barracks, for the accommodation of the English soldiery. In the midst of the parade, which is a kind of fortified esplanade, stand several pieces of cannon, so placed as to command the principal street of the town—an arrangement admirably calculated to ensure the respect and good conduct of the Chinese population. Here also is an English Protestant church. The climate of Hong-Kong is unhealthy. The summer heats are oppressive, and fevers are prevalent.
Life at Hong-Kong is monotonous to the last degree. Public amusements are unknown; society there is none to speak of; and it offers no resources beyond those of the domestic circle. The women never walk out. In the first place, it is not the fashion; and, in the second, it is scarcely possible, on account of the heat. Though it be to go no farther than the next house, you are always carried in a palanquin. The English gentlemen at Hong-Kong wear white suits, as in India.