March 4th.—The morning was fine, the sea heavy, and we came in delightfully towards the Cape: the mountains of Africa were beautiful, with the foaming breakers rushing and sounding at their base. The lighthouse and green point, with its white houses, were pleasing objects. The view as you enter the Cape is certainly very fine: the mountains did not appear very high to my eye, accustomed to the everlasting snows of the Himalaya, but they are wild, bold, and picturesque, rising directly from the sea,—and such a fine, unquiet, foaming, and roaring sea as it is! The Devil’s Peak, the Lion, and Table Mountain, were all in high beauty; not a cloud was over them. The wreck of the “Juliana” lay near the lighthouse; and the “Trafalgar” was also there, having been wrecked only a week before.
5th.—Breakfasted at the George Hotel; fresh bread and butter was a luxury. Drove to Wineburgh to see a friend, and not finding him at home, we consoled ourselves with making a tiffin—that is, luncheon,—on the deliciously fine white water grapes from his garden. Proceeded to Constantia, called on a Dutch lady, the owner of the vineyard, whose name I forget; she, her husband, and daughter were very civil, and offered us refreshment. We walked over the vineyard; the vines are cut down to the height of a gooseberry bush, short and stumpy; the blue grapes were hanging on them half dried up, and many people were employed picking off the vine leaves, to leave the bunches more exposed to the sun; the taste of the fruit was very luscious, and a few grapes were sufficient, they were too cloying, too sweet. They told us it took an amazing quantity of grapes to make the Constantia, so little juice being extracted, in consequence of their first allowing the bunches to become so dry upon the vine; but as that juice was of so rich a quality, it rendered the Constantia proportionably expensive. The old Dutchman took us up a ladder into an oak tree, in which benches were fixed all round the trunk; he took great pride in the breadth of it, and the little verdant room formed of the branches was his favourite place for smoking. The acorns I picked up were remarkably large, much larger than English acorns. Oaks grow very quickly at the Cape, three times as fast as in England; but the wood is not so good, and they send to England for the wood for the wine-casks, which is sent out ready to be put together; they think their wine too valuable for the wood at the Cape. There was no wine-making going on at the time, but the lovers of Constantia may feel some disgust at knowing that the juice is pressed out by trampling of the grapes in a tub;—an operation performed by the naked feet of the Africanders, who are not the most cleanly animals on earth.
How much the freshness of the foliage and the beauty of the country through which we drove delighted me! The wild white geranium and the myrtle were both in flower in the hedges. After a sea-voyage we devoured the vegetables, the fish, and the fruit, like children turned loose amongst dainties.
Our voyage from Calcutta to the Cape had been a very fine one—forty-two days; the shortest period in which it has been accomplished was thirty-one days, by a French vessel. The mal de mer that had made me miserable from the time the pilot quitted us never left me until we were within four or five days’ sail of the Cape; then image to yourself the delight with which I found myself on shore. Eatables—such as sardines, anchovies, &c.,—are more reasonable than in Calcutta; one shilling is equivalent to a rupee. Visited a shop where there is a good collection of stuffed birds; bought a Butcher bird,—it catches its prey, sticks it upon a thorn, and devours it at leisure: small birds are one shilling each; but I know not if they are prepared with arsenical soap, like those to be purchased at Landowr. No good ostrich feathers were to be had at the Europe shops: there is a shop, kept by a Dutchwoman, near the landing-place, where the best—the uncleaned ostrich feathers—are sometimes to be bought; the price about five guineas per pound. My man-servant gave twenty shillings for eighteen very fine large long feathers in the natural state, and he told me he made a great profit by selling them in town.
6th.—I was just starting to dine with an old friend, when I was told a South-easter was coming on, and I must go on board at once; there had been no South-easter for some time, and it was likely to blow three days. The Table Mountain was covered with a white cloud, spread like a table-cloth over the summit, and the wind blew very powerfully. My friend hurried me off, saying instances had been known of ships having been blown off the land during a South-easter, leaving the passengers on shore, and their not being able to return for them. A gentleman offered the boatman who brought us on shore five pounds to take us to the “Madagascar,”—she was lying three miles from land; the man did not like the wind, and would not go. A boatman with a small boat said he would take six of the party for thirty shillings. When we got fairly from land the little boat pitched and tossed, and the waves broke over her, running down our backs; it was a very dark evening, we made the wrong vessel, and as we got off from her side I thought we should have been swamped; then there was the fear of not making our own ship, and being blown out to sea. Very glad was I when we were alongside, and still more so when my feet were on her deck,—the little boat rose and sunk so violently at the side of the vessel. How the wind roared through the rigging! The South-easter blew all night, and abated in the morning, when those who had been left on shore came on board.
A friend came to say farewell, and brought me a large hamper full of the finest grapes, pears, and apples,—a most charming present. I and the three children feasted upon them for ten days: how refreshing fine grapes were at breakfast! and such grapes! I never tasted any so fine before. From a Newfoundland ship near us I purchased several baskets of shells.
There was a little squadron of fishermen’s boats all out together, and hundreds of birds were following the boats, resting on the water at times, and watching for the bits of bait thrown away by the fishermen, which they picked up—it was a pretty sight.
The mountains certainly are very wild and beautiful; there is vegetation to the top of Table Mountain, 3500 feet. Landowr, on which I formerly lived, is 7500 feet above the sea; and that is covered with fine trees, and vegetation of all kinds, all over the summit.
At Constantia, at Mr. Vanrennon’s vineyard, his wife complained greatly of the emancipation of the slaves: some of them were unwilling to be free, some of them were glad that freedom procured them idleness; their wages being high and food cheap, the emancipated people will only work now and then. The slaves collect in Cape Town, they work for a week, the wages of seven days will supply them with rice and fish for a length of time; and until forced by necessity, they will not work again. They will prepare the land, but when the harvest is to be cut, they will not cut it unless you give them a sum far beyond their wages; and if you refuse to submit to the imposition, the crops must rot on the ground. The thatching on the houses at Constantia is most beautifully done, so correct and regular, and every thing there looks neat, and clean, and happy.
There are several sorts of grapes at the Cape, the purple, and the white Pontac grape, of which the Constantia wine is made. The white sweet pod, a long grape; the sweet water, a round white grape; and a round purple grape;—they are all very fine. The medical men prescribe nothing to old Indians but grapes, grapes, as many as they can eat; that is the only medicine recommended, and the best restorative after calomel and India. The Hindoos, as they call us Indians at the Cape, approve highly of the prescription. The Cape horses, which are fine, and the cows, delighted me; there were some excellent and strong mules also. The delights of shore after having been cooped up in a ship, only those who have made a long voyage and have suffered from mal de mer can understand; or the pleasure of roaming at large on the quiet, firm earth, the sweet smell of the fields, no bilge water, no tar, no confinement.