We anchored a little before 5 P.M.: it was very cold, from the wind rushing down the valley directly upon the anchorage. The sunset was fine, in the midst of dark clouds, contrasted with others of a burning crimson; and to the right the dark rock of St. Helena rose abruptly from the sea. The more I gaze on this desolate-looking and rocky island, the deeper becomes my pity for, and the interest I feel in, the fate of Buonaparte.
The young officers are in high glee, fishing off the poop; they have just caught two small silver mackarel. The gun fires at 9 P.M., after which time no boat will quit the island, and no person is permitted to land. I fear I shall be unable to visit Sandy Bay, on the other side of the island; an officer of the “Winchelsea” told me not to miss seeing that bay on any account; he gave us sixty-two days from the Cape to England, and eleven to St. Helena; we arrived here in ten days and a quarter. The captain of the “Essex” came on deck just before we anchored, he appeared very, very ill,—in my opinion, fearfully so.
22nd.—A rainy and cold morning; it cleared about noon, when I went on shore, and climbed the steps of Ladder Hill for some distance,—they are almost perpendicular; want of time prevented my ascending to the summit of the six hundred and seventy steps. Admired the pretty church just within the gateway, and visited the market; beef and mutton, ten pence to one shilling per pound; grapes, just in, at two shillings and sixpence per pound; the peaches are bad, the loquats the same, and but few vegetables; beet-root and cabbage good; articles of every sort very dear.
A good sketch of the town may be taken from the upper end of the principal street, looking towards the sea. Walked over the Government gardens, in which is a cenotaph, in memory of the officers and men who died in the “Waterwitch” off different parts of the coast of Africa. In a hut near the beach I saw a dried flying-fish, sixteen or eighteen inches in length,—offered the man a shilling for it, which he refused; they are found now and then in the boats off the rocks, into which they sometimes happen to fly or fall; the largest found at St. Helena are twenty-four inches in length, and are very delicate food.
Went down to the foot of the cliff under Ladder Hill, where the breakers were dashing over a fine reef of rocks that run out into the sea in most picturesque style; an old anchor was cast on one of them, and beyond it lay a cannon,—the effect of the anchor cast away on the rocks was good. Several boys were fishing there; they brought me some blue fish, which are very beautiful, of a brilliant deep purplish blue colour, interspersed with crimson streaks,—they are considered great delicacies. They showed me some beautiful fish, spotted with red,—these are also very good for food. I picked up some black sea eggs, young crabs, and limpets; the latter are eaten by the French. Returned on board, much against my will,—I could have spent the day very happily on the rocks which jut out below the great cliff on which the Ladder is built. At 5 P.M. the “Essex” fired a gun; the anchor was raised, which appeared to be hard work in such deep water, and we once more set sail for old England.
23rd.—The captain dangerously ill.
26th.—Since we quitted St. Helena we have made excellent runs daily in a direct line for Ascension, and the vessel has been so steady we have scarcely felt any motion.
27th.—Passed Ascension about 6 P.M.: the island has the appearance of a cluster of mountains of a conical form. One small eminence, Cross Hill, is so called from the cross that surmounts it. Green Mountain is the highest point in the island,—viewed from some points it has a double peak.
30th.—Divine service. Crossed the line with a seven and a half knot breeze. One of the officers reminded me that he was in the “Madagascar” with me when we re-crossed the line under reefed topsails.
Dec. 1st.—A fine favourable breeze. The captain is very ill; I fear he is sinking into his grave. He was in delicate health before the gale, and the exertion he underwent at that time was too much for him; there is but faint hope of his recovery.