One must be abroad and far away to feel to the full the emotions that are excited, and the confidence which is inspired on seeing the old flag, that has swept every sea and shore, waving in its pride from the gaff-peak of a British man-of-war!
It is then that we feel "what a sway one little island has exercised over this mighty earth."
Hislop and I dined with Captain B——, who was anxious to hear our story in detail.
Our shipmates were told off to their several divisions, and we were placed in the ward-room mess for the remainder of the voyage.
We sailed that night, and under steam and canvas, as we bore away to the north, we soon saw the Peak of Adam sinking into the dark blue sea.
"Adieu to the Canaries," said Hislop, waving his hat; "the next shore we see will be Europe,—the white cliffs of Old England, perhaps."
But next day we sighted the great pitons of the Salvage Islands, a group of uninhabited rocks which are claimed by the Portuguese (perhaps because no one else cares about them), and which are surrounded by dangerous shoals. One of these isles closely resembles the fantastic rocks of the Needles, at the west end of the Isle of Wight.
On the Salvages the canary birds are so numerous, that an old voyager says, "it is impossible to walk without crushing their eggs."
We touched at Madeira, and after a delightful voyage of about sixteen days, ran up the Channel, and came to anchor in the Downs on the 20th of October.
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