The Kaffirs are men of great vitality and can endure great hardships, but are at all times most faithful and trustworthy. They can go days without food, and then have a big feast, and it is said that ten men could devour the carcass of a good-sized bullock, and never leave the table until it was all gone. Underneath their wagons they slung their hammocks, made from native jute buts, and their cooking utensils. Their pay, in the early sixties, was a pound sterling a month, and find themselves, with no set hours for duty, and it often happened that they were on the road for forty-eight hours at a time.
Today, rails and the steam engine do in an hour what in the old days took ten.
Before we weigh anchor I will mention my visit to Table Mountain, 8000 feet above the level of the sea. This mountain is usually covered by a thick mist or fog-bank, called by the natives and seamen “Table-cloth,” but when it is perfectly clear one can depend on fine weather.
A party of sixteen men and women, led by Guide Wilson, started on our journey up the mountain, by way of the bridal path, at three a.m. We went round the Lion’s Rump, then round and round, reaching the top at 8 a.m. Such a wonderful sight I never before witnessed! The ship in the bay looked like a toy vessel, and the town itself was full of tiny houses. The top of the mountain was very flat—called Table-land from the flatness of the surrounding Table Mountain—here is situated a lake, said to be in some places more than 200 fathoms deep, and filled with small thorny fish. We breakfasted and rested here until 11 a.m., and then gradually made our descent, reaching the town at 4.30 p.m., well compensated although weary from our journey.
I went to the end of the Long Pier and, signalling for my boat, was soon on my barque enjoying my evening meal.
We started to get under way; I gave orders to the chief officer to heave short loose top-sails and top-gallant sails, and it was done with a merry good will, as sailors are always glad to reach port and to leave it. While heaving up the anchor, Captain Smith and his crew came on board to assist us in getting under way, a courtesy usually extended in foreign ports by all ships.
The heavens were beaming with stars, a bright moon was shining, and a light wind blowing from the southwest helped to make a lovely night and a still one. Judson, our “Shanty-man,” started the crew up to sing the old “Shanty songs,” such as “Bonney was a Warrior,” “I am going away to leave you,” “Santa Anna was a one-legged man,” and numerous other songs. The singing was fine, causing large crowds to gather on the pier-heads, and the verandahs of the houses were filled with people.
The first officer shouted, “All away, sir,” meaning the anchor was off the bottom, we hoisted jibs and filled away, heading out to the westward, bidding good-bye to Captain Smith, whose boats-crew gave three rousing loud cheers for the old “Otago,” who picked up her skirts and started around the Cape for Algoa Bay, about 600 miles away.
At 10 p.m., or four bells by ship time, we tacked ship and ran in to clear the Cape. At this time the wind had changed to north-west, about an eight-knot breeze, which was a fair wind to lead us around the Cape. We made the run to Cape Receme in 78 hours, hauled around to the northward for about ten miles and cast anchors, mooring the ship from east north-east to south-east with “open-horse,” as the sailors say. As the east wind comes into this bay and causes a very heavy swell, we adopted this position to make the ship ride easy and take off the strain on chain and windlass. After a gale is over, great care and watchfulness on the part of the officers is necessary so that the slack chain may be hove in or paid out when the wind increases so as to avoid fouling the anchors. The wind often changes several times in twenty-four hours, and if the ship swings around there is much hard work and time lost in clearing the foul chain.
Some of the ships used a long shackle, which saves trouble, but was not considered as safe to ride to, as it did not give an equal strain on each anchor. We now proceeded to enter at the Customs and go through the regular formalities, reporting to Taylor Bros., consignees, who were agents of Isaac Taylor, the ship’s owner. While in port I made my stay with them and was royally entertained. Saddle-horses and carriages were placed at my disposal, and we saw much of the country.