W.S.L., Worst Steam Line—Table Mountain—The Table-cloth is Spread—Pic-nic to Constantia—Careless Smoking—Cape Wines—The “Ireland” Proceeds to India—Melancholy Forebodings—Midnight Alarm in Simon’s Bay—The Cape Observatory.
At noon of the last day in the month of January, 1857, the “Ireland” cast anchor in Table Bay, which was crowded with vessels of all sizes and under every flag. Even the national ensign of England, with the three talismanic letters, W.S.L., in glaring yellow, was seen flying at the mizen-peak of a steamer, recognized as the “England,” a sister ship to the “Ireland,” and belonging to the same line, well known at the Cape of Good Hope as the “worst steam line” which has yet called at that great turning point in the navigation between the East and the West.
Immediately on our anchoring, some of the passengers of the “England” came on board, who informed us that they were on the way to Europe, and that, between Mauritius and the Cape, they had fallen in with the tail-end of a hurricane, which had placed them in considerable danger, but that, having repaired damages, they were going to start for England in a few hours’ time. Many of our passengers seized the opportunity to convey to their friends the intelligence of their safe arrival as far as the Cape of Good Hope.
Of course there was a comparison of “notes” as to the state of these two vessels, and we found that we were not worse off than the passengers on board our sister ship. We afterwards learned, from persons residing at the Cape, who had come in the “England” on her outward voyage, that previous to their arrival at Cape Town, they ran entirely out of drinking water, and that, on their making the harbour, they had to telegraph to the signal staff to send them water, by which means a water-tank was sent to them before their arrival. They had a large number of soldiers on board on that occasion, and it was stated that the military officers had to take matters in their own hands as far as the discipline of the stewards was concerned.
Fortunately, these two vessels were commanded by gentlemanly, considerate officers, and their tact and temper kept the discontent within reasonable bounds. With another vessel, belonging to the same line, matters took a different course, and on her arrival at the Cape of Good Hope the passengers were obliged to bind the commander to keep the peace towards them for the remainder of the voyage. The commander of the “Ireland” used his best endeavours to make the passage from England in thirty-five days; but we were forty-three days on the voyage, and would have been longer had we not been favoured by slants of wind, which, under ordinary circumstances, we could not have expected on the route adopted. The real fact was that the vessels were not fitted with sufficiently powerful machinery, and the space which ought to have been devoted to fuel was appropriated for cargo.
On arriving at Table Bay, our attention was drawn to a beautiful phenomenon of nature, by which Cape Town is supplied with water, and of which the following is a brief description:—
Table Mountain, under which Cape Town is built, is the terminus of a ridge of high land which covers a considerable portion of the promontory of the Cape of Good Hope. The side of this mountain, facing the north-west, and immediately behind the town, is perpendicular, and about 4000 feet in height. From the basin of Table Bay, during that portion of the twenty-four hours in which the air is warmer than the water, there is a considerable evaporation, which saturates the warm air overhanging the basin. The air, saturated with this moisture, rising to the edge of the cliff or summit of Table Mountain, meets with a cold polar current of air in the form of the prevalent south-east wind, by which it is immediately condensed into a cloud, and then precipitated on the ridge in the shape of dew or rain, according to the relative difference of temperature of the two currents of air. Thence, falling down the face or perpendicular side of the mountain, this deposit of dew or rain forms a stream of cool sparkling water, which affords an abundant supply to the 30,000 inhabitants of Cape Town, and the numerous ships that make this their port of call. From the harbour this white cloud appears as if ever pouring over the edge of the ridge, and never able to attain its object, the foot of the mountain. When dense, so as to entirely cover the top of Table Mountain, it is the precursor of a storm; so that, when bad weather is expected, it is usual to say that “the table-cloth is spread.”
While engaged in looking at this beautiful phenomenon of nature, the increasing size of the table-cloth on the mountain warned us of the coming storm, and hastened us in our efforts to reach the shore. As there were a number of ladies and children on board the vessel having no gentlemen to assist them, and all anxious to reach the shore, after a passage during which they had suffered considerable privations, my wife made an offer of my services to provide accommodation for them at Cape Town, and render them any little assistance during their short stay in harbour. Accordingly our party was soon formed; a large shore-boat was provided, and we found ourselves on shore at Cape Town, and assembled at the custom-house, where the ladies had to remain until accommodation was provided for them. In consequence of there being so many vessels in harbour, the hotels, which are remarkably good, were full. After some little difficulty, always to be encountered in a strange town where one does not know one street from another, we succeeded in discovering two houses in which our large party could be accommodated as boarders, and where we were rendered very comfortable during our stay. The following day was devoted to viewing the town, already so often described, when the younger ladies discovered that they had left England without “quite a number” of little trifles which afforded them an opportunity of parting with their pin-money, and at the same time drawing a comparison of the value of “trifles” in England and in her Colonies. In the evening we had a visit from the young gentlemen passengers, when we were asked to join a pic-nic, to see one of the wine-producing estates. Preliminaries were soon arranged, and on the next morning a private omnibus (if I may use such an expression), with four beautiful horses, made its appearance at the door of our boarding-house. The hour was early, five in the morning, and this was supposed to afford an excuse for sundry performances on a key bugle, which hastened our departure, and considerably disturbed the neighbourhood. Adding our contribution to the already large supplies of edibles on the omnibus, and with the ladies comfortably seated inside, and the gentlemen on the outside, away we started for Constantia, the well-known estate of the hospitable family of the Vanreenans.
The gale, which had been blowing since our arrival, was at an end; the rain which had fallen had laid the red dust on the roads, which is the subject of great annoyance to the residents. The morning was cool, the air bracing and exhilarating to the spirits. Nature appeared to have put on her most smiling aspect to welcome us to this portion of her domain. And, in short, it was one of those charming mornings, so prevalent at the Cape, when the better nature of man will rise with the song of the birds in gratitude to the Divine Maker of all.