It was a sublime spectacle to look abroad upon the bay in the height of the gale. The elements seemed to be literally at war, a low scud rushing to the shore, and climbing, as if pursued by demons, up and over the Lion’s Rump and Table Mountain. Huge waves were rolling in upon the struggling shipping, trying its ground-tackle to its utmost tension; the jetties and landings were covered with spray; and Cape Town, though only a mile off, looked like a spectre town, as viewed through the spray and driving scud. And what added much to the interest of the scene, was the daring and skill of the watermen. These men, in substantial launches, under close-reefed sails, and with spare anchors and cables on board, for the use of any ships that might be in distress for want of sufficient ground-tackle, were darting hither and thither, like so many spirits of the storm. They seemed to be sporting with the dashing and blinding waves and the fury of the gale, in very wantonness, as though they would defy the elements. The ships at anchor were all fortunate enough to hold on; but a luckless Bremen brig, outside, which had ventured too near the land, was wrecked, during the night, on Green Point. Fortunately, no lives were lost.
The gale lasted about twenty-four hours; and when it had sufficiently abated, we communicated with the shore, and got off such supplies as we needed; it being my intention to run round to Simon’s Town, on the opposite side of the Cape, where there is shelter from these gales, for the purpose of completing my repairs. On the 9th, the weather had again become fine. The wind had gone round to south-east, the fair-weather quarter, and the Devil had spread his table-cloth on Table Mountain. Every one has heard of this famous table-cloth at the Cape of Good Hope. It is a fleecy, white cloud, which hangs perpetually over Table Mountain during fine weather. The south-east winds, as they climb the steep ascent, bring with them more or less moisture. This moisture is sufficiently cooled as it passes over the “table”—a level space on the top of the mountain—to become condensed into a white vapor, very similar to that which escapes from a steam-pipe. When the wind shifts, and the storm begins to gather, the table-cloth disappears.
At nine o’clock, on this morning, we got under way, and steamed out of the harbor, on our way to Simon’s Town. The day was charmingly fine. The atmosphere was soft and transparent, and the sun bright, bringing out all the beauties of the bold promontories and the deep-water bays that indent the coast. We were now really doubling the Cape of Good Hope. As we approached the famous headland, with its lighthouse perched several hundred feet above the bold and blackened rocks, our imaginations busy with the past, endeavoring to depict the frail Portuguese bark, which had first dared its stormy waters, the cry of “sail ho!” resounded most musically from the mast-head. Imagination took flight at once, at the sound of this practical cry. It recalled us from our dream of John of Portugal, to one Abraham Lincoln and his surroundings. Here was not the poetical bark, of four centuries ago, that had at last found its way to those “Indies,” which Columbus so long sought for in vain, but a Yankee ship laden with rice; for an hour’s steaming brought us alongside of the Martha Wenzell, of Boston, from Akyab for Falmouth in England. The Wenzell had better luck than the Sea-Bride, for she had clearly entered the mouth of False Bay, and though seven or eight miles yet from the land, was within a line drawn from point to point of the Bay. Being thus within British jurisdiction, I astonished the master by releasing, instead of burning his ship. He looked so dumfounded when I announced to him this decision, that if I had been a Yankee, he would, no doubt, have suspected me of some Yankee trick. He gathered his slow ideas together, by degrees, however, and was profuse in his thanks. I told him he had none to give me, for I was only too sorry not to be able to burn him.
We now hauled in for the coast, and taking a pilot, as we approached the harbor, anchored at two P. M. in Simon’s Bay. This is the naval station of the colony, and we found here the frigate Narcissus, wearing the flag of Rear Admiral Sir Baldwin Walker, the commander-in-chief of the British naval forces at the Cape. We were visited immediately upon anchoring by a lieutenant from the flag-ship. The Tuscaloosa had preceded me, as the reader has seen, a few days, and we found her still here, not having quite completed her preparations for sea. The gadfly, I found, had been buzzing around her, too, but her difficulties were all ended. As the correspondence is short, I will give it to the reader. The Federal Consul wrote to the Governor, as follows:—
“An armed vessel named the Tuscaloosa, claiming to act under the authority of the so-called Confederate States, entered Simon’s Bay, on Saturday, the 8th instant. That vessel was formerly owned by citizens of the United States, and while engaged in lawful commerce [as if lawful commerce was not a subject of capture, during war] was captured as a prize by the Alabama. She was subsequently fitted out with arms, by the Alabama, to prey upon the commerce of the United States, and now, without having been condemned as a prize, by any Admiralty Court of any recognized government, she is permitted to enter a neutral port, in violation of the Queen’s proclamation, with her original cargo on board. Against this proceeding, I, hereby, most emphatically protest, and I claim that the vessel ought to be given up to her lawful owners.”
It is quite true that the Tuscaloosa had not been condemned by a prize court of the Confederacy, but it was equally true that the Sovereign Power of the Confederacy, acting through its authorized agent, had commissioned her as a ship of war, which was the most solemn condemnation of the prize, that the Sovereign could give. It was equally true, that no nation has the right to inquire into the antecedents of the ships of war of another nation. But these were points beyond the comprehension of the gadfly. The following was the answer of the Governor. The Colonial Secretary writes:—
“I am directed by the Governor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of this date, and to acquaint you, that it was not until late last evening, that his Excellency received from the Naval Commander-in-Chief, information, that the condition of the Tuscaloosa was such as, as his Excellency is advised, to entitle her to be regarded as a vessel of war. The Governor is not aware, nor do you refer him to the provisions of the International Law, by which captured vessels, as soon as they enter our neutral ports, revert to their original owners, and are forfeited by their captors. But his Excellency believes, that the claims of contending parties to vessels captured can only be determined, in the first instance, by the courts of the captor’s country.”
We remained five days at Simon’s Town. We did not need coal, but we had some caulking of the bends, and replacing of copper about the water-line to do, and some slight repairs to put upon our engine. Whilst these preparations for sea were going on, we had some very pleasant intercourse with the officers of the station and the citizens on shore. Besides the Narcissus, flag-ship, there were one or two other British ships of war at anchor. There were some officers stationed at the navy-yard, and there was a Chinese gunboat, the Kwan-Tung, with an English commander and crew, which had put into the harbor, on her way to the east. Simon’s Town was thus quite gay. The Governor, Sir Philip Wodehouse, also came over from Cape Town during our stay. Lunches on board the different ships, excursions on board the Kwan-Tung, and dinner-parties were the order of the day. As I have before remarked, the English naval officers discarded all the ridiculous nonsense about our not being “recognized,” and extended to us official, as well as private civilities.
The Admiral was kind enough to give me a dinner-party, at which the Governor, and his lady, and the principal officers of his squadron were present. I found the ladies of the Admiral’s family exceedingly agreeable. They were living in a picturesque cottage, near the sea-shore, and solaced themselves for their temporary banishment from “dear old England,” by making their home as English as possible. They had surrounded themselves by fine lawns and shrubbery and flowers, and Mrs. Walker, and one of the bewitching young ladies were kind enough to show me over their extensive and well-cultivated garden, in which they took much interest. Horseback riding, picnics to the country, and balls on board the ships were the principal amusements of the young people. Whilst my officers and myself were thus relaxing ourselves, my sailors were also making the most of their time. Kell had told them off, by quarter watches, and sent them on “liberty.” Each batch was mustered, and inspected as it was sent on shore, and pretty soon we had the old Jamaica scenes over again. Most of them went over to Cape Town, in the stage-coach that was running between the two places, and put that lively commercial town “in stays.” The sailor quarter was a continuous scene of revelry for several days. The townspeople humored and spoiled them. They all overstayed their time, and we only got them back by twos and threes. It was of no use to muster, and inspect them now. The tidy, new suits, in which they had gone on shore, were torn and draggled, and old-drunks were upon nearly all of them.
The Tuscaloosa went to sea at daylight on the 14th, and we followed her in the Alabama the next day. The former was to proceed to Saldanha Bay, and thence take the Sea-Bride with her to one of the uninhabited harbors, some distance to the northward, and the Alabama was to follow her thither, after a cruise of a few days off the Cape. The object of these movements will be explained in due time. I now threw myself into that perpetual stream of commerce, that comes setting around the Cape of Good Hope from the East Indies. From daylight until dark, ships are constantly in sight from the lighthouse on the Cape. The road is about twenty miles wide—no more. We kept our station in this road, day in and day out for ten days, during which we chased and overhauled a great number of ships, but there was not a Yankee among them! It was winter-time, we were off the “stormy Cape,” and we had the weather suited to the season and the locality. Storms and fogs and calms followed in succession—the storm being the normal meteorological condition. As we would be lying to, in this track, under reefed sails, in a dark and stormy night, our very hair would sometimes be made to stand on end, by the apparition of a huge ship rushing past us at lightning speed, before the howling gale, at no more than a few ships’ lengths from us. A collision would have crushed us as if we had been an egg-shell.