On the 1st of September, at 10 o’clock, we left Southampton. We had the wind against us, and therefore did not reach Falmouth for four and twenty hours, where our vessel awaited the London post, to take the letters. There we remained several hours at anchor in a charming bay, at each side of the entrance of which an old castle lies upon the heights, while the town, situated in the background, form a most picturesque group. About 3 o’clock we went to sea again; the wind took us sideways, and caused much sickness amongst the passengers. I esteem myself fortunate, that in no passage, however stormy, have I had to complain of this disagreeable condition, which has, for the unsharing spectator, a comical aspect. It is, however, remarkable, that the very same movement that cradles every child to soft slumber, and forms the charm of a sail down the river, causes, by its protracted pendulum-like motion, unconquerable suffering, prostrating the strongest heroes, without, however, bringing them into any very serious danger.
Next day we reached the Bay of Biscay, and ploughed laboriously through the long deep waves that rolled to us from the far-off shore. Sunday morning, the 4th, we had a very small company at breakfast. About 11 o’clock we assembled to prayers, notwithstanding the continual motion. Over the pulpit the English flag was spread, as the most sacred cloth on board. Herr Lieder preached, simply and well. Toward 4 o’clock we began to see the Spanish coast, in light misty outlines. The nearer we approached it, the shorter the waves became, as the wind blew from the shore. The air, the heavens, and the ocean, were incomparably beautiful. Cape Finisterre and the neighbouring coast line came out more and more prominently. Gradually the whole company, even the ladies, assembled on deck. The sea smoothed itself to a bright mirror; the whole afternoon we kept the Spanish coast in sight. The sun set magnificently in the sea; the evening-star was soon followed by the whole host of heavenly stars, and a glorious night rose above us.
Then it was that the most splendid spectacle commenced that I have ever beheld at sea. The ocean began to sparkle; all the combs of the breaking waves burnt in emerald-green fire, and from the paddles of the vessel dashed a bright greenish-white torrent of flame, which drew behind it, for a great distance, a broad flashing stripe amidst the darkling waters. The sides of the vessel and our downward-looking faces were shone upon as if by moonbeams, and I could read print with the greatest ease by this water-fire. When the blazing mass, which, according to Ehrenberg’s researches, is caused by infusoria, was most intense, we saw flames dancing over the waves to the shore, so that it seemed as if we were traversing a more richly-starred heaven than the one we beheld above us. I have also beheld the oceanlight in the Mediterranean, but never in such extraordinary perfection as this time: the scene was magical.
Suddenly I saw new living fire-forms among the waves, that fled radiantly from the sides of the vessel. Like two giant serpents, which, judging from the length of the vessel, must have been from sixty to eighty feet long, they went trailing along beside the ship, crossing the waves, dipping in the foam of the wheels, coming forth again, retreating, hurrying, and losing themselves at last in the distance. For a long time I could assign no cause for this phenomenon. I recollected the old and oft-told tales of monstrous seasnakes that are seen from time to time. What I here beheld could not have resembled them more than it did. At length I thought that it might only be fishes, who, running a race with the steamer, and breaking the uniform surface of the water, caused the long streams of light behind them by their rapid motions. Still the eye was as much deceived as ever; I could discover nothing of the dark fishes, nor guess their probable size, but I contented myself at length with my supposition.
LETTER II.
Alexandria.
September 23, 1842.
My last letter I posted on the 7th of September, at Gibraltar, where we employed the few hours allotted to us in examining the fortress. The African continent lay before us, a bright stripe on the horizon; on the rocks beneath me climbed monkeys, the only ones in Europe in a wild state, for which reason they are preserved. In Malta, where we arrived on the eleventh of September, we found the painter Frey, from Basle, whose friendship I had made at Rome. He brought me intelligence by word of mouth that he would take part in the expedition, and for that purpose he had arrived several days before from Naples. We had to wait almost three days for the Marseilles post at this place. This gave us, at all events, the opportunity to visit the curiosities of the island, particularly the Cyclopean walls discovered some years before in the neighbourhood of La Valette, and also to make some purchases. Through Lieder I made the acquaintance of Gobat,[1] who until now had been the principal person at the Maltese station of the English Missionary Society, but who was now awaiting some new destination, as pecuniary circumstances had caused the Society to give up this station altogether. I had great pleasure in knowing so distinguished a person.
From Malta we were accompanied by the missionary Isenberg, who resided for a long time with Gobat in Abyssinia, and who is favourably known to philologists by his grammar of the Amharic language. Under his protection there was a young lady of Basle, Rosine Dietrich, the bride of the missionary Krapf, who has married her here, and will now return to the English missionary station at Shoa, by the next Indian steamer, with her and his colleagues, Isenberg and Mühleisen. He was married in the English chapel, and I was present as a witness at the solemnity, which was celebrated in a simple and pleasing manner.
On our arrival, on the 18th of September, we found Erbkam, Ernst Weidenbach, and Franke, who had been awaiting us for some days.
Mohammed Ali had sailed out in the fleet, as he looked anxiously forward to the arrival of Sami Bey, who was to bring him the desired reduction in tribute: instead of it he obtained the appointment of Grand Vizier.