In the evening we felt from time to time some warm blasts of wind from the east, and enjoyed for nearly an hour the delightful spectacle of a "Fata Morgana." This phenomenon, as is well known, arises from two currents of air of a different density, separated by a distinctly-formed plane, generally produced when the temperature of the two currents happens to vary. When, for instance, as is frequently the case at sea, a considerably warmer current of air comes suddenly in contact with a colder current having a lower position, the plane of separation of the former becomes condensed, and forms a mirror for all those objects which are in the lower current, so that their image is inversely reflected. As this surface of separation is not level throughout, various contractions and distortions result, which impart to the whole a singular appearance. On land, as for instance in the deserts of Africa, where the warmer current of air is on the surface of the ground, the aërial mirror is formed beneath the eye of the observer, by which the same phenomenon is produced that results from the reflection of objects on the surface of the water.
In the present case the temperature of the atmosphere was about ten degrees higher than that of the sea's surface at the point of observation. The surface of the current of warm air appeared like a light fog, inclining in the East towards the Spanish coast, and in the South-east to South towards the surface of the sea. Where it was highest it reached nearly five degrees above the horizon. The images of the ships at anchor near Malaga, and those at sea under sail, appeared reversed, and assumed curiously fantastic forms, particularly in those places where the reflecting surface became irregular, and inclined towards the horizon. The appearance of these distorted ships in the air, joining in the most singular way the real ones actually floating on the sea,—the warm vapour which is from time to time wafted on the face of the observer, as well as the perfect and almost death-like stillness which, under such circumstances, prevails both on the sea and in the atmosphere, may easily produce the belief in a mysterious power, among a people who are generally prone to ascribe to supernatural agencies every phenomenon they cannot understand or explain.
This "Fata Morgana"[10] was not merely interesting in itself, but also gave reason to indulge in the hope of a favourable wind. A light easterly breeze accordingly sprang up towards midnight, the current became reversed, the anchor was weighed, and all sail made with this favourable wind towards Gibraltar, the rock of which was distinctly recognizable through the misty air, at a distance of nearly sixty miles.
[10] The name Morgana is of Breton origin, and signifies "sea woman," from mor, sea, and gan, a fine woman;—the fairy mermaid of English legendary tales.
A calm still prevailed near Europa Point, but as the day wore on, the easterly breeze blew strong through the Straits, and, in company with innumerable other ships, the Pillars of Hercules were at length passed. The wind freshened, and the frigate cracked merrily on down mid-channel; for, though the set of the current was dead against us, yet the wind proved more than a match for it, which in our case was the more apparent, that those merchantmen which sailed along the coast, not having the advantage of this wind, seemed as though left motionless in the rear.
When towards noon the Novara was off the place where the Caroline had been anchored, that ship was no longer visible. She had probably set sail in the morning. We supposed her to be among the crowd of ships which were sailing in the fog, but did not discover her, even after we had overtaken and examined all of them. We now endeavoured to reach the Atlantic as speedily as possible, making from nine to ten knots an hour, and, with joyful sensations, sailed through those beautiful straits, on whose shores the ancient world unrolled its grand panorama, thanking Providence here, at the entrance of that vast ocean, which now shone so brilliantly, that we were permitted to carry the Austrian flag into distant regions.
At 4 p. m., aided by the fresh evening breeze, we passed the most southerly point of Europe. We were just going to dinner when the last glimpse of the old world passed before the cabin windows, and we gazed once more with sorrowing eyes at the rapidly-disappearing coast, which, illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, seemed to wave us a last farewell in letters of fire. However beautiful, however inspiring the prospect of our task; however inviting the magnificent ocean that lay extended under our eyes, magically lit up by the silvery beams of the bright moon shining from a starry sky, yet the painful sensations of parting with that old world, with which so many pleasing associations—so many cherished recollections were bound up, had a powerful influence, and gave rise to melancholy impressions, of which we were only relieved by the comforting hope that we should one day return to all so dear to us.
CAPE TRAFALGAR.