Arrived on deck, none of these sea-birds are able to fly away; they move very clumsily on their webbed feet, and can only rise after a slanting spring, which, however, they cannot accomplish on firm ground; if in the water these birds want to rise into the air whilst swimming, they flutter their outspread wings for a little, and use their webbed feet in a kind of rowing motion, in order to acquire the requisite impetus. The albatross defends itself with its bill, which is often four to five inches long, and care must be taken to avoid being wounded in catching them. We also remarked that the Cape pigeons, in their rage at being captured, vomited up a slimy greasy substance.
The latter bird was of course new to us, and afforded us much amusement. Many were knocked over with the fowling-piece, especially when, in their inquisitiveness, they came too near the boats, which, as often as our rate of progress admitted, were launched with the view of adding to our collection of objects of natural history.
In shooting an albatross large shot must be used, as, at a distance of 15 or 20 feet, small shot do not penetrate the feathers and the down of the bird. What is most remarkable as regards these birds is the numerous parasites that live upon their bodies. It is most extraordinary how certain of these birds (as for instance, the Puffins and Procellariæ) are infested by insects, their plumage sometimes swarming with small specimens of Crustaceæ.
On the 26th of September, the famous Table Mountain of the Cape was visible, after we had, the evening previous, at a distance of fourteen miles, sighted the lighthouse of Table Bay.
The twenty-six days of our voyage hither had flown quickly past, and we were still able vividly to recall the impressions made by Brazil, and the scenes we had gone through in mid-ocean, as the southernmost point of Africa came in sight with its characteristic hills, and our eyes and our thoughts were directed to another quarter of the globe. On the one hand, excited with the prospect of new scenery, and on the other, anxious to complete our elaborate observations upon Brazil, so as to be able to send them home from the Cape, we found ourselves in a frame of mind which kept us alternately hard at the desk, or drove us on deck to admire the remarkable outline of Cape Colony. We did not, at the present season, think it advisable to run right into the bay, so as to anchor near Cape Town, but resolved to double the Cape, and proceed to Simon's Bay, the usual anchorage for ships-of-war. We were, however, sadly disappointed in the hope of soon reaching it, as the south-east wind freshened so much that on the 27th it had become a gale, which forced us out to sea again. The world-known swell off the Cape began under the ever-increasing wind to run high, and we were soon involved in one of those famous Cape storms which justified the Portuguese in calling the promontory of South Africa, "Cabo Tormentoso," or the Cape of Storm.[51]
"Through such mad seas the daring Gama fought,
Incessant toiling round the stormy Cape."
(Lord Strangford's Camoens.)
The wind and spray roared and lashed through the rigging: higher and higher rose the huge mountains of water, with their white crests, that tossed the ship like a plaything from side to side. The waves foamed in through the port-holes on the gun-deck, while masts, cordage, timbers, every part of the ship groaned and creaked, a perfect medley of sights and sounds, including woful destruction of crockery, and the heavy rolling of erratic cannon-shot that had broken loose from the rack, and were rushing about the deck—above all which was heard the shrill whistle of the pipe of the boatswain's mate. The scene fairly baffled all powers of description, and must have been eminently impressive for those who for the first time experienced what is meant by "a gale at sea," especially at night, when the moon, struggling through the flying vapours, lit up the appalling scene with a livid supernatural tint.
On the afternoon of the 28th the gale reached its highest point, and raged fearfully for some hours. The frigate proved herself, in this turbulence of the waters, to be thoroughly seaworthy. At the same time the sun shone brilliantly, the sky was clear and beautiful, and only here and there some feathery clouds were to be seen. There was a curious sense of dualism in this serenity of the sky, in contrast with the fury and agitation of the waves. Gradually the wind chopped round towards the east, which gave some hope that the gale would abate, but, nevertheless, the ship was tossed about worse than ever.
The waves, like gigantic ridges, mounted, according to measurement, to the height of from 30 to 35 feet above the mean level of the sea, and occasioned that terrible rolling of the ship, and those fearful lurches, which, once experienced, are not readily forgotten.