Six Months at the Cape | Page 3

Wesleyan minister. He was a
slender young fellow,--modest and thoughtful. If Hobson's bunk had
given way, I fear that his modesty and thoughtfulness might have been
put to a severe test. I looked down upon this young Wesleyan from my
materially exalted position, but before the voyage was over I learned to

look up to him from a spiritually low position. My impression is that he
was a "meek" man. I may be mistaken, but of this am I certain, that he
was one of the gentlest, and at the same time one of the most able men
in the ship.
But, to return to my berth--which, by the way, I was often loth to do,
owing to the confined air below, and the fresh glorious breezes on
deck--the man who slept under me was a young banker, a clerk, going
out to the Cape to make his fortune, and a fine capable-looking fellow
he was, inclined rather to be receptive than communicative. He
frequently bumped me with his head in getting up; I, not unfrequently,
put a foot upon his nose, or toes, in getting down.
What can I say about the sea that has not been said over and over again
in days of old? This, however, is worthy of record, that we passed the
famous Bay of Biscay in a dead-calm. We did not "lay" one single
"day" on that "Bay of Biscay, O!" The "O!" seems rather awkwardly to
imply that I am not stating the exact truth, but I assure you that it is a
fact. More than this, we had not a storm all the way to the Cape. It was
a pure pleasure excursion--a sort of yacht voyage--from beginning to
end; very pleasant at the time, and delightful now to dwell upon; for,
besides the satisfaction of making a new friend like Hobson, there were
others to whom I was powerfully drawn, both by natural sympathy and
intellectual bias.
There was a Wesleyan minister, also an Englishman, born in South
Africa, and of the race of Anak, with whom, and his amiable wife, and
pretty children, I fraternised ardently. My soul was also gladdened by
intercourse with a clergyman of the Dutch-Reformed Church,
well-known in the Cape, and especially in the Transvaal--who, with his
pleasant wife and daughter, was on his way back to South Africa after a
brief trip to Europe. He was argumentative; so, you know, am I. He was
also good-tempered, therefore we got on well.
It would be an endless business to name and describe all the passengers
who were personally attractive, and who were more or less worthy of
description. There were, among others, a genial and enthusiastic
Dutch-African legislator of the Cape; a broad-shouldered but retiring

astronomer; also a kindly Cape merchant; and a genial English banker,
with their respective wives and families. I had the good fortune to sit in
the midst of these at meals, close to Captain Hewat, who is
unquestionably, what many of us styled him, a "trump." He is also a
Scotchman. There was likewise a diamond-digger, and another man
who seemed to hate everybody except himself. There were also several
sportsmen; one of whom, a gallant son of Mars, and an author, had
traversed the "Great Lone Land" of British America, and had generally,
it seemed to me, "done" the world, with the exception of Central Africa,
which he was at last going to add to his list. There were also troops of
children, who behaved remarkably well considering the trials they had
to undergo; and numerous nurses, some of whom required more
attention than all the ladies put together.
You will now, no doubt, expect an account of romantic adventures on
the deep, and narrow escapes, and alarms of fire, and men overboard,
and thrilling narratives. If so, your expectations are doomed to
disappointment. We fished for no sharks, we chased no whales, we fell
in with no slavers or pirates. Nevertheless we saw flying fish, and we
had concerts and lectures; and such delightful perambulations of the
decks, and such charming impromptu duets and glees and solos on
retired parts of the deck in moonlight nights, and such earnest
discussions, and such genial companionship! Truly that voyage was
one of those brilliant episodes which occur only once in a lifetime, and
cannot be repeated; one of those green spots in memory, which,
methinks, will survive when all other earthly things have passed away.
I will write no more about it, however, at present. Neither will I
proceed in what is usually considered the natural manner with my
epistles--namely, step by step. Arrivals, cities, travelling, roads, inns,
and all such, I will skip, and proceed at one bound to that which at the
present moment is to me most interesting, merely remarking