Читать книгу THE SEA - Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril & Heroism - Frederick Whymper - Страница 24

Its Extent—Ascension—Turtle at a Discount—Sierra Leone—An Unhealthy Station—The Cape of Good Hope—Cape Town—Visit of the Sailor Prince—Grand Festivities—Enthusiasm of the Natives—Loyal Demonstrations—An African “Derby”—Grand Dock Inaugurated—Elephant Hunting—The Parting Ball—The Life of a Boer—Circular Farms—The Diamond Discoveries—A £12,000 Gem—A Sailor First President of the Fields—Precarious Nature of the Search—Natal—Inducements held out to Settlers—St. Helena and Napoleon—Discourteous Treatment of a Fallen Foe—The Home of the Caged Lion.

And now we are off to the last of the British naval stations under consideration—that of the African coast. It is called, in naval phraseology, “The West Coast of Africa and Cape of Good Hope Station,” and embraces not merely all that the words imply, but a part of the east coast, including the important colony of Natal. Commencing at latitude 20° N. above the Cape Verd Islands, it includes the islands of Ascension, St. Helena, Tristan d’Acunha, and others already described.

Ascension, which is a British station, with dockyard, and fort garrisoned by artillery and marines, is a barren island, about eight miles long by six broad. Its fort is in lat. 70° 26′ N.: long., 140° 24′ W. It is of volcanic formation, and one of its hills rises to the considerable elevation of 2,870 feet. Until the imprisonment of Napoleon at St. Helena, it was utterly uninhabited. At that period it was garrisoned with a small British force; and so good use was made of their time that it has been partly cultivated and very greatly improved. Irrigation was found, as elsewhere, to work wonders, and as there are magnificent springs, this was rendered easy. Vast numbers of turtle are taken on its shores; and, in consequence, the soldiers prefer the soup of pea, and affect to despise turtle steaks worth half a guinea apiece in London, and fit to rejoice the heart of an alderman! The writer saw the same thing in Vancouver Island, where at the boarding-house of a very large steam saw-mill, the hands struck against the salmon, so abundant on those coasts. They insisted upon not having it more than twice a week for dinner, and that it should be replaced by salt pork. The climate of Ascension is remarkably healthy. The object in occupying it is very similar to the reason for holding the Falkland Islands—to serve as a depôt for stores, coal, and for watering ships cruising in the South Atlantic.

Sierra Leone is, perhaps, of all places in the world, the last to which the sailor would wish to go, albeit its unhealthiness has been, as is the case with Panama, grossly exaggerated. Thus we were told that when a clergyman with some little influence was pestering the Prime Minister for the time being for promotion, the latter would appoint him to the Bishopric of Sierra Leone, knowing well that in a year or so the said bishopric would be vacant and ready for another gentleman!

SIERRA LEONE.

Sierra Leone is a British colony, and the capital is Free Town, situated on a peninsula lying between the broad estuary of the Sherboro and the Sierra Leone rivers, connected with the mainland by an isthmus not more than one mile and a half broad. The colony also includes a number of islands, among which are many good harbours. Its history has one interesting point. When, in 1787, it became a British colony, a company was formed, which included a scheme for making it a home for free negroes, and to prove that colonial produce could be raised profitably without resorting to slave labour. Its prosperity was seriously affected during the French Revolution by the depredations of French cruisers, and in 1808 the company ceded all its rights to the Crown. Its population includes negroes from 200 different African tribes, many of them liberated from slavery and slave-ships, a subject which will be treated hereafter in this work.

One of the great industries of Sierra Leone is the manufacture of cocoa-nut oil. The factories are extensive affairs. It is a very beautiful country, on the whole, and when acclimatised, Europeans find that they can live splendidly on the products of the country. The fisheries, both sea and river, are wonderfully productive, and employ about 1,500 natives. Boat-building is carried on to some extent, the splendid forests yielding timber so large that canoes capable of holding a hundred men have been made from a single log, like those already mentioned in connection with the north-west coast of America. Many of the West Indian products have been introduced; sugar, coffee, indigo, ginger, cotton, and rice thrive well, as do Indian corn, the yam, plantain, pumpkins, banana, cocoa, baobab, pine-apple, orange, lime, guava, papaw, pomegranate, orange, and lime. Poultry is particularly abundant. It therefore might claim attention as a fruitful and productive country but for the malaria of its swampy rivers and low lands.

And now, leaving Sierra Leone, our good ship makes for the Cape of Good Hope, passing, mostly far out at sea, down that coast along which the Portuguese mariners crept so cautiously yet so surely till Diaz and Da Gama reached South Africa, while the latter showed them the way to the fabled Cathaia, the Orient—India, China, and the Spice Islands.

In the year 1486 “The Cape” of capes par excellence, which rarely nowadays bears its full title, was discovered by Bartholomew de Diaz, a commander in the service of John II. of Portugal. He did not proceed to the eastward of it, and it was reserved for the great Vasco da Gama—afterwards the first Viceroy of India—an incident in whose career forms, by-the-by, the plot of L’Africaine, Meyerbeer’s grand opera, to double it. It was called at first Cabo Tormentoso—“the Cape of Storms”—but by royal desire was changed to that of “Buon Esperanza”—“Good Hope”—the title it still bears. Cape Colony was acquired by Great Britain in 1620, although for a long time it was practically in the hands of the Dutch, a colony having been planted by their East India Company. The Dutch held it in this way till 1795, when the territory was once more taken by our country. It was returned to the Dutch at the Peace of Amiens, only to be snatched from them again in 1806, and finally confirmed to Britain at the general peace of 1815.

The population, including the Boers, or farmers of Dutch descent, Hottentots, Kaffirs, and Malays, is not probably over 600,000, while the original territory is about 700 miles long by 400 wide, having an area of not far from 200,000 square miles. The capital of the colony is Cape Town, lying at the foot, as every schoolboy knows, of the celebrated Table Mountain.

A recent writer, Mr. Boyle,117 speaks cautiously of Cape Town and its people. There are respectable, but not very noticeable, public buildings. “Some old Dutch houses there are, distinguishable chiefly by a superlative flatness and an extra allowance of windows. The population is about 30,000 souls, white, black, and mixed. I should incline to think more than half fall into the third category. They seem to be hospitable and good-natured in all classes. … There is complaint of slowness, indecision, and general ‘want of go’ about the place. Dutch blood is said to be still too apparent in business, in local government, and in society. I suppose there is sound basis for these accusations, since trade is migrating so rapidly towards the rival mart of Port Elizabeth. … But ten years ago the entire export of wool passed through Cape Town. Last year, as I find in the official returns, 28,000,000 lbs. were shipped at the eastern port out of the whole 37,000,000 lbs. produced in the colony. The gas-lamps, put up by a sort of coup d’état in the municipality, were not lighted until last year, owing to the opposition of the Dutch town councillors. They urged that decent people didn’t want to be out at night, and the ill-disposed didn’t deserve illumination. Such facts seem to show that the city is not quite up to the mark in all respects.”

Simon’s Bay, near Table Bay, where Cape Town is situated, is a great rendezvous for the navy; there are docks and soldiers there, and a small town. The bay abounds in fish. The Rev. John Milner, chaplain of the Galatea, says that during the visit of Prince Alfred, “large shoals of fish (a sort of coarse mackerel) were seen all over the bay; numbers came alongside, and several of them were harpooned with grains by some of the youngsters from the accommodation-ladder. Later in the day a seal rose, and continued fishing and rising in the most leisurely manner. At one time it was within easy rifle distance, and might have been shot from the ship.”118 Fish and meat are so plentiful in the colony that living is excessively cheap.

CAPE TOWN.

The visit of his Royal Highness the Sailor Prince, in 1867, will long be remembered in the colony. That, and the recent diamond discoveries, prove that the people cannot be accused of sloth and want of enterprise. On arrival at Simon’s Bay, the first vessels made out were the Racoon, on which Prince Alfred had served his time as lieutenant, the Petrel, just returned from landing poor Livingstone at the Zambesi, and the receiving-ship Seringapatam. Soon followed official visits, dinner, ball, and fireworks from the ships. When the Prince was to proceed to Cape Town, all the ships fired a royal salute, and the fort also, as he landed at the jetty, where he was received by a guard of honour of the 99th Regiment. A short distance from the landing-place, at the entrance to the main street, was a pretty arch, decorated with flowering shrubs, and the leaves of the silver-tree. On his way to this his Royal Highness was met by a deputation from the inhabitants of Simon’s Town and of the Malay population. “This was a very interesting sight; the chief men, dressed in Oriental costumes, with bright-coloured robes and turbans, stood in front, and two of them held short wands decorated with paper flowers of various colours. The Duke shook hands with them, and then they touched him with their wands. They seemed very much pleased, and looked at him in an earnest and affectionate manner. Several of the Malays stood round with drawn swords, apparently acting as a guard of honour. The crowd round formed a very motley group of people of all colours—negroes, brown Asiatics, Hottentots, and men, women, and children of every hue. The policemen had enough to do to keep them back as they pressed up close round the Duke.” After loyal addresses had been received, and responded to, the Prince and suite drove off for Cape Town, the ride to which is graphically described by the chaplain and artist of the expedition. “The morning was very lovely. Looking to seaward was the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Hanglip, and the high, broken shores of Hottentot Holland, seen over the clear blue water of the bay. The horses, carriages, escort with their drawn swords, all dashing at a rattling pace along the sands in the bright sunshine, and the long lines of small breakers on the beach, was one of the most exhilarating sights imaginable. In places the cavalcade emerged from the sands up on to where the road skirts a rocky shore, and where at this season of the year beautiful arum lilies and other bright flowers were growing in the greatest profusion. About four miles from Simon’s Bay, we passed a small cove, called Fish-hook Bay, where a few families of Malay fishermen reside. A whale they had killed in the bay the evening before lay anchored ready for ‘cutting in.’ A small flag, called by whalers a ‘whiff,’ was sticking up in it. We could see from the road that it was one of the usual southern ‘right’ whales which occasionally come into Simon’s Bay, and are captured there. After crossing the last of the sands, we reached Kalk Bay, a collection of small houses where the people from Cape Town come to stay in the summer. As we proceeded, fresh carriages of private individuals and horsemen continued to join on behind, and it was necessary to keep a bright look-out to prevent them rushing in between the two carriages containing the Duke and Governor, with their suites. Various small unpretending arches (every poor man having put up one on his own account), with flags and flowers, spanned the road in different places between Simon’s Town and Farmer Peck’s, a small inn about nine miles from the anchorage, which used formerly to have the following eccentric sign-board:—

‘THE GENTLE SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN.

‘FARMER PECKS.

‘Multum in Parvo! Pro bono publico!

Entertainment for man or beast, all of a row,

Lekher kost, as much as you please;

Excellent beds, without any fleas.

Nos patriam fugimus! now we are here,

Vivamus! let us live by selling beer.

On donne à boire et à manger ici;

Come in and try it, whoever you be.’

This house was decorated with evergreens, and over the door was a stuffed South African leopard springing on an antelope. A little further on, after discussing lunch at a half-way house, a goodly number of volunteer cavalry, in blue-and-white uniforms, appeared to escort the Sailor Prince into Cape Town. The road passes through pleasant country; but the thick red dust which rose as the cavalcade proceeded was overwhelming. It was a South African version of the ‘Derby’ on a hot summer’s day. At various places parties of school-children, arrayed along the road-side, sung the National Anthem in little piping voices, the singing being generally conducted by mild-looking men in black gloves and spectacles. At one place stood an old Malay, playing ‘God Save the Queen’ on a cracked clarionet, who, quite absorbed as he was in his music, and apparently unconscious of all around him, looked exceedingly comic. There was everywhere a great scrambling crowd of Malays and black boys, running and tumbling over each other, shouting and laughing; women with children tied on their backs, old men, and girls dressed in every conceivable kind of ragged rig and picturesque colour, with head-gear of a wonderful nature, huge Malay hats, almost parasols in size, and resembling the thatch of an English corn-rick; crowns of old black hats; turbans of all proportions and colours, swelled the procession as it swept along. When the cavalry-trumpet sounded ‘trot,’ the cloud of dust increased tenfold. Everybody, apparently, who could muster a horse was mounted, so that ahead and on every side the carriage in which we were following the Duke was hemmed in and surrounded, and everything became mixed up in one thick cloud of red dust, in which helmets, swords, hats, puggeries, turbans, and horses almost disappeared. The crowd hurraed louder than ever, pigs squealed, dogs howled, riders tumbled off; the excitement was irresistible. ‘Oh! this is fun; stand up—never mind dignity. Whoo-whoop!’ and we were rushed into the cloud of dust, to escape being utterly swamped and left astern of the Duke, standing up in the carriage, and holding on in front, to catch what glimpses we could of what was going on. … Some of the arches were very beautiful; they were all decorated with flowering shrubs, flowers (particularly the arum lily) and leaves of the silver-tree. In one the words Welcome Back119 were formed with oranges. One of the most curious had on its top a large steamship, with Galatea inscribed upon it, and a funnel out of which real smoke was made to issue as the Duke passed under. Six little boys dressed as sailors formed the crew, and stood up singing ‘Rule Britannia.’ ” And so they arrived in Cape Town, to have levées, receptions, entertainments, and balls by the dozen.

While at the Cape the Duke of Edinburgh laid the foundation of a grand graving-dock, an adjunct to the Table Bay Harbour Works, a most valuable and important addition to the resources of the Royal Navy, enabling the largest ironclad to be repaired at that distant point. The dock is four hundred feet long, and ninety feet wide. For more than forty years previously frequent but unsuccessful efforts had been made to provide a harbour of refuge in Table Bay; now, in addition to this splendid dock, it has a fine breakwater.

Officers of the Royal Navy may occasionally get the opportunity afforded the Prince, of attending an elephant hunt. From the neighbourhood of the Cape itself the biggest of beasts has long retired; but three hundred miles up the coast, at Featherbed Bay, where there is a settlement, it is still possible to enjoy some sport.

To leave the port or town of Knysna—where, by-the-by, the Duke was entertained at a great feed of South African oysters—was found to be difficult and perilous. The entrance to the harbour is very fine; a high cliff comes down sheer to the sea on one side, while on the other there is an angular bluff, with a cave through it. As the Petrel steamed out, a large group of the ladies of the district waved their handkerchiefs, and the elephant-hunters cheered. It was now evident, from the appearance of the bar, that the Petrel had not come out a moment too soon. A heavy sea of rollers extended nearly the whole way across the mouth of the harbour, and broke into a long thundering crest of foam, leaving only one small space on the western side clear of actual surf. For this opening the Petrel steered; but even there the swell was so great that the vessel reared and pitched fearfully, and touched the bottom as she dipped astern into the deep trough of the sea. The slightest accident to the rudder, and nothing short of a miracle could have saved them from going on to the rocks, where a tremendous surf was breaking. Providentially, she got out safely, and soon the party was transferred to the Racoon, which returned to Simon’s Bay.

THE “GALATEA” PASSING KNYSNA HEADS.

On his return from the elephant hunt, the Prince gave a parting ball. A capital ballroom, 135 feet long by 44 wide, was improvised out of an open boat-house by a party of blue-jackets, who, by means of ships’ lanterns, flags, arms arranged as ornaments, and beautiful ferns and flowers, effected a transformation as wonderful as anything recorded in the “Arabian Nights,” the crowning feature of the decorations being the head of one of the elephants from the Knysna, surmounting an arch of evergreens. Most of the visitors had to come all the way from Cape Town, and during the afternoon were to be seen flocking along the sands in vehicles of every description, many being conveyed to Simon’s Town a part of the distance in a navy steam-tender or the Galatea’s steam-launch. The ball was, of course, a grand success.

This not being a history of Cape Colony, but rather of what the sailor will find at or near its ports and harbours, the writer is relieved from any necessity of treating on past or present troubles with the Boers or the natives. Of course, everything was tinted couleur de rose at the Prince’s visit, albeit at that very time the colony was in a bad way, with over speculation among the commercial classes, a cattle plague, disease among sheep, and a grape-disease. Mr. Frederick Boyle, whose recent work on the Diamond-fields has been already quoted, and who had to leave a steamer short of coal at Saldanha Bay, seventy or eighty miles from Cape Town, and proceed by a rather expensive route, presents a picture far from gratifying of some of the districts through which he passed. At Saldanha Bay agriculture gave such poor returns that it did not even pay to export produce to the Cape. The settlers exist, but can hardly be said to live. They have plenty of cattle and sheep, sufficient maize and corn, but little money. Mr. Boyle describes the homestead of a Boer substantially as follows:—

Reaching the home of a farmer named Vasson, he found himself in the midst of a scene quite patriarchal. All the plain before the house was white with sheep and lambs, drinking at the “dam” or in long troughs. The dam is an indispensable institution in a country where springs are scarce, and where a river is a prodigy. It is the new settler’s first work, even before erecting his house, to find a hollow space, and dam it up, so as to make a reservoir. He then proceeds to make the best sun-dried bricks he can, and to erect his cottage, usually of two, and rarely more than three, rooms. Not unfrequently, there is a garden, hardly worthy of the name, where a few potatoes and onions are raised. The farmers, more especially the Dutch, are “the heaviest and largest in the world.” At an early age their drowsy habits and copious feeding run them into flesh. “Three times a day the family gorges itself upon lumps of mutton, fried in the tallowy fat of the sheep’s tail, or else—their only change of diet—upon the tasteless fricadel—kneaded balls of meat and onions, likewise swimming in grease. Very few vegetables they have, and those are rarely used. Brown bread they make, but scarcely touch it. Fancy existing from birth to death upon mutton scraps, half boiled, half fried, in tallow! So doth the Boer. It is not eating, but devouring, with him. And fancy the existence! always alone with one’s father, mother, brothers, and sisters; of whom not one can do more than write his name, scarce one can read, not one has heard of any event in history, nor dreamed of such existing things as art or science, or poetry, or aught that pertains to civilisation.” An unpleasant picture, truly, and one to which there are many exceptions. It was doubtful whether Mr. Vasson could read. His farm was several thousand acres. The ancient law of Cape Colony gave the settler 3,000 morgen—something more than 6,000 acres. He was not obliged to take so much, but, whatever the size of his farm might be, it must be circular in shape; and as the circumference of a property could only touch the adjoining grants it follows that there were immense corners or tracts of land left waste between. Clever and ambitious farmers, in these later days, have been silently absorbing said corners into their estates, greatly increasing their size.

The Cape cannot be recommended to the notice of poor emigrants, but to capitalists it offers splendid inducements. Mr. Irons, in his work on the Cape and Natal settlements,120 cites several actual cases, showing the profits on capital invested in sheep-farming. In one case £1,250 realised, in about three years, £2,860, which includes the sale of the wool. A second statement gives the profits on an outlay of £2,225, after seven years. It amounts to over £8,000. Rents in the towns are low; beef and mutton do not exceed fourpence per pound, while bread, made largely from imported flour, is a shilling and upwards per four-pound loaf.

So many sailors have made for the Diamond-fields, since their discovery, from the Cape, Port Elizabeth, or Natal, and so many more will do the same, as any new deposit is found, that it will not be out of place here to give the facts concerning them. In 1871, when Mr. Boyle visited them, the ride up cost from £12 to £16, with additional expenses for meals, &c. Of course, a majority of the 50,000 men who have been congregated at times at the various fields could not and did not afford this; but it is a tramp of 750 miles from Cape Town, or 450 from Port Elizabeth or Natal. From the Cape, a railway, for about sixty miles, eases some of the distance. On the journey up, which reads very like Western experiences in America, two of three mules were twenty-six hours and a half in harness, and covered 110 miles! South Africa requires a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, one would think. Mr. Boyle also saw another way by which the colonist may become rapidly wealthy—in ostrich-farming. Broods, purchased for £5 to £9, in three years gain their full plumages, and yield in feathers £4 to £6 per annum. They become quite tame, are not delicate to rear, and are easily managed. And they also met the down coaches from the fields, on one of which a young fellow—almost a boy—had no less than 235 carats with him. At last they reached Pniel (“a camp”), a place which once held 5,000 workers and delvers, and in November, 1872, was reduced to a few hundred, like the deserted diggings in California and Australia. It had, however, yielded largely for a time.

The words, “Here be diamonds,” are to be found inscribed on an old mission-map of a part of the Colony, of the date of 1750, or thereabouts. In 1867, a trader up country, near Hope Town, saw the children of a Boer playing with some pebbles, picked up along the banks of the Orange River. An ostrich-hunter named O’Reilly was present, and the pair of them were struck with the appearance of one of the stones, and they tried it on glass, scratching the sash all over. A bargain was soon struck: O’Reilly was to take it to Cape Town; and there Sir P. E. Wodehouse soon gave him £500 for it. Then came an excitement, of course. In 1869, a Hottentot shepherd, named Swartzboy, brought to a country store a gem of 83½ carats. The shopman, in his master’s absence, did not like to risk the £200 worth of goods demanded. Swartzboy passed on to the farm of one Niekirk, where he asked, and eventually got, £400. Niekirk sold it for £12,000 the same day! Now, of course, the excitement became a fevered frenzy.

Supreme among the camps around Pniel reigned Mr. President Parker, a sailor who, leaving the sea, had turned trader. Mr. Parker, with his counsellors, were absolute in power, and, all in all, administered justice very fairly. Ducking in the river was the mildest punishment; the naval “cat” came next; while dragging through the river was the third grade; last of all came the “spread eagle,” in which the culprit was extended flat, hands and feet staked down, and so exposed to the angry sun.

In a short time, the yield from the various fields was not under £300,000 per month, and claims were sold at hundreds and thousands of pounds apiece. Then came a time of depression, when the dealers would not buy, or only at terribly low prices. Meantime, although meat was always cheap, everything else was very high. A cabbage, for example, often fetched 10s., a water-melon 15s., and onions and green figs a shilling apiece. Forage for horses was half-a-crown a bundle of four pounds. To-day they are little higher on the Fields than in other parts of the Colony.

That a number of diggers have made snug little piles, ranging from two or three to eight, ten, or more thousand pounds, is undeniable, but they were very exceptional cases, after all. The dealers in diamonds, though, often turned over immense sums very rapidly.

And now, before taking our leave of the African station, let us pay a flying visit to Natal, which colony has been steadily rising of late years, and which offers many advantages to the visitor and settler. The climate, in spite of the hot sirocco which sometimes blows over it, and the severe thunderstorms, is, all in all, superior to most of the African climates, inasmuch as the rainfall is as nearly as possible that of London, and it falls at the period when most wanted—at the time of greatest warmth and most active vegetation. The productions of Natal are even more varied than those of the Cape, while arrowroot, sugar, cotton, and Indian corn are staple articles. The great industries are cattle and sheep-rearing, and, as in all parts of South Africa, meat is excessively cheap, retailing at threepence or fourpence a pound.

Natal was discovered by Vasco da Gama, and received from him the name of Terra Natalis—“Land of the Nativity”—because of his arriving on Christmas Day. Until 1823 it was little known or visited. A settlement was then formed by a party of Englishmen, who were joined by a number of dissatisfied Dutchmen from the Cape. In 1838 the British Government took possession. There was a squabble, the colonists being somewhat defiant for a while, and some little fighting ensued. It was proposed by the settlers to proclaim the Republic of Natalia, but on the appearance of a strong British force, they subsided quietly, and Natal was placed under the control of the Governor of the Cape. In 1856, it was erected into a separate colony.

To moderate capitalists it offers many advantages. Land is granted on the easiest terms, usually four shillings per acre; and free grants are given, in proportion to a settler’s capital: £500 capital receives a land order for 200 acres. An arrowroot plantation and factory can be started for £500 or £600, and a coffee plantation for something over £1,000. Sugar-planting, &c., is much more expensive, and would require for plant, &c., £5,000, or more.

And now, on the way home from the African station, the good ship will pass close to, if indeed it does not touch at, the Island of St. Helena, a common place of refreshment for vessels sailing to the northward. Vessels coming southward rarely do so; sailing ships can hardly make the island. It lies some 1,200 miles from the African coasts, in mid-ocean. St. Helena has much the appearance, seen from a distance, of the summit of some great submarine mountain, its rugged and perpendicular cliffs rising from the shore to altitudes from 300 to 1,500 feet. In a few scattered places there are deep, precipitous ravines, opening to the sea, whose embouchures form difficult but still possible landing-places for the fishermen. In one of the largest of these, towards the north-west, the capital and port of the island, James Town, is situated. It is the residence of the authorities. The anchorage is good and sufficiently deep, and the port is well protected from the winds. The town is entered by an arched gateway, within which is a spacious parade, lined with official residences, and faced by a handsome church. The town is in no way remarkable, but has well-supplied shops. The leading inhabitants prefer to live outside it on the higher and cooler plateaux of the island, where many of them have very fine country houses, foremost of which is a villa named Plantation House, belonging to the governor, surrounded by pleasant grounds, handsome trees and shrubs. In the garden grounds tropical and ordinary fruits and vegetables flourish; the mango, banana, tamarind, and sugar-cane; the orange, citron, grape, fig, and olive, equally with the common fruits of England. The yam and all the European vegetables abound; three crops of potatoes have been often raised from the same ground in one year. The hills are covered with the cabbage tree, and the log-wood and gum-wood trees. Cattle and sheep are scarce, but goats browse in immense herds on the hills. No beasts of prey are to be met, but there are plenty of unpleasant and poisonous insects. Game and fish are abundant, and turtles are often found. All in all, it is not a bad place for Jack after a long voyage, although not considered healthy. It has a military governor, and there are barracks.

The interior is a plateau, divided by low mountains, the former averaging 1,500 feet above the sea. The island is undoubtedly of volcanic origin. It was discovered on the 22nd May (St. Helena’s Day), by Juan de Nova, a Portuguese. The Dutch first held it, and it was wrested from them first by England in 1673, Charles II. soon afterwards granting it to the East India Company, who, with the exception of the period of Napoleon’s imprisonment, held the proprietorship to 1834, when it became an appanage of the Crown.

The fame of the little island rests on its having been the prison of the great disturber of Europe. Every reader knows the circumstances which preceded that event. He had gone to Rochefort with the object of embarking for America, but finding the whole coast so blockaded as to render that scheme impracticable, surrendered himself to Captain Maitland, commander of the English man-of-war Bellerophon, who immediately set sail for Torbay. No notice whatever was taken of his letter—an uncourteous proceeding, to say the least of it, towards a fallen foe—and on the 7th of August he was removed to the Northumberland, the flag-ship of Sir George Cockburn, which immediately set sail for St. Helena.

On arrival the imperial captive was at first lodged in a sort of inn. The following day the ex-emperor and suite rode out to visit Longwood, the seat selected for his residence, and when returning noted a small villa with a pavilion attached to it, about two miles from the town, the residence of Mr. Balcombe, an inhabitant of the island. The spot attracted the emperor’s notice, and the admiral, who had accompanied him, thought it would be better for him to remain there than to go back to the town, where the sentinels at the doors and the gaping crowds in a manner confined him to his chamber. The place pleased the emperor, for the position was quiet, and commanded a fine view. The pavilion was a kind of summer-house on a pointed eminence, about fifty paces from the house, where the family were accustomed to resort in fine weather, and this was the retreat hired for the temporary abode of the emperor. It contained only one room on the ground-floor, without curtains or shutters, and scarcely possessed a seat; and when Napoleon retired to rest, one of the windows had to be barricaded, so draughty was it, in order to exclude the night air, to which he had become particularly sensitive. What a contrast to the gay palaces of France!

ST. HELENA.

In December the emperor removed to Longwood, riding thither on a small Cape horse, and in his uniform of a chasseur of the guards. The road was lined with spectators, and he was received at the entrance to Longwood by a guard under arms, who rendered the prescribed honour to their illustrious captive. The place, which had been a farm of the East India Company, is situated on one of the highest parts of the island, and the difference between its temperature and that of the valley below is very great. It is surrounded by a level height of some extent, and is near the eastern coast. It is stated that continual and frequently violent winds blow regularly from the same quarter. The sun was rarely seen, and there were heavy rainfalls. The water, conveyed to Longwood in pipes, was found to be so unwholesome as to require boiling before it was fit for use. The surroundings were barren rocks, gloomy deep valleys, and desolate gullies, the only redeeming feature being a glimpse of the ocean on one hand. All this after La Belle France!

Longwood as a residence had not much to boast of. The building was rambling and inconveniently arranged; it had been built up by degrees, as the wants of its former inmates had increased. One or two of the suite slept in lofts, reached by ladders and trap-doors. The windows and beds were curtainless, and the furniture mean and scanty. Inhospitable and in bad taste, ye in power at the time! In front of the place, and separated by a tolerably deep ravine, the 53rd Regiment was encamped in detached bodies on the neighbouring heights. Here the caged lion spent the last five weary years of his life till called away by the God of Battles.