Cape Town to Madagascar we had it about as rough as they make it. I often thought the poor old Heroine would be swallowed up in the trough of the mountainous seas we met with, but the good old boat made pretty good weather of it on the whole.
Madagascar, being the first real “nigger” country I had seen, was a source of great interest to me; and I have often regretted that time did not admit of visiting the interior or hilly portion of that magnificent island. Unfortunately, a man-of-war’s route is mapped out in the offices of the Ministre de la Marine, and when the hour sounded for us to weigh anchor and up with the “jib” there was no “jibbing” against it; and a few days later we sighted the twin islands—Mauritius and Bourbon—and visited both.
Strange to say it struck me even then, and more so on the several visits I have paid to the two countries, the former, which has been a British possession for nearly half-a-century, is to this day more French at heart than the latter. Both charming islands, for scenery and the free-handed hospitality of their inhabitants. I doubt if they can possibly be out-done in any part of the globe.
V.
ROBINSON CRUSOE REALISED.
ONE of the principal articles of food for the black and mulatto population of these islands being salt fish, which has to be imported at great expense from Europe and Newfoundland—principally the latter—Mons. Jules de Rontaunay, a wealthy planter and shipowner in Bourbon, originated the idea of establishing on two small islands in the Indian Ocean (St. Paul and Amsterdam) a fishing and curing station; and at his instigation the Governor of Bourbon requested our captain to make a thorough hydrographic survey of those islands. We accordingly sailed straight for this small group. My friends, the doctor and purser of the Heroine, and I, being of course of no service whatever for the scientific work, applied for leave to land with a view to explore the island of St. Paul, which, besides being the most accessible of the two, was reputed to abound in wild goats and sea birds, not to mention hot springs and curious volcanic formations.
Duly equipped and provided for a few days’ stay, we landed in a small basin on the lee side, where a rough cabin was in a few hours cleaned and made habitable by the doctor’s man-servant—an able seaman, expert at such work. Having made the place snug and comfortable, we started for a voyage of discovery, which in my eyes savoured much of that most enticing story of Robinson Crusoe I had so often gloated upon. Like most youngsters, I had become imbued with an ardent wish to experience the delightfully romantic notion of a life on a desert island.
Here, then, was the long-wished-for realisation of my dream. Our first day’s excursion proved most interesting. Whilst Dr. Roland botanised, cracked rocks with his geologist’s hammer, studied to his heart’s content the floral and mineral productions of that unknown spot in mid-ocean, the purser exercised his skill on the wild goats and sea birds; my boyish propensities, assisted by the more mature knowledge of Jean, the doctor’s servant, led me to bird’s-nesting. In a few hours we made such a raid among the crags on the lee shore that we gathered as many eggs as would have fed the ship’s company. At Jean’s suggestion we turned our attention to fishing. There also we had a marked success—Monsr. de Rontaunay’s scheme was evidently based on undeniably correct information. The place abounds with fish of all descriptions and the small bay we had settled on was swarming with them. A spring of warm water trickles into this miniature harbour, which at low tide is closed by a sand-bar. At that particular time the swarms of fish it is filled with rush to the outer bank to escape the palpable change of temperature of the water. It then becomes comparatively an easy matter to haul out as much as one wishes to capture, with even the rudest appliances.
When we all met for dinner we had a stock of provisions which might have afforded a meal for the whole of our ship’s company. Being also supplied with an ample store of “medical comforts,” and having enjoyed the tough yarns so admirably told by Dr. Roland, we rolled ourselves in our blankets near the fire and slept soundly till daylight. After a bath in the tepid waters of the bay, a hearty breakfast, and a peep at the good old ship laying quietly at anchor a mile or so from the shore, we all started on our varied avocations for the day. The weather in that locality is, however, given to sudden changes. Although everything appeared calm and bright at daybreak, clouds began to rise, and before noon a strong breeze sprang up, heavy rollers broke with a roaring noise on the weather side of the island; pelting rain followed, which drove us back to our quarters. We found our faithful “tar” in a great state of excitement. He informed us that a couple of hours after our departure a gun had been fired from the frigate, a signal hoisted which he could not make out (the doctor having taken with him the spy-glass), and that shortly after the hoisting of the signal the ship had weighed anchor, and was now completely out of sight!
In spite of the encouraging words of my companions, I confess that I did not feel quite happy in my mind—the romance of the desert island seemed to assume too much reality. I would then with great pleasure have exchanged our well-filled larder for the hard biscuit, the mess of beans, and piece of salt junk of the Heroine. The idea which haunted me—that we were left deserted on the island of St. Paul—deprived me of both sleep and appetite. I was up before daylight scanning the cloudy horizon. Neither the cheering words nor the chaffing of my companions prevailed. They went their way as if nothing had happened—the only thing which seemed to prey on their minds was the short stock of biscuit and small supply of rum left in the bottle. The same climatic influence which had caused the change for the worse in the state of the weather, brought back calm and sunshine.
At about 8 p.m. we heard the distant boom of a thirty-two pounder! Never in this world did a sound produce sweeter music in my ears. Had I been alone I would certainly have left all my belongings to rush to the shore where the pinnace came to rescue us from our solitary picnic grounds—I would have embraced in one fond, grateful “hug,” the midshipman and the twelve brave fellows who came to fetch us back to the dear old ship. It appears that owing to a sudden fall in the barometer, and the threatening aspect of both wind and sea, it had been deemed prudent to stand off and on, rather than ride out the gale at anchor; this was conveyed to us by the signal we had failed to see.
Of course, the qualm I had experienced remained buried in that most sensitive portion of my body, whence it arose. I entertained my messmates with wonderful tales of sport—stretched to the uttermost. When any doubts were evinced as to the veracity of my statements, they were at once dispelled by an appeal to dear old Jean, whom I shall always declare to have been the very best “affidavit Jack” I ever met. Having, ever since Dr. Roland gave me the free run of his surgery, surrendered to Jean my daily allowance of grog, the dear old fellow would have endorsed on oath that the sun rose in the west and set regularly in the east on the island we had just left behind us in the mist of an October night, if I had ventured upon such an assertion.
VI.
MAORILAND.
LEAVING These two solitary islands, we had to settle down to the more protracted part of our journey, and I may also add, the most uncomfortable one. We were bound for New Zealand, therefore had to go south of Van Dieman’s Land. A merchant-man would naturally have shaped her course for the latitude of Cape Lewin. Not so, however, a man-of-war, whose sailing directions are based on “bureaucratic” prudence, so that we had to go well into the S.W. wind, and heavy seas of the low south. These instructions we followed most religiously. The poor old frigate had a rough time of it; for seven or eight weeks she rolled most unmercifully under close-reefed courses, until