The Golden South
Memories of Australian Home Life from 1843 to 1888
9781465627100
118 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
On a cold dull March morning we left our home in London for the Waterloo Station, to go by the London and South-Western line to Southampton, from thence to Portsmouth to join our ship. After dining at the Ship Hotel, we went on board the vessel which was to be our abode for four months and a fortnight. Now, though nearly fifty years have passed, I see the place and recall the strangeness of it all. The ship was an old East Indiaman with only four large cabins opening into the saloon or “cuddy,” as it was then generally called. Our family had two of these, so we were very well off for room and comfort. We left on 25th March, and were tossing about the famed Bay of Biscay until 10th April. As I am not writing a diary of our voyage, I will merely mention its chief incidents. On the 12th of May, when south of the equator, we sighted a French vessel bound to Buenos Ayres, that diverged from her course with the view of “speaking” to us. They invited us to dinner; but on our refusal, accepted an invitation instead to dine with us. The captain and two passengers were to be our guests, our boat going for them. They were most delightful people, and Frenchmen-like, full of compliments to our cook. As some of our passengers spoke their language fluently, the result was a very pleasant change in the usual monotony of a long voyage. Just imagine such a thing being done in these days of steam and quick passages: the passengers from one vessel dining on board another, spending a few hours, then returning, and being near enough to hear the music played on board of each vessel, the Frenchmen vainly trying to give us “God save the Queen.” We were able to give them the “Marseillaise” splendidly, having some good musicians on board. On 30th May we encountered a terrible gale, carrying away part of our bulwarks on the lee side: during this dreadful weather what was left of our live stock died. This weather continued till 8th June when off Table Bay, and we had to lay-to all night. No one thought of sleep. Tales of phantom ships and wrecks recurred to the nervous. However, about 9 A.M. of the 9th June we anchored safely in the bay. We were unable to land for some hours, but at last went on shore and took rooms at the George Hotel. What a rest from the unceasing noise of a ship and all its miseries to the landsmen! Cape Town was lovely, at least I thought so,—very different from England, the deep red-clay of the roads, numbers of natives, strange waggons drawn by bullocks, the mountains for a background, and now (while off it) the beautiful sea in front. The bazaar-like shops, strange carriages and horses, the hotel so different from anything I had ever seen—all come back as a picture, as I write. We remained at the Cape until the 19th June, and had many drives. In carriages drawn by six small horses we started for Upper Constantia, Van R——’s vineyard and wine estate, where there is a well-constructed house of modern style, elegantly furnished. In the garden there was a Kaffir’s hut, with clay figures life-size, orange trees, subtropical fruit trees, and flowers everywhere around. We were conducted through the cellars, and tasted the wine, which has so great a reputation. We went also to Lower Constantia, where the vineyard of Van C—— is situated. This was quite a different style of place, close to the mountains, with the house, garden, and people of the old Dutch type. In the cool garden violets, primroses, and other English flowers were blooming, the last I saw for many a day, and those dearest to me never saw again. We were delighted with the wildflowers, my father making a collection for his herbarium,—geraniums, phlox, and many others.
