CHAPTER V

1827

[Sidenote: 1827. May 18.]

_Tweed_ was re-commissioned by Captain Lord John Churchill, of whom I had heard nothing but good. Was glad to find myself reappointed. Having returned from foreign service, I was entitled to leave, and was kindly received in my old quarters at Kensington Palace by H.R.H. the Duke of Sussex.

[Sidenote: May-June.]

The season had commenced, London was filling, and His Royal Highness entertaining with his usual hospitality. I had not got over my shyness, but preferred the smaller parties. One evening I was rather late; the dinner-party were actually waiting for me. As I entered the room, a voice close by called out, “Waiter, are my steaks ready?” which was immediately replied to, “No, sir; but your chops are.” I found that I owed _one_ to Mr. Yates, the then famous ventriloquist.

I found an opportunity to join my sisters, who had assembled at Holkham. Mary had married Mr. Stephenson, and Georgina, Colonel Hill; and with the Coke children it was very cheery.

There was a distinguished American, Mr. Paterson, who had a charming wife and two tall, handsome daughters. It was the custom in those days to have after-dinner prayers. On my sister inviting Mr. Paterson to attend, he replied, “I thank you Lady Anne; but I pray devoutly and sincerely, _once_ a week!”

[Illustration: _Holkham._]

[Sidenote: June-July.]

My father had married and was abroad, but I could not leave Norfolk without looking up my favourite elder brother Edward, the clergyman at Quidenham. During my short stay he proposed a visit to the mere, where we had so often fished, rowed, and skated together. On our way we had to pass a hollow oak. Edward told me that if I rapped the tree with my stick an owl would fly out. I did rap, and the horrid bird in its fright upset a bucket of whitewash over the parson’s black coat; thought I should never have stopped laughing.

My brother Tom was at sea in the _Undaunted_, 46, commanded by Sir Augustus Clifford.

These were stirring times. When back at Portsmouth I found a fleet of Russian ships of the line extending from St. Helens to the Mother Bank.

[Sidenote: August.]

The _Tweed_ had been fitted for the Mediterranean station. A Caffre war had for some time been going on at the Cape. The _Espoir_, 16, commanded by F. Greville, was ordered to convey money for payment of the troops. At the eleventh hour, having shipped the gold and silver, her Captain found he could not carry the copper change, without which the silver was almost useless; so the next ship had to take it, and we missed Navarino.

Half the Russian fleet were ordered back to Cronstadt, and the remaining sailed for Milo, the Lord High Admiral sending orders to Admiral Sir Edward Codrington, Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean. It was whispered afterwards that Sir Edward found a pencil scratch in the corner of his orders, “Go it, Ned!”

The Captain and officers took the greatest interest in the interior fitting as well as that of the outside. Belonging to a ship “going foreign,” I was allowed to have my examination in navigation a year earlier. Out of the dozen who went up, I passed second, George Goldsmith, afterwards my much-esteemed First Lieutenant in the _Childers_, having passed first.

[Sidenote: Aug. 31.]

We had two midshipmen’s berths and places allotted for stores; even for a midshipman’s pig, which is supposed never to die. The lower-masts and bowsprit had been replaced, and the ship re-coppered. The Captain wore a moustache. Having commanded a ship in the Mediterranean on the Greek station, he fancied petticoat trousers for the crew. The ship was soon out of dock, and secured alongside the hulk.

The _Royal Sovereign_ arrived bearing the flag of Lord High Admiral the Duke of Clarence, Royal standard flying. His Royal Highness had visited the Russian fleet. We manned the side of the hulk, with the crew in their petticoat trousers, while the Royal Marines, on a raised platform, presented arms. The Lord High Admiral came on board later, and mustered the crew. He did not notice me, although I had red hair like his Flag-Lieutenant, Hon. J. F. De Roos.

_Espoir_, Commander F. Greville, sailed with £70,000, newly-coined money, for the Cape.

We had a Naval Instructor and a nice set of officers, particularly among our midshipmen. Among our messmates was a most agreeable and amusing old salt, one Jonas Coaker, second master. We were not to have his company, as he had to take charge of a water-tank for Simon’s Bay. Coaker and I were shipmates later on.

I could scarcely recognise the interior of my old ship. Our mess sported plate and table-cloths. I had a Marine servant to myself, who no longer answered to the name of “_Cheeks_.”

[Sidenote: Sept. 8.]

We sailed out of harbour, saluting the flag of Sir Thomas Hardy. Having taken on board the copper coin for _Espoir’s_ freight, we sailed on 9th, and came to off Cowes.

[Sidenote: Sept. 16.]

We hove to in Plymouth Sound; saluted the flag of Sir James Saumarez. After communicating, proceeded.

[Sidenote: Sept. 27.]

Kind readers will have had enough of sea-voyages.

We arrived at the always agreeable and hospitable Funchall Roads. Usual salutes. Visits from Russian and Danish Consuls.

[Sidenote: Oct. 9.]

At sea. A man fell overboard from the fore topsail yard; picked him up unhurt.

[Sidenote: Oct. 10, 11.]

Came to in Porto Praya Roads, St. Jago, saluting the Portuguese flag. While watering, a few of us, including surgeon, schoolmaster, and six of my messmates, also taking with us James Winser, mids’ servant, landed with our fowling-pieces for a picnic.

We had a long and enjoyable day. When we returned at sunset, we found that, on account of slaves, no boats were allowed to quit the shore. First Lieutenant, being aware of the rule, no boat was sent. We took up our quarters in a deserted hotel, slept on the bare mud floor, unpleasantly near swampy ground.

Watering here was disagreeable, having to raft our casks off with a swell rolling into the roads. It took us three days.

[Sidenote: Oct. 14.]

Sailed on 14th. The usual course was to have crossed the southerly trade wind on the port tack, but our good Captain, to please Sir George Cockburn, Second Sea Lord of the Admiralty, attempted the nearer-looking line off the coast of Africa. Shortly after sailing, all our picnic-party, with exception of Granville and myself, were down with fever. Winser, a good lad, our servant, was the first to die. He was followed by S. H. Crawford, Col. Vol. Our good Captain felt these deaths. His airy cabin was converted into a hospital. My turn came later. All officers who owned cabins kindly gave them up. I was put into Lieutenant Charles Nash’s, who took all the care he could of me. As was then the practice, they bled me in both arms and shaved my head. Cockroaches were numerous. There was a sad stillness about the ship, and I could hear the firing as the last sad ceremony on committing the bodies of departed messmates to the deep.

The two seniors of our picnic-party, the surgeon and the schoolmaster, were the third and fourth to die. After I was down, I sent a message to my chum, Bridgman Simpson, but it never reached him.

We lost the following officers: James Napper, surgeon, aged 40 years; James Hislop,[3] schoolmaster, 28 years; Green West, midshipman, 15 years 7 months; Henry Stuart Crawford, 15 years; Arthur Bridgman Simpson, 15 years 7 months; Charles William Thornton, 14 years 3 months; John Augustus Aldham, 15 years 3 months. They all died between October 14 and November 15, 1827. A tablet to their memory may be seen in the garrison chapel, Portsmouth.

[3] A distinguished Scotch poet.

[Sidenote: Dec. 17.]

As might have been expected, water and provisions grew short. Those who dined with the Captain had to send their allowance of water to his steward.

We arrived in Table Bay, _sixty days_ from the Cape de Verds. The account of our African fever soon spread. Fortunately, my old shipmate, Lieutenant Christopher Smith, had informed his sister, married to Puisne Judge Burton, that I was in the _Tweed_; they at once kindly received me. Oh, the luxury and comfort! I soon forgot that it had been my turn next to die. The _Tweed_ had to go round to Simon’s Bay. The kind Captain was glad to leave me in such good quarters.

As I gained strength I preferred crawling about by myself. There was a large garrison at the Cape, and officers spoke kindly to the sickly mid. Living in the country at Wynberg were the Deputy-Adjutant-General, Colonel and Lady Mary Fitzroy.

One afternoon when home for tea I found that Lady Mary had visited Mrs. Burton and claimed me as a relation, and dwelt on the healthiness of Wynberg in the summer. I did not fancy leaving such kind friends as the Burtons had been to me in my time of need, but all was arranged without my being consulted, and that evening a carriage conveyed me away.

Lady Mary was kindness itself. There were four children--the only daughter, a darling child with black eyes, now a happy grandmother, and long may she remain so! Of the three boys more hereafter.

Both Colonel and Lady Mary had been at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball at Brussels on the eve of Waterloo. Fitzroy was in the Blues, and they accompanied the Duke of Richmond when he went to Canada as Governor, where I believe His Grace died from the bite of a fox. The then Dowager Duchess accepted a small collection of birds which I shot, skinned, and had stuffed while staying with her children at Wynberg.

[Sidenote: Dec. 25.]

Christmas Day arrived. Oh, how different from what I expected a month ago! How bright and cheery was this day’s gathering!

[Sidenote: 1828. January.]

My host was a thorough sportsman and a first-rate whip, and a month after arrival I found myself in the saddle; but being subject to attacks of intermittent fever, which caused a dismount, some one was always with me. As I grew stronger, I could sit on a side-saddle with a rug, and exercise Lady Mary’s own riding-horses. Often when riding over the usual hunting-ground in the open space at Stillenbach division, snakes were disturbed.

Lord Charles Fitzroy Somerset had for many years been Governor of the Cape, and, as the name naturally implies, there was a vast improvement in the breed of horses. His name was a household word.

[Sidenote: Cape.]

Just before the arrival of the _Tweed_ two Oxfordshire emigrants, Henry and George Peck, had been wrecked in False Bay. Savings from the wreck enabled them to erect a shelter at Musemberg, a lucky spot, where the road between Cape Town and Simon’s Bay turns off at right angles fifteen miles from one place and seven from the other.

There was an amusing simplicity about the brothers, and Lord John Churchill, claiming them as Oxford yeomen, gave a kind help. They commenced by selling ginger-beer to midshipmen. Lord John had a board painted, “The Farmers Peck,” which was raised on a post in front.

After the _Tweed_ left, the officers of the next Commodore’s ship added an inscription, styling the brothers as “The Gentle Shepherds of Salisbury Plain.”

“LIFE’S BUT A JOURNEY. LET US LIVE ON THE ROAD.” SAYS THE GENTLE SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN.

Multum in parvo, pro bono publico, Entertainment for men and beasts all of a row, Lekker 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?

It is now seventy years since our Captain started these honest farmers. _They_ have departed long since, but the original boards remain. A wing has been added, stables improved, and he must be a good rider that can get a Cape hack past without washing his mouth out.

As I improved in health and strength, my kind hosts would have me name any messmates I would like to see. Glanville was a sportsman, the only one of our Cape de Verd picnic that had escaped the African fever; he was a good boxer as well, and went by the name of “Gully.” Glanville brought an amusing account of our newly-appointed Irish mid, Coppinger.

Simon’s Bay, subject to squalls from the adjacent mountains, made it necessary to keep sheets clear. Sailing off in a cutter, Coppinger was capsized; seen from the ship, boats were sent, crew saved; but the difficulty was to catch Coppinger, who, being an expert swimmer and conspicuous from his cocked hat, which stuck to his head, refused for some time to be caught.

[Sidenote: Jan. 29.]

Ships in Simon’s Bay fired a royal salute in commemoration of the accession of His Majesty King George IV.

In the 98th Regiment was Captain Eyre, a sportsman and lion-killer. Being a brother of the clergyman at Larling, near Quidenham, we became friends. He got me made a honorary member of their mess; it is only the last two years that age has obliged me to give up attending their annual dinner, where I had always received a kind and hearty welcome. Le Marchant was the best-dressed man in the regiment, and did duty as Town Major; he was not much of a sportsman, but Eyre persuaded him to join a lion-shooting party.

One afternoon, before sundown, they came on a large reed covert which held lions. Le Marchant, well mounted, kept in the rear, Eyre and party closing on the lions; one of them broke covert some way off, and, making a semi-circuit, selected Le Marchant, and had pulled his horse to the ground. Eyre was just in time at close quarters to send a bullet into the brain of the lion. Le Marchant was happier afterwards as Governor of Malta.

My host used to take me when he visited my Captain for a couple of days at Simon’s Bay, but kindly bargained for my returning with him.

Colonel Blake was the Commandant at Simon’s Bay; most kind and hospitable. He had belonged to a cavalry regiment. When the country was finally taken over from the Dutch in 1806 he married a Cape lady, and had a son and a pretty daughter. Mat Blake became a breeder of horses, and I hope and believe that he is still alive.

While riding in the open country, it was not unusual to meet the Dutch waggons drawn by eighteen or twenty bullocks; also sixteen-horse waggons. I have seen a wild zebra so harnessed, unable to escape, but made to work, a second driver carrying a lengthy whip. These facts, though curious to me then, are as well known as the riders in Hyde Park.

[Sidenote: March.]

As my acquaintance with the soldiers increased, I became more sporting; they found I could ride at a lighter weight than any of them--8 stone 6--on Colonel Fane’s horse. I took to tandem-driving; such conveyances were to be found in Cape Town, and finding Assistant-Surgeon William Martin, promoted from the _Sparrowhawk_ to the _Tweed_ (in place of my deceased shipmate Napper), wanting a lift, I undertook the job.

The road as far as Musemberg was long, but not so bad. At Farmers Peck’s the horses stopped without consulting me, and Peck junior suggested they should each have a bottle of ale, which was administered by removing the bridles and inserting the neck of the bottle in the horse’s mouth, holding the head, nostrils up. The ale disappeared. It was evident that it was not their first performance.

From Peck’s our road lay to the right; it was rough ground, bounded on the off side by rocks and steep banks; on near side by broken stone wall with bushes growing between; the sea beyond, which was nearer at high-water.

Both horses inclined to run away, which I did not so much mind if I could keep in the road. It appears that my leader had been accustomed to work on the near side in a team, and bore in that direction. However there was but little traffic.

Martin held the whip while I twisted the leader’s rein round my forearm, and pulled all I could. Martin, instead of sitting quiet, began to “touch the leader up.” I told him that my neck was as strong as his, and chucked the reins on to the shaft horse’s back. The leader threw up his head, turned sharp to the left, jumped fence and broken wall. I had an idea, as I lay in the road, of some huge bird passing in the air. Both horses were on their backs, when I heard a voice from the bush calling my attention to the upper wheel, the only thing that could move, spinning round as if it must catch fire. We had to ride into Simon’s Town--luckily, when it was dark--on the bare backs of the horses.

[Sidenote: April 23.]

Dressed ship in honour of the King’s coronation. Salute annulled in consequence of the illness of Captain of the _Helicon_.

[Sidenote: April 27.]

Commodore Skipsey arrived on board _Maidstone_, 46, to relieve Commodore Christian.

[Sidenote: April 28.]

Funeral of Commander Acland; colours lowered half-mast; a name much respected in the service.

[Sidenote: May 10.]

_Tweed_ inspected by Commodore Skipsey.

We sailed from Simon’s Bay on May 11, and anchored off the Bell Buoy on 31st. The Buoy was a square air-tight tank; the bell, on a staff in the centre, kept ringing by the motion of the sea.

Our anchorage was so near the burial-ground that we could witness the daily ceremony. The coffin was placed over the prepared grave, and when that part of the beautiful service, “Earth to earth,” was said, a bolt was drawn; the body fell into its last resting-place, and the coffin went back for its next passenger.

[Sidenote: June 1.]

Port Louis had a snug inner harbour close to the town. The channel from the Bell Buoy was over thirty cables long; we had to warp up.

A light coir rope stopped to bent flukes of small anchors; about three ships’ lengths apart. Negro divers released the stops as the warping ship approached. In a man-of-war it was a run from end to end.

_Espoir_, 10, Commander Henry F. Greville, arrived.

[Sidenote: June 17.]

The _Castle Huntley_, a fine East Indiaman, arrived with the newly-appointed Governor-General, Hon. Sir Charles Colville, on board, which the worthy Captain, Thomas Dunkin, thought entitled him to display at his main topgallant masthead the Union Jack--a flag, afloat, representing an Admiral of the Fleet. The Captain did not approve of being obliged to haul it down, and commenced a long correspondence with “powers that be” at home. This, however, never interfered with the cordial good-feeling which existed between our Chief and the two gallant Governors.

It was arranged with Lord John Churchill that _Tweed_ should take Sir Lowry Cole to the Cape of Good Hope, to which he had been appointed as Governor: the staff was large, and required a certain time for us to prepare.

[Sidenote: Jane 25.]

General Sir Lowry Cole paid his farewell visit as Governor, and was received with all due honours. In Sir Lowry we had another of Wellington’s Peninsular heroes, with a far longer record than a midshipman’s log has room for. His Excellency was not at the battle of Waterloo, because on that day he married Lady Frances, daughter of Lord Malmesbury, the lady who was so kind to us youngsters. The honeymoon must have been of short duration, as Sir Lowry rejoined his old chief at the occupation of Paris.

[Illustration: _View from Réduit._]

The children were charming. Had we belonged to the family, we could not have been treated with greater kindness. Horses and ponies at Government House, Port Louis, as well as at a charming house, Le Réduit, which my friend Larking describes as a fine old French château, built by Labourdoniere when Governor of the island. It stands in lovely wooded grounds, several hundred acres in extent, triangular-shaped. Two rivers run through deep ravines and form the sides of a triangle. They meet at the apex, which is called Bout au Monde--the haunt of hundreds of monkeys.

[Sidenote: July 22.]

Arrived _Sparrowhawk_, 18, Commander James Polkinghorne.

[Sidenote: July 23.]

The necessary number of captains being present, I was examined as to my qualifications in seamanship, having already passed for navigation before leaving England. The captains were not hard on me; the passing certificates were made out in triplicate to be sent to the Admiralty. The captains kindly signed an extra one, which I sent to my father. From this day I ceased to be a midshipman, and became a mate in His Majesty’s Navy.

There was a huge tortoise in the grounds of Government House at Port Louis. It could move with six men on its back, three a side, standing on edge of its shell, holding hands across. On inquiry from Mr. Robinson, a late resident and relative of mine, I found there had been two of these animals introduced into the island by the French, and they were on the list of Ordnance stores taken over by the British on the evacuation. The entry was certified by Commissary-General Jago in 1810. They were allowed to stroll about, but were seldom met or even seen together. This big one was generally to be found in the R.A. mess compound. I understand that in 1861 a young officer fired a revolver at it. The bullet made a dent on the shell, but did not penetrate. The mark was still visible in 1884. The tortoise often disappeared, at one time for a whole month, but returned of its own accord. It was easily driven by tapping on the back and hind-legs with a small rattan.

[Illustration: _A Colossal Tortoise._]

In the garrison were the 29th Regiment, commanded by a Waterloo hero, Lieutenant-Colonel Simpson; the 99th, known amongst the French population as the “Neuf Neuf,” Lieutenant-Colonel Hardinge; and 82nd, Lieutenant-Colonel Balfour, besides Engineers and Artillery.

Society was charming. In addition to our garrison ladies, the French, then as now, joined in all festivities. I had a chum, Phillpotts, in the 29th, the same height as myself, and the same lady kindly patronised us both; but hoping to cut my friend out, I thought to improve myself by taking lessons in dancing. The next day, when I arrived at Monsieur Longville’s, the French artist, I found Phillpotts already there!

[Sidenote: July 28.]

_Champion_, 18, arrived from India in command of my much-esteemed kinsman, George Delmé. On board, too, was my brother Tom, who had left the Naval College early in 1827, and went to India in the _Success_, where Admiral Sir William Hall Gage transferred him to the _Champion_.

[Sidenote: Aug. 18.]

We embarked Sir Lowry Cole and family, as well as a large staff, with all due honours, and sailed immediately, ships and forts cheering as we passed. Colonel Wade, Military Secretary, was a great favourite. His son in the 98th, a linguist who afterwards made himself master of the Chinese language, with its 500 letters, was afterwards Sir Thomas Wade, our Minister at Peking. Captain During, A.D.C., Dr. Dyce, Rev. A. M. Canton, and although last not least, Kerr Baillie Hamilton. In addition to these was Lady Frances Cole and the charming children.

[Illustration: _Sir Lowry Cole._]

Our Captain himself was a _bon-vivant_. It delighted him to entertain so good a judge as Sir Lowry. He had also heard of the remark made by Wellington, while in winter-quarters after Salamanca, to a new-comer in camp: “Cole gives the best dinners; Hill the next; mine are no great things; but Beresford’s and Picton’s are very bad indeed.”

The party was large, and food drawing to an end. The evening before arrival at Simon’s Bay there had been a dish of roast guinea-fowls; one of which was set aside for the Governor’s breakfast and placed in a safe that hung over the hatchway, abreast of the mids’ berth, under the charge of the cabin-door sentry. Now, when the sentry went forward to strike eight bells, the safe door being partially open, a hungry mid conveyed the tempting bird to his mess-table, where it disappeared without “fork and knife or noise or strife.”

After the landing of the Governor came the painful inquiry, “Who stole the guinea-fowl?” Of course, nobody did, and our leave was confined to Simon’s Bay.

[Sidenote: Sept. 7.]

We arrived in Simon’s Bay, and following day landed the Governor, Sir Lowry Cole, with all due honours.

[Illustration: _The Device of Jonas Coaker._]

At Simon’s Bay we found that Jonas Coaker had arrived with his schooner-rigged tank. After crossing the “Line” on his way out, he had been becalmed for some hours, when a rakish-looking schooner, that might have been slaver or pirate--most likely both--hove in sight, bringing a light breeze up. Now, Jonas, being unarmed, had no wish to communicate. He assembled his crew, dressed in white frocks and trousers, and having unshipped the cook’s funnel, which was of polished brass, mounted it on an impromptu carriage, and got the muzzle pointed towards the stranger, with the crew ranged on each side, while he paraded the deck in cocked hat and sidearms. He had also a mid and second master. The stranger got near enough to make out that the schooner’s sails were not of cotton; she in studding sails, and, much to Jonas’s relief, hauled to the wind.

Jonas was full of information. On arriving in Simon’s Bay, he, in answer to inquiries of his young officers, how the Cape sheep came to have such broad, flat tails, explained that it arose from their invariably feeding uphill!

[Sidenote: Sept. 24.]

Jonas Coaker commenced building a stone pier and breakwater from the bottom of the Commodore’s garden. With a small rock in position and material at hand, it is a wonder it was not thought of before.

[Sidenote: Oct. 20.]

The _Undaunted_, 46, Captain Augustus Clifford, C.B., arrived with Lord William Cavendish-Bentinck, appointed Governor-General of India.

[Sidenote: Nov. 5.]

Fired a royal salute in commemoration of the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot.

[Sidenote: Dec.]

Leave of so many being stopped, there were an unusual number of mids in Simon’s Bay, which of course made the place unusually lively. Colonel Blake, the kind Commandant, entertained most hospitably, as did Mr. Osmond, better known as “King John.” Colonel Blake had for years been annoyed by baboons which came down from the mountain and stole his figs. After a while he caught one, flogged, and let it go. He lost no more figs.

Time slipped away. Christmas was drawing near, and kind invitations came from numerous friends--the Stolls, Cloetes, Lorentz, Ebdens, and others. A kind letter from Lady Mary Fitzroy to our Captain caused leave to be given to any but the actual perpetrator. Now, as I had the morning watch, and had not, at the time of the guinea-fowl’s escape, been relieved, Christmas Day found myself with that bright and happy family, the Fitzroys.

[Sidenote: 1829. January.]

After a while I had a latch-key, and a room adjoining the entrance; became an honorary member of the 98th mess. I invested in a couple of horses that I could not afford, and deluded a messmate, young Armytage, into doing the same. He was a lighter weight than myself, and could ride well. Glanville kept a fast horse with a bangtail. He was older and a more experienced rider, and had also learnt the noble art of self-defence.

One day, at Morrison’s Hotel, I heard a man requesting to be taken to Major Keppel. This proved to be the famous blind traveller, Joseph Holman. He had heard my voice, and took it for that of his friend, my brother, who was then in England.

[Sidenote: Jan. 15.]

Commodore Schomberg hoisted his broad pendant, which was saluted by us.

In the midst of our little gaieties _Tweed_ was ordered to the Mauritius. Our kind Captain allowed Glanville and self each to take a horse, as we could there get rid of them to advantage.

[Sidenote: Feb. 7.]

We sailed. Showed colours to vessels in St. Paul’s Roads, Bourbon.

[Sidenote: Mar. 10-Mar. 29.]

Arrived Port Louis, Mauritius. The Governor, Hon. Sir Charles Colville, and family, continued the same kind hospitality as their predecessors. I have often regretted our inability to return in any way their kindness.

A mid’s was thought a hard life, but on active service what had not these gallant soldiers gone through? I had a brother, a youngster, at Waterloo, who, for many years in the latter part of his life, tried to recount various incidents of that day. Sir Charles Colville’s division appears to have been placed at Hal, on the extreme right of the British army, Wellington believing that was the point on which Napoleon was advancing. The General made up for it by the gallant manner in which he stormed and captured Cambrai, the last French fort to surrender.

[Sidenote: April.]

Races took place, which we enjoyed. Our sailor horses were entered for anything that could afford sport. Glanville’s bangtail was a clever horse: won everything he ran for. Armytage rode a light weight for the garrison with success. I rode a couple, but my horse had not time to be properly trained; afterwards he bolted, rolled over the rails, nearly killed an Irish jockey; but I got double what he cost me. Glanville did better still.

[Sidenote: April 20.]

Mail arriving, was disappointed to find that my passing certificates had been returned by some smart Admiralty clerk for “Mr. Keppel’s signature.”

[Sidenote: May 3.]

Sailed for the Cape; _Espoir_ in co.

[Sidenote: May 21.]

Arrived in Simon’s Bay. Many kind friends came on board; Johnnie Stoll, of the _Maidstone_, was the first to inform me that I was promoted. I could scarcely believe it, as my passing certificates had been returned to me, at the Mauritius, for signature. However, my Lieutenant’s commission was in the Commodore’s office.

This was indeed an unexpected pleasure, enough to turn the brain of an older head. Sapient resolves no longer to play the fool! I now held the rank equivalent to that of a Captain in the army. I was almost ashamed of the congratulations of so many of my seniors.

The Commodore, Schomburg, was also kind. I found him just as he had finished a long correspondence with the Admiralty about the _Castle Huntley_, Indiaman, while she was at the Mauritius, with these words:

“I cannot conclude without regretting that His Majesty’s Orders in Council seem still but imperfectly understood by many branches of the civil, military, and merchant services”--words as applicable near seventy years after.

With my dear Captain I was indeed sorry to part: it seemed as if I had been with him years. His kindness and anxiety when so many of us were down with fever endeared him to all, especially myself, the only survivor of the picnic party.

I went off to receive further congratulations from my kind friends the Fitzroys, who had done so much to restore me to health and strength.

[Sidenote: June 10.]

The _Rainbow_, 28, Captain Hon. Henry Rous, arrived from the East Indian Station, so full of invalids and other passengers there was no room for me, but the Captain had the will and soon found the way. A cot was hung on the starboard side of the aft-deck. In itself a luxury: and being in sight of the cabin-door sentry, no chance of my lanyard being cut by a horrid midshipman; for the rest, I was the Captain’s guest.

After taking leave of many kind friends, I thought it right to show my new shipmates how the ropes lead about Cape Town. There were races going on, at one of which my chum Whaley Armytage got his arm broken. There was also a dignity ball to come off, more refined, but not better fun, than those in the West Indies. Leave-taking over and Armytage convalescent, with his arm in a sling, I conveyed him to Simon’s Bay in a tandem. We had the usual rest and refreshment at Farmers Peck’s.

The tide happening to be out when we reached Fishhook Bay, I turned my leader’s head into the cutting that had been made in the rock, for the accommodation of led horses. On one side was the perpendicular cliff, on the other a drop of between thirty and forty feet on to rocks and sea. There was nothing left for my leader but to go on, with shafts and wheeler close upon him. We arrived safe at the bottom. Further on met the Resident, Colonel Blake, riding with his daughter. He would not credit my account, and, as the tide was out, rode on to find the impression of wheels, I having booked his four to one.

Forty years after, and maybe does now, the spot bore the name of “Keppel’s Folly.”

[Illustration: _Keppel’s Folly._]

[Sidenote: June 15.]

We sailed for England. The _Rainbow_ had been on the Australian and New Zealand stations, which accounted for my seeing, when dining with my kind host, on removal of the dish-cover, the tattooed head of a Maori Chief.

The ship was full of curios: game-cocks secured by the leg to alternate gun-carriages on main-deck. There were two Bengal tiger whelps, a ferocious-looking bull-dog as gentle as a lamb, and a monkey free to go where he chose.

After evening quarters, a sail was spread on the forecastle, where some interesting sparring took place. In the cabin, I had each forenoon a lesson in backgammon, with the Captain, at the cost of a shilling per day. Among invalids was a Lieutenant, Jack Crosbie, who quarrelled with me because I made a remark about his sister in reply to one he made about me. I did not know then that he _had_ a sister, although he had five, all uncommonly good-looking--I married one!

[Sidenote: June 25.]

Arrived off St. Helena. Our Captain had served in one of the ships that had guarded the island during the residence of the great Napoleon. His Imperial Majesty had died May 5, 1821, and his remains rested in a spot chosen by himself--a garden at the foot of a deep ravine; the grave, between two willow-trees, close to a fountain, from which he had during life been specially supplied. To visit the spot with the Captain was a pleasant and interesting walk.

[Illustration: _Napoleon’s Grave._]

[Sidenote: July 2.]

Called at Ascension, then little better than a huge cinder; there was a small spring some seven miles distant. Its redeeming point was the kind manner in which the finest turtle landed to deposit their eggs on the numerous sanded inlets; this they preferred doing on bright moonshiny nights, never dreaming that they were being watched. And having covered with sand as many or more than a hundred luscious eggs, the size and shape of a large orange, left them for the sun to hatch. Their own tracks carefully sprinkled with sand, on returning to the briny deep, they little thought they were to be turned on their backs, above high-water mark, by huge Royal Marines, there to await passage to the table of the First Lord of the Admiralty or his friends! Of course, the male turtle is never foolish enough to land if he knows of it.

[Sidenote: Aug. 8]

On our reaching soundings in the chops of the Channel, Captain Rous bought a bag of potatoes from a pilot boat; and having a live pig still left, he determined on a feast, and so make up my quarrel with Crosbie.

[Sidenote: Aug. 10.]

We arrived at Spithead, after the pleasantest voyage I ever made.

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