When wearying sometimes with his tales, and the sound of the surges striking the thin wooden sides of the trembling Mary Jane, I would go upon deck, and there watch the long rolling waves that sweep round the Cape, or listen to the cheery voice of his sailor-boy, as he sang many a ditty of Cornish and Devon heroes, and the glorious deeds of Drake on the Spanish main. In this way we furrowed our way along, making very wet weather round the coast, until we came to the spot where the Birkenhead had gone down so recently with all hands. Here we luffed up for a time, and, baring our brows to the breeze, offered a parting salute to the gallant crew and stout-hearted red-jackets who had here gone to their last account at duty’s call; then, sheering off once more, filled our sails to a half gale of wind, and bounded off like a startled sea-gull towards Table Bay. After this fashion we sped on through the sea, throwing up ridges high above our decks, and on the 12th July rounded the Lion’s Mountain. Here becalmed for a time we stayed our course, when a heavy puff from the crest of that huge emblem of African life sent such a staggering pressure on our outspread canvas as nearly brought us to grief. With a sudden whirl we were on our beam-ends! My berth on board had never been very dry, but now I rolled into one still more watery in the lee-scuppers. By good luck the tackling gave way, the topsails went overboard, and the stout craft righted again, as Captain Sam expressed it, none the worse for a little deck-swabbing. I managed also to regain my place on board, none the worse for my startling bath. The next morning I declined to land in Captain Sam’s little punt, much to his annoyance, as he volunteered himself to pull me ashore. I, however, gave him to understand that it was beneath the dignity of two such west-country commanders as we were to land in such a tub-looking receptacle. The fact is, after Sam had placed his own burly person in the centre of his boat, I saw no place except his own brawny shoulders on which I could perch. CHAPTER XIII. ARRIVAL AT THE CAPE--OPINIONS ON THE WAR THERE--THE CONVERSION OF THE HEATHEN--BAPTISM OF A RECENT CONVERT--CONVERTED JEWS IN BUCHAREST--THE METROPOLITAN OF THE GREEK CHURCH AND AN ENGLISH BISHOP--THE VOYAGE HOME--THE ARETHUSA--NOZIAH VISITS CAPE TOWN TO BID ME GOOD-BYE--AFRICAN TROPHIES--REFLECTIONS ON THE ACTUAL STATE OF THE CAPE. On landing at Cape Town, I soon found that quite a different feeling existed regarding my dealings with the Kaffirs from the views taken of them in the eastern portion of the colony. Here there were no burnt homesteads, despoiled farms, or murdered occupants to bring the horrors of war in a vivid manner before people. Merchants, who were enriching themselves by the money poured into the colony from Old England, considered, no doubt, the stagnation likely to ensue from the cessation of this golden stream.