The Friend of the Free State and Bloemfontein Gazette 1870 1 January - June

Sometimes, for lack of anything else to do, I proceeded to a kloof, near Salem, and felled large yellowwood trees, which, for ought I know to the contrary, were allowed to rot. One evening, as I was returning homewards with a heavy spar on my shoulder, I saw a black animal scratching at an antheap. As I approached him he made a rush at me with a snarling noise. Upon seeing this, I threw the pole down, and defended myself with a saw – cutting and hacking away with might and main, while at the same time retreating. At last I killed him, as I thought, but he turned his nose under his tail, recovered, and came on as fresh as at first, and I had to go through the same exercise again and again, until I had done for him, apparently, seven times, and he had revived himself every time by putting his nose under his tail. Mr. GUSH came up at this juncture, and asked me what I had fallen in with. The devil, I answered; I have killed him seven times, and he comes to life again; but I think he is now dead. Mr. GUSH picked the animal up by the tail, and said, It is a pity you killed it; it would have been such a pretty thing to tame. While thus talking, the creature again recovered, turned himself up, and caught Mr. G. by the [sleeve], with a piece of which, he only relaxed his grasp. We then tied its feet together, and took it home, when we made it fast with a strong cord round the neck. Next morning, sure enough the ‘devil’ was dead. Had I known what I learnt afterwards, I might have killed it with a slight tap on the nose. It was a badger, and the antheap contained a bees’ nest. When the badger is in quest of honey he is always extremely vicious. Among the Salemites my badger was a great curiosity.

I killed every snake I came across, and in consequence the young people styled me the wild Irishman. One Sunday afternoon I was sitting under the white stinkwood tree, close to Mr. GUSH’s cave, when a young lady came and seated herself alongside me, bringing a religious book with her. While we were reading, I heard a rustling in the leaves of the tree, and looked up, when I espied a very large green snake, called by the Dutch “boomslang”, I slipped on one side, and told Miss ------ to come to me, and I would show her something. She complied with my request. See the serpent, I said. You and I are good representatives of Adam and Eve. There is the deceiver, but I won’t allow him to bamboozle us; I will slay him. Whereupon I picked up some small pieces of wood, threw them at the snake, and, after dislodging the reptile from the tree, despatched him with a long stick, while the young girl stood at a distance. No wonder, said she, my brother calls you a wild Irishman. Yes, he may do so, I replied, but there is not such a fine young fellow in Salem as your humble servant, although, maybe, he does not turn up the whites of his eyes after the fashion approved at Salem. I must praise myself, you know, inasmuch as I have no friends but one.

A day or two after killing the “boomslang” I was standing out of doors in a brown study, wondering of what use it was for me to saw, plane, and mortise green wood, for as soon as I had done so the sun twisted it out of shape; and while thus cogitating, a large four-legged animal walked out of the river towards Mr. G.’s house. Fearing it would enter the house and frighten Mrs. G., I threw myself between the reptile and the shanty, and diverted its course over a small flat. With its short legs, long tail, and forked tongue, it made with incredible swiftness direct for Mr. WICHMAN’s residence, which was partly dug out of the side of a hill, built up in front with sods, and covered in with grass, shed fashion. It was neither impervious to the wind nor the rain. Mr. and Mrs. WICHMAN were not at home, but Miss WICHMAN was sitting on her bed, when the reptile entered the house, and I in pursuit of it with a long stick. She screamed; but I told her as politely as I could in my haste, that I would not harm her myself, nor would I allow the terrible beast to do so. I then asked which way the reptile made his exit, and she told me the last she saw of him was his long tail going through the thatch on the wall. I then ran round, caught sight of the reptile, followed him up, and gave him a tremendous whack across the back, which brought him to his senses, but I soon knocked them out again. This wonderful reptile was a guana, and he measured four feet from the tip of the tail to the point of the nose. This, with the badger and some snakes that I had hung up, served for many a gossip, and what the wild Irishman had killed was all the talk.

I was standing at my bench one day, when I heard two old gentlemen (Messrs. HANCOCK and LEE) speaking somewhat loudly to each other about a wagon they had purchased between them; the one wanted to go to Bathurst, the other to Grahamstown; and the one would not wait for the return of the other. At last they became furious, when I stepped up to them, and said, “Gentlemen, I am sorry to see two old fathers angry with each other. Why not divide the wagon, and make two carts of it? then each can go his own way.” How can that be done? they asked. “I can do it. The front part will make one cart, and the hind part the other cart, with very little trouble. I have poles ready, and it won’t take very long to do.” So they agreed to have it done, and they drew lots for the first choice. Thus the quarrel was brought to a satisfactory issue.

One evening I and Thomas JENKINS, George and William LEE, with a batch of little LEEs, were at Mr. LEE’s house, or, more properly speaking, hartebeest hut, when I proposed that we should have a “tuck out” of boiled milk, sugar, and rice, and volunteered to “stand Sam” for the rice and sugar, provided LEE would find the milk. Now, while this was boiling, I proposed to have some fun. But what was it to be? A thought struck me: let us try which of us is fit to be a Wesleyan preacher. I essayed first, but could not get on for laughing. George and William LEE tried, and failed. Then Thos. JENKINS mounted the ‘pulpit’. He have out a hymn, read a chapter, and went through the service as seriously as if he had been brought up to it; so when he got off the form, I snatched up a bible, gave him a thump with it, and thus addressed him: “I herewith ordain you a Wesleyan minister. Go and listen to Mr. SHAW’s lectures, make friends with your brother-in-law, Mr. KIDD, and you will excel as a ranter.” Whether this address kindled the spark that was within him, I do not know, but very shortly thereafter he became a Wesleyan local preacher. He is now no more, having died a short time ago at Port Natal.

I now began to think about leaving Salem, not that I had any complaint to make, for kinder or better father and mother I could never have had than Mr. and Mrs. GUSH were to me; but I was of a roving disposition. Mr. GUSH, James HOWSE and myself attempted to plough. HOWSE could handle the plough pretty well, but I and Mr. GUSH could not manage the oxen. However we gave it up at last for a bad job; and as we stood dejectedly looking at one another, I drew a heavy sigh, and said, “This is scriptural indeed; we are ploughing by the roadside.” (We were alongside the road that led to the drift). You must crack your joke, remarked my companions.

I forgot to say, that the morning after the rice and milk spree, I was at or under the tree before mentioned, when I saw smoke issuing from the end of the house occupied by the LEEs. Without hesitation I ran down to the hole of water, which was too long to run round, plunged into it, crossed it with a few vigorous strokes, and ran up to the house. The flames had begun to ascend. My first thought was for the keg of gunpowder, that was suspended from the roof on a short plank. I seized it, ran out with it, threw it some distance away, returned [,] caught hold of the little children, who were asleep, blankets and all, and dragged them out. It appeared that one of the boys lit the fire, then went for wood or water, and in the meantime the flames ignited the reeds and grass of which the hut was composed. Nothing was saved.

I was now preparing to leave Salem, and first went to Assegai Bush to bid Mrs. BUTLER good-bye, as I heard she was about to return to Ireland. When I arrived she tried all she could to induce me to go back with her, and offered to pay my passage. I declined, stating, that I would never return unless I could do so independently of my friends. Shortly after this, Mrs. BUTLER’s child was bitten by a snake, and died. The mother then went home almost broken-hearted, - Captain BUTLER remaining behind for some time. I may as well add here, that after I had married I was on a visit to Grahamstown, where I had some dealings with Messrs. WELSFORD and GREEN, and met Captain BUTLER in the street. He was glad to see me, and made many flattering remarks, which I put down for blarney. Perceiving he was in a most deplorable state, I told him I was sorry to see him so reduced. Never mind, said he, I expect money; Mrs. B. will send some out to me. Will you walk in, I asked, to Messrs. WELSFORD and GREEN’s, and take what you may require - £20, £30, or £40 – to satisfy your present wants? I can spare it. He stood still, as if transfixed to the spot, could not utter a word, his eyes glistened as if tears stood in them, crushed my hand, could scarcely say good-bye, but he would not accept my offer.

Before leaving Salem, I remonstrated with Mr. GUSH respecting the place he was living in. Some rain had fallen, and the river had been almost to the level of the platform before the door. I told him I had seen the river Slaney, that comes down from the mountains of the county of Wicklow after a flood, laden with large deposits of brushwood, grass, weeds, and other debris, and that these were left in the fork of the trees on the banks of the stream; and the debris on the opposite side, as I had already pointed out, were brought there by the same means. I advised hm therefore to be on his guard. Shortly thereafter a heavy rain set in, the river came down, and Mr. GUSH and family narrowly escaped with their lives. The water filled the cave, and forced its roof off, which went floating down the river like an immense plate. Mr. G.’s loss must have been all but ruination to him. I could fill a large volume with the blunders (not Irish ones) made by the Settlers. The last stupid act I witnessed at Salem was the following: Mr. GUSH wished to prove whether a 25 lb of gunpowder he had in his possession was good. So he placed it on the bench, opened the head, loaded an old gun, and, while standing close to the keg of powder, fired the musket off, ere I could check him. The consequences were most disastrous. The 25 lbs of powder exploded, and Mr. GUSH and everything close by were terribly shaken and burnt. Mr. G. all but died. On hearing the cock click, I threw myself on the ground, and thus escaped scatheless. Fortunately, this transpired in the open air, and the spot was a little elevated.

At length I left Salem for Graaff Reinet, but not without a heavy sigh and much regret. However, I saw nothing to induce me to stay longer.

The Government supplied the Settlers with rations, but they were far too scanty for a family, if they had no other means of subsistence. These rations had to be fetched from Grahamstown at great risk and trouble.

Miss WICHMAN married Mr. Carel BROGLIE, who resided at Leeuwfontein. Thomas JENKINS and I were bad friends at the period I write about. He used to sleep with me in my hut, and I left him in possession of it, when I bade farewell to Salem.

As I have written so much about my boyish tricks, I will next give ten years of my life in the Free State – that is, when I am in the humour.

WHY I LEFT HOME
[By Mr. John MONTGOMERY, Founder of Burghersdorp, Cape Colony]

I went up from Dublin to Baltinglass, 30 Irish miles (45 English) to spend the Christmas holidays with my mother. The Baltinglass boys were preparing to go and beat the wren, the smallest of the feathered tribe. [Transcriber’s note: for this St.Stephen’s Day tradition see https://www.ouririshheritage.org/content/archive/topics/miscellaneous/the-wren-boys]
The origin of this sport I am sorry I never heard. It required but little persuasion to induce me to proceed on such an expedition. On St.Stephen’s Day a great number of boys assembled and moved off to Captain Stratford’s hill, where [trees] most abounded and where the wren is most likely to be [found]. This bird [does] not live higher than 3 or 4 feet from the ground. The whole of this day we beat the bushes in [deep] snow; and at last we fell in with the bird. It was fine fun to see the boys tumbling into deep ditches covered level with snow. Having captured the wren, we returned homewards. The next day the boys held a meeting, and decided they would go to Stratford, the adjacent town, [3] miles off. This, in those days, was a calico manufacturing town, and spinning, weaving, calico printing, &c, was carried on, on a large scale, by Messrs. ORDE [recte ORR] and MACINTOSH of that place; thus their hands outnumbered us in the proportion of four to one; but the Baltinglass lads had been challenged to fight so often by the Stratford spalpeens [i.e. rascals], that at length they resolved to pick up the gauntlet. To my surprise they selected me as their leader, and I then tried to persuade them not to go, as we could not muster enough to contend with the enemy. But it was of no use. I then said, “Boys, if you will follow me, I’ll lead you to Hell or Hackney*; so prepare for the fray!” Accordingly, swords were made out of iron hoop, and cross-bows, bows and arrows, slings for throwing stones, shillelaghs, &c, were got in readiness; and when they assembled for the march all were armed in some way or other. I then divided them into three divisions, each division choosing its own leader, and leaving me as Commander-in-Chief.
I must now describe how the wren is carried. A hawthorn bush, with a long stem or stick, is procured. On the top of this is placed some furze, in which the wren is fastened in a net; and the stem of the hawthorn bush is entwined with ivy, so as to make it look as green as possible. Twelve disciples are then chosen, and the wren is carried to every house, in order to collect money for buying turf and wood to make a bonfire. When they arrive at a house the carrier or bearer cries out – Here is the wren! and recites the following doggerel:-
“The wren, the king of all birds,
St.Stephen’s day was caught in the furze;
Although he’s little his family is great,
Rise up, landlady, and give us a treat.”
“A merry Christmas
And happy New Year.
A pocket full of May
And a cellar full of beer.”
“Last Christmas day I turned the spit,
I burnt my finger – I feel it yet;
Between my finger and my thumb,
There is a blister as big as a plum.”
The two last verses are recited as a blessing for what is received. If nothing is given then a curse, in rhyme, is delivered. The people are very superstitious, and don’t like being anathematised.
The Oath: “I swear by my shillaly [recte shillelagh, a thick stick of blackthorn or oak used in Ireland, typically as a weapon], that I will stand by my leader while life and limb remain intact, and will not desert him.” Every one holds up his weapon to confirm the oath. Every preparation having been made we marched on Saturday morning in good order for Stratford, where we arrived safely. This town is situated on a hill. In the centre of it there is a circle – not a square, as we have, generally speaking, in this country [i.e. South Africa] – and in the middle of this circle there is a pump to supply water. Here I took my stand while the wren was carried round to every house. The Stratford boys experienced some difficulty in assembling, and before they showed a respectable front all the principal houses had been visited, and a good sum of money collected. I then deemed it prudent to retire, and ordered the bugler to sound the retreat with a bull’s or cow’s horn, and the Light Company (little boys) to take the lead with the wren, and the bowmen and slingers to keep the enemy in check. Before we had proceeded far, we were obliged to take to the fields, in order to seek the protection of hedges and ditches. I ordered a feint on the stone bridge to our right, which had the intended effect, as the Stratford boys, in great disorder, rushed helter-skelter to prevent our crossing the bridge. Seeing that this feint had answered, I made another to our left on the wooden bridge leading to the Factory. This likewise had the desired result, and weakened the enemy to such an extent that we were enabled to battle with the remainder. My cousin, George PARK, was the principal leader on the opposite side. He was very tall for his age, but not older than myself. He called out for volunteers to take the Dublin boy (meaning me). Overhearing this, I ordered my company to wheel round and give the enemy a shower of stones and arrows, which sent them to the right about face. We continued our march across the river, which was frozen hard. This was not calculated upon by the enemy. We made good our retreat to Baltinglass hill, with 7 wounded - one severely. We then formed in line, and gave the Stratford boys three hearty cheers. As they could not unite their forces, which were a mile or more separated, they did not continue the pursuit. When we reached the R.C. Church at the entrance to the town, I was astounded at the boys surrounding me, hoisting me on their shoulders, and carrying me, cheering the while, to where the fire was already blazing. This was not far from my mother’s house, and she could distinctly hear my name mentioned from time to time. Fresh logs of wood and lumps of turf were piled on the fire, and the darkness of the night caused the flames to reflect on the snow more distinctly the forms of the boys carrying the wren round the fire, as well as those of the boys and girls who were dancing, capering about, singing, shouting, and making themselves as merry as possible. Before I left the scene I called the officers about me, and thanked them for their obedience, loyalty, and bravery. I then retired to the house, where I found my mother in the greatest of sorrow. She commenced to lecture me, and I listened to her submissively. All I could say in self-defence was – Please, mother, forgive me, I was partly forced to go with them. I went to bed, but as the noise outside continued without abatement I had but little sleep, although very tired after what I had gone through during the day. To give a detailed account of this day’s proceedings – interspersed as they were with hard fighting, from time to time – would fill a good sized volume.
Next morning (Sunday) my mother was at me again, in this fashion:- “What will become of you – you who are so young, and yet already the leader of a faction fight? You will be marked, brought incessantly into trouble, and come to a bad end. What will your friends say? Doubtless they will turn their backs upon you.” She said a great deal more which I cannot recollect. I dressed for church, and went and heard the Rev. Dr. CROGON preach a sermon. I thought all his discourse was aimed at me; and, no wonder, inasmuch as a guilty conscience needs no accuser. He dwelt much on the rising generation, and the duty of children towards their parents, Love your neighbour as thyself, Do unto others as you would wish to be done by, Honour thy father and thy mother, &c &c. Baltinglass church is built on the ruins of an old convent destroyed by CROMWELL. There are a great many traditionary tales respecting the cruelty perpetrated by CROMWELL’s soldiery. I will mention one regarding a large granite flag that was used by CROMWELL’s soldiers as a slaughtering block. It is said that once a year the blood of the monks and priests who were killed in defending themselves and the castle, is visible on this stone. The church is a beautiful building – the old walls around being one mass of ivy. The old castle was very much dilapidated. While I sat in my mother’s old family pew close to the pulpit I admired the large Gothic window under which was the Communion table, with its well turned oaken legs, the railings around which were of beautiful oak, and the cushions of dark purple colored velvet. The pulpit was of black oak, most beautifully carved out, and the pews and the galleries were likewise of the same material and workmanship. The organ was stationed above, protected by a high screen, behind which the choir sat, to accompany the instrument with their singing. There was no theatrical show, no brazen candlesticks, nor any other brass ornaments, nor any kind of unnecessary display, to distract and divert the attention of the pure Protestants. While I am trying to describe this beautiful but solemn place of worship, I fancy myself at home – “home sweet home”. After service I walked down the avenue to a large oak tree. This tree is about 10 or 12 feet in diameter, short in the trunk, with large spreading boughs stretching across the avenue, so as to intercept or hinder a [coach] from being driven up to the church. Captain STRATFORD. Magistrate of Baltinglass, would not allow these enormous arms to be lopped off. This tree is called the Gallows Tree. It is said that the rebels used it as a gibbet whereon to hang the Protestants in the last rebellion (1803), when Lord KILWARREN (recte KILWARDEN] was slain in Dublin; Lord Edward FITZGERALD, taken prisoner – only to die of his wounds - in a feather warehouse in Thomas-street; and I myself was born into the world. While I waited for some of my acquaintances to walk home with me the two Miss STRATFORDs came past, and one of them thus addressed me: “Well, John, I hope you have paid attention today.” “Yes, miss, I did, for the old Doctor hit me much harder than the Stratford boys did yesterday.” “You are a wicked boy, John.” “Thank you, miss, as you have accompanied your remark with a smile,” said I, at sametime taking off my hat and making a profound obeisance. The footman then opened the carriage door, let down the steps, and the ladies entered the vehicle. I heard them laughing merrily as the coach drove off.
On Monday morning (Hansel Monday), the 1st January, 1820, [Transcriber’s note: The 1st January, 1820, was a Saturday] I went down to the bridge, and while leaning over the battlements, admiring the wild scenery around, the immense sheet of ice the river presented, and the houses all covered with snow, I thought – We have not this in Dublin. At this juncture, one of Dr. HEATH’s sons and a certain Mike NEWLING came up, and the Doctor told me he had seen in one of the Cork papers that a number of settlers were going out to the Cape of Good Hope; that Mr. INGRAM would take out 100 settlers; that Captains S ---- [i.e. SYNNOT] and BUTLER, and one PARKER, would head other parties; that NEWLING and two of his (the Doctor’s) brothers were also going; that Captain BUTLER’s party might be easily overtaken, as it had only left yesterday morning; and that the best thing I could do would be to join it. Come along, he continued; I am ready, and I’ll tell my brothers that you’ll accompany us; they’ll be so glad. NEWLING then went to bid his friends Good-bye, and I did the same. I just entered the house, and said – Farewell, mother, I am going to the Cape of Good Hope. I did not wait for a reply, but started without breakfast. I waited on the bridge some time for NEWLING. At last he came, looking very sorrowful, and I said to him, “Well, NEWLING, don’t go with me. Whether the HEATHs come or not, I’ll go, as I have fully made up my mind. So off I started alone without a penny in my pocket. I travelled all day to a place called the Royal Oak, but BUTLER’s baggage had not passed that way, which I ascertained on entering a carman’s inn, where an old lady – a jolly, fine-looking woman – requested me to warm myself by the fire, while she put many questions to me. The evening was closing in, the weather threatening, and I was anxious to retrace my steps to the next town Munubeg [recte Muine Bheag], 1½ miles distant. I got up to start, when the old lady, with many kind words, gave me one quarter of a large grid[d]le cake, saying, “Take this, acushla; you may want it.” And I did need it, for the cold wind, accompanied by sleet, blew right in my face. So I put the large oatmeal cake in the inside breast pocket of my coat, and buttoned it up to keep me warm. On entering the town I fell in with a lot of baggage cars. I then went into the inn, and the first person I saw was Mrs. B. DEVINE; and as I had seen her before I knew I was all right. “Well, Biddy, are all the party here?” “All except the Captain and lady, who have gone on to Cork.” “It is a very cold night, Biddy.” “Yes. What can I treat you to? How would you like a glass of whiskey punch?” “Oh, very much.” I slept behind the bar, and, taking a fine silk handkerchief out of my pocket, I tendered it to the barman, who, although it was worth 5s, only offered me 10d for it. “All right,” said I, “take it, and give me half a pint of whiskey” (cost 5d). “Now, Biddy,” I resumed, make for yourself and friend a good glass of punch.” We then retired to a room to enjoy the whiskey punch, where we were joined by the ladies’ husbands. When the ladies warmed up they began to sing, and the men followed suit. Soon more whiskey was called for, so you may imagine we were a jolly set. This was the first time I ever enjoyed the pleasure of ladies’ company. Next morning we proceeded on our journey. It astonished me to see the men, all armed, walking alongside the baggage cars, with their rifles and swords and guns with bayonets fixed, as if they were in an enemy’s country. On they trudged without a word or sound, the silence only being broken by the carmen speaking to their horses. This kind of travelling I could not long endure; there was no fun or amusement; so I began to think of some devilment, by which I could raise the spirits of the drones. Accordingly, I mounted one of the cars, whereon a fine, jolly, fat, young woman sat, and pretended to make love to her. She enjoyed the joke, and so did her good-natured husband. This caused some merriment. “You, fellows,” I said, “have not a word to throw to the pigs, much less to the ladies, who are perched on top of these cars, starving to death with the cold. Not one of you so much as speaks to them; therefore I will try to warm them up.” “Go on, Johnny,” was the reply, with a hearty cheer. They now began to be quite cheery, and sang songs. When we halted I persuaded WAYLAND (before mentioned) to play his fiddle, and we shuffled the brogues in first-rate style. After this we had a pleasant journey all the way to Cork.
When Captain BUTLER was told that I was there, he told James DEVINE he would send me back a prisoner, by the mail-coach, to Dublin, in care of the guards. DEVINE informed me of what the Captain had said. “Did he really say so?” I asked. “Yes, he did,” answered DEVINE. I made no reply. While in the tavern I heard some of Mr. INGRAM’s men speaking about going on board the steamer that was on the eve of proceeding to the Cove of Cork. I watched them when they started for the steamer, followed them, and walked on board. No one spoke to me, or asked me any questions, so I had to answer none. We were soon on board the Fanny, of London. The Captain was not then on board, but directly he came I went up to him, told him my story, and requested him to allow me to work my passage out to the Cape of Good Hope. After questioning me, he called the mate, and said to him, “Here is a young hand for you. Don’t spare the rope’s end.” I saw by the curl of his lip that he did not mean what he said; but while walking with the mate, I looked up in his face, and said, “I hope, sir, you won’t forget the Captain’s orders.” “No,” answered he, “the Captain’s orders must be obeyed, but I hope it won’t be necessary.” “I hope not, sir,” responded I. In the course of the day all the passengers came on board, and the next morning we had orders to sail. While we were making preparations to do so, we were astounded at hearing the reports of big guns from the batteries, and seeing all the ships run up as many flags as they could, and the crew of a man-of-war, 74 guns, lying close to us, manning the yards. It was a noble spectacle to see the Jack tars, dressed in their white trousers, blue jackets, and dress caps, standing in the yards. Then she opened her ports, and delivered a broadside, which made the old Fanny shiver and shake. All the man-of-war vessels followed her example, while the troops on shore went through their various evolutions, and fired volleys of musketry. I cannot describe my feelings whilst this display was being enacted. Our Captain, however, took no notice of it, except that he hoisted what flags he thought proper. In the meantime the batteries in every direction were blazing away. I ran up to the maintop yard to have a clear view of all that was going on; so I was the only one who manned the yards of our ship. In the afternoon the Commodore gave the order for sailing, and took the lead. Before sunset we were clear of the Cove of Cork, when the wind began to rise. When it became dark the Commodore hung a lantern out at the maintop, in order, I suppose, for us to keep sight of him; but the weather became so boisterous that we parted company altogether. The gale continued to increase in violence. At last all sail was taken in, and the storm sail set. Mother Carey’s chickens [i.e. storm petrels] hovered around the vessel, which some looked upon as a bad omen. However, we safely cleared the Bay of Biscay, and, the weather moderating, we again set all sail, and sped along at the rate of 9 or 10 knots an hour. In due time we arrived off the Canaries, and anchored at St.Jagos [recte St.Jago], in the hope that the Commodore would heave in sight. We stayed there three days – the weather being fine – and the Governor of the island invited our Captain and all the heads of parties to a Ball, which was a most magnificent affair. The following evening the Secretary did likewise. It was then arranged that our ship’s company should have a dance in their own fashion, and be accompanied by their own music. The dancing party was made up of the young people, of whom I was one; and John WAYLAND, together with another man from Cork, were the musicians. It was a lovely moonlight night, and the sea was as smooth as a duck-pond. The Secretary received his guests with much courtesy. The house was splendidly decorated, and dancing commenced almost immediately on our arrival. When the Portuguese had finished their dance, we began a country dance, in which the Secretary’s daughter took part. She became my partner. She was about 16, and had glossy black hair, which was tastefully ornamented with all kinds of nick-nacks. Around her neck she wore a double row of pearls, and she was bedizened with ear-rings, bracelets, gold rings, pins, and spangles innumerable. Her teeth were as white as snowdrops, and her mouth was as inviting as the gates of heaven. Her dress was of silk gauze, and reflected different shades as she whirled about. I began to flatter myself that she was paying unusual attention to me, as she would not dance with Captain BUTLER’s son, or anyone else. Accordingly, I admired her more and more every moment. Her eyes were very expressive, and her beautiful bust began to shine like a well-polished boot. She was a genuine black, and very unlike the dirty copper-coloured n....rs that we have here. I felt so curious at last, that I became frightened, and at the first opportunity I cut and run for it to the boat, and soon got on board. I had heard many tales about blacks in foreign countries having the power of fascinating and enchanting the unwary; so I thought I would not give her a chance of victimising me. When it was bruited about that I had run away from such a sweet, charming creature, it caused much merriment.
Next day we shipped all the fresh provisions that were obtainable, together with those kinds of fruit that would keep. Thereafter, I and two more took the Captain ashore, and while the ‘skipper’ was transacting his business, Walter SAUNDERS suggested that we should have a swim. I consented. Thereupon we proceeded to a rock not far from the boat, stripped, and dived into the water, which was nearly on a level with the rock. After we had enjoyed ourselves for some time, I returned to the rock, when I fancied the water had receded. I clutched at the rock, but as I did so, my feet went under, and I was obliged to strike out on my back, and swim to a spot where I could effect a landing. Upon looking back I saw my comrade, and cried out to him to come on. He did not seem to heed my voice, and presently I thought I saw him sinking. Thereupon I shouted to George, who was in the boat, to scull towards the spot where Walter was drowning. I then ran to the rock, plunged in, and swam to him. His eyes were starting out of their sockets with terror. “Keep up, boy,” I said, “don’t be timid; lay your hands upon my shoulders, and kick out; but don’t grapple with me. Here comes George with the boat.” Eventually we were both picked up by the boat, and I then went for our clothes. Walter was more dead than alive. When we had dressed, I begged my comrades not to mention this matter to the Captain, or to Walter’s father and mother, as they would blame me for it. “You did not ask me, I asked you. You saved my life, John,” murmured Walter. I took off my cap in reply. This was the cap he had kindly given me when a rope had knocked my own hat overboard, on leaving the Cove of Cork, to the great amusement of those who did not feel the loss. [Transcriber’s note: As Walter’s parents were also on board the Fanny, Graham Dickason, in his book on the Irish settlers, says that the young lad was almost certainly Walter SYNNOT Junior]
As the Commodore did not make his appearance, we set sail, leaving my ebony beauty and all our other black friends behind to enjoy themselves. After leaving the Canaries we were favoured with fine weather and fair winds, and made good headway until we reached the Line, when we were becalmed. On crossing the Equator the usual ceremony of Neptune coming on board, and shaving,, &c, was not forgotten. This threw the settlers into great consternation; many paid the customary tribute, and a few, lacking funds, underwent the shaving process. This afforded much amusement for a short time while the ceremony lasted. Many now volunteered to man the long boat, and tow the ship along. Day after day this was persevered in, and the ship made progress at the rate of 2 or 3 knots an hour. At length a catspaw (a ripple caused by a slight breeze) was discernible on the surface of the sea, and every preparation that the Captain could make was made. The breeze freshened, and the Captain expected a storm before dark – a dark line being visible just above the horizon. All the sails were then hauled in, but not furled. The wind continued to increase in violence; and flashes of lightning, accompanied by distant thunder, put the Captain on the qui vive. Orders were given to brace the yards and furl the sails; and all hands were summoned on deck. By this time it was as dark as pitch. It was my lot to go aloft, and assist in furling the sails. It was with great difficulty and danger that I ascended, and crept out to the yardarm. One of the men encouraged me by crying out “Hold on, Jack. Haul on now. Now hold fast. She rights again – haul on.” Thus he went on encouraging me. But it was a terrible scene. The storm raged furiously on every side; the black thunder clouds scudded swiftly overhead; and below, the foaming sea – which could only be seen when the lightning gleamed – was boiling like a witch’s cauldron. Then the vessel would roll as if she were going to turn upside down; then she would pitch as if she were about to turn a somersault head over heels; and then her yards would almost touch the waves, first on one side, and then on the other. My pleasure on reaching the deck may be more easily imagined than described. I then lashed myself to the rigging until daylight. The hatches were all battened down; and the settlers were in a dreadful fright below. During the afternoon of the following day the wind lulled, the sea became calm, and we arrived at the Cape without anything more worth recording. One evening I heard the Captain say, that if the wind continued fair we should see Table Mountain to-morrow morning. I was aloft the next morning, long before daylight, on the look out. At last I thought I could see a dark line, and I did not wait long before I shouted “Land oh! Land oh!” [sic] The mate then came up, and confirmed what I had said. The wind was favourable, the sails were well-filled, and we anchored in Simon’s Bay on May 1, 1820, after a passage of four months and fifteen days.
I defer giving my “Ten Years’ Residence in the Free State” until I have settled my affairs.
The story of the fight between the Baltinglass and the Stratford boys was related by my late mother and the late Mr. George COLEMAN to their children, after they came to this country.