ST. HELENA 235 



eagle of silver, given to Bertrand by Napoleon, which con- 

 stituted part of the plate broken up in St. Helena. 



On October 8, 1840, the frigate, La Belle Poule, bringing 

 the Prince de Join\'ille and suite, arrived, accompanied by 

 the Favourite, a corvette. Their mission was to convey 

 to France the remains of the late Napoleon Buonaparte. 

 (See illustration of funeral cortege passing through Lower 

 Parade.) 



After exhumation, the coffins were deposited with funeral 

 honours in the frigate which, on Sunday, 15, sailed for 

 France. 



Extract from the " St. Helena Gazette," Saturday, May 26, 

 1849, and June 9, entitled "The Two Funerals of 



Napoleon." 



In the log of the Free Trader, homeward bound, by Robert 

 Pastans, May 5, 1821, there appears this entry : — 



" A memorable event occurred this day." Apparently, at the 

 time these words were written it was supposed they would be 

 sufficient to recall to the memory, at a future period, the circum- 

 stance they so briefly recorded, for the journal said nothing more 

 about it. True, it was further stated lower down on the same page 

 with nautical brevity, under the head of " Remarks " : — 



" All useful sail set." 

 " Beat the best bower." 

 " Pumped ship." 

 " A stranger in sight." 



To which was added, " Lat. by observation 16' 30" south, 5' 30" 

 west." Assisted by the latitude and longitude, as well as by the 

 date, I made two or tliree desperate dives into the stream of time, 

 hoping to rescue from oblivion the event, and, after a hard struggle, 

 succeeded in bringing to the surface of my memory the leading 

 incident, and then the whole affair floated through my mind with 

 all the freshness of yesterday. And, perhaps, it will be as well 

 to state, for the information of the general reader, that on the day 

 in question, the Free Trader was running before the south-east 

 trade wind, over that aqueous portion of our planet which rolls 

 between the Cape of Good Hope and the island of St. Helena. 



It was my morning watch, and I recollect leaning over the cap- 

 stan and lapsing into one of those paradoxical states, when, although 

 attending to nothing in particular, yet almost every object within 

 the range of our senses undergoes a sort of dreamy observation. 

 I could see the man at the helm, and see how firm he kept the 

 plunging ship in hand, his sinewy grasp seemed by a secret intel- 

 ligence to impress his will upon the vast mass of the vessel. With- 

 out disturbing the process of observation, a shoal of porpoises 

 would occasionally rush along, pursuing their earnest and busy 



