FROM LONDON TO TAMATAVE. 
13 
The weather off the Cape is generally rough, 
and the winds are keen and cold; so that the 
passengers, who had been tempted to throw off 
their warmer clothing during the passage of the 
balmy mid-Atlantic, are again glad to shelter 
themselves behind dreadnoughts and heavy furs. 
This is the spot, on a wild and tempestuous night, 
to go up in the dark hours of the middle watch 
upon deck, and take in, from the lips of some old 
salt, the weird legend of the “ Flying Dutchman/ 7 
so dear to sailors and so terribly fascinating to 
landsmen. Onward through the fierce but silent 
drift of the great Agulhas current we go, and 
making for the north-west, with a considerable 
anterior period, however, of southing, we soon 
welcome overhead the creaking cry of the boat¬ 
swain-bird, which hovers over us, with its small 
body, and one long plume drooping from its tail, 
and reveals by its presence the cheering fact that 
our voyage is complete, and that we shall soon 
sight the lofty eminences of Peter Bot and the 
Poose, which mountains are the earliest recog¬ 
nisable features of the hospitable and beautiful 
Mauritius; or, as she proudly but not inaptly 
styles herself on her official banner, the Star of 
the Isles of the Indian Sea. 
Here warm greetings are in store for us, and 
with that remarkable air of sincere and generous 
kindness which distinguishes English colonists 
