Cape Good Hope 1652-1702

58 François-Timoléon de Choisy

(See also item 54.) Sailed from Siam December 22, 1685, taking ‘three Siamese Ambassadors, 8 Mandarins, 4 Secretaries and about 20 servants’ in L'Oiseau, in company with the frigate* La Maligne, but separated in storm near Mauritius.

March 10 [1686] ... We fear that we have been carried too far South: we need a good [observation of] latitude to fix our position. Sighted a ship and neared her. She is English bound for Tonquin: she told us that the King of England is at peace, and that de Mommouth, who had started a revolt, has had his head chopped off.... She saluted us with five guns: we replied with three, she being a merchantman. She told us also that she sighted land yesterday at seven leagues distance, and found bottom in 93 fathoms: so we were fifty leagues nearer the Cape than we had thought.

Latitude observed 36 degrees.

March 11. Good way all night. Sounded, and had 75 fathoms, sand. We are on the bank, and at nine in the morning: ‘Land, land! The Cap des Aiguilles!’ We sailed North-West until night, to come nearer the land. Sounded at ten in the evening, and found bottom at 150 fathoms: we are already clear of the bank. Good fresh wind: if it holds, we shall anchor at the Cape tomorrow.

March 12. At dawn the Table Mountain was recognised. We are a little too far off, because we steered West all night: now we must make for land. Sighted a ship making for the Cape: it would be quite amusing if it were La Maligne.... If God wills, we shall eat salads tomorrow.

We entered the bay of the Cape safely, and were about to anchor when such a terrible wind got up that we had to take in all sails except the foresail, and make for Robin

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Island before the wind. There we found La Maligne at anchor, which had made the same manoeuvre as we, and was forced to put in there; and now we are anchored near her [dr]. The darkness and the high sea do not permit our shallops* to be used. Tomorrow we shall tell each other of our adventures; and if the wind changes and God wills, we shall anchor in front of the fort, a good ten leagues from here.

March 13. M. Joyeux [commanding La Maligne] has come aboard, and tells us that he parted from us because his foresail split in the first squall, and he was forced to run before the wind. He suffered three storms, like ourselves, and took a more northerly course than we, sighting land above the Cap des Aiguilles. We have a Dutch ship anchored near us [Bergh Sina] coming from Batavia and bound for Europe: he had always the best weather in the world, because he went further South. Chevalier de Sibois is going to the Robin Island in search of refreshing: it is said to have an abundance of cabbages.

The wind is from seawards. We are setting sail to go and anchor in front of the fort of the Cape: the Dutch ship is doing the same. Sibois has come back: the commander of Robin Island was most friendly to him, and told him that the King had married the Infanta of Portugal: I don't believe a word of it [and correctly].

Here we are at anchor [dr], together with La Maligne. Tomorrow we must stretch our legs by a stroll in that lovely garden*, of which I think I sent you a pompous description. When we came, it was a wintry garden; and now it is an autumnal one, where we ought to find the fruits of all parts of the world. For my part, I prefer the madeleine peaches in preference to the durian, the oranges, and the pineapple.

Sibois returns from the Cape: the Governor offers everything in his power. We saluted the fort with seven guns: it thanked us with the same number. Then the Admiral* of the Dutch fleet [Hartsing] saluted us with seven and we thanked him with that many; and finally the fort again thanked us with seven guns.

March 14. It is a busy life aboard ship. When under way it is Take in, Hoist, Make fast, Port, Starboard, Midships, Steady as you go, Ease the helm: always something to be done. No sooner is one arrived in the wished-for port than nothing but hammering is to be heard: the ship has strained, she must be repaired, tightened, caulked: water for three months must be taken in: the lower part of the hold must be re-stowed. One has no time to be bored; and if one had nothing to do, if one had neither paper, ink, nor pen, the one question ‘What are they doing there?’ would fill the time.

One good dinner makes forgotten three months of poor food. Soles in the European fashion, a big white fish with a trunk like an elephant [Deaths-head], salads, grapes, melons, fresh eggs: we will try to refresh ourselves....

March 15. There is such a terrible south-easter that we cannot think of going ashore. There are three or four of our officers who will be unable to return aboard to sleep: the shallops* will not dare to risk themselves. Just now we saw a Dutch one capsize: the men are safe because they could swim, because they were helped, and because the tide was setting shorewards. So we might as well be out to sea, without salads, without fish, without eggs: it is anything but agreeable.

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The Governor of the Cape is pretty casual. The Ambassador has as yet heard nothing from him: not the least little compliment, far less any refreshing.

March 16. The wind has fallen somewhat, and the really plucky men can risk going ashore. I shall certainly not go except in a dead calm: to be drowned in a puddle after having been to the ends of the earth - I am becoming like a real sailor, afraid to cross the Seine.

March 17. At last the Governor has woken up, and has just sent his compliments to the Ambassador [dr 16/3], together with two sheep and some melons, salads and grapes. They come a bit late, but we shall not leave them uneaten. The weather is excellent, and we are taking in as much water as possible.

March 18. This night there was a terrifying wind. We lay to two anchors*: a third was dropped for greater safety, and a fourth was in readiness. If these winds return so often, it really looks as if we shall not get ashore, and we care little about it: there is nothing new to see. The Garden* is not so fine as it was last year: the heat of Summer has somewhat dried it up, and we already have all the refreshing from it. If God gives us the grace of arriving in France we shall eat melons and grapes twice this year.

March 19: Fair weather. The chief of the Siamese Ambassadors went ashore: he was saluted with nine guns as he entered the longboat*. He thought the Garden beautiful, and bathed in a spring, although he was warned that spring-water would harm him: he came back from it with a bad cold.

March 20. I also went ashore, and tired myself out with walking. The Outentos amused us by running, and by some fencing with sticks*, which they did very adroitly, for a few Dutch two-sou pieces.

The Governor of the Cape went himself last year on an exploring expedition*: he has forbidden those who were with it to tell anything of what they saw, on pain of death; but we do not despair of discovering something.

March 21. Having well studied the news of the King's marriage to the Infanta of Portugal [above, March 13] we can learn nothing definite concerning it, and I do not believe it at all.

March 22. Today our watering will be completed. Five hundred hens on board, fifty sheep, some very good dried fish, all our hulls caulked. Who will prevent us from sailing the day after Lady-day? And who says that we shall not see the Saint John bonfires in France?

The youngest of the Siamese Ambassadors went ashore: he was given seven guns.

March 23. It looks like a boring calm; but we hope that the wind will not fail us when we ask for it. Today I tired myself out by walking.

March 24. A small Portuguese ship [dr 11/3], coming from Mozambique and bound for Brazil, set sail four times this afternoon, and each time re-anchored for lack of wind. She has a load of negros, and is scantily manned. The eight Dutch ships [? dr 21/1, 9/3, 13/3 but seven only] lying in the roads are awaiting four more from Batavia, to go on to Europe together. They are having themselves tarred, and look quite new. We are not so

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finely dressed, but our swords are as good. They will not leave for another fifteen days. Those folk never hurry: the skippers amuse themselves on shore, and the sailors take it easy with the watering. They hardly ever row, using sails as much as they can.

March 25. All our youngsters have gone hunting. A good day's run ashore makes up to them for three months' rolling about.

March 26. I was right: no sooner were our businesses finished, and all our folk on board, than a southerly wind got up, with which we soon lost sight of the Cape [dr]....

March 27. Our ship rolls worse than ever: it was impossible to sleep last night.... I shall tell you tomorrow everything I have gathered up regarding the new discoveries made by the Dutch around the Cape....

March 28. Last year the Governor of the Cape himself went exploring. He had with him sixty Dutch, two hundred slaves and some Outentos, five horses, thirty-eight oxcarts, and a hundred and fifty draught animals. He went, he says, two hundred leagues to the North, through very difficult country, and found nothing noteworthy except certain tribes, pretty well built, white [sic], very friendly, and always dancing. One day when he was camped on a low hill the Outentos who were with him told him that he was about to die, and that they saw two of the greatest sorcerers of the country coming to him. In fact, two men approached gravely, dressed in bizarre fashion, followed by some hundred others; but he warned them, and had them told, that he was a greater sorcerer than they; and to prove it, he had a glass of brandy brought in their presence, set fire to it, and drank it alight. The poor sorcerers threw themselves on their knees before him, admitted his superior powers, and went away. [Simon van der Stel was famous for his tall stories.] He said also that he thought he was going to be killed by a rhinoceros, that some of these are terrifying, and that they dig up the ground with their horn while coming straight at you: they fear only the sound of a drum. The Governor told no more than this; but he is not paid to tell us the secrets of the Company. Here is what was told me by one of those who accompanied him, a man of good sense [Claudius*]: that they found the loveliest lands in the world (and this can well be believed, since they made use of their carts there); that the people are very friendly; that there are mines of gold and silver [sic: no mention of the copper actually found]; that from time to time they found small hills entirely composed of alabaster or of crystal; that these mines are more than a hundred and fifty leagues from the Cape, and three or four leagues from the sea. In any case, a fact which makes one think that there is something worth doing there, is that the Governor has recently sent a large vessel there to examine the coasts and try to enter the rivers [not traced].

....

March 30. The wind was pretty strong last night. We rolled and pitched, and I was as sick as a dog. I was fit when we came out: I must have aged a lot in twelve months. You will be surprised to see my hair all white: it was too hot in the Indies to wear a wig, and my hair regrew white. I shall leave it as it is: you will have to be so good as to get used to it....

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Arrived at Brest June 18. Besides this ‘Journal’ Choisy wrote an eleven-volume ‘History of the Church’;, several devotional books, and his ‘Memoires’: they earned him Membership of the Academy before his death in 1724 at the age of eighty (Strangman).