The service companies of the 74th Highlanders were under orders to sail from Cork for Gibraltar early in March, 1851. Our heavy baggage had already been sent by a sailing vessel to anticipate our arrival, H.M.S.S. "Vulcan" lay at Queenstown ready to take us on board, and the all-engrossing topics were the cork-woods of Andalusia, yachting in the Bay of Algesiras, or the chances of future quarters among the olive-groves of Corfu; when, in consequence of tidings received by government of the serious aspect of affairs in British Kaffraria, and the urgent demands of Sir H. Smith for fresh troops, our orders were suddenly countermanded, and, at three days' notice, we were steaming out of harbour for the seat of the Kaffir war.

We weighed anchor on a bright Sunday morning, March 16th, after a hasty scramble in the short time left us to lay in stores for the additional length of voyage, and get an outfit of rifles, pistols, saddles, and camp equipage; with a few shirts, boots, and other articles for the use of the outer man, absolutely necessary to supply the loss of our unlucky baggage, by that time some hundreds of miles away in a different direction. No friends or relatives accompanied us on embarkation to say farewell; no pressing of hands or waving handkerchiefs. Lounging groups of Sunday-dressed sailors smoked and looked on in indifference; the bells rang out merrily, and the church-going crowds wended their way along the quiet sunny streets as usual.

The sister service, however, bade us a hearty farewell; having got steam up, and sails set, in less than forty minutes after the Admiral's signal, three-times-three lusty cheers burst from the manned yards and rigging of the "Ajax" and "Hogue," as we swept swiftly past, which were returned with such right good will, that we made but a very hoarse return to a last parting cheer from the forts at the mouth of the harbour.

The church bells softened and died away in the distance; streets, villas, and shipping grew indistinct; the fast-receding shores dwindled to a narrow strip; the long blue undulating line sank below the horizon; and we were fairly standing out to sea.

We steamed away, ate and drank, and preached to the fishes occasionally, as the breeze freshened rather disagreeably; until, on entering the Bay of Biscay, it began to blow in hard earnest, and by the fourth day had risen to a furious gale; mountains of waves reaching often to the yard-arms, and squalls coming on so suddenly, as to cause serious fears lest the masts should go overboard. At last it blew a perfect hurricane, with such a tremendous sea running as I had never witnessed in crossing the Atlantic before. In the height of the howling din and confusion, the tiller ropes broke, and were righted, after some time, with great difficulty. All night the violence of the storm was unabated; the sea washed the decks every other wave; the tiller ropes again gave way, and once more we were drifting before the tempest. It was impossible to stay below in such a state of peril and uncertainty, and all the officers assembled on deck. The roaring of the wind through the rigging was so deafening, that we could not make ourselves heard, and all stood in silence watching the storm. One of the sailors aloft, whose perilous position we had been remarking, was jerked off the main-topsail yard-arm, and falling on the deck with a fearful crash, was killed on the spot. The foretop-mast was sprung, and immediately afterwards the mess-room ports were stove in, and floods of water poured through, and surged from side to side of the cabin with the heavy rolling, breaking over the table at every lurch. By the glimmer of a single lamp, officers and men hazarded neck and limbs in desperate attempts to secure, and lash together, the large hampers, chests, and heavy casks of sea-stores, which were dashed violently up and down the stateroom.

After seeing all secured, and making a meal of biscuit and salt beef as we stood, bare-legged and soaked to the skin, we waded to our flooded berths, and turned in for the night, though the uproar was so terrific that it was impossible to sleep. In the midst of the din, came another astounding crash of barrels and chests broken loose; some bursting through the cabin doors as if they had been chip. Officers and men, dressed and undressed, turned out, and all were again at work lashing and making fast.

In the morning, the jolly-boat, weighing about a couple of tons, was found high above the davits, blown against the rigging, and a valuable charger of the Colonel's killed. All this time, the wind was dead on the north coast of Spain, and we were obliged to wear ship constantly, driving about between Ushant and Scilly, till at the end of eight days we had the peculiar satisfaction of finding ourselves a trifle nearer England than on the first.

"Post nubila Phoebus." After the black and angry Bay of Biscay, the sunny tropics. The gale moderated, and by the 6th of April we had entered the torrid zone; awnings were spread on deck, and the band played in the evenings, which closed with the most gorgeous sunsets. The only land seen since leaving port, was St. Antonio, one of the Cape de Verde islands, about twenty miles off, which we sighted as the setting sun lit up its rugged sides with the richest tints of purple and gold.

On the 16th we crossed the Line, where, with grave circumstance and ceremony, the uninitiated were made freemasons by Neptune and his court in person, after being well lathered with pipe-clay and mops, shaved with three-feet razors, soundly ducked, and afterwards rinsed by liberal applications of the fire-engine hose and water-buckets. On reaching the southerly "trades" we were right glad to get rid of the stifling heat, and clanking of the engine, and spread canvass once more.

A succession of tropical calms, in which we were, nearly roasted; and tropical showers, in which we were as nearly drowned, ensued. The beautiful "Southern-cross," "Centaur," and other, to us new, constellations, now shone out nightly with surpassing brilliancy; and bonetas, sharks, dolphins, Cape-pigeons, and albatrosses, with flying-fish innumerable, played around the ship day after day; some of the latter gratifying our curiosity by a visit through the ports.

After a monotonous voyage of more than seven weeks, we, one fine evening, sighted what the landsmen took to be a hazy bank of cloud in the extreme horizon, but the sailors declared most positively to be land, with so many and extraordinary maledictions on themselves and personal property generally, that they ought to have felt considerably relieved when daylight the following morning put it beyond a doubt. Long before the hour of breakfast, our usual meet, every one was on deck gazing at the distant mountains and bold headlands of the Cape, which rapidly grew more distinct as we approached them with a fresh breeze in our favour, a magnificent sea running mountains high. Late in the day the scattered houses became visible along the welcome shore, and we entered Simon's Bay.

The little town—a group of flat-roofed white and yellow houses, with Venetian shutters and wide verandahs—is prettily situated at the foot of a mountain, fringed with bushes. American aloes and cactus form luxuriant hedges round the gardens, and flourish to an immense size; picturesque groups of swarthy Malays, in huge beehive-shaped hats, or red and yellow bandanas, gazed at us from the shore, or pulled alongside, vociferating in Dutch, and offering melons, pumpkins, eggs, and fruit, for sale.

Next day we went ashore, while the women and children were being disembarked to remain behind at Cape Town, and the rest of our camp equipage was got on board, and took advantage of the opportunity to make a rapid survey of the immediate neighbourhood, and stretch our legs after nearly two months imprisonment on board ship. As we strolled along the street we were much struck with the skill and ease with which the native Africanders drove their waggons, eight and ten in hand, full trot round the most difficult corners, an assistant wielding an enormous whip with both hands; and during our rambles were delighted to find the most exquisite specimens of our greenhouse ericas wild on the mountain sides. The evening was warm and lovely, and the perfume of the creepers and flowering trees most delicious, as we walked in the bright moonlight; not a sound was heard but the rippling of the waves and the shrill cry of the cicada, and we very reluctantly left the refreshing repose of the quiet shore to go on board again.

The following morning, at a signal from the Commodore, we steamed out of the harbour, and shaped our course for Algoa Bay, a run of about three hundred miles, along a wild, and almost uninhabited coast.