RODRIGUE ISLAND.
A little after noon on the 27th we saw Rodrigue Island sooner than we expected, in consequence of our finding it placed seven miles to the westward of its true position, even with reference to the meridian of the Mauritius. Our observations, in passing to southward, made the eastern end of it 5 degrees 59 minutes East of Port Louis, and 63 degrees 31 3/4 East of Greenwich, latitude 19 degrees 42 minutes South. I was rather surprised to find this error in the position of Rodrigue, as it is quite a finger-post for ships on their voyage from India to Great Britain. It trends east and west for seventeen miles, and is in width about six. For a volcanic island its features are not very remarkable; the highest part is a peak or excrescence, 1700 feet high, rising towards the eastern end out of a rather level ridge.
On the morning of the 29th, the high land of the Mauritius was seen breaking through the mass of clouds. Passing round the north end of the island, in the evening we reached Port Louis, where we found a French man-of-war that had just brought in the crew of a vessel foundered at sea. Their escape had been one of the most remarkable on record. The ship was from Liverpool, and was rounding the south-eastern point of Africa with a strong north-west wind, when she sprang a leak, which increased so fast, that the crew were ultimately obliged to abandon her and take to the boats. The sea was so great that they were compelled to run before the wind, with the prospect only of prolonging their lives for a brief space, no land lying in that direction.
PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.
Providentially, the morning following they found themselves alongside a French frigate; but the boats were so low in the water that for some time they escaped observation, and were nearly passed. At length, by waving a lady’s shawl in the air, they attracted the attention of the Frenchmen, and were taken on board, and treated with an attentive kindness, which entitled their preservers to the thanks of all who would wish to be so received under such circumstances. I regret that the name of the captain of the ship has escaped me; though I remember it being said, that he had himself been saved on a previous occasion by a Liverpool ship in the China Sea.
Not long before the arrival of the Beagle in Port Louis, a fleet of crippled vessels, the victims of a recent hurricane, might have been seen making their way into the harbour, some dismasted, others kept afloat with difficulty, firing guns of distress, or giving other signs of their helpless condition. The monotony of colonial life was suddenly disturbed, by no means disagreeably to some, as the telegraph told off a succession of lame ducks, as they were jocularly called, such as seldom or ever had been witnessed, even at that place. It required but a visit to the bell buoy, to see at a glance the destructive effects of the storm on the unfortunate ships.