THE RAPID.
During their sojourn by the kraal, Colonel Everest and Matthew Strux
had been absolutely strangers. On the eve of their departure for their
divided labours, they had ceremoniously taken leave one of the other,
and had not since met. The caravan continued its northward route,
and the weather being favourable, during the next ten days two fresh
triangles were measured. The vast verdant wilderness was intersected
by streams flowing between rows of the willow-like "karree-hout," from
which the Bochjesmen make their bows. Large tracts of desert land
occurred, where every trace of moisture disappeared, leaving the soil
utterly bare but for the cropping-up occasionally of those mucilaginous
plants which no aridity can kill. For miles there was no natural object
that could be used for a station, and consequently the astronomers
were obliged to employ natural objects for their point of sight. This
caused considerable loss of time, but was not attended with much real
difficulty. The crew of the "Queen and Czar" were employed in this part
of the work, and performed their task well and rapidly; but the same
jealousy that divided their chiefs crept in sometimes among the seamen.
Zorn and Emery did all they could to neutralize any unpleasantness, but
the discussions sometimes took a serious character. The Colonel and
Strux continually interfered in behalf of their countrymen, whether
they were right or wrong, but they only succeeded in making matters
worse. After a while Zorn and Emery were the only members of the party
who had preserved a perfect concord. Even Sir John Murray and Nicholas
Palander (generally absorbed as they were, the one in his calculations,
the other in his hunting), began to join the fray.
One day the dispute went so far that Strux said to the Colonel, "You
must please to moderate your tone with astronomers from Poulkowa:
remember it was their telescope that showed that the disc of Uranus is
circular."
"Yes," replied the Colonel; "but ours at Cambridge enabled us to
classify the nebula of Andromeda."
The irritation was evident, and at times seemed to imperil the fate
of the triangulation. Hitherto the discussions had had no injurious
effect, but perhaps rather served to keep every operation more
scrupulously exact.
On the 30th the weather suddenly changed. In any other region a storm
and torrents of rain might have been expected: angry-looking clouds
covered the sky, and lightning, unaccompanied by thunder, gleamed
through the mass of vapour. But condensation did not ensue--not a drop
of rain fell on to the thirsty soil. The sky remained overcast for
some days, and the fog rendered the points of sight invisible at the
distance of a mile. The astronomers, however, would not lose time, and
determined to set up lighted signals and work at night. The bushman
prudently advised caution, lest the electric lights should attract the
wild beasts too closely to their quarters; and in fact, during the
night, the yelp of the jackal and the hoarse laugh of the hyena, like
that of a drunken negro, could plainly be heard.
In the midst of this clamour, in which the roar of a lion could
sometimes be distinguished, the astronomers felt rather distracted,
and the measurements were taken at least less rapidly, if not less
accurately. To take zenith distances while gleaming eyes might be
gazing at them through the darkness, required imperturbable composure
and the utmost _sang-froid_. But these qualities were not wanting in
the members of the Commission, and after a few days they regained their
presence of mind, and worked away in the midst of the beasts as calmly
as if they were in their own observatories. Armed hunters attended them
at every station, and no inconsiderable number of hyenas fell by their
balls. Sir John thought this way of surveying delightful, and whilst
his eye was at his telescope his hand was on his gun, and more than
once he made a shot in the interval between two observations.
Nothing occurred to check the steady progress of the survey, so that
the astronomers hoped before the end of June to measure a second degree
of the meridian. On the 17th they found that their path was crossed
by an affluent of the Kuruman. The Europeans could easily take their
instruments across in their india-rubber canoe; but Mokoum would have
to take the caravan to a ford which he remembered some miles below.
The river was about half-a-mile wide, and its rapid current, broken
here and there by rocks and stems of trees embedded in the mud, offered
considerable danger to any light craft. Matthew Strux did not fail to
represent this, but finding that his companions did not recoil from the
attempt he gave way.
Nicholas Palander alone was to accompany the caravan in its _détour_.
He was too much absorbed in his calculations to give any thought to
danger; but his presence was not indispensable to his companions, and
the boat would only hold a limited number of passengers. Accordingly,
he gave up his place to an Englishman of the crew of the "Queen and
Czar," who would be more useful under the circumstances.
After making an arrangement to meet to the north of the rapid, the
caravan disappeared down the left bank of the stream, leaving Colonel
Everest, Strux, Emery, Zorn, Sir John, two sailors, and a Bochjesman,
who was the pioneer of the caravan, and had been recommended by Mokoum
as having much experience in African rapids.
"A pretty river," observed Zorn to his friend, as the sailors were
preparing the boat.
"Very so, but hard to cross," answered Emery. "These rapids have not
long to live, and therefore enjoy life. With a few weeks of this dry
season there will hardly remain enough of this swollen torrent to water
a caravan. It is soon exhausted; such is the law of nature, moral and
physical. But we must not waste time in moralizing. See, the boat is
equipped, and I am all anxiety to see her performances."
In a few minutes the boat was launched beside a sloping bank of red
granite. Here, sheltered by a projecting rock, the water quietly
bathed the reeds and creepers. The instruments and provisions were
put in the boat, and the passengers seated themselves so as not to
interfere with the action of the oars. The Bochjesman took the helm;
he spoke but a few words of English, and advised the travellers to
keep a profound silence while they were crossing. The boat soon felt
the influence of the current. The sailors carefully obeyed every order
of the Bochjesman. Sometimes they had to raise their oars to avoid
some half-emerged stump; sometimes to row hard across a whirlpool.
When the current became too strong they could only guide the light
boat as it drifted with the stream. The native, tiller in hand, sat
watchful and motionless, prepared for every danger. The Europeans were
half uneasy at their novel situation; they seemed carried away by an
irresistible force. The Colonel and Strux gazed at each other without a
word; Sir John, with his rifle between his knees, watched the numerous
birds that skimmed the water; and the two younger astronomers gazed
with admiration at the banks, past which they flew with dizzy speed.
The light boat soon reached the true rapid, which it was necessary to
cross obliquely. At a word from the Bochjesman, the sailors put forth
their strength; but, despite all their efforts, they were carried down
parallel to the banks. The tiller and oars had no longer any effect,
and the situation became really perilous; a rock or stump of a tree
would inevitably have overturned the boat. In spite of the manifest
peril, no one uttered a word. The Bochjesman half rose, and watched
the direction which he could not control. Two hundred yards distant
rose an islet of stones and trees, which it was impossible to avoid.
In a few seconds the boat apparently must be lost; but the shock came
with less violence than had seemed inevitable. The boat lurched and
shipped a little water, but the passengers kept their places. They were
astonished to observe that what they had presumed to be rock had moved,
and was plunging about in the rush of the waters. It was an immense
hippopotamus, ten feet long, which had been carried by the current
against the islet, and dared not venture out again into the rapid.
Feeling the shock, he raised and shook his head, looking about him with
his little dull eyes, and with his mouth wide open, showing his great
canine teeth. He rushed furiously on the boat, which he threatened to
bite to pieces.
[Illustration: The Hippopotamus did not quit his hold, but shook the
Boat as a Dog would a Hare.]
But Sir John Murray's presence of mind did not forsake him. Quietly
shouldering his rifle, he fired at the animal near the ear. The
hippopotamus did not quit his hold, but shook the boat as a dog would a
hare. A second shot was soon lodged in his head. The blow was mortal.
After pushing the boat with a last effort off the islet, the fleshy
mass sank in the deep water. Before the dismayed voyagers could collect
their thoughts, they were whirled obliquely into the rapid. A hundred
yards below, a sharp bend in the river broke the current; thither was
the boat carried, and was arrested by a violent shock. Safe and sound
the whole party leapt to the bank. They were about two miles below the
spot where they had embarked.