AN UNEXPECTED BLIGHT.
After the oryx hunt the bushman had a long conversation with the
Colonel. He felt sure, he said, that they were watched and followed,
and that the only reason why they had not been attacked before was
because the Makololos wished to get them farther north, where their
hordes were larger. The question thus arose whether, in presence of
this danger, they should retrace their steps; but they were reluctant
to suffer that which nature had favoured to be interrupted by the
attacks of a few African savages. The Colonel, aware of the importance
of the question, asked the bushman to tell him all he knew about the
Makololos.
Mokoum explained that they were the most northerly branch of the great
tribe of the Bechuanas. In 1850 Dr. Livingstone, during his first
journey to the Zambesi, was received at Sesheki, the usual residence
of Sebitouani, the chief of the Makololos. This native was a man of
remarkable intelligence, and a formidable warrior. In 1824 he had
menaced the Cape frontier, and, little by little, had gained an
ascendency over the tribes of Central Africa, and had united them in
a compact group. In the year before the arrival of the Anglo-Russian
expedition the chief had died in Livingstone's arms, and his son
Sekeleton succeeded him.
At first Sekeleton was very friendly towards the Europeans who visited
the Zambesi, and Dr. Livingstone had no complaint to make. But after
the departure of the famous traveller, not only strangers but the
neighbouring tribes were harassed by Sekeleton and his warriors. To
these vexations succeeded pillage on a large scale, and the Makololos
scoured the district between Lake Ngami and the Upper Zambesi.
Consequently nothing was more dangerous than for a caravan to venture
across this region without a considerable escort, especially when its
progress had been previously known.
Such was the history given by Mokoum. He said that he thought it right
to tell the Colonel the whole truth, adding, that for his own part (if
the Colonel so wished) he should not hesitate to continue the march.
Colonel Everest consulted with his colleagues, and it was settled
that the work, at all risks, should be continued. Something more than
half of the project was now accomplished, and, whatever happened, the
English owed it to themselves and their country not to abandon their
undertaking. The series of triangles was resumed. On the 27th the
tropic of Capricorn was passed, and on the 3rd of November, with the
completion of the forty-first triangle, a fifth degree was added to the
meridian.
For a month the survey went on rapidly, without meeting a single
natural obstacle. Mokoum, always on the alert, kept a constant look-out
at the head and flanks of the caravan, and forbade the hunters to
venture too great a distance away. No immediate danger, however,
seemed to threaten the little troop, and they were sanguine that the
bushman's fears might prove groundless. There was no further trace
of the native who, after eluding them at the cromlech, had taken so
strange a part in the oryx chase: nor did any other aggressor appear.
Still, at various intervals, the bushman observed signs of trepidation
among the Bochjesmen under his command. The incidents of the flight
from the old cromlech, and the stratagem of the oryx hunt, could
not be concealed from them, and they were perpetually expecting an
attack. A deadly antipathy existed between tribe and tribe, and, in
the event of a collision, the defeated party could entertain no hope
of mercy. The Bochjesmen were already 300 miles from their home, and
there was every prospect of their being carried 200 more. It is true
that, before engaging them, Mokoum had been careful to inform them of
the length and difficulties of the journey, and they were not men to
shrink from fatigue; but now, when to these was added the danger of a
conflict with implacable enemies, regret was mingled with murmuring,
and dissatisfaction was exhibited with ill-humour, and although Mokoum
pretended neither to hear nor to see, he was silently conscious of an
increasing anxiety.
On the 2nd of December a circumstance occurred which still further
increased the spirit of complaint amongst this superstitious people,
and provoked them to a kind of rebellion. Since the previous evening
the weather had become dull. The atmosphere, saturated with vapour,
gave signs of being heavily charged with electric fluid. There was
every prospect of the recurrence of one of the storms which in this
tropical district are seldom otherwise than violent. During the morning
the sky became covered with sinister-looking clouds, piled together
like bales of down of contrasted colours, the yellowish hue distinctly
relieving the masses of dark grey. The sun was wan, the heat was
overpowering, and the barometer fell rapidly; the air was so still that
not a leaf fluttered.
Although the astronomers had not been unconscious of the change of
weather, they had not thought it necessary to suspend their labours.
Emery, attended by two sailors and four natives in charge of a waggon,
was sent two miles east of the meridian to establish a post for the
vertex of the next triangle. He was occupied in securing his point of
sight, when a current of cold air caused a rapid condensation, which
appeared to contribute immediately to a development of electric matter.
Instantly there fell a violent shower of hail, and by a rare phenomenon
the hailstones were luminous, so that it seemed to be raining drops of
boiling silver. The storm increased; sparks flashed from the ground,
and jets of light gleamed from the iron settings of the waggon. Dr.
Livingstone relates that he has seen tiles broken, and horses and
antelopes killed, by the violence of these hail-storms.
Without losing a moment, Emery left his work for the purpose of calling
his men to the waggon, which would afford better shelter than a tree.
But he had hardly left the top of the hill, when a dazzling flash,
instantly followed by a peal of thunder, inflamed the air.
[Illustration: Emery and two Natives struck by Lightning.]
Emery was thrown down, and lay prostrate, as though he were actually
dead. The two sailors, dazzled for a moment, were not long in rushing
towards him, and were relieved to find that the thunderbolt had spared
him. He had been enveloped by the fluid, which, collected by the
compass which he held in his hand, had been diverted in its course, so
as to leave him not seriously injured. Raised by the sailors, he soon
came to himself; but he had narrowly escaped. Two natives, twenty paces
apart, lay lifeless at the foot of the post. One had been struck by the
full force of the thunderbolt, and was a black and shattered corpse,
while his clothes remained entire; the other had been locally struck
on the skull by the destructive fluid, and had been killed at once. The
three men had been undeniably struck by a single flash. This trisection
of a flash of lightning is an unusual but not unknown occurrence, and
the angular division was very large. The Bochjesmen were at first
overwhelmed by the sudden death of their comrades, but soon, in spite
of the cries of the sailors and at the risk of being struck themselves,
they rushed back to the camp. The two sailors, having first provided
for the protection of Emery, conveyed the two dead bodies to the
waggon, and then found shelter for themselves, being sorely bruised by
the hailstones, which fell like a shower of marbles. For three quarters
of an hour the storm continued to rage; the hail then abated so as to
allow the waggon to return to camp.
The news of the death of the natives had preceded them, and had
produced a deplorable effect on the minds of the Bochjesmen, who
already looked upon the trigonometrical operations with the terror
of superstition. They assembled in secret council, and some more
timid than the rest declared they would go no farther. The rebellious
disposition began to look serious, and it took all the bushman's
influence to arrest an actual revolt. Colonel Everest offered the poor
men an increase of pay; but contentment was not to be restored without
much trouble. It was a matter of emergency; had the natives deserted,
the position of the caravan, without escort and without drivers, would
have been perilous in the extreme. At length, however, the difficulty
was overcome, and after the burial of the natives, the camp was raised,
and the little troop proceeded to the hill where the two had met their
death.
Emery felt the shock for some days: his left hand, which had held the
compass, was almost paralyzed; but after a time it recovered, and he
was able to resume his work.
For eighteen days no special incident occurred. The Makololos did
not appear, and Mokoum, though still distrustful, exhibited fewer
indications of alarm. They were not more than fifty miles from the
desert; and the karroo was still verdant, and enriched by abundant
water. They thought that neither man nor beast could want for any thing
in this region so rich in game and pasturage; but they had reckoned
without the locusts, against whose appearance there is no security in
the agricultural districts of South Africa.
On the evening of the 20th, about an hour before sunset the camp
was arranged for the night. A light northerly breeze refreshed the
atmosphere. The three Englishmen and Mokoum, resting at the foot of a
tree, discussed their plans for the future. It was arranged that during
the night the astronomers should take the altitude of some stars, in
order accurately to find their latitude. Every thing seemed favourable
for the operations; in a cloudless sky the moon was nearly new, and
the constellations might be expected to be clear and resplendent. Great
was the disappointment, therefore, when Emery, rising and pointing to
the north, said,--
"The horizon is overcast: I begin to fear our anticipations of a fine
night will hardly be verified."
[Illustration: A strange Cloud.]
"Yes," replied Sir John, "I see a cloud is rising, and if the wind
should freshen, it might overspread the sky."
"There is not another storm coming, I hope," interposed the Colonel.
"We are in the tropics," said Emery, "and it would not be surprising;
for to-night I begin to have misgivings about our observations."
"What is your opinion, Mokoum?" asked the Colonel of the bushman.
Mokoum looked attentively towards the north. The cloud was bounded by a
long clear curve, as definite as though traced by a pair of compasses.
It marked off a section of some miles on the horizon, and its
appearance, black as smoke, seemed to excite the apprehensions of the
bushman. At times it reflected a reddish light from the setting sun,
as though it were rather a solid mass than any collection of vapour.
Without direct reply to the Colonel's appeal, Mokoum simply said that
it was strange.
In a few minutes one of the Bochjesmen announced that the horses
and cattle showed signs of agitation, and would not be driven to the
interior of the camp.
"Well, let them stay outside," said Mokoum; and in answer to the
suggestion that there would be danger from the wild beasts around, he
added significantly, "Oh, the wild beasts will be too much occupied to
pay any attention to them."
After the native had gone back, Colonel Everest turned to ask what the
bushman meant; but he had moved away, and was absorbed in watching the
advance of the cloud, of which, too accurately, he was aware of the
origin.
The dark mass approached. It hung low and appeared to be but a few
hundred feet from the ground. Mingling with the sound of the wind was
heard a peculiar rustling, which seemed to proceed from the cloud
itself. At this moment, above the cloud against the sky, appeared
thousands of black specks, fluttering up and down, plunging in and out,
and breaking the distinctness of the outline.
"What are those moving specks of black?" asked Sir John.
"They are vultures, eagles, falcons, and kites," answered Mokoum, "from
afar they have followed the cloud, and will never leave it until it is
destroyed or dispersed."
"But the cloud?"
"Is not a cloud at all," answered the bushman, extending his hand
towards the sombre mass, which by this time had spread over a quarter
of the sky. "It is a living host; to say the truth, it is a swarm of
locusts."
The hunter was not mistaken. The Europeans were about to witness one
of those terrible invasions of grasshoppers which are unhappily too
frequent, and in one night change the most fertile country into an
arid desert. These locusts, now arriving by millions, were the "grylli
devastorii" of the naturalists, and travellers have seen for a distance
of fifty miles the beach covered with piles of these insects to the
height of four feet.
"Yes," continued the bushman, "these living clouds are a true scourge
to the country, and it will be lucky if we escape without harm."
"But we have no crops and pasturages of our own," said the Colonel;
"what have we to fear?"
"Nothing, if they merely pass over our heads; every thing, if they
settle on the country over which we must travel. They will not leave a
leaf on the trees, nor a blade of grass on the ground; and you forget,
Colonel, that if our own sustenance is secure, that of our animals
is not. What do you suppose will become of us in the middle of a
devastated district?"
The astronomers were silent for a time, and contemplated the animated
mass before them. The cries of the eagles and falcons, who were
devouring the insects by thousands, sounded above the redoubled murmur.
"Do you think they will settle here?" said Emery.
"I fear so," answered Mokoum, "the wind carries them here direct. The
sun is setting, and the fresh evening breeze will bear them down;
should they settle on the trees, bushes, and prairies, why, then I tell
you----;" but the bushman could not finish his sentence. In an instant
the enormous cloud which overshadowed them settled on the ground.
Nothing could be seen as far as the horizon but the thickening mass.
The camp was bestrewed; waggons and tents alike were veiled beneath the
living hail. The Englishmen, moving knee-deep in the insects, crushed
them by hundreds at every step.
Although there was no lack of agencies at work for their destruction,
their aggregate defied all check. The birds, with hoarse cries, darted
down from above, and devoured them greedily; from below, the snakes
consumed them in enormous quantities; the horses, buffaloes, mules, and
dogs fed on them with great relish; and lions and hyenas, elephants
and rhinoceroses, swallowed them down by bushels. The very Bochjesmen
welcomed these "shrimps of the air" like celestial manna; the insects
even preyed on each other, but their numbers still resisted all sources
of destruction.
The bushman entreated the English to taste the dainty. Thousands of
young locusts, of a green colour, an inch to an inch and a half long,
and about as thick as a quill, were caught. Before they have deposited
their eggs, they are considered a great delicacy by connoisseurs, and
are more tender than the old insects, which are of a yellowish tinge,
and sometimes measure four inches in length. After half an hour's
boiling and seasoning with salt, pepper, and vinegar, the bushman
served up a tempting dish to the three Englishmen. The insects,
dismembered of head, legs, and skin, were eaten just like shrimps,
and were found extremely savoury. Sir John, who ate some hundreds,
recommended his people to take advantage of the opportunity to make a
large provision.
At night they were all about to seek their usual beds; but the interior
of the waggons had not escaped the invasion. It was impossible to
enter without crushing the locusts, and to sleep under such conditions
was not an agreeable prospect. Accordingly, as the night was clear
and the stars bright, the astronomers were rejoiced to pursue their
contemplated operations, and deemed it more pleasant than burying
themselves to the neck in a coverlet of locusts. Moreover, they would
not have had a moment's sleep, on account of the howling of the beasts
which were attracted by their unusual prey.
The next day the sun rose in a clear horizon, and commenced its course
over a brilliant sky foreboding heat. A dull rustling of scales among
the locusts showed that they were about to carry their devastations
elsewhere; and towards eight o'clock the mass rose like the unfurling
of an immense veil, and obscured the sun. It grew dusk as if night were
returning, and with the freshening of the wind the whole mass was in
motion. For two hours, with a deafening noise, the cloud passed over
the darkened camp, and disappeared beyond the western horizon.
After their departure the bushman's predictions were found to be
entirely realized. All was demolished, and the soil was brown and bare.
Every branch was stripped to utter nakedness. It was like a sudden
winter settling in the height of summer, or like the dropping of a
desert into the midst of a land of plenty. The Oriental proverb which
describes the devastating fury of the Osmanlis might justly be applied
to these locusts, "Where the Turk has passed, the grass springs up no
more."