THE DESERT.
It was indeed no better than a desert which now lay before the
travellers. When, on the 25th of December, they completed the
measurement of another degree, and reached the northern boundary of the
karroo, they found no difference between the district they had been
traversing and the new country, the real desert, arid and scorching,
over which they were now about to pass. The animals belonging to the
caravan suffered greatly from the dearth alike of pasturage and water.
The last drops of rain in the pools had dried up, and it was an acrid
soil, a mixture of clay and sand, very unfavourable to vegetation. The
waters of the rainy season filtered quickly through the sandy strata,
so that the region was incapable of preserving for any length of time
a particle of moisture. More than once has Dr. Livingstone carried his
adventurous explorations across one of these barren districts. The very
atmosphere was so dry, that iron left in the open air did not rust,
and the distinguished traveller relates that the leaves hung weak and
shrivelled; that the mimosas remained closed by day as well as by
night; that the scarabæi, laid on the ground, expired in a few seconds;
and that the mercury in the ball of a thermometer buried three inches
in the soil rose at midday to 134° Fahrenheit.
These records which Livingstone had made were now verified by the
astronomers between the karroo and Lake Ngami. The suffering and
fatigue, especially of the animals, continually increased, and the dry
dusty grass afforded them but little nourishment. Nothing ventured
on the desert; the birds had flown beyond the Zambesi for fruit and
flowers, and the wild beasts shunned the plain which offered them no
prey. During the first fortnight in January the hunters caught sight of
a few couples of those antelopes which are able to exist without water
for several weeks. There were some oryxes like those in whose pursuit
Sir John had sustained so great a disappointment, and there were
besides, some dappled, soft-eyed caamas, which venture beyond the green
pasturages, and which are much esteemed for the quality of their flesh.
[Illustration: Crossing the Desert.]
To travel under that burning sun through the stifling atmosphere, to
work for days and nights in the oppressive sultriness, was fatiguing
in the extreme. The reserve of water evaporated continuously, so they
were obliged to ration themselves to a painfully limited allowance.
However, such were their zeal and courage that they mastered all
their troubles, and not a single detail of their task was neglected. On
the 25th of January they completed their seventh degree, the number of
triangles constructed having amounted to fifty-seven.
Only a comparatively small portion of the desert had now to be
traversed, and the bushman thought that they would be able to reach
Lake Ngami before their provision was exhausted. The Colonel and his
companions thus had definite hopes, and were inspirited to persevere.
But the hired Bochjesmen, who knew nothing of any scientific ardour,
and who had been long ago reluctant to pursue their journey, could
hardly be encouraged to hold out: unquestionably they suffered greatly,
and were objects for commiseration. Already, too, some beasts of
burden, overcome by hard work and scanty food, had been left behind,
and it was to be feared that more would fall into the same helpless
condition. Mokoum had a difficult task to perform, and as murmurs
and recriminations increased, his influence more and more lost its
weight. It became evident that the want of water would be a serious
obstacle, and that the expedition must either retrace its steps, or, at
the risk of meeting the Russians, turn to the right of the meridian,
to seek some of the villages which were known to be scattered along
Livingstone's route.
It was not long, however, before the bushman one morning came to
the Colonel, and declared himself powerless against the increasing
difficulties. The drivers, he said, refused to obey him; and there
were continued scenes of insubordination, in which all the natives
joined. The Colonel perfectly well understood the situation; but
stern to himself, he was stern to others. He refused to suspend
his operations, and declared that although he went alone, he would
continue to advance. His two companions of course agreed, and professed
themselves ready to follow him. Renewed efforts of Mokoum persuaded
the natives to venture a little farther: he felt sure that the caravan
could not be more than five or six days' march from Lake Ngami, and
once there, the animals could find pasturage and shade, and the men
an abundance of fresh water. All these considerations he laid before
the principal Bochjesmen. He showed them that it was really best to
advance northwards. If they turned to the west, their march would be
perilous, and to turn back was only to find the karroo desolate and
dry. The natives at length yielded to his solicitations, and the almost
exhausted caravan continued its course.
Happily this vast plain was in itself favourable to all astronomical
observations, so that no delay arose from any natural obstruction.
On one occasion there sprang up a sudden hope that nature was about
to restore to them a supply of the water of which she had been so
niggardly. A lagoon, a mile or two in extent, was discovered on the
horizon. The reflection was indubitably of water, proving that what
they saw was no mirage, due to the unequal density of the atmospheric
strata. The caravan speedily turned in that direction, and the lagoon
was reached towards five in the evening. Some of the horses broke away
from their drivers, and galloped to the longed-for water. Having smelt
it, they plunged in to their chests, but almost immediately returned
to the bank. They had not drunk, and when the Bochjesmen arrived they
found themselves by the side of a lagoon so impregnated with salt
that its water could not be touched. Disappointment was keen, it was
little short of despair. Mokoum thought that he should never induce the
natives to proceed; but fortunately the only hope was in advancing,
and even the natives were alive to the conviction that Lake Ngami was
the nearest point where water could be procured. In four days, unless
retarded by its labours, the expedition must reach the shores of the
lake.
Every day was momentous. To economize time, Colonel Everest formed
larger triangles and established fewer posts. No efforts were spared to
hurry on the progress of the survey. Notwithstanding the application
of every energy, the painful sojourn in the desert was prolonged, and
it was not until the 21st of February that the level ground began to
be rough and undulating. A mountain 500 or 600 feet high was descried
about fifteen miles to the north-west. The bushman recognized it as
Mount Scorzef, and, pointing to the north, said,--
"Lake Ngami is there."
[Illustration: "The Ngami! the Ngami!"]
"The Ngami! the Ngami!" echoed the natives, with noisy demonstration.
They wished to hurry on in advance over the fifteen miles, but Mokoum
restrained them, asserting that the country was infested by Makololos,
and that it was important to keep together. Colonel Everest, himself
eager to reach the lake, resolved to connect by a single triangle the
station he was now occupying with Mount Scorzef. The instruments were
therefore arranged, and the angle of the last triangle which had been
already measured from the south was measured again from the station.
Mokoum, in his impatience, only established a temporary camp; he hoped
to reach the lake before night; but he neglected none of his usual
precautions, and prudently sent out horsemen right and left to explore
the underwood. Since the oryx-chase the Makololos seemed indeed to have
abandoned their watch, still he would not incur any risk of being taken
by surprise.
Thus carefully guarded by the bushman, the astronomers constructed
their triangle. According to Emery's calculations it would carry them
nearly to the twentieth parallel, the proposed limit of their arc.
A few more triangles on the other side of Lake Ngami would complete
their eighth degree; to verify the calculations, a new base would
subsequently be measured directly on the ground, and the great
enterprise would be ended. The ardour of the astronomers increased as
they approached the fulfilment of their task.
Meanwhile there was considerable curiosity as to what the Russians
on their side had accomplished. For six months the members of the
commission had been separated, and it seemed probable to the English
that the Russians had not suffered so much from heat and thirst, since
their course had lain nearer Livingstone's route, and therefore in less
arid regions. After leaving Kolobeng they would come across various
villages to the right of their meridian, where they could easily
revictual their caravan. But still it was not unlikely that in this
less arid, though more frequented country, Matthew Strux's little band
had been more exposed to the attacks of the plundering Makololos, and
this was the more probable, since they seemed to have abandoned the
pursuit of the English caravan.
Although the Colonel, ever engrossed, had no thought to bestow on these
things, Sir John and Emery had often discussed the doings of their
former comrades. They wondered whether they would come across them
again, and whether they would find that they had obtained the same
mathematical result as themselves, and whether the two computations of
a degree in South Africa would be identical. Emery did not cease to
entertain kind memories of his friend, knowing well that Zorn, for his
part, would never forget him.
The measurement of the angles was now resumed. To obtain the angle at
the station they now occupied, they had to observe two points of sight.
One of these was formed by the conical summit of Mount Scorzef, and the
other by a sharp peak three or four miles to the left of the meridian,
whose direction was easily obtained by one of the telescopes of the
repeating circle. Mount Scorzef was much more distant; its position
would compel the observers to diverge considerably to the right of
the meridian, but on examination they found they had no other choice.
The station was therefore observed with the second telescope of the
repeating circle, and the angular distance between Mount Scorzef and
the smaller peak was obtained.
Notwithstanding the impatience of the natives, Colonel Everest, as
calmly as though he were in his own observatory, made many successive
registries from the graduated circle of his telescope, and then, by
taking the average of all his readings, he obtained a result rigorously
exact.
The day glided on, and it was not until the darkness prevented the
reading of the instruments, that the Colonel brought his observations
to an end, saying,--
"I am at your orders, Mokoum; we will start as soon as you like."
"And none too soon," replied Mokoum; "better had we accomplished our
journey by daylight."
The proposal to start met with unanimous approval, and by seven o'clock
the thirsty party were once more on the march.
Some strange foreboding seemed weighing on the mind of Mokoum, and he
urged the three Europeans to look carefully to their rifles and to be
well provided with ammunition. The night grew dark, the moon and stars
were repeatedly veiled in mist, but the atmosphere near the ground
was clear. The bushman's keen vision was ever watching the flanks and
front of the caravan, and his unwonted disquietude could not fail to
be noticed by Sir John, who was likewise on the watch. They toiled
through the weary evening, occasionally stopping to gather together
the loiterers, and at ten o'clock they were still six miles from the
lake. The animals gasped for breath in an atmosphere so dry that the
hygrometer could not have detected a trace of moisture.
Mokoum was indefatigable in his endeavours to keep the disorganized
party close together; but, in spite of his remonstrances, the caravan
no longer presented a compact nucleus. Men and beasts stretched out
into a long file, and some oxen had sunk exhausted to the ground.
The dismounted horsemen could hardly drag themselves along, and any
stragglers could have been easily carried off by the smallest band of
natives. Mokoum went in evident anxiety from one to another, and with
word and gestures tried to rally the troop; but his success was far
from complete, and already, without his knowledge, some of his men were
missing.
By eleven o'clock the foremost waggons were hardly more than three
miles from their destination. In the gloom of night Mount Scorzef stood
out distinctly in its solitary height, like an enormous pyramid, and
the obscurity made its dimensions appear greater than they actually
were. Unless Mokoum were mistaken, Lake Ngami lay just behind Mount
Scorzef, so that the caravan must pass round its base in order to reach
the tract of fresh water by the shortest route.
The bushman, in company with the three Europeans, took the lead, and
prepared to turn to the left, when suddenly some distinct, though
distant reports, arrested their attention. They reined in their horses,
and listened with a natural anxiety. In a country where the natives
use only lances and arrows the report of European fire-arms was rather
startling. The Colonel and Sir John simultaneously asked the bushman
from whence the sound could proceed. Mokoum asserted that he could
perceive a light in the shadow at the summit of Mount Scorzef, and that
he had no doubt that the Makololos were attacking a party of Europeans.
"Europeans!" cried Emery.
"Yes," replied Mokoum; "these reports can only be produced by European
weapons."
"But what Europeans could they be?" began Sir John.
"Be who they may," broke in the Colonel, "we must go to their
assistance."
"Yes; come on," said Emery, with no little excitement.
Before setting off for the mountain, Mokoum, for the last time, tried
to rally the small band. But when the bushman turned round the caravan
was dispersed, the horses unyoked, the waggons forsaken, and a few
scattered shadows were flying along the plain towards the south.
"The cowards!" he cried; then turning to the English, he said, "Well,
we must go on."
The Englishmen and the bushman, gathering up all the remaining strength
of their horses, darted on to the north. After a while they could
plainly distinguish the war-cry of the Makololos. Whatever was their
number, it was evident they were making an attack on Mount Scorzef,
from the summit of which the flashes of fire continued. Groups of men
could be faintly distinguished ascending the sides. Soon the Colonel
and his companions were on the rear of the besiegers. Abandoning
their worn-out steeds, and shouting loud enough to be heard by the
besieged, they fired at the mass of natives. The rapidity with which
they re-loaded caused the Makololos to imagine themselves assailed by
a large troop. The sudden attack surprised them, and, letting fly a
shower of arrows and assagais, they retreated. Without losing a moment,
the Colonel, Sir John, Emery, the bushman, and the sailors, never
desisting from firing, darted among the group of natives, of whose
bodies no less than fifteen soon strewed the ground.
The Makololos divided. The Europeans rushed into the gap, and,
overpowering the foremost, ascended the slope backwards. In a few
minutes they had reached the summit, which was now entirely in
darkness, the besieged having suspended their fire for fear of injuring
those who had come so opportunely to their aid.
They were the Russian astronomers. Strux, Palander, Zorn, and their
five sailors, all were there: but of all the natives belonging to their
caravan there remained but the faithful pioneer. The Bochjesmen had
been as faithless to them as they had been to the English.
The instant the Colonel appeared, Strux darted from the top of a low
wall that crowned the summit.
[Illustration: The English come to the relief of the Russians.]
"The English!" he cried.
"Yes," replied the Colonel gravely; "but now neither Russian nor
English. Nationalities be forgotten; for mutual defence we are kinsmen,
in that we are one and all Europeans!"