The two main roads from the Cape Colony to the Transvaal cross the
Orange river at Hope Town, and a few miles north of Colesburg, both
meeting at Kimberley, the diamond-field centre. Railways are open as
far as Kimberley.
From Kimberley to Pretoria by road is 334 miles. The country, the whole
distance, is open, and most uninteresting; grass-lands the entire
distance, broken here and there with small patches of low mimosa bush.
The only portion of the distance less monotonous than the rest is the
road that skirts the bank of the Vaal river, as far as Bloemhof, where
the pretty wooded banks and broad river relieve the eye from the
everlasting rolling plains seen in every direction.
There was some pleasure in travelling these roads twenty years ago, as
game being plentiful on the veldt, and wild-fowl of every kind in the
rivers and pans, there was some excitement in looking out for a good
dinner. At the present time I have travelled from Pretoria to Kimberley
and never had occasion to take my gun or rifle out of my waggon.
The face of the country is entirely changed, farms now occupy the land,
and many villages are built, supporting a considerable population that
depend greatly for support by supplying the several markets on the
fields with their produce. In all my experience of African travelling,
I never passed through a region less interesting for picturesque scenery
than the greater part of Griqualand West, and the southern portion of
the Transvaal, up as far north as Lichtenburg and Pretoria. But it is
not so on the eastern border and northern division of the Transvaal,
where is fine mountain scenery and thickly wooded valleys, with the many
rivers, the banks of which are clothed with thick vegetation, with
timber of considerable size and variety covering the country in all
directions. The Pongolo forest near Swaziland; the finely-wooded
district of the Lobombo mountains; the wild region north of Lydenburg to
the Limpopo river, an extent of country some 150 miles in length; and
all to the north of the Magalisberg range, where the forest is more
dense, containing much valuable timber; right up to the northern
boundary, separating this republic from the Mashona or Matabeleland by
the magnificent Limpopo river, a region extending 200 miles in length;
more particularly in the northern division, where the unbroken range of
forest that covers each bank of this noble river for hundreds of miles
on the right and on the left, where the abrupt and almost perpendicular
mountains rear their lofty heads far up in the clouds, clothed with
every kind of tropical tree. This gives one an idea of eternal spring,
the foliage displaying a charming variety of every shade and hue, from
the pale and silvery to the darkest green and copper-purple; much of it
covered with a profusion of lovely lily-like flowers, others with
crimson bloom, fruits and seeds, creeping plants climbing to the topmost
branches, and falling down in graceful festoons to the ground, forming
numerous ropes, which the many monkey tribes use to ascend and descend
with remarkable speed. Some of the giants of the forest--the noble
baobab and others--blasted by storms and age, stand out in grim mockery
of perpetual life, although they may number many thousand years, noble
emblems of misfortune and decay.
"The rheum of age from Marlboro's eyes to flow,
And swift expire a driveller and a show."
In some of these African forests, so extensively covered with timber and
beautiful underwood, where the white man's foot has seldom trod, it is
natural to look for some rare specimen in animal or vegetable life.
There is a charm in traversing these unknown forests that irresistibly
draws the explorer on more into their recesses. The gloom pervades
everything around, cut off from the bright sun above by the dense
foliage, casting into shadow the gigantic boles of many trees that
surround the traveller, giving a weird aspect to the scene, combined
with the perfect silence that reigns around; for during the greater
portion of the day, when the tropical sun is high, all nature is as it
were dead, the birds retire into their homes, the wild animals crowd
into some hidden nook and sleep, and everything is at rest, until the
sun nears the western horizon, when one by one, both animals and birds
begin to stir. A single antelope may be seen leisurely moving along,
then two or three more; a jackal, a tiger-cat, or some other beast of
prey makes a cautious advance among the bushes; the distant sound of
branches being broken by elephants or giraffes; the twitter of many
birds, and the shrill whistle of others calling to their mates, cooing
of doves, and the tapping of the woodpecker on the decayed bark of trees
seeking for insects beneath (which has a most peculiar effect upon the
listener in the silent retreat), and as night advances, the roar of the
lion, which startles all nature into silence, causes the intruder upon
his preserves mechanically to look to his rifle to see all is right and
fresh cartridge handy, for at any moment his proximity may be expected.
It was on one of these evening rambles in the noble forest that I was an
eye-witness to a very rare and singular sight, and which, I believe, few
explorers have ever witnessed.
Wandering on where the openings in the bushes allowed free access
between the thick vegetation, admiring the splendid picture of vegetable
life, I caught the sound of loud, deep, bass voices not so very far
away, which appeared to be coming nearer. As I was under one of those
splendid baobab trees, quite in shadow, I determined to wait and find
out the cause of such unearthly sounds. Lying down on the grass, to be
out of sight as much as possible, I waited with my rifle ready for
action, if any animal should come disagreeably close. The sounds were
continuous, and became louder every moment. At first I concluded there
were several wolves fighting; then growls, similar to cats on the
house-tops, but much louder; this continued for some twenty minutes.
Crawling round the tree on my knees, I discovered the cause. About
seventy yards from where I was concealed were two lions, that is, a lion
and a lioness, apparently in a very quarrelsome mood, as the lioness
kept throwing back her ears and showing her teeth, at the same time
pawing the lion in the face with her huge paws, and lashing out with her
tail, the lion taking it very quietly, but growling as if remonstrating.
All this time they were coming nearer, until they stopped some forty
yards from my retreat; all was quiet--I intently watching them all the
time--for some ten minutes longer, when the lioness gave a few cat-like
spits, and bounded into the bush, and the lion quickly walked off in
another direction. A hunter relates being once in a tree watching a
lioness and a lion. Another began roaring in the distance, when the
lioness roared in reply, the lion trying to prevent her. But at last he
began also, when the other lion appeared, and a terrible fight began,
their strong bones cracking. At last the first lion was killed, and the
lioness, with a whisk of her tail, went off with the last. "Oh, you
jade!" said the hunter.
Evening was now falling fast, and as the nights here close in soon after
sundown, it was time to strike for my waggon, where I had outspanned on
the banks of the river, at a very pretty bend, where I could get plenty
of sea-cow and crocodile shooting. On my way home, which took twenty
minutes to reach, many kinds of game crossed my path, and I managed to
bag a fine silver jackal. The lion and lioness were not seen any more.
My camp is 100 yards from the river, where several openings in the trees
give me many pretty glimpses of the stream and the opposite bank, which
is, from this near side, some 200 yards broad, with several sand-banks
and rocks in mid-stream. Lofty reeds grow thick and strong upon their
sides, full of nests belonging to the yellow and red finch, as also the
larger kind with long black tails that greatly impede their flight.
Birds of all sizes, and of many colours, with brilliant plumage, swarm
along the banks; several kind of kingfisher, honey-birds (not much
larger than hummingbirds, with their long curved bills, mostly found
where flowers are plentiful), bitterns, pelicans, Kaffir-cranes,
flamingoes, geese, ducks, and other kind of water-fowl are seen in great
numbers, and give plenty of occupation for rifle and shot-gun. The
vultures, hawks, and eagles are daily seen on the wing. We stumble on
snakes at every turn of the forest and along the river-bank. The python
has been killed on the Limpopo, the natives tell me, longer than my
waggon, which is sixteen feet, and some say that there are others that
have been seen double that length.
About a mile below this camp I came upon their spoor, in the long grass,
and from the beaten path they made, over two feet in width, there must
be many of these monsters about. We have been out several times at
night to look for them.
The largest snake I shot, next to the python, was when walking along a
bank of sand, where there were several large holes. He was moving in
the grass a short distance from me, a most vicious-looking reptile,
quite black, and measuring nearly thirteen feet; there are others nearly
as large in the Kalahara desert. I have killed many puffadders, but
none exceeded in length three feet six inches. The long, thin yellow
snake is mostly found in trees, after birds; they stretch themselves
along the branches, and look like a portion of them. Those I have
killed measured nearly five feet. When the little birds see them they
fly round and near, making a great noise. I was walking along a
river-bank that had several snake-holes in it; a short distance ahead
was a small bird fluttering about in one spot. Standing to watch it for
some time, and finding it still kept on in the same way, I walked up
almost close to it, when I saw the head of a large snake sticking out of
a hole; but on my making ready to fire he retreated into it, and the
bird flew away. This was the first time I had seen a snake charm a
bird. The variety I have killed may be called legion. Of several the
names are unknown.
The iguana grows to a large size in these rivers; I have only seen the
black one in this district. My boys killed one measuring five feet
seven inches; they cooked and dished him up for their supper, and told
me it was very good. The hedgehog, ant-bear, and armadillo are
plentiful, as also many kinds of earth-animals, generally found in the
more open parts. But the most disgusting thing, and which I have a
horror of, are those tree-toads. Some trees seem to swarm with them;
they fix themselves in the fork of a branch, and remain quite still all
day, and at night they chirp like a bird--it may be called the
singing-tree, I suppose the same kind mentioned in `Pilgrim's
Progress'--their colour so resembles the bark that it is difficult to
distinguish them from it. I have stated in a former chapter that
several dropped into my waggon when on my way up to Matabeleland.
Early the next morning, after my lion adventure, I prepared for a day's
shooting up-river, ready for any and everything that came within range
of our rifles. My driver and a Cape boy, both very good shots, and
myself with shot-gun, after an early breakfast, started soon after
sun-up along the right bank of the river. We had not proceeded many
hundred yards before a large flock of guinea-fowl flew up, when both
barrels brought down five. This was a good beginning; they were sent
back to the camp at once. It is no use pursuing these birds when they
have been disturbed, they run like a race-horse, and keep to the ground.
If you have a good dog to chase them they are compelled to find shelter
in the trees, when they can be shot. My last dog was bitten by a
puffadder and died.
Continuing along the bank for some little distance I came upon a deep
pool in the river, where we could distinguish, just out of the water,
part of the head of a large hippopotamus; but as we neared him to get a
shot he prudently sank. On the opposite bank two half-grown crocodiles
were enjoying the morning's sun, and they also thought it desirable to
clear for the water, but not before one of them received a bullet in the
side, which made him turn and twist about, lashing his tail as he made
for the water, where we lost sight of him. The river was too wide and
deep, and too dangerous for any of us to cross, to attempt to follow him
up; but we saw by his motion in the water he must have received a mortal
wound. The river appeared about 200 yards wide, with thickly wooded
banks, and fine timber trees. As we were watching his movements,
several ducks flew past down stream; two I shot, but they fell in the
water, and no one dare go in to get them, as our friends the sea-cows
and crocodiles might lie there. Consequently, we left them floating on
the water, but had not moved many paces away before they had
disappeared, a dainty morsel for one of these monsters.
As we advanced along the bank we became aware that large game occupied
the other side of the river. The dense forest prevented our seeing
them, but there was no mistaking the sounds. Elephants were near, by
the breaking of branches and the constant rumbling sound of their
bowels. The river was too deep and dangerous to cross, therefore I had
no choice left but to remain quiet and concealed in the shadow of the
beautiful trees, the branches of which overhung the river. We knew they
were approaching the river to drink. After waiting some twenty minutes,
one by one they pushed themselves through the undergrowth that lined the
steep bank, and made for the water, standing in a row close together,
sucking up with their trunks the water into their immense throats, an
operation that looks ridiculous, a sight seldom to be seen in daylight.
To have fired upon them would have been cruel, as there was no
possibility of getting their tusks even if we had killed them; we
therefore watched with intense interest this interesting sight.
After satisfying their thirst, they walked into the river until they
were half submerged, throwing water over their backs, and flapping their
immense ears against their sides, making a peculiar noise, evidently
enjoying the bath immensely, pawing the water with their huge legs; and
then returned to the forest, to browse on the young and tender branches
of their favourite trees. There were thirty-seven full-grown, and
eleven young ones of various sizes. It was with difficulty I could
restrain my boys from giving them a shot. To see elephants, the largest
of all animals, in their native wilds roaming undisturbed, and note
their habits and actions, is most interesting.
These gigantic animals care very little for crocodiles or hippopotami;
but the rhinoceros often kills them. Their long legs, being six feet in
length, and nearly three feet round, are very formidable when used in
their own defence, either on land or water, without the aid of their
five feet of tusks. At the present time these splendid animals are
never seen in these parts, where formerly they were so plentiful. Mr.
John Viljoen, the Boer who came north after the Bloomplaats fight in
1848, thirty-seven years ago, and settled in Marico, told me that the
whole of that district swarmed with elephants and every other kind of
large game, as also in the neighbourhood of Rustenburg, Pretoria, and
other localities more south; now they are seldom seen south of the
Limpopo, except in the country to the east, under the chief Umzela.
In the trees on the opposite shore, and in the forest behind us, large
grey monkeys, with black faces, were busy watching us. There appeared
to be hundreds, and as they swung from branch to branch, with the young
ones following their mothers, they made the forest look lively. They
travel on the tops of the trees faster than you can run below.
As it was now getting on towards noon we pushed on up-stream, making
excellent bags of guinea-fowls, pheasants, and ducks. In addition to
this dainty food, my boys shot a quagga, which the black man prefers to
any other game. It was now time to return, being pretty well loaded
with provisions to last several days; but what avails that with a
hunter, when surrounded by so many tempting opportunities of having a
shot at animals or large reptiles, never to be met with out of these
primeval forests? We wanted sjamboks, so much sought after by the
colonists; the best are made from the skin of the hippopotamus, so we
must bag some, if possible, before we left this fine and undisturbed
hunting-ground.
We therefore searched the river carefully on our way back, directing the
Kaffirs to peer into every nook and corner of the pools, and at last
were rewarded by discovering a fine, large sea-cow moving about in long
reeds in a small sand-island, only separated from the bank by some
twenty yards of shallow water. This was a splendid chance not to be
thrown away, as he was quietly feeding, unobservant of our presence. We
took advantage of his turning towards us, and gave him three shots in
the head, one entering the brain, and he fell without apparently a
struggle; a most fortunate and lucky capture, as he was on a bank just
above the water, where we could take his skin and tusks without any
trouble. Slipping off my boots and socks, I tucked up my trousers, and
was soon at the beast's side. It occupied us the remainder of the day,
until sundown, to take the skin, which was no easy task, and even then
we did not secure the whole; only taking the best part, suitable for the
renowned sjambok, and several pieces of the flesh, as it is excellent
eating, similar to pork. It was now a puzzle how to get all to the
waggon, being nearly a mile from it. I therefore determined to send all
my three Kaffirs with as much as they could carry to the camp, and
return with some empty sacks for the remainder, while I remained on
guard.
It was some time before they returned, the sun had long gone under, but
the bright starlight night enabled me to see distinctly some distance
round. During their absence I enjoyed the perfect silence that pervaded
everything, except occasionally the splashes in the water by crocodiles
at play, or in their rush after fish, and the blows of the hippopotamus
as it came up from the deep water. Not a breath of air stirred, or a
leaf moved. Numerous fire-flies added a charm to the scene, for they
are most brilliant, and even give light enough when caught and held near
a book, in the darkest night, to read distinctly. Many glow-worms, of
which there are legions here, will also give light to read from. We now
set to work to cut up more of the sea-cow's flesh, and after well
loading all hands, started for the waggon, where we arrived about eleven
o'clock in the evening, after a hard and an exciting day's work.
Lions we heard from both sides of the river as we made for camp; also
wolves and jackals, with the plunges in the water from the sea-cows, as
we disturbed them in passing, where they were feeding along the bank,
kept us on the alert from a surprise.
From a long and isolated life in the wilds of Africa how sensitive the
hearing becomes to sounds of every kind, and the different calls or
notes of birds or beasts, if danger is near! Birds will give warning
much quicker than animals, from their being able to see a greater
distance from the branches of the trees. Animals know the birds' call
of danger, as also do birds that of animals. The plover is the most
annoying to a hunter, as they are persistent in following him up, giving
the note of alarm. I have endeavoured to hide myself away many times
from them; but they are not to be baffled in this way, but come flying
round the bushes, prying everywhere, until you are discovered, and with
renewed vigour they strike up their alarm-notes, making the game fly
before you in every direction. Once let these birds fix their attention
on a hunter, he must either shoot them, or give up hope of a good day's
sport.
The boy in charge of the waggon during the day informed me that a little
before sundown nearly a hundred head of game had passed down the river,
close to the waggon, but cleared when they discovered the camp. They
were, from his description, the rooi or red antelope, the size of our
fallow-deer.
We left this camping-ground the next day, and as there were no roads,
had some difficulty in pushing our way through the forest, to avoid the
tent of the waggon being smashed by the low branches of the trees.
After proceeding some few miles we came upon the remains of a quagga
that had evidently been killed and eaten by the lions the previous
night, as their spoor on the sand was very fresh. We therefore hastened
our departure to get clear of the dense bush before night, and after two
inspans arrived at an open space close to a small brook of running
water, where we fixed our camp for the night.
The weather is delightful, almost perfect; perpetual sun, which becomes
monotonous when there is so much of it, scarcely sufficient wind to stir
the leaves of the trees, the heat most agreeable, only 83 degrees in the
shade at mid-day. After making all fast we prepared for supper: a
guinea-fowl for myself, and quagga steaks for my boys, and then to bed
at 9 p.m. During the night jackals and wolves annoyed us; lions we
heard at a distance, but sufficiently near to cause us to keep a
watchful guard in case they felt disposed to make an attack on our oxen.
These grand old forest regions of Africa are full of interest, more
particularly at the present season, when animal and vegetable life are
springing into existence. Spring has far advanced, and summer is coming
on apace. The birds are filling the woods with their notes,--although
they do not sing they make the air ring with calls of many sounds,
teaching their young to fly; the mocking-bird being the most persistent
in keeping up his incessant chatter. The grey cockatoo, with his
beautiful crest, is determined to make himself heard amidst the din of
sounds; but of all the African birds I love, the best is the gentle
ringdove; his welcome cooing notes have cheered my heart in many a weary
day's trek over a dry and parched-up region, where days have been passed
without tasting a drop of water, when the notes of the ringdove have
caught my ear, telling me water is near, for they are well known never
to be far from it, which in every such case has been true. The croaking
of frogs also is a welcome sound, for they never enlighten the air with
their notes when the water has dried-up. Crickets and many other
insects make the air ring with their chirps when water is plentiful.
A traveller, when roaming through this wild region, soon becomes
acquainted with all forest sounds, and in many cases from necessity,
when passing through a country where for six or eight months of the year
rain never falls, not even dew, to moisten the atmosphere. During this
dry time few insects are seen, but in the rainy season they swarm, and
birds are scarce far from water; but along all the river-banks some with
most beautiful plumage are to be seen, and many other kinds. Gorgeous
flowers are not wanting to add beauty to the forest scenery, and a
traveller must indeed be callous to all that is beautiful in nature who
can traverse these woodland regions unobservant of their beauties. The
charm lies not only in the magnificence of the scene around, beautiful
as it is made by the Creator for man's enjoyment, but it is also the
book of nature, where man may learn wisdom away from the busy world.
However much we may like the society of our fellow-man, there are times
when it is very refreshing to be alone to think, particularly when
surrounded by scenery rarely to be found out of these splendid old
forests, where nature has been so bountiful in clothing the earth with
such pleasant objects to look upon. I love the woods and their
surroundings, where the mighty baobab, the king of the forest, reigns
supreme above all other trees, whose age exceeds 5000 years, and is yet
full of life and vigour--born a thousand years before the great pyramids
of Egypt were even thought of--a living monument of the vitality of
nature. Mighty nations have grown, flourished, and passed away into
oblivion, since these vegetable monuments first took root, where they
now stand and flourish, fit emblems of man's littleness. We pace the
galleries of our museums and look with admiration on those monuments
brought from Nineveh, Babylon, Greece, Rome, and Egypt, which speak of
the past history of the world, but not one of which can date as far back
as these living trees, that had life before these nations had an
existence.
Can we then pass these grand old trees with indifference, or look upon
their huge trunks--which measure over 107 feet in circumference--without
emotion, the branches of which at mid-day would shelter from the sun a
regiment of soldiers? But these are not the only trees that grace the
primeval forests of Africa; there are many varieties, dating back many
thousand years from their birth, that are grand objects in the
landscape, and complete a picture of forest scenery that few can realise
who have not visited these ancient and glorious old forests, which, if
they could speak, could tell wondrous tales of scenes unknown to man.