It was a night of anxiety in the kraal of the field-cornet. Should the
wind veer round to the west, to a certainty the locusts would cover his
land in the morning, and the result would be the total destruction of
his crops. Perhaps worse than that. Perhaps the whole vegetation
around--for fifty miles or more--might be destroyed; and then how would
his cattle be fed? It would be no easy matter even to save their lives.
They might perish before he could drive them to any other pasturage!
Such a thing was by no means uncommon or improbable. In the history of
the Cape colony many a boor had lost his flocks in this very way. No
wonder there was anxiety that night in the kraal of the field-cornet.
At intervals Von Bloom went out to ascertain whether there was any
change in the wind. Up to a late hour he could perceive none. A gentle
breeze still blew from the north--from the great Kalihari desert--
whence, no doubt, the locusts had come. The moon was bright, and her
light gleamed over the host of insects that darkly covered the plain.
The roar of the lion could be heard mingling with the shrill scream of
the jackal and the maniac laugh of the hyena. All these beasts, and
many more, were enjoying a plenteous repast.
Perceiving no change in the wind, Von Bloom became less uneasy, and they
all conversed freely about the locusts. Swartboy took a leading part in
this conversation, as he was better acquainted with the subject than any
of them. It was far from being the first flight of locusts Swartboy had
seen, and many a bushel of them had he eaten. It was natural to
suppose, therefore, that he knew a good deal about them.
He knew not whence they came. That was a point about which Swartboy had
never troubled himself. The learned Hans offered an explanation of
their origin.
"They come from the desert," said he. "The eggs from which they are
produced, are deposited in the sands or dust; where they lie until rain
falls, and causes the herbage to spring up. Then the locusts are
hatched, and in their first stage are supported upon this herbage. When
it becomes exhausted, they are compelled to go in search of food. Hence
these `migrations,' as they are called."
This explanation seemed clear enough.
"Now I have heard," said Hendrik, "of farmers kindling fires around
their crops to keep off the locusts. I can't see how fires would keep
them off--not even if a regular fence of fire were made all round a
field. These creatures have wings, and could easily fly over the
fires."
"The fires," replied Hans, "are kindled, in order that the smoke may
prevent them from alighting; but the locusts to which these accounts
usually refer are without wings, called _voetgangers_ (foot-goers).
They are, in fact, the _larvae_ of these locusts, before they have
obtained their wings. These have also their migrations, that are often
more destructive than those of the perfect insects, such as we see here.
They proceed over the ground by crawling and leaping like grasshoppers;
for, indeed, they are grasshoppers--a species of them. They keep on in
one direction, as if they were guided by instinct to follow a particular
course. Nothing can interrupt them in their onward march unless the sea
or some broad and rapid river. Small streams they can swim across; and
large ones, too, where they run sluggishly; walls and houses they can
climb--even the chimneys--going straight over them; and the moment they
have reached the other side of any obstacle, they continue straight
onward in the old direction.
"In attempting to cross broad rapid rivers, they are drowned in
countless myriads, and swept off to the sea. When it is only a small
migration, the farmers sometimes keep them off by means of fires, as you
have heard. On the contrary, when large numbers appear, even the fires
are of no avail."
"But how is that, brother?" inquired Hendrik. "I can understand how
fires would stop the kind you speak of, since you say they are without
wings. But since they are so, how do they get through the fires? Jump
them?"
"No, not so," replied Hans. "The fires are built too wide and large for
that."
"How then, brother?" asked Hendrik. "I'm puzzled."
"So am I," said little Jan.
"And I," added Truey.
"Well, then," continued Hans, "millions of the insects crawl into the
fires and put them out!"
"Ho!" cried all in astonishment. "How? Are they not burned?"
"Of course," replied Hans. "They are scorched and killed--myriads of
them quite burned up. But their bodies crowded thickly on the fires
choke them out. The foremost ranks of the great host thus become
victims, and the others pass safely across upon the holocaust thus made.
So you see, even fires cannot stop the course of the locusts when they
are in great numbers.
"In many parts of Africa, where the natives cultivate the soil, as soon
as they discover a migration of these insects, and perceive that they
are heading in the direction of their fields and gardens, quite a panic
is produced among them. They know that they will lose their crops to a
certainty, and hence dread a visitation of locusts as they would an
earthquake, or some other great calamity."
"We can well understand their feelings upon such an occasion," remarked
Hendrik, with a significant look.
"The flying locusts," continued Hans, "seem less to follow a particular
direction than their larvae. The former seem to be guided by the wind.
Frequently this carries them all into the sea, where they perish in vast
numbers. On some parts of the coast their dead bodies have been found
washed back to land in quantities incredible. At one place the sea
threw them upon the beach, until they lay piled up in a ridge four feet
in height, and fifty miles in length! It has been asserted by several
well-known travellers that the effluvium from this mass tainted the air
to such an extent that it was perceived one hundred and fifty miles
inland!"
"Heigh!" exclaimed little Jan. "I didn't think anybody had so good a
nose."
At little Jan's remark there was a general laugh. Von Bloom did not
join in their merriment. He was in too serious a mood just then.
"Papa," inquired little Truey, perceiving that her father did not laugh,
and thinking to draw him into the conversation,--"Papa! were these the
kind of locusts eaten by John the Baptist when in the desert? His food,
the Bible says, was `locusts and wild honey.'"
"I believe these are the same," replied the father.
"I think, papa," modestly rejoined Hans, "they are not exactly the same,
but a kindred species. The locust of Scripture was the true _Gryllus
migratorius_, and different from those of South Africa, though very
similar in its habits. But," continued he, "some writers dispute that
point altogether. The Abyssinians say it was beans of the locust-tree,
and not insects, that were the food of Saint John."
"What is your own opinion, Hans?" inquired Hendrik, who had a great
belief in his brother's book-knowledge.
"Why, I think," replied Hans, "there need be no question about it. It
is only torturing the meaning of a word to suppose that Saint John ate
the locust fruit, and not the insect. I am decidedly of opinion that
the latter is meant in Scripture; and what makes me think so is, that
these two kinds of food, `locusts and wild honey,' are often coupled
together, as forming at the present time the subsistence of many tribes
who are denizens of the desert. Besides, we have good evidence that
both were used as food by desert-dwelling people in the days of
Scripture. It is, therefore, but natural to suppose that Saint John,
when in the desert, was forced to partake of this food; just as many a
traveller of modern times has eaten of it when crossing the deserts that
surround us here in South Africa.
"I have read a great many books about locusts," continued Hans; "and now
that the Bible has been mentioned, I must say for my part, I know no
account given of these insects so truthful and beautiful as that in the
Bible itself. Shall I read it, papa?"
"By all means, my boy," said the field-cornet, rather pleased at the
request which his son had made, and at the tenor of the conversation.
Little Truey ran into the inner room and brought out an immense volume
bound in gemsbok skin, with a couple of strong brass clasps upon it to
keep it closed. This was the family Bible; and here let me observe,
that a similar book may be found in the house of nearly every boor, for
these Dutch colonists are a Protestant and Bible-loving people--so much
so, that they think nothing of going a hundred miles, _four times in the
year_, to attend the _nacht-maal_, or sacramental supper! What do you
think of that?
Hans opened the volume, and turned at once to the book of the prophet
Joel. From the readiness with which he found the passage, it was
evident he was well acquainted with the book he held in his hands.