Jacko looked again at the pear and put one finger towards it with great
caution, but drew back and looked up at me again, as if to say, "_Won't_
you help me?"
I smiled again and shook my head, whereupon he went to work with the
most gingerly and delicate touches, as if he were handling red-hot iron.
At last he managed to tear a hole in the skin, into which he inserted
his black nose, and greedily devoured the contents. Despite his
caution, however, I noticed that Jacko kept scratching his hands pretty
steadily for some time afterwards.
As we advanced into the hills the roads became unimaginably bad. In one
place our track had been carried away by a flood, and the
boulder-covered bed of the torrent was our only road.
At last we got up into the mountain region of Glen Lynden, the place to
which the Scotch settlers were sent by Government in 1820, under the
care of Thomas Pringle, the "African poet," who, among other pieces,
wrote the beautiful poem which begins:
"Afar in the desert I love to ride,
With the silent bushboy alone by my side."
The descendants of the 1820 men now occupy these valleys. Both in
physique and character they do credit to their sires.
Here I met one of the few survivors of the original settlers, Mr Dodds
Pringle, and brother to the poet. [This happened about 1876.] Although
upwards of seventy, and a large, stout man, I saw him mount his horse
with the activity of a man of thirty. At his house in Glen Lynedock,
where I spent a night, they showed me an assagai, or Kafir spear, which
had been bent into the form of a half-moon against his, (Mr Pringle's),
stomach! It happened thus:
He was out fighting with the rest of the farmers in the war of 1851, and
one day was attacked by Kafirs, one of whom flung his assagai at him
with tremendous force. Mr Pringle had just fired his rifle, and was
reloading when the assagai struck him. It was arrested, however, in its
deadly flight by his belt and bullet-pouch. The savage rushed forward,
intending to finish his adversary by a thrust from a short spear, but
old Pringle guarded the thrust with one hand, while, with the other, he
drew a pistol and shot the Kafir through the heart. At that moment
another savage ran at him, but a comrade of Pringle suddenly came on the
scene and the savage turned to fly. The comrade took aim at him.
"Be cool, and take him low," said Pringle, undoing his belt to examine
his wound.
The comrade fired, and the savage fell.
"Are you killed?" asked the comrade, turning to Pringle and glancing at
the bent assagai.
"I don't know," replied the other, with a serious look, as he thrust his
hand under his waist-belt, "there's no hole that I can find, anyhow."
The hand, when withdrawn, was covered with blood, but it was found on
examination that the wound was slight, thanks to the providential
interposition of the thick bullet-pouch. The old gentleman is now
naturally fond of showing the weapon which had so nearly proved fatal.
Advancing into the Baviaans River District we passed through many places
of historic interest, and scenery that must have reminded the Scottish
settlers of the rugged glens to which they had bidden farewell for ever.
Among other places, Hobson pointed out a small cavern, high up on the
cliffs, which was the scene of a cruel affray not many years before the
arrival of the Scotch settlers in the district.
As it illustrates the wild frontier life of those times, and bears on
the subject of the grievances of early colonists, I shall relate it.
There was a Dutch Boer, a farmer named Bezuidenhout, who, in the year
1815, dwelt in the lonely and wild recesses of the Baviaans River
District. He seems to have been a passionate, headstrong man. The
Dutch Boers were generally honest, sterling men, though at that time
very ignorant, being far removed from the means of instruction. But the
Dutchmen, not less than others, had wild and foolish men amongst them
who were easily misled by unprincipled adventurers.
Bezuidenhout seems to have been one of these; at all events he was
savage enough to treat one of his Hottentot servants so ill that he was
cited to appear before the Court of his district, and was foolish enough
to resist the summons. A messenger was therefore sent to arrest him,
and as he was known to be a daring character, and had threatened to
shoot any limb of the law who should dare to approach his residence,
twenty men of the Cape Corps, under Lieutenant Rousseau accompanied the
messenger.
On reaching the mountain home of Bezuidenhout they found him prepared.
He and a powerful half-caste in his employment were found sheltered
behind the high wall of a cattle enclosure, well armed. The Dutchman
called to the soldiers to stop, else he would shoot the first man.
Disregarding the threat, the lieutenant extended his men in skirmishing
order, and attacked. Bezuidenhout fired, happily missed, and retreated
into his house, whence he passed by a back-door into the thick jungle in
rear. They lost him for a time, but finally traced him to a steep
krantz, or precipice, up the almost inaccessible face of which he and
his follower had taken refuge in a small cavern. The muzzles of their
rifles were seen protruding from the entrance. Lieutenant Rousseau
therefore crept up warily, until he reached a ledge above the aperture,
from which point he challenged the farmer to surrender, telling him the
reason of his being there, and assuring him of personal safety.
The man replied he would die rather than submit. The Lieutenant
endeavoured to persuade him to surrender, but he was obdurate. Night
was approaching. The officer was anxious to get his men out of these
dark kloofs in daylight. He therefore ordered them to ascend in two
bodies. They did so, reached the cave, and rushed to the entrance, from
which Bezuidenhout fired, but without effect, the muzzle of his rifle
having been thrown up. At the same moment one of the soldiers fired
into the cavern, and shot the farmer dead on the spot. The servant
surrendered, and on entering the place it was found that a large
quantity of ammunition had been collected there, evidently with a view
to standing a siege.
After the departure of the military, the relations and friends of the
unfortunate and misguided man assembled to bury him, and, over his
grave, they vowed to avenge his death. A brother of Bezuidenhout spoke
to them, and so wrought on their feelings that a great number of the
farmers of that and the neighbouring districts ultimately assembled
under arms, with the avowed intention of ridding themselves altogether
of British interference! They went still further, and took a step which
might have been much more serious. They sent Cornelius Faber, a
brother-in-law of the Bezuidenhouts, to the Kafir chief Gaika for the
purpose of rousing that savage and his hordes to attack the Colony.
Of course the Government was obliged to frustrate such an attempt with
all possible speed. Troops were immediately sent against the rebels,
under Colonel Cuyler. One of the rebel leaders, named Prinsloo, was
captured at a critical moment, and the main body, amounting to between
three and four hundred, was finally met with. But before proceeding to
extremities, a field-commandant, William Nel, volunteered to go alone
among the rebels, and reason with them. He did so, and was so far
successful as to shake the resolution of some, for, although
disaffected, many of these men were by no means so foolish as their
leaders. Indeed, many of them had been threatened and coerced into
rebellion. Seeing the effect of Nel's remonstrances, Faber,
Bezuidenhout, and other leaders, assembled their forces at a place
called Slachters Nek, and exacted from them an oath to remain faithful
to each other until they had expelled the tyrants from the frontier.
Next morning Colonel Cuyler proceeded to attack them. On his approach
thirty or more of them threw down their arms in token of surrender; the
remainder, seeing that resistance would be hopeless, retired into the
fastnesses of Baviaans River. There they were followed and surrounded,
and an attempt was made to bring them to submission, but during the
night most of them managed to escape by familiar mountain passes.
The principal leaders, rejecting all terms, escaped with their wagons,
families, and goods to the Winterberg Mountains, bordering on Kafirland,
where they hoped to be safe; but, being followed up hotly by a body of
troops under Major Fraser, they were eventually overtaken and surrounded
in a deep kloof. Here six of them were brought to bay, among whom were
Faber, with his wife, his son--a lad of fourteen years,--and John
Bezuidenhout. These, retiring behind the wagons, a skirmish began,
which was not concluded until one of the soldiers was killed, another
wounded, Bezuidenhout shot, and Faber and his wife and son severely
wounded. Then the party were taken prisoners.
Subsequently fifty or sixty of the other rebels were captured and taken
to Capetown. Of these, thirty-nine of the most culpable were tried on
the charge of high treason. Six were condemned to death; the others,
after being compelled to witness the execution of their leaders, were to
undergo various degrees of punishment, according to their proved guilt.
One of the six had the capital sentence commuted to transportation for
life, and the remaining five ringleaders were executed.