Port Elizabeth may be described as the first-born city of the Eastern
Province of the Cape of Good Hope. It came into being in 1820. It is
now a flourishing seaport, full of energetic, busy, money-making men.
It is the principal seaport of the Eastern Province, and the nearest
point on the coast to the Diamond-fields--420 miles from De Beer's New
Rush, a distance which was traversed in about six days by coaches.
Among its more useful enterprises it has the honour of having sent out
one pioneer of future commercial prosperity in the Eastern Province, for
Port Elizabeth is the starting-point of one branch of that great railway
system which is to revolutionise Africa. I do not say _South_ Africa,
but advisedly use the title of wider scope.
It is not every day that one can boast of having handled a tumbler full
of diamonds. Being anxious to see a mass of those precious gems in an
uncut condition, I appealed to a friend who had come out with me in the
"Windsor Castle."
He introduced me to a broker, who took me into a back office, opened a
strong-box, took out a small packet, and, untying it, poured out a
tumblerful of diamonds! They ranged from the size of a pin-head to that
of a bean, and were varied in shade, from pure crystal to straw-colour.
The broker then opened one or two separate parcels, each of which
contained a specially large or fine diamond, varying in size from a pea
to a hazelnut.
"That one," he said, "may be worth four hundred pounds, and this,
perhaps about five or six hundred."
Looking at them, it was difficult to believe that they were other than
paltry pebbles; yet these were the things for which men left home and
kindred, pushed into the wilds of a savage land, toiled and moiled in
the Great Pit at Kimberley, and too often sacrificed health, happiness,
and life itself. Judging them from their looks, I would not have given
sixpence for the entire lot--so true is it that we do wrong in judging
uncut gems, as well as unknown men, by the "outward appearance."
A very striking, and rather unfortunate instance of this false style of
judgment occurred not many days afterwards in reference to some Kafir
princes and chiefs: it was on the occasion of my quitting Port Elizabeth
for Capetown.
We were to have started on a Saturday afternoon, but a gale said "no,"
and we left on Sunday morning. Even then, although the gale had abated,
a surf so magnificent was rolling into Algoa Bay that no ship's boat
could approach the jetty. This obliged the passengers to go off to the
steamer in a surf-boat. Of course the boat could not approach nearer
the dry sand than fifty yards or so. There she heaved about in oceans
of boiling foam, while Kafirs carried us on board one by one. The
Kafirs bore the women in their strong arms as children are carried, and
put them over the gunwale tenderly, but the men were made to sit on
their shoulders, as one sits on horseback, and were treated with less
ceremony. A giant in ebony carried me off, and trotted as he went, to
the delight of some of his comrades; but I was accustomed to riding, and
patted his black head approvingly.
While standing on a commanding point in the stern, a fellow-passenger
directed attention to a group of Kafirs who tried to keep apart from the
others, and looked dignified. These, he told me, were a party of native
princes, chiefs, and councillors, who had been brought fresh from their
wilderness home--with their own consent, of course--and were being taken
to Capetown for the purpose of being impressed with the wealth, power,
grandeur, and vast resources of the white man. The other Kafirs, of
whom there was a large gang, were common fellows, who chanced to be
going by the same steamer as navvies to work on the Western railways.
The difference between the navvies and their nobility was not great.
Personally there was scarcely any, and the somewhat superior cloth of
the robes worn by the latter made no great show.
The big boat was hauled off by a rope through the surf, the sail set,
and we were soon alongside the ocean steamer whose iron sides rose above
us like a city wall. There was nothing but an iron ladder, flat against
this wall, by which to ascend. The heaving of the surf-boat was great.
It approached the ladder and retreated from it in the most irregularly
spasmodic manner. Only active men, accustomed to such feats, could get
upon it. Kafirs, although active as kittens, are not accustomed to the
sea, or to the motion of ships and boats. For them to ascend was a
matter of great difficulty; for the women and children it was
impossible.
But the difficulty had been provided for. Presently we saw a great cask
like an overgrown hogs-head swing over the side and descend into the
boat. It was caught by our sailors and placed on the stern-sheets.
Several tars from the steamer descended to assist. The cask was large
enough to hold three or four women besides a child or two. Amid much
giggling and persuading it was filled, a signal given, steam applied,
and the party was whirled aloft with a scream, and lowered on the
vessel's deck in safety.
The cask was again sent down. Meanwhile some of us had scrambled up the
ladder, and a few of the Kafir navvies followed our example, but the
most of them required a good deal of encouragement, and some strong
persuasion, while others refused flatly to attempt it. All this time
the black aristocrats looked on in grave silence. If I remember rightly
there were a young prince, an old councillor, and two or three chiefs.
When those navvies that could be persuaded, or kicked up the ladder, had
been disposed of, the sailors turned upon the timid ones and bundled
them into the cask, neck and crop, four and five at a time. There was
necessity for speed, and sailors are not wont to be delicate when this
is the case. At last the aristocracy were approached. Whether the
sailors knew who they were I cannot tell; it is probable that they did
not, but judged by the "outward appearance." They were "niggers," that
was enough for Jack.
"Come along, old boy," said one, grasping the old councillor; but the
councillor held back; Jack therefore gave him a powerful shove and he
went into the cask head-foremost. Another man had seized the young
prince at the same moment. That potentate--who in his own land
possessed the power of life and death--turned round with dignity, and in
doing so afforded an unlooked for opportunity to the sailor, who pushed
him gently till he tripped against the cask and went in backwards,
squeezing the old councillor almost flat.
"That's your sort, Bill, fetch another!" cried Jack, as he packed the
prince down.
One chief was quick-witted enough to submit and stepped in of his own
accord. Another half-stepped and was half-thrust in.
"Hoist away!" shouted Bill.
At that moment a forgotten navvy caught Bill's eye, he seized him by the
neck; Jack helped; the man was thrown on the top of all, and went up
next moment like a spread-eagle cover to the cask.
When this "lot" was lowered four or five of the Jack-tars on deck, who
greatly enjoyed the fun, turned it suddenly over, and thus it was
emptied of its human contents.
Even at that moment of humiliation the savage chiefs were true to
themselves. They rose from the deck in dignified silence, the prince
merely saying, sternly, to the gentleman who had charge of the party,
"Was _this_ what you brought me here for?"
It is but just to add that the gentleman in charge of these noble
visitors did his best to prevent the outrage, but it had occurred
suddenly, in the exuberance of "Jack's" spirits, was over in a few
seconds, and could not be undone.
These Kafir chiefs were afterwards feasted and feted by the governor and
gentry of Capetown, but I have my doubts whether they will ever forget
or forgive the treatment received on that occasion in Algoa Bay.
To correct the false is more difficult than to imbibe the true. Did you
ever think of that before? All my life have I been under the false
impression that the Cape of Good Hope was the most southerly point of
Africa. It is nothing of the sort. Cape Agulhas, not far distant, is
the real extremity of South Africa. We doubled it on the 3rd of April.
Oh! Bartholomew Diaz and Vasco da Gama, what would you say if you knew
that we "doubled the Cape"--the "Cape of Storms"--the "Cape of
Torments"--in calm and sunshine, at the rate of thirteen knots or
thereabouts, without a stitch of canvas, with ladies and gentlemen in
every attitude of lazy ease upon our deck, and troops of children
romping round them? How vast the difference between the "doublings" of
the 15th and the 19th centuries! Then--the ships were small wooden
tubs; now they are huge iron kettles. Then,--a few bold and sometimes
turbulent spirits faced the dangers of unknown seas under the leadership
of famous and heroic men; now, hundreds of men and women--timid and
brave mixed undistinguishably--are carried in safety and comfort over
the well-known ocean, by respectable captains of whom the world knows
little or nothing beyond their names. Once in a lifetime was the daring
feat attempted _then_. Once or twice a week is the trifling trip
accomplished _now_.
But enough of moralising. Suffice it to say that we doubled the Cape
without sails, without anxiety, without care, and with no triumph
whatever,--but not without interest. Calm and sunny though it chanced
to be, we could not look upon that barren, mountainous, rocky shore,
without reflecting that it still is not less now than in days of old,
the Stormy Cape, and that danger as appalling as that of yore may
sometimes be encountered, while heroism quite as exalted as that of the
ancient Portuguese navigators is sometimes displayed by modern Britons.
There is a point not far from Cape Agulhas--between it and the Cape of
Good Hope--named Point Danger, where courage of the highest kind once
calmly faced and fought with Death. On that Point, in February 1852,
the _Birkenhead_ was wrecked. It may be truly said that courage
conquered on that occasion, because the end for which it fought was the
deliverance of women and children from death, and this end was gained,
though above 400 of the gallant men who fought the battle perished in
the hour of victory.
The _Birkenhead_, a large iron steamer, was engaged in the transport of
troops to the frontier, where war with the Kafirs raged at the time.
These troops were detachments from several regiments under command of
Colonel Seton of the 74th Highlanders. About two o'clock in the morning
the vessel struck upon a rock near the well-named Point Danger, and so
tremendous was the shock that her iron plates were driven in as if made
of egg-shell. The cabin was immediately flooded, and it was evident
that in a few minutes the vessel would be engulfed among the breakers.
None but those who have witnessed similar scenes can imagine the horrors
of the situation. It was dark; the breakers roared around; the rugged
and almost inaccessible shores of the Cape of Storms were on the one
hand, the ocean on the other; men, women, and children were rushing
about the decks in wild terror; sharks were known to be in these waters,
and _only two_ of the ship's boats were available for service. In this
moment of extremity God put it into the hearts of both officers and men
to act with unexampled courage and wisdom.
To save all was manifestly out of the question. When people are in such
circumstances it is too often "every man for himself;" the strong push
aside the weak, fight for the boats, overcrowd and swamp them, and thus
few, if any, are left to tell the tale. But it was not so with the
heroes of the _Birkenhead_. At the word of command from Colonel Seton,
the soldiers drew up on the reeling deck as if on parade, and obeyed his
orders with steady calm, unflinching bravery. If there were any selfish
spirits on board they were overawed by the heroism of the soldiers. The
Colonel directed that the women and children and the sick should be put
into the boats. This was quickly done, and these were all saved without
a single exception--to the number of two hundred souls.
But while this was being accomplished the vessel was breaking up, and
the fact that the men would be soon left to struggle in the waves was
apparent to all; yet the noble officer continued to give his orders, and
the not less noble men continued to obey, and saw the boats depart
without a murmur. They were young soldiers too, who had never been
under fire, and this "action" was the first and last that they and their
leader were destined to fight. The vessel suddenly parted amidships,
and though a few saved themselves by swimming and on floating pieces of
wreck, the greater number perished--no fewer than 357 officers and
soldiers--among whom was the Colonel--and sixty seamen, going down with
the ship. It was a sad but splendid specimen of cool self-sacrificing
courage, and of the power of discipline in moments of tremendous trial.