Hans Larson.—His Exploits.—He joins the Expedition.—How
people travel on Ox-back.— Rhinoceros Hunt.— Death of
the Beast.—“Look before you Leap.”—Anecdote proving the
Truth of the Proverb.—Hans and the Lion.—The Doctor in
Difficulties.—Sufferings on the Naarip Plain.—Arrival at
Scheppmansdorf.
When at the Cape we heard much of an individual named Hans Larsen, who
was distinguished in a very remarkable degree for courage, energy,
perseverance, and endurance. This man was a Dane by birth, and a sailor
by profession; but, becoming disgusted with a seafaring life, had a few
years previously left his ship, and was now residing somewhere near to
Walfisch Bay.
On visiting Mr. Bam at Scheppmansdorf, that gentleman confirmed to the
full all we had been told about Hans, and strongly recommended Mr. Galton
to take him into his service. It was not, however, until our arrival at
Richterfeldt, where Hans then resided, that we had an opportunity to make
his personal acquaintance. Up to a rather recent period he had been in
charge of a herd of cattle, but he was now living independently on the
produce of his live-stock and the spoils of the chase.
Hans was a fine specimen of the true Northman—fair complexion, light
hair, blue eyes; and, though not above the ordinary stature, he was very
muscular, and powerfully built. His strength, indeed, almost exceeded
belief. One of his feats was to carry an enormous anvil—which no ordinary
man could lift from the ground—with as many persons as could possibly
cling to it. On one occasion he had borne from place to place a block of
stone which required ten men to lift on to his shoulders!
In consequence of his great strength and courage, he was much feared by
the natives, who nevertheless took pleasure in teasing him; but, being
of a very quiet disposition, he seldom resented their impertinences. One
day, however, when they had carried their jokes somewhat too far, he
raised his Herculean fist, and with a single blow leveled to the ground
the nearest of his tormentors. At first it was thought that the man was
killed; but, fortunately, he was only stunned. On recovering from his
stupor he vowed vengeance; but, unable to carry out his purpose alone,
he laid his complaint before the chief of the tribe, and a “raad,” or
counsel, was held. Many were for severe punishment; but at last, when
all the members had spoken, the chief rose and told them that, in his
opinion, the offense should be passed over, and that, for the future, it
would be better not to molest Hans, for if they did they would only fare
worse. This advice was felt to be a prudent caution, and from that day
forward they ceased to worry the Dane.
Hans was an excellent and indefatigable sportsman, and so successful
that, though the country, on his first arrival, literally teemed with
rhinoceroses, lions, giraffes, zebras, gnoos, gemsboks, &c., he had all
but exterminated them.
To give the reader some idea of the abundance of game and wild beasts
then existing in this part of Africa, I may mention than Hans once shot,
with his own hand, no less than nine rhinoceroses in the course of a
single day.[8]
Hans ate very little animal food, but, whenever he could afford it, he
drank an amazing quantity of tea and coffee. His chief nourishment,
however, was thick sour milk, which he swallowed in gallons. It is
wonderful how people thrive on this diet, which is the main sustenance of
the Damaras, who, as has been already said, are remarkably fine-looking
men.
Hans, on the proposal being made to him by Mr. Galton, agreed to
accompany us in the capacity of head man, and we were truly fortunate to
secure so able and practiced a hand. Indeed, from after-experience, it is
very doubtful whether we should have been able to get on without him. We
had, moreover, found that it would be next to impossible to obtain from
the natives, by barter, any considerable number of cattle; and, even had
we succeeded, they would have been so wild and unmanageable that we could
not have made use of them for months. Now, as Hans had a small drove of
his own, several of which were already broken-in, and the rest more or
less tractable, and was willing to part with them at a moderate price,
Mr. Galton secured the whole lot without a moment’s hesitation, and thus
we had overcome a difficulty which had long given us some uneasiness.
Hans had in his employ an English lad named John Allen, who had also been
a sailor, and who, like his master, had left his ship in Walfisch Bay. In
the absence of his employer, John had been accustomed to take charge of
the cattle and the house; and, being an excellent and well-behaved youth,
he also was admitted into Mr. Galton’s service.
After a few day’s rest, it was determined that Hans and myself, together
with most of the people, should return to Scheppmansdorf for the purpose
of breaking-in the oxen, and bringing up the wagons and the stores.
Hans presented me with an ox called “Spring,” which I afterward rode
upward of two thousand miles. On the day of our departure he mounted us
all on oxen, and a curious sight it was to see some of the men take their
seats who had never before ridden on ox-back. It is impossible to guide
an ox as one would guide a horse, for in the attempt to do so you would
instantly jerk the stick out of his nose, which at once deprives you of
every control over the beast; but by pulling _both_ sides of the bridle
at the same time, and toward the side you wish him to take, he is easily
managed. Your seat is not less awkward and difficult; for the skin of
the ox, unlike that of the horse, is loose, and, notwithstanding your
saddle may be tightly girthed, you keep rocking to and fro like a child
in a cradle. A few days, however, enables a person to acquire a certain
steadiness, and long habit will do the rest.
Ox-traveling, when once a man is accustomed to it, is not so disagreeable
as might be expected, particularly if one succeeds in obtaining a
tractable animal. On emergences, an ox can be made to proceed at a
tolerably quick pace; for, though his walk is only about three miles an
hour at an average, he may be made to perform double that distance in the
same time. Mr. Galton once accomplished twenty-four miles in four hours,
and that, too, through heavy sand!
Early one morning we reached Annis Fountain, where, as on a previous
occasion, we observed a number of rhinoceros tracks. Leaving the men to
take care of the oxen, Hans, Stewardson, and myself selected the freshest
“spoor,” and started off in pursuit; but after several hours’ hard
walking under a burning sun, we were apparently as far from the quarry as
ever, and Stewardson, who was quite knocked up, used his best endeavors
to persuade us from proceeding farther. We would not listen to him,
however, but, allowing him to return to the encampment, continued to toil
on, though with but little hope of success.
An hour might have elapsed after we had thus parted from Stewardson
when I observed in a distant glen a dark object, which, as it excited
my suspicion, I instantly pointed out to Hans, who would not believe
that it was any thing but a large “boulder.” Nevertheless, we proceeded
toward the spot, and I soon saw that the shapeless mass was nothing
less than the rhinoceros of which we were in search. Hans, however, who
had had frequent opportunities of seeing this animal in all positions,
remained skeptical on the point, and it was not till we were within about
twenty paces of the beast that his doubts were removed. With noiseless
and quickened step, and our guns on the fullest cock, we made up to the
monster, which still gave no signs of life. At last, however, one of
us whistled, on which, and with the rapidity of thought, the beast sat
up on its haunches, and surveyed us with a curious and sulky look. But
it was only a moment; for, before he had time to get on his legs, two
well-directed balls laid him prostrate within less than half a dozen
paces of our feet.
In the pride of success, I somewhat foolishly leaped upon his back, and,
African-like, plunged my hunting-knife into the flesh, to ascertain if
our prize was fat. But whether life was not altogether extinct, or that
the sudden access of my weight caused a vibration in the lately-living
body, certain it is that I felt the beast move under me, when, as may be
supposed, I speedily jumped to the ground again, and made off. Though my
apprehensions in this instance were groundless, the following anecdote,
related to me by the natives, will show that there is considerable danger
in too quickly approaching an apparently dead rhinoceros:[9]
Some Namaquas had shot one of these animals as it was rising from its
sleep. One of the party, imagining the beast to be dead, straightway
went up to it and (with like object as myself) acted precisely as I
had done. The beast, however, had only been stunned, and, as soon as
he felt the cold steel enter his body, he started to his feet and made
off at full speed. This action was so instantaneous as to prevent the
man from dismounting, and the other Namaquas were paralyzed with fear.
Fortunately, however, after the beast had run forty or fifty paces, he
suddenly stopped short and looked round. The favorable opportunity was
not lost; for one of the party, more courageous than the rest, instantly
fired, and, as good luck would have it, brought the animal to the ground,
with his terror-stricken rider still clinging to his back.
On rejoining our party, Stewardson was not a little surprised at our
success, and mortified at his own want of perseverance. The flesh of
the rhinoceros was poor but not unpalatable, and we remained a day at
Annis to cut up and dry part of it as provision for the journey. We also
carried away a goodly supply of the beast’s hide for the purpose of
converting it into “shamboks.”[10]
One day, as I was riding with Hans, he pointed out to me a place where
he had been attacked by a lion in broad daylight, pulled off his ox, and
only escaped death by a miracle.
Not being encumbered by a vehicle, we were now able to hold the course
of the Swakop uninterruptedly; but on arriving at the Usab gorge, it
became necessary to leave the river and to cross the Naarip plain to
Scheppmansdorf. From the great length of this stage (fifteen hours’
actual travel), and the total absence of water and pasturage, it is
necessary to traverse it during the night. As thick fogs and mists,
however, are not uncommon here, the traveler is exposed to some risk.
It not unfrequently happens that he loses the track; the result of
which usually is, that when the day breaks upon him he finds himself
either back at the place from which he started or in some unknown part
of the plain. Instances are narrated of people having remained in this
inhospitable desert as long as three days! “Losing the way,” as my friend
Galton says, “is the rule here and not the exception; and a person who
has crossed the plain without doing so rather plumes himself upon the
feat.”
Hans recited to me the particulars of an adventure which happened to a
European in this wilderness. During the time Captain Greybourn (to whom
allusion has already been made) was established at Walfisch Bay, the
medical gentleman who resided with him had occasion to cross the Naarip
plain; but, being a total stranger to the country, he engaged a Hottentot
as guide. The day proved hot and oppressive, and the wayfarers had not
proceeded far when the doctor felt faint and thirsty. On inquiry of his
attendant whether any water could be obtained, he received a sulky and
unsatisfactory answer, and was about to prosecute his journey, when the
man thus abruptly addressed him:
“You’ve got a very nice hat, sir, which you must give me, or I will not
stir another step.”
Under ordinary circumstances, to comply with such a request would
have been inconvenient, but it was still more annoying in the present
instance, exposed as the doctor was to a scorching sun. Finding himself,
however, entirely at the man’s mercy, and seeing nothing but a howling
wilderness all around him, he grudgingly gave the hat, hoping to be
exempted from further importunity. But he was mistaken in this matter;
for he had not proceeded much farther when the Hottentot sat himself
quietly down on the sand, complaining bitterly of the immense distance
they had yet to perform, adding, with a sly look at the doctor, that
he thought his jacket would fit him exactly! The medical gentleman was
amazed at the fellow’s impudence, and at first refused this new demand;
but, as the man said that unless he received the garment he would leave
him to his fate, he was obliged to comply.
In this manner he gradually divested the chicken-hearted doctor of his
apparel, and would, in all probability, not have left him in possession
of the shirt on his back had it not been for the timely arrival of Hans
and another European, then on their way to Walfisch Bay. The doctor’s
story was, of course, soon told, and the rascally Hottentot was not only
deprived of his booty, but soundly thrashed into the bargain.
After having given the animals the necessary rest, we set out the next
afternoon, about three o’clock, on the last stage for Scheppmansdorf.
As the evening was starlight, we proceeded at a brisk pace till about
midnight, when there suddenly arose from the sea a gloomy, bitter
cold mist, which soon enveloped us in total darkness, and completely
saturated every article of our dress. Unfortunately, in the early
part of the night we had purposely left the wagon-track to save a very
circuitous part of the road, and we had now nothing to guide us. Still,
we toiled on as well as we could.
But we had great difficulty in getting the poor Damaras to keep pace with
us, who, being naked, suffered extremely. Every ten minutes they would
lie down on the cold sand, perfectly indifferent to the consequences. If
we had not used the utmost vigilance in keeping them moving, I am quite
convinced that some of them would have perished. Toward morning the cold
became so intense that I was no longer capable of holding the reins, and
therefore dismounted and proceeded on foot. Daybreak brought no relief,
for the fog still prevented us from ascertaining our position. The
instinct of the oxen, however, came to our rescue, and, by giving them
their own way, they soon took us safely to our destination.