A hearty Welcome.—We remove the Encampment.—An
Apparition.—Audacity of wild Beasts.—Depriving Lions of their
Prey.—Excessive Heat.—Singular effects of great Heat.—Depart
for Barmen.—Meet a troop of Zebras.—Their flesh not equal
to Venison.—The Missionary’s Wall.—A sad Catastrophe.—The
“Kameel-Doorn.”—Buxton Fountain.—The Scorpion.—Arrival at
Barmen.
Immediately on our arrival at Richterfeldt we were surrounded by scores
of natives, who, with yells, vociferations, clapping of hands, grotesque
dances, and so forth, testified their joy at our return. Mr. Rath,
moreover, highly complimented us on the dispatch with which we had
broken-in the oxen and performed the journey.
Mr. Galton, I ascertained, had lately departed for Barmen, Mr. Hahn’s
station. I determined to follow him as soon as I had taken sufficient
rest after my fatiguing journey. In the mean time, the wagons were to
remain at Richterfeldt till our return to that place.
At first we pitched our camp in the same spot we had occupied previously
to our departure for Scheppmansdorf; but the high palisades that
protected it had been destroyed in our absence by the natives, who had
carried away the wood for fuel. This, however, was of little consequence,
as the old inclosure would now have been too small to contain both
the cattle and our cumbersome conveyances. Moreover, as the place was
situated in the bed of a periodical stream, a tributary of the Swakop,
and as the rainy season was fast approaching, it would have been
imprudent to remain here any length of time. Accordingly, we brought our
wagons, &c., to Hans’ own kraal, which was near at hand on the bank of
the river, as there we should be perfectly secure in case of any sudden
inundation.
The day before our removal, the men had asked and obtained permission to
spend the evening with Hans at his encampment. Even the dogs had absented
themselves, and I was thus left altogether alone. This night, though
somewhat warm, was delightfully bright and still. To enjoy the beautiful
weather, I had taken my bedding out of the wagon, and placed it on the
ground alongside the wheels, facing a small clump of low tamarisk-trees,
distant not above twenty paces. Being a bad sleeper, I lay awake until a
very late hour. All nature was hushed and silent, and the night so calm
that I might have heard the falling of a leaf. Suddenly my attention was
drawn to the tamarisk grove, whence proceeded a low, rustling noise like
that of some animal cautiously making its way through it. Thinking it
probable that a hyæna or a jackal was about to pay me a visit, I sat
up in my bed, and seizing my gun, which I invariably kept within reach,
I prepared to give the intruder a warm reception. Imagine my surprise,
however, when, instead of one or other of these skulking animals, a
stately lion stood suddenly before me! In an instant my gun was pointed
at his breast; but, hoping he would presently turn his broadside toward
me, which would have given me a much better chance of destroying him, I
refrained from firing. In this expectation, however, I was disappointed;
for, on perceiving the wagons, he retreated a step or two, and uttering a
low growl, vanished the next moment among the bushes.
There is something so grand and imposing in the appearance of the king of
beasts in his native wilds, more especially when he assumes an attitude
of surprise or defiance, that it is impossible not to feel more or less
awed in his presence.
On mentioning to Mr. Rath, the following morning, my adventure of the
preceding night, he expressed no kind of surprise, for the tamarisk grove
in question was often known, he said, to harbor lions and other beasts
of prey. He added, moreover, that lions not unfrequently penetrated
thence into his garden, and even approached within a few paces of the
dwelling-house itself.
Returning somewhat late one very dark night from Mr. Rath’s house to
our encampment, I was suddenly startled by sounds of the most painful
description, not unlike the stifled groanings of a person who is on the
point of drowning. It at once struck me that the lions had surprised some
unfortunate native while lying in ambush near the water for wild animals
that came there to drink. While listening in anxious suspense to the
wailings in question—which gradually became more and more faint—there
reached me from another quarter a confused sound of human voices and of
hurried footsteps. This only tended to confirm my first impression; but,
from the impenetrable darkness, I could not ascertain any thing with
certainty. Being unable, however, to endure the suspense any longer,
and regardless of the danger to which I exposed myself, I caught up my
fowling-piece, which happened to be loaded with ball, and set out in the
direction whence the wailings, now fast dying away, proceeded.
I had not gone very far, however, before I fell in with a number of the
natives, who were hastening in the same direction as myself.
My road, for the most part, lay through a dense tamarisk coppice, and it
was surprising to me how I ever managed to thread the labyrinth. The hope
of saving human life, however, enabled me to overcome all obstacles. I
might have been three or four minutes in the brake when, on coming to a
small opening, I suddenly encountered, and all but stumbled over, a large
black mass lying at my feet, while close to my ear I heard the twang of a
bow-string and the whizzing of an arrow. At the same moment, and within a
very few paces of where I stood, I was startled by the terrific roar of a
lion, which seemed to shake the ground beneath me. This was immediately
followed by a savage and exulting cry of triumph from a number of the
natives.
Having recovered from my surprise, I found that the dark object that had
nearly upset me was one of the natives stooping over a dead zebra, which
the lion had just killed, and then learned, for the first time, to my
great astonishment as well as relief, that the wailings which had caused
me so much uneasiness, and which I imagined were those of a dying man,
proceeded from this poor animal.[13]
The design of the natives, who, from the first, I take it, well knew
what they were about, was simply to possess themselves of the zebra, in
which they had fully succeeded. While some busied themselves in lighting
a fire, the rest joined in a sort of war-dance round the carcass,
accompanied by the most wild and fantastic gestures, totally disregarding
the proximity of the lion, who had only retreated a few paces. As the
fire began to blaze, indeed, we could distinctly see him pacing to and
fro among the bushes on the edge of the river’s bank.
He, moreover, forcibly reminded us of his presence by cruelly lacerating
a small dog belonging to one of the party which had incautiously
approached him too closely. By a slight touch of his murderous paw he
ripped up its body from head to foot; but, notwithstanding its entrails
dragged on the ground, the poor creature managed to crawl to our fire,
where it breathed its last in the course of a few seconds. It was a most
touching sight to see the faithful animal wagging its tail in recognition
of its master, who was trying to replace the intestines and to stop the
flow of the blood.
The savage features of the natives, which received an unnaturally wild
character as the glare of the half-blazing fire fell upon them; the dying
dog, with his wild master stooping despondingly over him; the mutilated
carcass of the zebra, and the presence of the lion within a few paces of
us, presented one of the most striking scenes it was ever my fortune to
witness.
Expecting every moment that the lion would make a dash at us, I stood
prepared to receive him. More than once, indeed, I leveled my gun at him,
and was on the point of pulling the trigger; but, being now sufficiently
acquainted with the character of the animal to know that, if I did not
shoot him on the spot, the attempt would probably prove the death-signal
to one or other of us, I refrained from firing.
Contrary to my expectation, however, he allowed us to cut up and to
carry away the entire zebra without molesting us in any way. During the
process, the natives occasionally hurled huge burning brands at the
beast; but these, instead of driving him to a distance, had only the
effect of making him the more savage.[14]
Similar attempts to deprive the lion of his prey are of frequent
occurrence in the interior of Africa. Indeed, it is no unusual thing
to find a number of natives residing near such pools of water as
are frequented by antelopes, other wild animals, and their constant
attendant, the lion, subsisting almost altogether in this way, or on
carcasses which the lion has not had time to devour before the return of
day, when it is his habit to retire to his lair.
But it is not always that the attempt to deprive the lion of his prey
succeeds as well as in the instance just mentioned. Generally speaking,
indeed, if he is famishing with hunger, he turns upon his assailants,
and many a man has thus lost his life. One often meets with individuals,
either mutilated or bearing dreadful scars, the result of wounds received
in such encounters.
The heat had, by this time, become almost insupportable, and it was
only with great inconvenience that a person could move about after the
sun was a few hours above the horizon. Even the cattle were dreadfully
distressed. As early as eight o’clock in the morning they would leave off
grazing, in order to seek shelter under some tree or bush against the
scorching rays of the sun.
Every afternoon, regularly at two o’clock, we had a strong breeze from
the westward. Strange to say, however, this, though coming from the
sea, instead of cooling the atmosphere, only tended to increase its
oppressiveness. We experienced precisely the same sensation as when
standing before the mouth of a heated oven. The quicksilver rose to such
a height as almost to make us doubt our own eyes. Even at Scheppmansdorf,
which is situated less than twenty miles as the crow flies from the sea,
and where there is almost always a refreshing breeze, the thermometer,
at noon, in an airy situation, and in the shade, rises, for many days
together, to 110 degrees of Fahrenheit!
In consequence of the fiery state of the atmosphere, every article
of horn or wood shrank and contracted most surprisingly. Even the
gun-stocks, made of the best English walnut, lost an eighth of an inch of
their original solidity. The ink dried in the pen almost the instant it
left the stand.[15]
Our wagons, moreover, which on leaving Scheppmansdorf were in excellent
order, were now quite infirm. The spokes and the tires became loose, and
the felloes and naves exhibited large gaps and fissures. To save them,
however, as much as possible, we set about making a shed of reeds and
rushes, strongly bound together by cords and light wooden sticks.
As soon as this was finished, I began my preparations for visiting
Galton at Barmen; and as Mr. Schöneberg was also anxious to make the
acquaintance of Mr. Hahn, his intended colleague, it was agreed that
we should travel together. On the day appointed we set out, mounted on
oxen, and accompanied by a Hottentot as guide and interpreter. Besides
his native tongue, this man spoke Dutch and Damara fluently. One or two
natives were also engaged to drive and to assist in packing the oxen.
As usual, I rode “Spring,” and Mr. Schöneberg an ox lent to him by Mr.
Rath; but, unfortunately, the latter animal turned very vicious, and
before we had proceeded many hundred yards I saw my friend pitched
head foremost into the moist bed of the Swakop. On rising from his
uncomfortable berth, the reverend gentleman looked very blank and
crestfallen, and nothing could again induce him to remount the brute.
Being, however, anxious to prosecute the journey, I made him an offer of
my own ox, which was gratefully accepted.
After this little mishap, all went on well for a while. Unfortunately,
however, in an unguarded moment, I too was doomed to be “un-oxed,”
to the great delight and amusement of my companion. Confiding in his
superior skill in managing a refractory ox, our guide now generously
exchanged with me. Notwithstanding his boasting, he was as unfortunate
as ourselves, for in the course of half an hour he had twice bitten the
dust. Nothing daunted, however, he mounted a third time, and ultimately
succeeded in convincing the animal that he was determined to be master.
In the course of the day we suddenly came upon a troop of zebras. Quickly
dismounting, I took a running shot at them as they were disappearing in
the brushwood, and had the good fortune to bring a fine male dead to
the ground. Immediately “off-saddling,” we helped ourselves to the best
parts of the meat, leaving the rest to one of our Damaras, who thought
a “tuck-out” of flesh—as Hans would have called it—preferable to a
wearisome journey to Barmen.
The flesh of the zebra, or “wild horse,” as the Dutch call it, is
eatable, but by no means good; for, besides possessing a very strong odor
and peculiar flavor, it has a very oily taste. With plenty of pepper and
salt, however, a steak is not to be despised by the hungry traveler.
The heat throughout the day had been terrific. Before the sun had
well disappeared behind the mountains between which we traveled, Mr.
Schöneberg was completely knocked up, and we were obliged to encamp for
the night. Each of us carried a small tin water-can; but, instead of
having it filled, as I did, with the pure liquid, Mrs. Rath had kindly,
but unwisely, provided her friend with a mixture of water, sugar, and
cinnamon. This, as may be supposed, only served to increase his thirst.
We had hardly finished removing the packs and saddles from our tired
steeds before the poor missionary threw himself despondingly on the
ground, exclaiming, “Ah! Mr. Andersson, if we were to tell people in
Europe what we suffer here, none would believe us.” I could not help
smiling at this burst of despair; for, though from the heat the day had
been distressing enough, we had by no means suffered either from want
of water or food. Poor Mr. Schöneberg! he was totally unfit for the
hardships he must necessarily encounter in the African deserts. Indeed,
not many weeks afterward he all but perished from his inability to endure
thirst for a short period.
The next morning at daybreak we were again in the saddle. Our course was
northerly, and a little by east; and the greater part of the road lay
some distance from the Swakop, which at one point forced its way through
a narrow, picturesque, and bold gorge.
In one place we passed at the foot of “Scheppman’s Mountain,” so called
from a melancholy event which occurred here a few years ago. A missionary
named Scheppman had made the ascent to obtain a view of the surrounding
country, but in descending the cock of his gun was caught by a bough,
and the contents were lodged in one of his legs. After having suffered
agonies for a few days, he expired, and the hill has ever since gone by
his name.
The vegetation was more rank than in the parts we had previously
traversed. In the course of the day we crossed the dry beds of several
large, sandy, and periodical streams, which were all tributaries to the
Swakop. The country near these streams was thickly studded with splendid
forests of the gigantic and park-like acacia, known to the Dutch as the
“kameel-doorn,” or giraffe thorn (_acacia giraffæ_). This tree derives
its name from its constituting the favorite and principal food of the
beautiful camelopard. On account of its immense size and peculiar growth,
having the foliage disposed from the top downward in umbrella-shaped
masses, it is a great ornament to the country; but, strange to say, it is
invariably found only in arid districts.
The “kameel-doorn” is evidently of very slow growth, and requires,
probably, many hundred years to arrive at maturity. The grain is
therefore very close; and the wood is so heavy that, after being dried
for years, it will sink when thrown into the water. Our northern oak
can in no wise be compared with it as regards hardness and solidity.
The grain is, however, rather short, and the wood consequently brittle.
Notwithstanding this defect, it is very strong, and is extensively used
for building purposes and implements of husbandry. It is, moreover,
almost the only wood strong enough for the axle-trees of wagons. Tools
of the best materials, however, are indispensable in working it. I have
seen many a well-tempered axe and adze blunted and spoiled when brought
in contact with it. The outer part of the tree is of a whitish color, but
the heart is reddish-brown, not unlike mahogany, and capable of a high
polish.
It is in the branches of this acacia, mentioned by several South African
travelers, that the social grossbeak (_loxia socia_) chiefly constructs
its interesting and singular nest.
Through the stupidity and mismanagement of our guide, who apparently
knew but little of the road, we missed a watering-place where we were to
have halted, and, in consequence, suffered extremely from thirst. Mr.
Schöneberg, moreover, had been very unwell during the day, and when we
arrived at the end of the stage, which was not until seven o’clock at
night, he was even more fatigued and exhausted than on the preceding
evening.
We bivouacked by the side of “Buxton Fountain,” so called in honor of the
late Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, from whom and his family, if I am rightly
informed, Mrs. Hahn had experienced much kindness. It is a hot spring,
and the water, which flows out of a granite rock, is nearly of a boiling
temperature, and has a brackish and disagreeable taste.
The soil, moreover, all round this fountain is impregnated with saline
substances. A considerable number of wild animals congregate here nightly
in order to quench their thirst. Lions, also, are at times numerous, but
on this occasion they did not molest us.
Having partaken of some supper, I was about to resign my weary limbs to
repose, when suddenly there issued from a small hole, close to my head, a
swarm of scorpions. Their appearance brought me to my feet in an instant;
for, though not a particularly nervous man, I am free to confess to a
great horror of all crawling things.
During the hot months these animals lie dormant, but on the approach of
the rainy season they come forth in great numbers. On removing stones,
decayed pieces of wood, &c., it is necessary to be very cautious. The
instant the scorpion feels himself in contact with any part of the body
of a man or beast, he lifts his tail, and with his horny sting inflicts a
wound which, though rarely fatal, is still of a very painful nature.[16]
Like the snake, the scorpion is fond of warmth, and it is not uncommon,
on awakening in the morning, to find one or two of these horrid
creatures snugly ensconced in the folds of the blanket or under the
pillow. On one occasion I killed a scorpion measuring nearly seven and a
half inches in length, that had thus unceremoniously introduced itself
into my bed.
The following morning our guide declared it to be only a few hours’
further traveling to Barmen. We therefore did not hurry our departure,
but took ample time to prepare, and to partake of, a substantial
breakfast, consisting of some strong coffee, and steaks of zebra-flesh,
simply prepared on the hot embers of our bivouac fire.
We arrived at Barmen just as the family was sitting down to dinner, and
Mr. Hahn kindly invited us to join in the ample repast. I was happy to
find Mr. Galton in the enjoyment of health and excellent spirits, and he
seemed delighted at our safe and speedy return.