A Christmas in the Desert.—Mr. Galton’s Return from the Erongo
Mountain.—He passes numerous Villages.—Great Drought; the
Natives have a Choice of two Evils.—The Hill-Damaras.—The
Damaras a Pastoral People.—The whole country Public
Property.—Enormous herds of Cattle.—They are as destructive as
Locusts to the Vegetation.—Departure from Richterfeldt.—The
Author kills an Oryx.—The Oxen refractory.—Danger of traversing
dry Water-courses on the approach of the Rainy Season.—Message
from the Robber-chief Jonker.—Emeute among the Servants.—Depart
for Schmelen’s Hope.
We had now been rather more than four months in the country, and
Christmas had imperceptibly stolen upon us. Singularly enough, though I
kept a journal, I was not aware of the fact until one morning the men
came to wish me a “merry Christmas.” A merry Christmas! alas! there were
no merry children—no joyous feast—no Christmas trees or other indication
of “the hallowed and gracious time.” One day was of the same importance
to us as another. Moreover, our store of grocery, &c., was too scant to
enable our cook to produce us a plum-pudding, or any of those dainty
dishes that even the working-man in civilized countries would be sorry
to be without at this season. Fortunately, we had now so accustomed
ourselves to “bush-diet,” that we did not even feel the want of what
others might deem to be the necessaries of life. Constant exposure
to the fresh air and perpetual exercise had so greatly increased our
appetites, and improved our digestive powers, that, though we might not,
like the natives, demolish a “yard” or so of flesh at a meal, we could,
nevertheless, play our part at meals as well as any London alderman;
in fact, we could eat at all times, and scarcely any thing ever came
amiss. A draft of water from the pure spring, and a piece of dried meat
just warmed in the hot ashes, was as much relished by us as a glass of
sparkling pale ale and a slice of Yorkshire ham would have been in Europe.
In this way we managed to live on cheerfully and agreeably; yet thoughts
of home, with all its comforts, and friends dear to memory, would now
and then flash across our minds. Such reflections, however, we tried to
avoid, as they only served to sadden us.
On the morning of the 26th of December Galton returned from his excursion
to Erongo. He had been suffering from fever, and was right glad to
find himself safe back at the encampment. The trip had been rather
satisfactory. The chief result of it was an addition of about twenty
oxen, and double that number of sheep and goats, to our live-stock. We
were now pretty well provided against all emergences, at least for some
time to come. Galton had, moreover, ascended the mountain, with which
he expressed himself much struck and pleased. He fully corroborated the
story of the natives as to its impregnability, for it was accessible only
in one or two places, and these could easily be defended against a whole
army by a mere handful of men.
In round numbers, it was about three thousand feet above the level of
the plain, and extended in a straight line upward of fifteen miles. The
vegetation appeared very much the same as elsewhere in Damara-land, but
perhaps more rank. The wild fig-tree grew rather plentifully among the
crevices of the rocks, and the travelers obtained an abundance of the
fruit, which was very palatable.
Erongo was only inhabited by Hill-Damaras, under the rule of different
petty chiefs. From all accounts, they were possessed of numerous herds
of cattle; but my friend only saw their tracks, as the natives were
unwilling to sell or to exhibit any of the animals. They waged an
exterminating war with the Damaras, who lived in the plains below, and,
having seen the party pass unmolested through the territory of their
mortal enemies, they were naturally suspicious as to their motive. They
probably thought that Mr. Galton had come with a view to spy out and
reconnoitre their stronghold, and then to return with re-enforcements in
order to carry off their cattle.
Both in going and coming Galton had passed through several large villages
of Damaras, who complained bitterly of the severe drought, which was
daily carrying off numbers of their stock. The only place that still
afforded grass and water in tolerable abundance was the country bordering
on the River Swakop; but there they feared the Namaquas. However, they
had only two alternatives—either to risk being plundered by these
unscrupulous people, or to perish, with their cattle, from hunger and
thirst. The first of these was thought the least of the two, and they
were, therefore, gradually approaching the dangerous district. Indeed,
several kraals had already been established at Richterfeldt.
Being entirely a pastoral people, the Damaras have no notions of
permanent habitations. The whole country is considered public property.
As soon as the grass is eaten off or the water exhausted in one place,
they move away to another. Notwithstanding this, and the loose notions
generally entertained by them as to _meum_ and _tuum_, there is an
understanding that he who arrives first at any given locality is the
master of it as long as he chooses to remain there, and no one will
intrude upon him without having previously asked and obtained his
permission. The same is observed even with regard to strangers. Thus
the once powerful chief Kahichenè was anxious to take up his quarters
at Richterfeldt; but, acting on the understanding described, he first
dispatched some of his head men to Mr. Rath, to ascertain from him how
far he was agreeable to his proposal. The reverend gentleman replied that
their master could do as he liked in this matter, as he himself was but a
stranger, and consequently could not lay any claim to the soil. However,
the messengers would not listen to this, and told him that their chief
would never think of intruding without having obtained special permission
to do so.
At this period Kahichenè was supposed to be the richest and most potent
chieftain throughout the country. His wealth, of course, consisted solely
in oxen and sheep. To give some idea of the number he then possessed,
I will state that, early on the day after the interview just mentioned
had taken place, the first droves began to make their appearance, and
continued to arrive, without intermission, till late in the evening of
the second day. Moreover, they did not come in files of one or two, but
the whole bed and banks of the Swakop were actually covered with one
living mass of oxen; and, after all, this was but a small portion of
what he really owned. In the space of three short weeks not a blade of
grass or green thing was to be met with for many miles on either side of
Richterfeldt. Indeed, a person unacquainted with the real cause of this
desolation would have been likely to attribute it to the devastating
influence of that scourge of Africa, the locust.
Much valuable time had hitherto been lost in obtaining information of
the country and the inhabitants, in buying and breaking-in of cattle,
and so forth, and this without our having accomplished any considerable
distance. We were now in hopes, however, of being able to prosecute our
journey in earnest, and no time was lost in making the final arrangements
for our departure. Our intended route lay to the north of Richterfeldt;
but as the country was said to be very hilly and densely wooded, we
deemed it advisable to proceed _viâ_ Barmen. As hardly mules enough were
left to draw the cart, it was thought best to leave it behind in charge
of Mr. Rath, who kindly promised to look after it in our absence. The two
wagons were thought sufficiently large to contain ourselves and baggage.
The oxen, which from the beginning had been only partially broken-in,
were now, from their long rest, wild, refractory, and unmanageable in
the extreme. Before we could effectually secure the two spans (teams)
necessary for the wagons, several hours had elapsed, and it was not till
late in the afternoon of the 30th of December, 1850, that we were able to
bid a final farewell to Richterfeldt and its obliging inhabitants.
We made but little progress the first day; and when we bivouacked for
the night, which was on the right bank of the Swakop, we were only three
hours’ journey from the missionary station. Indeed, we were obliged to
come to an early halt in consequence of the mules and some of the oxen
having taken themselves off.
During the night we were serenaded by whole troops of lions and hyænas.
One of the latter had the boldness to come within the encampment, and
only retreated after an obstinate combat with the dogs. In the bed of the
river, moreover, and where our cattle had been drinking during the night,
we discovered a spot where a lion had made a dash at a zebra, but his
prey had evidently disappointed him.
Next morning, without waiting for the return of the men who had been
sent in search of the missing animals, I shouldered my gun and went in
advance, in the hope of procuring a few specimens of natural history, as
also of meeting with game of some kind or other; nor was I disappointed.
At a bend of the river I suddenly encountered a fine herd of oryxes or
gemsboks, the supposed South African unicorn. As they dashed across my
path at double-quick time, and at least one hundred and fifty yards
in advance, I fired at the leading animal (which proved a full-grown
female), and had the satisfaction to see it drop to the shot. On going up
to my prize, I found that the ball—a conical one—had passed clean through
both shoulders, and this was, perhaps, somewhat remarkable, as the
gun-barrel was smooth in the bore. Having carefully removed the skin,
with the head attached to it, I set to work to quarter the flesh, which
was rather a laborious task.
Though it was winter (January), the day was oppressively hot, and the
leafless thorn-trees afforded no shelter against the burning rays of the
sun. I suffered excessively from thirst, and, unfortunately, the wagons
did not overtake me till after sunset. The Damaras yelled with delight
at the sight of the oryx. They had a glorious gorge that night, and the
return of daylight found them still at their feast!
With the exception of a heavy thunder-storm, accompanied by a deluge
of rain, our journey to Barmen was marked by no farther incident worth
recording. We reached it in safety on the 9th of January, 1851, after
seven days’ travel, half of which would have been sufficient under
ordinary circumstances; but we had experienced very considerable
difficulties in getting our wagons forward. The oxen pulled well enough
so long as the country was level, but the moment they had to face a hill
they came to a stand, and no amount of flogging would induce them to
move. When the whip was applied, it only produced a furious bellowing,
kicking, tossing of heads, switching of tails, and so forth. On such
occasions they would not unfrequently twist themselves entirely round in
the yoke, and it often took a whole hour to put them to rights again.
On account of the thick wood and general ruggedness of the country, the
dry beds of periodical water-courses afford the only really practicable
road. On the approach of the rainy season, however, these are not always
safe; for, when in imagined security, the traveler may perhaps all at
once find himself in the midst of a foaming torrent. If the oxen are not
well trained, most serious results are to be dreaded. There are many
instances of wagons with their teams having been thus surprised and swept
away. Our fears on this head, therefore, were not quieted until we were
in full view of the missionary-house at Barmen. Indeed, it was high
time, for on the third day of our arrival there the Swakop sent down its
mighty flood.
The first showers of rain, it should be remarked, usually fall as early
as September and October, but the rainy season does not fairly set in
until December and January.
A letter from Jonker Afrikaner was awaiting our arrival, expressing a
wish that Mr. Galton, in person, would pay him an early visit, that
they might confer together on the affairs of the country. My friend
was at first a little undecided how to act, as it might only have been
a _ruse_ of the crafty chief to entrap him. However, as, under every
circumstance, it would be better to know his real intentions than to be
kept in constant uncertainty and suspense, he determined, as soon as
circumstances permitted, to comply with Jonker’s desire.
When we bade farewell to Richterfeldt, it was in the firm conviction that
the principal obstacles to the expedition had been removed; but we were
sadly mistaken. Under different pretexts, the natives whom we had engaged
suddenly refused to proceed any further. Even the man who had first
drawn our attention to the Lake Omanbondè, and who seemed to be the only
one acquainted with it, threatened to leave us. Our Cape servants also
became somewhat sulky and discontented. Indeed, two of them, Gabriel and
John Waggoner, whom the reader will remember as having already given us
some trouble, demanded and obtained their dismissal. Thus circumstanced,
it was out of the question to think of immediately carrying our plan
into execution. We felt excessively annoyed, and our stock of patience
was well-nigh exhausted. Still, we did not give up all hope of ultimate
success.
Barmen, however, was ill suited as an encampment; for, though agreeable
enough as a residence for ourselves, grass for the cattle was scarce and
distant. Mr. Hahn advised us to push on to Schmelen’s Hope, situated at
about fifteen miles to the northward, where, inasmuch as there had not
been any natives dwelling of late, we should find abundance of pasturage.
Accordingly, we acted on his suggestion, and in the afternoon of the 13th
of January were established at that place.