when the lost are found. But, alas! it was not of long continuance.
Scarce had the returned searcher dropped down from his saddle, when
those who gathered clusteringly about him and his horse became conscious
of a sound, which caused one and all to start and cry out. It was but
as the buzz of a blue-bottle, but with sharper intonation and
intermittent. In short, they knew it to be the "tzip" of the tsetse; at
the same instant catching sight of the insect itself, its brown colour,
with yellow-banded abdomen, rendering it easily recognisable. With its
long wings in whirring play, it was flitting about over the horse's
body, as if in search of a spot to settle on.
Eager hands were stretched forth to seize hold of, or crush it. They
supposed it to have come along with the horse, and so the only one of
its kind there. But their efforts were idle; with the sun high and hot,
the tsetse becomes exceedingly active, and as difficult to be caught as
a _bombylins_ or dragon-fly. Darting from point to point, it eluded all
their attempts; in fine, retreating from its persecutors with a bizz
that seemed to say, "Catch me if you can."
It flew off towards some of the trek oxen that chanced to be near, and
several of the men followed in hopes of being able to kill it there.
But their surprise was light compared with their alarm, when, on getting
up to the oxen, they saw not one tsetse but a score of them; ay, there
might be hundreds or thousands for aught they could tell. The pestilent
insects were flitting about everywhere, and it was evident not only the
trek oxen, but the milk cows and horses were being assailed by them.
The dogs, too, as could be told by their rushing around and biting their
own bodies; some closing their jaws with a snap, like the shutting of a
snuff-box lid, in their efforts to seize the creatures that were
torturing them.
It was now that the camp rang with that cry which had caused
consternation in many another, and broken many another up.
"Tsetse--tsetse!" called out half a score voices in chorus. "Gott en
himmel! They're swarming all around!"
Then followed a scene of wildest excitement; that rushing to and fro
observed by Piet Van Dorn and his brother as they came within sight, and
heard the racket of shouts which had so mystified them.
They understood it all now, before Rynwald came up to them; who, after
some hurried words of explanation little needed, reined his horse round,
and the three rode together to the camp.
On arrival there, Piet Van Dorn was embraced by loving, affectionate
arms, and had kisses showered on his cheeks. Even a sly one got he from
his sweetheart, in a shadowed spot under the trees. But not much was
made of the spoils he had brought back. Just then the Vee-Boers had
other fish to fry--a great danger to get rid of--which he, as all the
rest, was called upon to combat.
Quickly dismounting, he lent a hand of help in the lading of the
waggons, which soon after-packed in a hurried, higgledy-piggledy
fashion--were ready for the route.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. "The tsetse" (_Glossinia morsitans_). Although the sting of
this insect is fatal to the domesticated quadrupeds above named, the
mule and ass are not injured by it. Neither are any of the wild animals
that inhabit the districts infested by it--a circumstance seeming
strange and inexplicable.
Note 2. The "bultong" of the South Africans is meat cured in a similar
fashion to the _tasaio_ of the Mexicans, and _charqui_ of South America,
commonly know as "jerked beef." The process is of great service in
countries where salt is a scarce commodity, or does not exist.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
CROSSING A "DRIFT."
As yet the alarmed emigrants had not decided on the direction to be
taken. Up stream was that which led to the district of country they
were _treking_ to. But to keep on the river's banks, wooded as these
were, might be to continue in the infested region, and they would
nothing gain by changing their place of encampment. At rest, or moving,
their animals would become victims to the insects' venom all the same.
So before starting, a consultation was held to determine the route.
Hurried it was, and without unanimity of opinion. Jan Van Dorn, leader
of the party, believed the tsetse had been brought thither by the
buffaloes, and was not anywhere else than just around that spot. There
was much probability in this view, regarding the behaviour of these
animals in their mad rush and routing. Not that they need have feared
the insect; as, unlike with domesticated cattle, its sting is never
fatal to them. But it annoys, and often sets them on the run. Despite
this likelihood, the other two _baases_, Blom and Rynwald, differed with
Van Dorn. In their belief there was tsetse all along the stream, up and
down, and their best way would be to trek off from it inland--anywhere.
While they were still undecided, the Gordian knot was cut by their
guide, Smutz. The nimble Hottentot had climbed, monkey-like, into the
highest branches of the mowana, where he commanded a far view of the
surrounding country; and from this elevated position had descried a
place of probable safety. It was a range of high hills running parallel
with the river; a dry, rocky ridge without any sign of timber on it, and
therefore unlikely to be infested with the fly so much feared.
Shouting down his discovery, it brought their deliberations to an abrupt
end, with a resolve to make straight for the hills. In any case it
would be but the loss of a day or two's time, with the toil of some
twenty miles' extra travel, the ridge appearing to be about ten or
twelve miles off. But what of that, so long as it saved their stock
from destruction? And, without further delay, the word went round for
starting; the oxen were whipped up, and the waggons moved off, leaving
the laager, late full of busy life, a deserted, desolate spot.
The river had still to be crossed, as they were on its southern side,
and the range of hills lay north. But about this they anticipated no
difficulty; having examined the _drift_ on the day before, and found it
easily fordable. When the attempt came to be made, however, it did not
prove so easy. The rain-deluge of the preceding night, which half
drowned Piet Van Dorn among the ant-hills, had swept all over the
country, and the stream was now in freshet to full channel.
There were ways of getting the people across, the animals, too. But the
waggons must wait for the subsidence of the waters. Luckily, this had
commenced, and, as they could see, was going on rapidly. Many South
African rivers rise to highest flood, to fall again within a few hours,
and such an one this appeared to be. With glad eyes they saw it go down
by inches, as though the water were filtering into the earth underneath,
as well as running off down stream.
Confident it would soon be at its normal level, they did not think of
outspanning. Instead, the oxen were kept attached to _dissel-boom_
[Note 1], and trek-touw; only the horsemen dismounting to make things
more trim for the passage across.
In an incredibly short space of time the water was low enough to attempt
it; and then arose a chorus of shouts, with cracking of whips, as
drivers, _achter-shambok_ men, and forelopers, urged the oxen down the
sloping bank into the stream's bed. Not less was the fracas while the
fording was being made, every moment of it a continuance of encouraging
cries, and whip-cracks loud as pistol shots, till the three huge
vehicles were dragged out on the northern shore, high, but not dry;
instead, dripping wet up to their boxes.
The fording had been effected without serious accident, though
accompanied by one of a comical character, in which Andries Blom was the
conspicuous figure. This ill-starred youth, now more than ever jealous
of Piet Van Dorn, while crossing the drift, rode close to the waggon
that carried Katharina Rynwald. With the hope of re-establishing
himself in her good graces, he was making great show of solicitude for
her safety, as also display of his horsemanship. This is a set-off
against Piet's late pitch out of the saddle, which had become known, and
his own account of it credited by all, save Andries himself. The
latter, however, affected disbelief in it, insinuating that it was a
simple downright "throw," no hyena-hole, nor any other having aught to
do with it. While wading his horse alongside the waggon, he had
sneeringly said as much to Katharina, to get for his pains a look of
reproachful scorn. Stung by it, and the jealousy that tortured him, he
became reckless, spurring his horse angrily in front. But the animal,
angered too, commenced pitching about, and tripping on the loose,
slippery stones in the stream's bed, went head over, not only sousing
its rider, but flinging him from the saddle. As the two struggled out
upon the bank, paces apart, the laughter that from all sides saluted him
was bitter as though it came from the throats of fiends; all the more
that a sweet silvery voice took part in it, which he knew to be
Katharina's.
But the merriment at his discomfiture was of short duration. Just then,
all were oppressed with an apprehension of the tsetse having already
done its deadly work, and that the fatal result would declare itself
later on. It was not that, however, which brought their hilarity to an
end, abrupt as though a bombshell had burst in their midst. This came
from a shout sent from the opposite side of the stream--that they had
just left--a cry of alarm. Looking across, they saw one of the Caffres,
who had lingered behind at the laager to pick up odds and ends, coming
at full run down to the drift, as he ran, excitedly exclaiming,
"Olifants! olifants!" (Elephants.)
What was there in this announcement to alarm them? Instead, a
professional hunter would have hailed it with delight, thinking of ivory
and the gain to be got from it. So might they, but for a spectacle
which on the instant after they had under their eyes. Looking back upon
the open list, late traversed by them, they beheld a band of elephants,
nigh a hundred in number, in all likelihood the same met on their
midnight march across the Karoo. But whether they, or others, the
danger was all the same and imminent. The huge pachyderms were coming
over the veldt and in their usual fashion, single file, making straight
for the drift, and likely to cross there. These sagacious animals know
all the waters within any district frequented by them--the springs,
vleys, and streams, with their fording places. The herd was advancing
as if along an oft-trodden track, and the apprehension of the
Vee-Boers--a very fear--was not without sufficient cause. Should the
elephants continue on over the stream, it would be sure destruction to
everything that chanced in their way. The rush of the buffaloes, lately
dreaded, were as nothing to it. It was now that the head _baas_, Jan
Van Dorn himself, assumed authoritative command, and gave display of his
intelligence; calling to the forelopers to lead off, with the drivers
and jambok men to whip up after. The waggons were instantly switched to
one side, and clear of the track, which the elephants, left unmolested,
would be likely to take. The driven cattle, too, were hurried out of
the way, the people at the same time seeking safety in concealment.
But the old jagers had no intention of leaving the olifants unmolested;
instead, he meant to make slaughter among them, and from their tusks get
some compensation for the loss sustained by that wholesale poisoning of
sheep.
He had barely time to arrange his battery--all the available guns
belonging to the party--as the leading elephant, a grand old tusker,
with ears big as carriage umbrellas, entered the open list in the
timber, the rest still following in file. Though going only in a walk,
it was with a stride that carried them along fast as most other animals
in full run, and in a few seconds after the tusker stood on the stream's
bank; then with a flourish of trumpets, and a whirl of his flexible
trunk, struck straight down into the water.
But never to go out of it again alive, on his own legs. Scarce had he
wetted his huge hooves, when he was saluted by a fusillade from the
opposite side that not only tumbled himself over, but five or six of his
fellows following immediately behind, some of them wounded, some killed
outright. The rest of the herd took instant affright and wheeling
round, went off in wild rush, no longer aligned, but in scattered
confusion, breaking through the bushes in every direction.
When the waggons were again drawn back upon track, and moved off inland,
in addition to their usual loading, they carried several hundred pounds
weight of valuable ivory.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The "dissel-boom" of a waggon is the pole to which the hind
oxen are attached, the others in front drawing by the trek-touw.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A CAMP FULL OF CARCASSES.
Another encampment of the Vee-Boers, their three waggons as before,
forming its substantial centre. In almost everything else it is
different from that under the baobab, being situated in a _kloof_ [Note
1] between two rocky ridges, which, trending towards one another, meet
and form a sort of _cul-de-sac_. The valley's bottom is of some
breadth, grass--covered but treeless, save some stunted bushes scattered
thinly over it, with here and there a tall camel-thorn, from which hang
the purse-like pensile nests of a colony of weaver birds. The ridges
are of basalt, and along their slopes lie huge boulders, some
square-shaped and big as houses; other similar blocks being strewn about
on the level below. Just over the camp, and shadowing it from the sun,
is a high _kop_ [Note 2], on whose ledges cling aloes, euphorbias, and
other plants, characteristic of desert vegetation; for all is
barrenness, above and around, the bottom land alone showing any sign of
fertility. This last is due to a spring, which, issuing from the
cliff's base, trickles down the valley, to be caught in a little pool,
some hundred paces below. Being a permanent fontein, it afforded
sufficient water for all the animals when they wanted it. But few of
them want it now; most being dead, whilst those that survive are in
death's throes, without hope of recovery. The fatal work begun by the
tulp, is being finished by the tsetse; good as finished already--and the
migrating graziers will soon be without stock of any kind, horse, ox, or
cow. Even their dogs are dead or dying.
This wholesale fatality, as they have since ascertained, was brought
about by the buffaloes; some of the people, sent back to the river
higher up, having there found no signs of the venomous insect. They had
gone with a view to continuing the journey; but before a fresh start
could be made, the too well-known symptoms of tsetse-sickness had
declared themselves, and all thoughts of treking further were
relinquished.
For the first forty-eight hours the effect of the poison had not been
perceptible, and there was a hope of the animals escaping. A hope which
had to be abandoned when they began to water at the eyes, and run at the
nostrils, their hair standing on end as in the midst of an arctic
winter, while they were under the hottest of tropical suns. Soon after
came swelling of the jaws, scouring, with consequent emaciation,
weakness to staggering; some actually going mad, as with hydrophobia,
and having to be shot. All would have been shot ere this, but for a
lingering, half-despairing belief that some might still get over it.
This is now gone; many of them have been buried; and of those above
ground, the dying lie mingled with the dead, groaning and moaning
piteously.
When at length comes the conviction that all are doomed, the fiat goes
forth to put the suffering creatures out of pain. The guns are again
brought into requisition; a brisk, though reluctant, fusillade follows,
and the camp is left without a living quadruped.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a time there was silence, profound and solemn as that which succeeds
the firing over a soldier's grave. Every one sate despondent, or stood
in listless attitude, ignorant of what was next to be done. They but
knew that to remain there would be out of the question, while treking
away with their waggons was no longer possible. These huge vehicles,
now teamless, with their white canvas covers, were as ships becalmed in
mid-ocean; all sails set, but not a breath of wind to blow them on. And
the migrating Boers themselves might be likened to shipwrecked sailors--
castaways on a desert shore--for not much better was their situation.
Around they saw the ruin of their hopes, the wreck of their fortunes,
but nothing of what lay before them, or beyond.
Under such circumstances no wonder at their being sad and despondent.
But if silent, not so was the scene around. Throughout the kloof were
noises enough, and more than enough, since all were disagreeable to
their ears. Skulking among the rocks and bushes, the jackal gave out
its long--drawn, lugubrious whine, in concert with the wild, hysterical
laughter of the hyena; while from the ledges above came the hoarse
wah-wah of baboons, as though these quadrumana were afflicted with
colds, and all the time clearing their throats.
Along the cliff's crest were perched vultures of various species,
sunning themselves, with wings outstretched, now and then uttering harsh
croaks as they contemplated the rich banquet below, soon to be ready for
their beaks. [Note 3.] Eagles, soaring high in air, meant partaking of
it also, as betokened by their necks craned downwards, and screams of
eager concupiscence.
An interval having elapsed, and the necessity for action forcing itself
upon his mind, the head baas, Jan Van Dorn, summoned his two associates
into council, for deliberation on what should be done.
A flat-topped stone near the centre of the camp offered a convenient
seat, and, sitting down upon it--all three pipe in mouth--the leader
thus delivered himself--
"Brothers! we're in a bad way now; it couldn't well be worse."
"Ya--ya, that is true," responded the others in a breath, Blom adding--
"Nach Mynheer Jan, it couldn't possibly be worse."
"Then what ought we to do, think you?"
To which merely formal question Van Dorn received no answer, the other
two tacitly puffing away at their pipes in expectation that he would
tell them. Accustomed to this sort of deference the old jager no longer
held back, but proceeded to unburden himself, saying--
"Well, brothers; the first thing we must do is to look out for our
lives--our very lives. And it's the only thing we can do now. To keep
on to the place we were making for, even though sure of reaching it,
wouldn't help us a bit. Without our cattle we'd be no better off there
than here; and now that our horses and dogs are gone too, there's but
small chance for us subsisting by the chase. Once our ammunition gave
out, we'd be just as Bosjesmen, have to live on roots and reptiles.
That's not the life for a Vee-Boer, nor the diet either."
"_Gott der himmel_, no!" was the deprecatory exclamation of Blom, sent
forth between two puffs of smoke.
"So," continued Van Dorn, "I see no hope for us but return to the
Transvaal."
"Neither I. Nor I," assented the associate baases, Rynwald adding
interrogatively--
"But, Mynheer Jan, how are we to get back there?"
This was just the trouble that stared all in the face, and had been in
their thoughts ever since the tsetse-sickness first made its appearance
among the stock. For in their thoughts, also, was the Karoo they had
lately crossed with so much difficulty and danger. This when they had
all the means of transport, waggons to carry their women, children,
provisions, and other effects, with horses to ride upon. What would be
the recrossing it without these, and afoot? Impossible, as Van Dorn
well knew; and so declared, saying--
"Overland, brothers, we never could get back. We are more than three
hundred miles from Zoutpansberg, the nearest settlement of our people,
as you know. Some of us might hold out to reach it, but not all; only
the strongest. The weak ones, our dear ones, would many of them perish
by the way. Need I say more?"
"No--no!" promptly responded Rynwald, thinking of a wife and only
daughter, the fair Katharina. "That's enough, Mynheer Jan. We mustn't
attempt to go back over the Karoo; it would be our ruin, as you say."
"Then how are we to go?" demanded Blom. "What other way?"
"By _water_," answered the head baas. "We must make down the river, and
on to the sea."
"What river are you speaking of?"
"The Limpopo. The stream we've just left should run into it, not a
great way below; and the Limpopo itself empties somewhere to the
northward of Delagoa Bay. I have heard there is a Portugese settlement,
a small port near its mouth, where whalers and coasting vessels
occasionally call. If we can reach that, 'twill give us a chance to get
down the coast to Port Natal, and then over the Drakenbergs back home."
"That would be a long voyage," suggested Blom, "full of all sorts of
dangers, too."
"In time not near so long as by land, and not half as many dangers
either--if we have luck."
"Ay, if we have luck. But suppose we haven't?"
"We must take the chances, Mynheer Hans; all the more as there's no help
for it. But I'm sure it's our best way."
"So I," seconded Rynwald.
"But," said Blom, less objecting than to get a clearer comprehension of
what their chief intended, "you don't propose our descending the river
afoot--tramping along the banks, do you?"
"Certainly not! That would be a trudge to take time, indeed; harder
than crossing the Kalahari [Note 4] itself. We'll sail down to the
sea."
"But what about boats? We have none."
"We must do without them--build rafts, which in a way will be better
than boats."
"Oh! that's your idea, Mynheer Jan. I suppose it's a good one, and for
the best. Well, I'm willing too. So let us make it a water journey."
The other two having already pronounced in favour of this, the
consultation came to a close by Van Dorn saying--
"And, brothers; the sooner we start the better. We can gain nothing by
staying longer in this tainted spot; but may lose something--our health,
likely, if not our very lives."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. "Kloof," the Boer's designation of a valley of the ravine
order.
Note 2. The "kop" is a cliff-like promontory overhanging a valley or
plain, nearly synonymous with the American "bluff." It is, doubtless,
the Dutch radix of our word _cape_.
Note 3. There are no less than seven distinct species of vultures
inhabiting South Africa; while the species of eagles are still more
numerous.
Note 4. "Kalahari," the name of the great South African desert, or
Karoo, which extends north from the Orange River, and west of the
Transvaal, for hundreds of miles. Its borders, and some parts of its
interior, are inhabited by Bushmen and Bechuanas.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
A CARNIVAL OF THE CARNIVORA.
Needless to say that Van Dorn's last words, pointing to the urgency of
immediate departure, were convincing to his associate baases, had they
stood in need of conviction. But neither did; they, as he, being but
too glad to get away from a scene where they had suffered so much loss,
to say nothing of the misery. The spectacle now under their eyes was
itself sufficiently disagreeable, seeming a very charnel-house. Scores
of carcasses lay in and around the camp; and, as the hot sun continued
to burn down upon them, the effluvia was every moment becoming more
offensive, and would soon be unbearable. True, they could be buried as
those first dying had been. But, for days past, an understanding
prevailed that the encampment was to be changed, time and place alone
remaining undetermined. The former had now come, and the latter been
also resolved upon; no new ground, but one familiar to them--in short,
that they had so lately and hurriedly abandoned.