Obstinate stowaways--Free Town and a fight--Bay rum as a
beverage--Sugden lets off smoke-bombs--Cape Town, a party, and some
Anzacs--Oom Tuys advises haste--Through South Africa--Americans and
Boers in Ermelo--Hurried visit to Swaziland for information--Mystery
over the coronation--Royal gin for Labotsibeni--Debeseembie drinks and
talks.
We were certainly unpopular with the skipper when we got back on
board. The officers who had attended our fistic tournament had
returned slightly the worse for wear, and, of course, their condition
was laid at our door. In fact, we retired to our pallets on the
poop-deck feeling that we had not one friend on the ship, outside of
the gunner, who was heavily subsidized. It was his job to feed us, and
we tipped him liberally to get us the best there was. He earned his
money, however.
At dawn the next morning there was a fine explosion--the captain
fairly blew up. The chief officer had discovered two stowaways, and we
were wakened by his marching them up to the captain's cabin. It seems
it was the duty of the commanding officer of the ship to return these
stowaways to the port where they slipped on board, and the rules made
him responsible for their cost until he did so. This annoyed our
worthy captain exceedingly and his language was more sultry than the
weather, and that is saying a great deal. In his torrent of profanity
the skipper included Dr. Sugden and myself, for it seems that he held
us responsible for the stowaways getting aboard the ship.
While he relieved himself of all that bad language, the two stowaways,
both negroes, stood silent, although there was a baleful gleam in
their eyes. They were finally told off to do some work, but flatly
refused to lift a finger. Then food was denied them until they did
work, and the matter reached a deadlock. The captain finally decided
to put into Free Town, in the Barbadoes, and turn them over to the
authorities there after making arrangements for their return to St.
Lucia.
When the ship reached Free Town the captain gave strict orders that no
one should be allowed ashore, adding, "particularly those two
doctors!" We did not like this, as Free Town is a pleasant place and
we could have found relaxation there that would have broken the tedium
of the voyage. We needed the break, too, for the captain had ordered
that we should not be allowed to buy any more liquor after the events
at St. Lucia.
However, we had commissioned the gunner to see what he could do for us
and he had gone ashore with "the old man." In a little while a busy
motor-launch, with the Union Jack flying free, came chugging alongside
with our worthy captain and six of the Free Town police.
They tumbled on board and announced to the stowaways that they were
under arrest.
"We are, are we?" these worthies asked. "Well then, come and get us!"
They tore off their coats and shirts and waited for the attack. The
police made no move, and I did not blame them. These two outcasts were
the finest specimens of "fighting niggers" I have ever seen. Their
torsos were ribbed with muscle and they looked fit to fight for their
lives. What was more, they seemed anxious to begin!
The police shuffled their feet, and I saw that they were afraid to
tackle them. The stowaways saw it, too, and became cocky. They turned
on the captain and officers of the ship and let loose a flood of
damaging language quite as strong as their splendid bodies.
Expurgated, it ran something like this:
"You white folks think 'cause you've got some gol' braid on yer coats
that yu' kin run over us! Come on an' get us! If yu' wanter arrest us,
come an' do it! Yu' aint got th' nerve! Yu're afraid, that's wot yu'
are! Come on an' fight, white men, come on!"
Not one of the officers or police moved. The stowaways were right;
they were afraid. Then Sugden and I broke the tension by cheering the
stowaways. Like us, they were the under dogs and we were for them. We
cheered and applauded their defiance, and this proved too much for the
forces of law and order.
There was a wild rush, and after a few sturdy blows the stowaways were
overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. When the flailing arms stopped,
they were flat on the deck with about six men sitting on each. The
irons were brought and clapped on them, and the last we saw of them
was when they were hustled on board the launch.
While this party was going on the gunner had been busy on our behalf.
He had been unable to sneak away from the captain's gig when ashore,
but made up for it by doing business with the bumboat men who came
alongside. From one of these he bought two cases of bay rum, paying
twenty cents a quart for it. This he smuggled down into our steerage
and told us about it as soon as the smoke of battle had cleared away.
Now this bay rum is not meant for drinking, although the blacks of
that part of the world consume great quantities of it. I have heard
that it makes them wild, and I am not surprised. It did worse than
that to Sugden and me.
We started drinking it as soon as we could, and before long we reached
the semi-conscious state that made life bearable. From this we went
into the second stage--that of hallucinations. We went practically
crazy. Sugden insisted that he was a red squirrel and I believed that
I was a wild cat. We became violent and were locked in the steerage.
However, they did not take our bay rum away.
Now the captain never visited our quarters, so he did not know of our
plight until the end of the second day. Then he ordered that we be
released. No sooner was the hatch taken off than Sugden tore up the
ladder, crying out that "the wild cat" was after him. I was! Believing
his assertion that he was a red squirrel, I chased him all over the
boat, intent on killing him.
We dashed through the officers' quarters, the captain's cabin, across
the decks, up on the bridge and down again, and even got into the
engine-room in our mad chase. Every one on the ship followed us,
roaring with laughter. It was the funniest thing they had ever seen.
Finally they captured us and brought us back to earth with buckets of
sea-water.
The captain was so amused that he forgave our previous sins and became
our friend. He confiscated the balance of the bay rum and put us on an
allowance of one stiff drink of whiskey each evening. This helped, but
it was not very much under the circumstances.
The next afternoon Sugden made a hit with the captain. The World War
was not long over and the ship had a number of smoke-bombs which were
supposed to be used in foiling U-boats. The gunner was in charge of
them. Since they were no longer needed, the captain gave orders that
they be thrown overboard.
The gunner, however, proved inexpert. He lighted several, and then
dropped them over the stern so quickly that the fuse was extinguished
without the bomb exploding. Sugden watched these manoeuvers with
extreme disgust. At each failure his remarks became more insulting.
Finally he could stand it no longer--he had not yet fully recovered
from the bay rum--and staggered up to the gunner.
"You're a fine gunner," he snorted. "Who ever heard of a gunner who
couldn't make a smoke! Stand back and let an expert let 'em off!"
I was deathly afraid that he might have an accident, that one of the
bombs would explode and kill him. The gunner had the same idea and
hurriedly withdrew. The captain called to Sugden, but he paid no
attention. He lighted the first bomb, held it for an interminable
time, and dropped it over. It "boomed" as it struck the water and
threw out the smoke-screen in most approved navy fashion. We all
cheered, partly from relief that there had been no accident. Then
Sugden let off all the rest of the bombs without a failure.
"Well, you're a little bit of all right, after all," the captain said.
"Come down to my cabin and I'll give you a real drink!"
From then on we had a pleasant trip. Our captain let bygones be
bygones and we enjoyed the few remaining days enough to partly make up
for the misery that had preceded them.
Crespinell and Rossman had arrived in Cape Town when we reached there,
and came out in a motor-boat to meet us. We introduced them to our new
friend, the captain, and he gave them a brief resume of our activities
during the thirty-odd days of the voyage. He gave us credit for being
two of the "rarest specimens" he had ever encountered.
"The next time I ship two such wild men as these," he said, "I'll move
into the forecastle and give 'em my cabin! What's more, from now on
I'm going to limit myself to one doctor a trip, and he won't be a
Boer, either. These two devils did everything from start a menagerie
on one case of bay rum to instigate a mutiny when we had some fighting
stowaways on board."
Then he gave a romantic and none too flattering account of how we had
been arrested in St. Lucia, and ended by informing my men that we were
"fugitives from justice." This had not occurred to me; perhaps it is
so and I shall find the funny black policeman waiting for me the next
time I visit the island.
We were glad to get ashore. It is one thing to race across the
Atlantic in five days on a floating palace and quite another and
none-too-pleasant experience to spend more than a month on a freighter
in the warmer latitudes. The solid earth welcomed our feet and we
found Cape Town very gay.
After getting settled at the hotel, we started out to enjoy ourselves.
Of course we chartered a motor, and our trail could easily be followed
by the familiar fumes of gasoline and alcohol. The town was full of
"Anzacs," Australian and New Zealand soldiers, returning from the war.
They were great big reckless devils, glad to be going home and
glorying in the fact that they had won the war. This led to an
argument and to my taking a short and sad cruise in the "Mayflower,"
this being the highflown name of a typical Cape Town hack.
In one of the many places we visited during the course of our rambles,
we ran into a number of "Aussies" celebrating the downfall of the
Boche. They immediately noted Dr. Sugden's sombrero and greeted him as
a "Yank." This was all right, but soon they added a familiar remark,
"The Yanks won the war; oh yes, they did!" and Sugden became
indignant. The usual argument ensued. Words ceased when Sugden slammed
his hat on the ground and offered to lick them all. A second later we
were in the center of a fine melee, which was ended by the military
police breaking in.
Sugden was badly used up and some of the rest of us were severely
bruised. The nearest vehicle was the "Mayflower," so we piled the
"fighting Yank" into it and took him back to the hotel. He had been
badly damaged, so that it was a week before we were able to travel.
In the meantime Oom Tuys had sent me several telegrams in which he
urged me to hurry. In one there was the phrase, "Tzaneen making
trouble; maybe war," and this sounded as if we were in for an
interesting time when we reached Swaziland. I did not understand how
she could do anything unless she tried to take the throne for Sebuza
by force, but the situation looked as though there was some excitement
ahead.
Sugden was still recuperating from his battle with the Australians and
expected to remain in bed for a few days more when this wire reached
me. I showed it to him and he immediately became excited.
"Come on, let's go" he said, getting out of bed. "We're wasting time
here. Let's get into Swaziland and see what's doing."
We left next day for the Transvaal. It is a long journey, but to one
who has not made it before there is much of interest.
After leaving the coast there come the beautiful mountain passes of
the Cape Colony. Then the train drops to the Karoo Desert, with its
endless brown stretches broken only by dry rivers, near which can be
seen great herds of sheep. Kimberley, with its barrenness and huge
dumps of dark, diamond-washed soil comes next, and finally the Great
Fish River is crossed to the grassy plains of the Orange Free State.
Across these plains the train runs for hundreds of miles, and then
comes the Vaal River, after which the veldt of the Transvaal is
reached. After a while the huge smoke-stacks and great white ore-dumps
of Johannesburg loom, and the journey is practically ended.
My companions were keen to hear all about this country, so new to
them, and I was kept busy running from side to side of the car
supplying their thirst for information. Dr. Sugden, I found, was well
up on the history of the country and would often supply a missing date
when I related the romantic story of the Boer and British conquest of
South Africa.
We spent several days in Johannesburg, and my companions were
delighted with it. They frequently commented on its being like an
up-to-date American city, as they found practically everything there
that they would expect in the United States. In fact, Sugden was loud
in his praises of the telephone service, which he insisted was "almost
as good as that at home." The city has developed extensively during
the last twenty years and now has buildings, hotels, and streets of
the most modern type. The great contrast lies in the character of the
street traffic. There are hundreds of motors of all kinds, but there
are also innumerable rickshaws drawn by Zulus, thousands of kaffirs,
and not a few horse-cabs.
Then, of course, the huge mine-dumps right in the heart of the city
struck my companions as extraordinary, but it must be remembered that
the city grew up after the mines were sunk. There are miles and miles
of smoke-stacks, and the crushing of the ore mills can always be
heard. My party was much impressed by Parktown, the millionaires'
suburb to the north of the city. Here there are libraries, a
zoological garden, and all things essential to a thoroughly equipped
and prosperous city. I have many friends in Johannesburg and my
companions had a pleasant time visiting them with me.
They had their first view of a real Boer village when we landed in
Ermelo a few days later. The morning we reached there we saw several
score of Cape carts loaded with farmers and their wives coming to town
to shop. Then there were several of those great canvas-topped freight
wagons, drawn by seven or eight span of wide-horned oxen and driven by
a number of kaffir boys. These walk alongside with their long goads,
and the entire progress of the caravan is one long shout. With the
yelling of the kaffirs, the creaking of the great wagon, and the
frequent lowing of the oxen, the noise of such an outfit is as
striking as is its picturesque appearance.
Sugden was intensely interested in these great freight trains, and
reminded me of their similarity to those which made the overland trail
in the States during the days of the forty-niners. The heavy-set men
riding beside the wagons particularly impressed him.
"Why, they are the same men that settled the West of my country," he
exclaimed. "Their steady eyes and great beards remind me of the days
of Crockett and Boone. Their rifles, ready for instant use, carry out
the picture. Fred Remington would have been crazy over these ox-teams!"
I noted that the interest was not all on our side; these farmer Boers
were quite as curious about us as we were about them. They called each
other's attention to our strange clothes, and not a few looked with
envy at Dr. Sugden's sombrero. He was right about these men. They are
the true pioneer breed, the men who found and make empires!
Oom Tuys was not in Ermelo. One of his boys was waiting for me,
however, with a message that preparations were being made for the
coronation at Lebombo, but that Labotsibeni had made no sign as yet.
He assured me that I need not worry and that he would join me at
Ermelo in a day or two.
I commenced assembling our expedition, and while I was so occupied my
companions visited about and made many friends among the Boers. None
of them had ever seen any Americans, although they had heard much of
the United States, and they were greatly interested in everything the
latter said and did. In fact, word reached the outlying districts that
some Americans were in Ermelo and several hundred Boers trekked in to
see them. Of course my companions could not talk Dutch and it was
seldom that an interpreter could be found. It was no unusual thing for
several great, bearded Boers to shake hands with them and say, "Hello,
America!" this being the extent of their English. Sometimes
conversations would take place in very broken English, the Boers
always wishing to get news from the outer world.
I remember one such talk. The Boer was a sort of preacher and was
fairly well read. He spoke English of a kind--that is, it was
understandable. He caught Sugden and me when we were returning from
looking over some oxen and asked us a question that had been
perplexing him. I translate his words into ordinary language, as
otherwise they would be difficult to understand.
"The war is over, yes?" he asked. "And America sent more than two
million men and spent hundreds of millions of pounds. England, France,
and the others will take much from Germany and Austria, but America
says she will take nothing. Is this so?"
"Yes, that's right," Sugden answered.
"Why is America so foolish?" he asked in a puzzled way. "She loses
thousands of men and millions of money, and yet wants nothing from
Germany! Why did she go into the war?"
This question was not asked so often in those days, and I was curious
to hear Sugden's reply.
"America went into the war to save herself," the doctor answered
positively. "If Germany had won, she would have had to fight her
alone, so she went in to avoid such a war."
This satisfied the greybeard, but he went off muttering, "America
wants nothing! America wants nothing! Such a foolishness!"
Naturally, he could not understand this. Every time the Boers made war
they gained territory, as did the British, and he judged from his own
experience. I was glad that Sugden had stated the facts, instead of
the old cant about America fighting to "save civilization." I know the
old Boer would not have understood that and would have regarded it as
what Sugden called "bunk."
I had about finished assembling our outfit when Tuys came. He brought
word that the coronation was indefinitely postponed, so we settled
down to wait a bit before starting for the wilds of Swaziland. As
usual, the unexpected happened. One of Tuys's men came to Ermelo in
hot haste, bearing word that the coronation was to take place as soon
as possible.
This was disconcerting information, and Tuys and I held a council of
war.
"I don't believe that they intend having the coronation right away,"
he said. "I don't think that Sebuza has been properly consecrated yet."
"Well, you know what we've just heard," I said. "I wish we could get
some first-hand information about it. I'd hate to lose out after all
the trouble I've taken."
"Owen, lad, there's just one thing to do--let us make a quick trip to
Zombode and find out about it," my uncle advised.
We talked the matter over for some time, and that seemed to be the
only solution. There were still a few details of our expedition to be
attended to, but I turned these over to Sugden and made up my mind to
leave next morning.
Dawn saw Oom Tuys and me on the trail. We rode fast ponies and went
unattended. What food we needed we carried in saddle-bags, and the
most weighty part of our load consisted of several bottles of gin.
These, of course, were a necessity.
The trip proved uneventful. The weather was good and we were able to
sleep out comfortably. We skirted around Mbabane, since it would not
do for Mr. Commissioner Dickson to know that Tuys was going into
Swaziland.
When we reached Zombode we found Lomwazi on guard at the royal kraal.
He came out to meet us and received our gift of gin with rather poor
grace. He seemed uneasy and not at all glad to see us. We asked to see
Queen Labotsibeni.
"Nkoos, the queen is not well and cannot see you," he answered, lying
badly.
"But she sent for me," Tuys said, catching his eye and meeting lie
with lie. With the assured air of the white man, he was able to tell
his lie convincingly.
We knew that we would be caught if we allowed Lomwazi to return to the
old queen alone, so we dogged his footsteps and arrived at her hut
with him. Tuys fairly pushed in ahead of Lomwazi, and a moment later
was talking to Labotsibeni.
"Nkosikaas, mother of Buno the Great," he said, "I, the White King of
Swaziland, am here to do your bidding. Your son, Lomwazi, told me that
you are not well and I have brought Mzaan Bakoor, the great doctor, to
cure you."
I could see the old woman seemed very feeble. She nodded approval as
Tuys finished and answered by asking for gin. Lomwazi pulled out the
glass stopper and a moment later held the earthenware cup to his
mother's lips. She gulped and choked, then repeated her action, and
finally finished the drink, gasping for breath.
We sat and watched and saw a transformation. As the alcohol went down
we saw her strength return. In a few minutes she was the same old
queen I had known before. Lomwazi squatted behind her with sullen
look. When he glanced our way there was murder in his eyes, and I did
not like it. Tuys, always reckless and utterly fearless, gave him
glance for glance, and the black man's eyes always fell.
"I am cured, Nkoos," Labotsibeni began in quite a strong voice. "I am
well. The 'muti' of the white man cures all ills of the body, even
when it numbers the years as the leaves of the trees. Why have you
come to see me?"
"I wish to know when you plan to make your grandson, Sebuza, the son
of Buno, king of Swaziland," Tuys answered without fencing. He thought
that a direct answer might get the truth.
"When all is ready Sebuza will be made king," she answered without
hesitation, and it seemed to me there was the ghost of a smile on her
lips.
Tuys then asked her how soon that would be, but she said she did not
know. This time I was sure she smiled. I had a feeling that we would
get no information out of her and that Zombode was not any too anxious
for the coronation.
Tuys then asked for Sebuza and wanted to know where he was. The blind
old queen let Lomwazi answer us, and the wily vizier said he did not
know, but that he thought the crown prince was in the mountains being
consecrated.
According to the ancient customs, before the new king takes office he
must go through a lengthy ceremonial in the mountains. This usually
lasts for two months, or "two moons," and the priests, or
witch-doctors, are in charge of the rites. In the case of Sebuza the
sanctification was also the celebration of his attaining manhood.
After Lomwazi's evasive reply--for I felt that he was
lying--Labotsibeni began to ask questions. I knew that we must answer
them in detail if we wished to get any further information, so we did
so. She became quite peevish when the effect of the gin wore off and
was nothing but a querulous old woman. But she asked the most
extraordinary questions! I realized more than ever that she had
brains, for she went from one end of the world to the other. Of course
she had no education as we know it, but she asked about the Boers and
British and how they were getting along together, "lying in the same
bed," as she put it.
She had heard that all the white men were at war with one another, and
she asked question after question about the world conflict. It seems
that aeroplanes had flown over parts of Swaziland during the war, and
she was curious about these. They had been described to her as great
birds carrying men and guns, and she wanted to know how it was done.
Tuys and I kept our patience and answered everything we could, always
trying to get a stray bit of information concerning Sebuza's
coronation. She had several drinks of gin during the talk, which ended
after about three hours with our being no wiser than when we came.
Once or twice we thought the news was coming, but each time the
watchful Lomwazi stepped into the breach and turned the subject. We
were completely baffled.
Finally we gave it up. As we made our farewell speech, in which we
wished the old queen "long life and good health," I offered her the
"going-away present." Then ensued an incident that showed how keen she
was in spite of her great age and lack of sight.
The gin bottle was an unusual shape; that is, it was long and tall,
instead of being squat and square. When I handed it to her she passed
her hands over it with rapidity and then asked what it was, for she
had never had a bottle like it before.
"It is royal gin," I assured her. "It is gin that is made only for
kings and queens. It is the gin that the queen of the English drinks.
It is the only gin worthy of you, Nkosikaas!"
This satisfied her and she accepted our farewell, so we went back to
our horses. Tuys was amused at the old queen's keenness and told me I
had committed treason by making the Queen of England drink gin to
placate a Swazi potentate. Lomwazi came with us to do the honors,
though really he wanted to make sure we did not talk to any one and
get information. He was still sullen and suspicious, and we pointedly
did not present him with the gin he hoped for, although he saw that we
had several bottles left.
"It's no use, Owen," Tuys said, as we rode down the trail to the
Valley of Heaven. "They are planning something, and I fear it means
trouble for that cub, Sebuza. I have a feeling that we ought to get
our outfit here and sit tight and watch events. Something is going to
happen. It may be a new king or a dead crown prince. I can't tell
which."
That night we camped near a kraal of one of the minor indunas and
noted that there was less cordiality than usual. Tuys strolled over to
the great fire and talked for some time with the warriors. In a little
while he came back quite excited.
"Debeseembie, Lomwazi's brother, is over there," he said. "He is
inside the kraal, but some of his men let out the fact that he was
there. I wonder what he is doing? Suppose we try and find out."
This seemed a good idea, and Tuys went about it in his own cunning
way. He strolled over to the fire and told one of the warriors that he
had a bottle of gin for Debeseembie, but that he would only deliver it
to him personally. Then he came back to where I was stretched on my
blankets.
Now a Swazi, like all other kaffirs, will do anything for alcohol,
even to the sacrifice of his royal dignity. Debeseembie was the son of
a queen and the brother of the late King Buno; nevertheless, he was
standing respectfully nearby within a few minutes.
"Nkoos, you have a present for me?" he asked, and I could see his eyes
flash in anticipation.
"Yes, if you will sit and talk a while," I told him, and then produced
a bottle. Tuys poured out a generous drink and gave it to him.
Debeseembie choked it down, just as the kaffirs always do, and then
gasped for breath for a moment.
Then Tuys began talking about many things, none of them with much
bearing on the information we wanted. In a little while Debeseembie
had another drink. He is the most sincere of all the royal family and
I have always found him to be very trustworthy. He is not a good liar
and seems to know it.
Gradually we led the conversation to the coming coronation and finally
asked him the leading question: How soon will it be? He was not
angered and gave us the first direct intimation of the trouble we had
suspected.
"My brother, Lomwazi, doesn't want it to take place," he said; "and he
has great power over our mother. He frightens her by telling her that
she will have to die when Sebuza is crowned. All the people of
Swaziland want to have a king and are tired of Labotsibeni and
Lomwazi, and Tzaneen is working for her son's coronation. No one can
tell when Sebuza will be made king. It may be never!"
That was what we wanted to know. Debeseembie, always at the old
queen's elbow, ought to know what he was talking about and we felt
that he had told the truth. A few moments later I gave him our last
bottle of gin and he stumbled back to his kraal.
Next morning we were up at dawn, striking back to Ermelo as fast as we
could go. Again we skirted Mbabane, but nevertheless made good time.
Tuys was very thoughtful during most of the trip, and I cannot
remember that he had anything to say until we came in sight of Ermelo.
"Well, it looks as if our friends in Swaziland need some one to make
up their minds for them," he said in a musing way. "However, I don't
want to have to do it!"
I glanced at the cunning old man, but he was looking into the dust
ahead and did not amplify his remark. It was an interesting thought,
however, and it did offer one way out of our difficulties.