THE BOSJESMAN--_Continued_.
HOMES OF THE BOSJESMANS -- THE ROCK-CAVE -- THE BUSH-HOUSE --
TEMPORARY HABITATIONS -- FOOD, AND MODE OF OBTAINING IT -- HUNTING
-- CHASE OF THE OSTRICH -- A SINGULAR STRATAGEM -- OSTRICH FEATHERS,
AND METHOD OF PACKING THEM -- USES OF THE OSTRICH EGG-SHELL --
CUNNING ROBBERS -- CATTLE-STEALING -- WARFARE -- PETTY SKIRMISHING
-- BOSJESMANS AT BAY -- SWIMMING POWERS OF THE BOSJESMANS -- THE
“WOODEN HORSE” -- BENEVOLENT CONDUCT OF BOSJESMANS -- THE WEAPONS OF
THE BOSJESMANS -- THE ARROW, AND ITS CONSTRUCTION -- HOW ARROWS ARE
CARRIED -- POISON WITH WHICH THE ARROW IS COVERED -- VARIOUS METHODS
OF MAKING POISON -- IRRITATING THE SERPENT -- THE N’GWA, K’AA, OR
POISON GRUB, AND ITS TERRIBLE EFFECTS -- THE GRUB IN ITS DIFFERENT
STAGES -- ANTIDOTE -- POISONED WATER -- UNEXPECTED CONDUCT OF THE
BOSJESMANS -- THE QUIVER, SPEAR, AND KNIFE.
Having now glanced at the general appearance of the Bosjesman, we will
rapidly review the course of his ordinary life.
Of houses or homes he is nearly independent. A rock cavern is a
favorite house with the Bosjesman, who finds all the shelter he needs,
without being obliged to exert any labor in preparing it. But there are
many parts of the country over which he roams, in which there are no
rocks, and consequently no caves. In such cases, the Bosjesman imitates
the hare, and makes a “form” in which he conceals himself. He looks out
for a suitable bush, creeps into it, and bends the boughs down so as to
form a tent-like covering. The mimosa trees are favorite resorts with
the Bosjesman, and it has been well remarked, that after a bush has
been much used, and the young twigs begin to shoot upward, the whole
bush bears a great resemblance to a huge bird’s-nest. The resemblance
is increased by the habit of the Bosjesman of lining these primitive
houses with hay, dried leaves, wool, and other soft materials. The
Tarchonanthus forms the usual resting-place of these wild men, its
pliant branches being easily bent into the required shape.
These curious dwellings are not only used as houses, but are employed
as lurking-places, where the Bosjesman can lie concealed, and whence
he launches his tiny but deadly arrows at the animals that may pass
near the treacherous bush. It is in consequence of this simple mode of
making houses that the name of Bosjesman, or Bushman, has been given
to this group of South African savages. This, of course, is the Dutch
title; their name, as given by themselves, is Saqua.
In places where neither rocks nor bushes are to be found, these easily
contented people are at no loss for a habitation, but make one by the
simple process of scratching a hole in the ground, and throwing up the
excavated earth to windward. Sometimes they become rather luxurious,
and make a further shelter by fixing a few sticks in the ground, and
throwing over them a mat or a piece of hide, which will answer as a
screen against the wind. In this hole a wonderful number of Bosjesmans
will contrive to stow themselves, rolling their karosses round their
bodies in the peculiar manner which has already been mentioned. The
slight screen forms their only protection against the wind--the kaross
their sole defence against the rain. When a horde of Bosjesmans
has settled for a time in a spot which promises good hunting, they
generally make tent-like houses by fixing flexible sticks in the
ground, bending them so as to force them to assume a cage-like form,
and then covering them with simple mats made of reeds. These huts are
almost exactly like the primitive tents in which the gypsies of England
invariably live, and which they prefer to the most sumptuous chamber
that wealth, luxury, and art can provide.
So much for his houses. As to his food, the Bosjesman finds no
difficulty in supplying himself with all that he needs. His wants are
indeed few, for there is scarcely anything which a human being can eat
without being poisoned, that the Bosjesman does not use for food. He
has not the least prejudice against any kind of edible substance, and,
provided that it is capable of affording nourishment, he asks nothing
more. His luxuries are comprised in two words--tobacco and brandy; but
food is a necessary of life, and is not looked upon in any other light.
There is not a beast, and I believe not a bird, that a Bosjesman will
not eat. Snakes and other reptiles are common articles of diet, and
insects are largely used as food by this people. Locusts and white ants
are the favorite insects, but the Bosjesman is in no wise fastidious,
and will eat almost any insect that he can catch. Roots, too, form
a large portion of the Bosjesman’s diet, and he can discover the
water-root without the assistance of a baboon. Thus it happens that
the Bosjesman can live where other men would perish, and to him the
wild desert is a congenial home. All that he needs is plenty of space,
because he never cultivates the ground, nor breeds sheep or cattle,
trusting entirely for his food to the casual productions of the earth,
whether they be animal or vegetable.
It has already been mentioned that the Bosjesman obtains his meat by
hunting. Though one of the best hunters in the world, the Bosjesman,
like the Hottentot, to whom he is nearly related, has no love of the
chase, or, indeed, for any kind of exertion, and would not take the
trouble to pursue the various animals on which he lives, if he could
obtain their flesh without the trouble of hunting them. Yet, when
he has fairly started on the chase, there is no man more doggedly
persevering; and even the Esquimaux seal-hunter, who will sit for
forty-eight hours with harpoon in hand, cannot surpass him in endurance.
Small as he is, he will match himself against the largest and the
fiercest animals of South Africa, and proceeds with perfect equanimity
and certainty of success to the chase of the elephant, the rhinoceros,
the lion, and the leopard. The former animals, whose skins are too
tough to be pierced with his feeble weapons, he entraps by sundry
ingenious devices, while the latter fall victims to the deadly
poison with which his arrows are imbued. The skill of the Bosjesman
is severely tested in the chase of the ostrich, a bird which the
swiftest horse can barely overtake, and is so wary as well as swift,
that a well-mounted hunter, armed with the best rifle, thinks himself
fortunate when he can kill one.
The little Bosjesman has two modes of killing these birds. If he
happens to find one of their enormous nests while the parent birds are
away, he approaches it very cautiously, lest his track should be seen
by the ever-watchful ostrich, and buries himself in the sand among the
eggs. The reader will doubtless remember that several ostriches deposit
their eggs in one nest, and that the nest in question is simply scraped
in the sand, and is of enormous dimensions. Here the tiny hunter will
lie patiently until the sun has gone down, when he knows that the
parent birds will return to the nest. As they approach in the distance,
he carefully fits a poisoned arrow to his bow, and directs its point
toward the advancing ostriches. As soon as they come within range, he
picks out the bird which has the plumpest form and the most luxuriant
plumage, and with a single arrow seals its fate.
The chief drawback to this mode of hunting is, that the very act of
discharging the arrow reveals the form of the hunter, and frightens
the other birds so much that a second shot is scarcely to be obtained,
and the Bosjesman is forced to content himself with one dead bird and
the whole of the eggs. Fortunately, he is quite indifferent as to the
quality of the eggs. He does not very much care if any of them should
be addled, and will eat with perfect composure an egg which would alarm
an European at six paces’ distance. Neither does he object to the eggs
if they should be considerably advanced in hatching, and, if anything,
rather fancies himself fortunate in procuring a young and tender bird
without the trouble of chasing and catching it. Then the egg-shells,
when the contents are removed, are most valuable for many purposes, and
especially for the conveyance of water. For this latter purpose they
are simply invaluable. The Bosjesmans always contrive to have a supply
of water, but no one except themselves has the least notion where it is
stored. If a Bosjesman kraal is attacked, and the captives interrogated
as to the spot where the supply of water has been stored, they never
betray the precious secret, but always pretend that they have none, and
that they are on the point of dying with thirst. Yet, at some quiet
hour of the night, a little yellow woman is tolerably sure to creep to
their sides and give them a plentiful draught of water, while their
captors are trying to lull their thirst by sleep. How they utilize
their egg-shells of water, the reader will see in another place.
The eyes of the ostrich are keen enough, but those of the Bosjesman
are keener, and if the small hunter, perched on his rocky observatory,
happens to catch a glimpse of a number of ostriches in the far
distance, he makes up his mind that in a few hours several of those
birds will have fallen before the tiny bow and the envenomed arrow
which it projects. He immediately creeps back to his apology for a hut,
and there finds a complete hunter’s suit which he has prepared in
readiness for such an occasion. It consists of the skin of an ostrich,
without the legs, and having a stick passed up the neck. The skin
of the body is stretched over a kind of saddle, which the maker has
adapted to his own shoulders.
He first rubs his yellow legs with white chalk, and then fixes the
decoy skin on his back, taking care to do it in such a manner, that,
although it is quite firm as long as it has to be worn, it can be
thrown off in a moment. The reason for this precaution will be seen
presently. He then takes his bow and arrows and sets off in pursuit
of the ostriches, using all possible pains to approach them in such a
direction that the wind may blow from them to him. Were he to neglect
this precaution, the watchful birds would soon detect him by the scent,
and dash away where he could not possibly follow them.
As soon as the ostriches see a strange bird approaching, they cease
from feeding, gather together, and gaze suspiciously at their supposed
companion. Were the disguised hunter to approach at once, the birds
would take the alarm, so he runs about here and there, lowering the
head to the ground, as if in the act of feeding, but always contriving
to decrease the distance between himself and the birds. At last he
manages to come within range, and when he has crept tolerably close
to the selected victim, he suddenly allows the head of the decoy-skin
to fall to the ground, snatches up an arrow, speeds it on its deadly
mission, and instantly raises the head again.
The stricken bird dashes off in a fright on receiving the wound, and
all its companions run with it, followed by the disguised Bosjesman.
Presently the wounded bird begins to slacken its speed, staggers,
and falls to the ground, thus allowing the hunter to come up to the
ostriches as they are gazing on their fallen companion, and permitting
him to secure another victim. Generally, a skilful hunter will secure
four out of five ostriches by this method of hunting, but it sometimes
happens that the birds discover that there is something wrong, and
make an attack on the apparent stranger. An assault from so powerful a
bird is no trifle, as a blow from its leg is enough to break the limb
of a powerful man, much more of so small and feeble a personage as a
Bosjesman hunter. Then comes the value of the precaution which has just
been mentioned. As soon as he finds the fraud discovered, the hunter
runs round on the windward side of the ostriches, so as to give them
his scent. They instantly take the alarm, and just in that moment when
they pause in their contemplated attack, and meditate immediate flight,
the Bosjesman flings off the now useless skin, seizes his weapons, and
showers his arrows with marvellous rapidity among the frightened birds.
In this way are procured a very large proportion of the ostrich
feathers which are sent to the European market, and the lady who
admires the exquisite contour and beautiful proportions of a good
ostrich plume has seldom any idea that it was procured by a little
yellow man disguised in an ostrich skin, with bow and arrows in his
hand, and his legs rubbed with chalk.
After he has plucked the feathers, he has a very ingenious mode of
preserving them from injury. He takes hollow reeds, not thicker than
an ordinary drawing pencil, and pushes the feathers into them as far
as they will go. He then taps the end of the reeds against the ground,
and, by degrees, the feather works its own way into the protecting
tube. In this tube the feathers are carried about, and it is evident
that a considerable number of them can be packed so as to make an easy
load for a man.
When they kill an ostrich, they prepare from it a substance of a rather
remarkable character. Before the bird is dead, they cut its throat,
and then tie a ligature firmly over the wound, so as to prevent any
blood from escaping. The wretched bird thus bleeds inwardly, and the
flow of blood is promoted by pressing it and rolling it from side to
side. Large quantities of mixed blood and fat are thus collected in the
distensible crop, and, when the bird happens to be in particularly good
condition, nearly twenty pounds of this substance are furnished by a
single ostrich. The natives value this strange mixture very highly, and
think that it is useful in a medicinal point of view.
The shell of the ostrich egg is nearly as valuable to the Bosjesman as
its contents, and in some cases is still more highly valued. Its chief
use is as a water vessel, for which it is admirably adapted. The women
have the task of filling these shells; a task which is often a very
laborious one when the water is scanty.
In common with many of the kindred tribes, they have a curious method
of obtaining water when there is apparently nothing but mud to be
found. They take a long reed, and tie round one end of it a quantity of
dried grass. This they push as deeply as they conveniently can into the
muddy soil, and allow it to remain there until the water has penetrated
through the primitive filter, and has risen in the tube. They then
apply their lips to the tube, and draw into their mouths as much water
as they can contain, and then discharge it into an empty egg-shell by
means of another reed; or, if they do not possess a second reed, a
slight stick will answer the purpose if managed carefully. When filled,
the small aperture that has been left in each egg is carefully closed
by a tuft of grass very tightly forced into it, and the women have to
undertake the labor of carrying their heavy load homeward. There is one
mode of using these egg-shells which is worthy of mention.
The Bosjesmans are singularly ingenious in acting as spies. They will
travel to great distances in order to find out if there is anything
to be stolen, and they have a method of communicating with each other
by means of the smoke of a fire that constitutes a very perfect
telegraph. The Australian savage has a similar system, and it is really
remarkable that two races of men, who are certainly among the lowest
examples of humanity, should possess an accomplishment which implies no
small amount of mental capability. Property to be worth stealing by a
Bosjesman must mean something which can be eaten, and almost invariably
takes the shape of cattle. Thus, to steal cattle is perhaps not so
difficult a business, but to transport them over a wide desert is
anything but easy, and could not be accomplished, even by a Bosjesman,
without the exercise of much forethought.
In the first place, the Bosjesman is very careful of the direction in
which he makes his raids, and will never steal cattle in places whence
he is likely to be followed by the aggrieved owners. He prefers to
carry off animals that are separated from his own district by a dry
and thirsty desert, over which horses cannot pass, and which will tire
out any pursuers on foot, because they cannot carry with them enough
water for the journey. When his plans are laid, and his line of march
settled, he sends the women along it, with orders to bury ostrich
egg-shells full of water at stated distances, the locality of each
being signified by certain marks which none but himself can read. As
soon as this precaution is taken, he starts off at his best pace, and,
being wonderfully tolerant of thirst, he and his companions reach their
destination without making any very great diminution in the stock of
water. They then conceal themselves until nightfall, their raids never
taking place in the daytime.
In the dead of night they slink into the cattle pen, silently killing
the watchman, if one should be on guard, and select the best animals,
which they drive off. The whole of the remainder they either kill or
maim, the latter being the usual plan, as it saves their arrows. But,
if they should be interrupted in their proceedings, their raid is not
the less fatal, for, even in the hurry of flight, they will discharge
a poisoned arrow into every animal, so that not one is left. (See the
engraving No. 2 on page 237.)
We will suppose, however, that their plans are successful, and that
they have got fairly off with their plunder. They know that they cannot
conceal the tracks of the cattle, and do not attempt to do so, but push
on as fast as the animals can be urged, so as to get a long start of
their pursuers. When they are fairly on the track, some of their number
go in advance to the first station, dig up the water vessels, and wait
the arrival of the remainder. The cattle are supplied with as much
water as can be spared for them, in order to give them strength and
willingness for the journey; the empty vessels are then tied on their
backs, and they are again driven forward. In this manner they pass on
from station to station until they arrive at their destination. Should,
however, the pursuers come up with them, they abandon the cattle at
once; invariably leaving a poisoned arrow in each by way of a parting
gift, and take to flight with such rapidity, that the pursuers know
that it is useless to follow them.
The needless destruction which they work among the cattle, which to a
Hottentot or a Kaffir are almost the breath of life, has exasperated
both these people to such a degree that they will lay aside for a time
their differences, and unite in attacking the Bosjesman, who is equally
hated by both. This, however, they do with every precaution, knowing
full well the dangerous character of the enemies against whom they
are about to advance, and not attempting any expedition unless their
numbers are very strong indeed.
Of systematic warfare the Bosjesmans know nothing, although they are
perhaps the most dangerous enemies that a man can have, his first
knowledge of their presence being the clang of the bow, and the sharp
whirring sound of the arrow. Sometimes a horde of Bosjesmans will take
offence at some Hottentot or Kaffir tribe, and will keep up a desultory
sort of skirmish for years, during which time the foe knows not what a
quiet night means.
The Bosjesmans dare not attack their enemies in open day, neither
will they venture to match themselves in fair warfare against any
considerable number of antagonists. But not a man dares to stray
from the protection of the huts, unless accompanied by armed
comrades, knowing that the cunning enemies are always lurking in the
neighborhood, and that a stone, or bush, or tree, will afford cover
to a Bosjesman. These tiny but formidable warriors will even conceal
themselves in the sand, if they fancy that stragglers may pass in that
direction, and the puff-adder itself is not more invisible, nor its
fangs more deadly, than the lurking Bosjesman. On the bare cliffs they
can conceal themselves with marvellous address, their yellow skins
being so like the color of the rocks that they are scarcely visible,
even when there is no cover. Moreover, they have a strange way of
huddling themselves up in a bundle, so as to look like conical heaps of
leaves and sticks, without a semblance of humanity about them.
Open resistance they seldom offer, generally scattering and escaping
in all directions if a direct charge is made at them, even if they
should be assailed by one solitary enemy armed only with a stick. But
they will hang about the outskirts of the hostile tribe for months
together, never gathering themselves into a single band which can be
assaulted and conquered, but separating themselves into little parties
of two or three, against whom it would be absurd for the enemy to
advance in force, which cannot be conquered by equal numbers, and
yet which are too formidable to be left unmolested. The trouble and
annoyance which a few Bosjesmans can inflict upon a large body of
enemies is almost incredible. The warriors are forced to be always on
the watch, and never venture singly without their camp, while the women
and children have such a dread of the Bosjesmans, that the very mention
of the name throws them into paroxysms of terror. The difficulty of
attacking these pertinacious enemies is very much increased by the
nomad character of the Bosjesmans. The Hottentot tribes can move a
village in half a day, but the Bosjesmans, who can exist without
fixed habitations of any kind, and whose most elaborate houses are
far simpler than the worst specimens of Hottentot architecture, can
remove themselves and their habitations whenever they choose; and,
if necessary, can abolish their rude houses altogether, so as not to
afford the least sign of their residence.
Sometimes, but very rarely, the Kaffirs, exasperated by repeated
losses at the hands of the Bosjesmans, have determined to trace the
delinquents to their home, and to extirpate the entire community. The
expedition is one which is fraught with special danger, as there is
no weapon which a Kaffir dreads more than the poisoned arrow of the
Bosjesman. In such cases the overwhelming numbers of the assailants and
the absolute necessity of the task which they have set themselves, are
sure to lead to ultimate success, and neither men nor women are spared.
The very young children are sometimes carried off and made to act as
slaves, but, as a general rule, the Kaffirs look upon the Bosjesmans
much as if they were a set of venomous serpents, and kill them all with
as little compunction as they would feel in destroying a family of
cobras or puff-adders.
It has been mentioned that the Bosjesmans will seldom offer any
resistance in open fight. Sometimes, however, they will do so, but
only in case of being driven to bay, preferring usually to lie in
wait, and in the dead of night to steal upon their foes, send a few
poisoned arrows among them, and steal away under cover of the darkness.
Yet when flight is useless, and they are fairly at bay, they accept
the position, and become as terrible foes as can be met; losing all
sense of fear, and fighting with desperate courage. A small band of
them has often been known to fight a large party of enemies, and to
continue their struggles until every man has been killed. On one such
occasion, all had been killed except one man, who had ensconced himself
so closely behind a stone that his enemies could not manage to inflict
a mortal wound. With his bow he drew toward him the spent arrows of his
fallen kinsmen, and, though exhausted by loss of blood from many wounds
on his limbs, he continued to hurl the arrows at his foes, accompanying
each with some abusive epithet. It was not until many of his enemies
had fallen by his hand, that he exposed himself to a mortal blow.
It is a curious custom of the Bosjesman, who likes to have his arrows
ready to hand, to carry them in his headdress, just as an old-fashioned
clerk carries his pen behind his ear. Generally he keeps them in his
quiver with their points reversed, but, when he is actively engaged
in fighting, he takes them out, turns the points with their poisoned
ends outward, and arranges them at each side of his head, so that they
project like a couple of skeleton fans. They give a most peculiar look
to the features, and are as sure an indication of danger as the spread
hood of the cobra, or the menacing “whirr” of the rattlesnake. He makes
great use of them in the war of words, which in Southern Africa seems
invariably to accompany the war of weapons, and moves them just as
a horse moves his ears. With one movement of the head he sends them
all forward like two horns, and with another he shakes them open in a
fan-like form, accompanying each gesture with rapid frowns like those
of an angry baboon, and with a torrent of words that are eloquent
enough to those who understand them.
He does not place all his arrows in his headdress, but keeps a few at
hand in the quiver. These he uses when he has time for a deliberate
aim. But, if closely pressed, he snatches arrow after arrow out of his
headdress, fits them to the string, and shoots them with a rapidity
that seems almost incredible. I have seen a Bosjesman send three
successive arrows into a mark, and do it so quickly that the three were
discharged in less than two seconds. Indeed, the three sounds followed
one another as rapidly as three blows could have been struck with a
stick.
Traversing the country unceasingly, the Bosjesman would not be fit
for his ordinary life if he could be stopped by such an obstacle
as a river; and it is accordingly found that they can all swim. As
the rivers are often swift and strong, swimming across them in a
straight line would be impossible but for an invention which is called
“Houtepaard,” or wooden horse. This is nothing more than a piece of
wood six or seven feet in length, with a peg driven into one end. When
the swimmer crosses a stream, he places this peg against his right
shoulder so that the wood is under his body, and helps to support it.
How this machine works may be seen from the following anecdote by Dr.
Lichtenstein, which not only illustrates the point in question, but
presents the Bosjesmans in a more amiable light than we are generally
accustomed to view them.
“A hippopotamus had been killed, and its body lashed to the bank with
leathern ropes. The stream, however, after the fashion of African
streams, had risen suddenly, and the current swept downward with such
force, that it tore asunder the ropes in question, and carried off the
huge carcass. Some Bosjesmans went along the bank to discover the lost
animal, and at last found it on the other bank, and having crossed the
river, carrying with them the ends of some stout ropes, they tried
unsuccessfully to tow the dead animal to the other side. Some other
means of accomplishing the proposed end were now to be devised, and
many were suggested, but none found practicable. The hope of retrieving
the prize, however, induced a young colonist to attempt swimming over;
but, on account of the vast force of the stream, he was constrained to
return ere he had reached a fourth part of the way. In the mean time,
the two Bosjesmans who had attained the other side of the water, having
made a large fire, cut a quantity of fat off the monster’s back, which
they baked and ate most voraciously.
“This sight tempted five more of the Bosjesmans to make a new essay.
Each took a light flat piece of wood, which was fastened to the right
shoulder, and under the arm; when in the water the point was placed
directly across the stream, so that the great force of water must come
upon that, while the swimmer, with the left arm and the feet, struggled
against the stream, in the same manner as a ship with spread sails,
when, according to the sailor’s language, it sails before the wind.
They arrived quicker than the first, and almost without any effort,
directly to the opposite point, and immediately applied all their
strength, though in vain, to loosening the monster from the rock on
which it hung.
“In the mean time, a freed slave, belonging to the Governor’s train,
an eager, spirited young fellow, and a very expert swimmer, had the
boldness to attempt following the savages without any artificial aid,
and got, though slowly, very successfully, about half-way over. Here,
however, his strength failed him; he was carried away and sunk, but
appeared again above the water, struggling with his little remaining
powers to reach the shore. All efforts were in vain; he was forced to
abandon himself to the stream; but luckily, at a turn in the river,
which soon presented itself, he was carried to the land half dead.
“The Bosjesmans, when they saw his situation, quitted their fire, and,
hastening to his assistance, arrived at the spot just as he crawled
on shore, exhausted with fatigue, and stiffened with cold. It was a
truly affecting sight to behold the exertions made by the savages to
recover him. They threw their skins over him, dried him, and rubbed
him with their hands, and, when he began somewhat to revive, carried
him to the fire and laid him down by it. They then made him a bed with
their skins, and put more wood on the fire, that he might be thoroughly
warmed, rubbing his benumbed limbs over with the heated fat of the
river-horse. But evening was now coming on, and, in order to wait for
the entire restoration of the unfortunate adventurer, it was necessary
for the whole party to resolve on passing the night where they were.
Some of the Bosjesmans on this side exerted themselves to carry the
poor man’s clothes over to him, that he might not be prevented by the
cold from sleeping, and recovering strength for his return.
“Early the next morning the Bosjesmans were seen conducting their
_protégé_ along the side of the stream, to seek out some more
convenient spot for attempting to cross it. They soon arrived at one
where there was a small island in the river, which would of course
much diminish the fatigue of crossing; a quantity of wood was then
fastened together, on which he was laid, and thus the voyage commenced.
The young man, grown timid with the danger from which he had escaped,
could not encounter the water again without great apprehensions; he
with the whole party, however, arrived very safely and tolerably quick
at the island, whence, with the assistance of his two friends, he
commenced the second and most toilsome part of the undertaking. Two of
the Bosjesmans kept on each side of the bundle of wood, while the young
man himself exerted all his remaining powers to push on his float.
When they reached a bank in the river, on which they were partially
aground, having water only up to the middle, he was obliged to stop and
rest awhile; but by this time he was so completely chilled, and his
limbs were so benumbed with the cold, that it seemed almost impossible
for him to proceed. In vain did his comrades, who looked anxiously on
to see the termination of the adventure, call to him to take courage,
to make, without delay, yet one more effort; he, as well as an old
Bosjesman, the best swimmer of the set, seemed totally to have lost all
presence of mind.
“At this critical moment, two of the Bosjesmans who had remained
on our side of the water were induced, after some persuasion, to
undertake the rescue of these unfortunate adventurers. A large bundle
of wood was fastened together with the utmost despatch; on the end
of this they laid themselves, and to the middle was fastened a cord;
this was held by those on shore, so that it might not fall into the
water and incommode them in swimming. It was astonishing to see with
what promptitude they steered directly to the right spot, and came,
notwithstanding the rapidity of the stream, to the unfortunate objects
they sought. The latter had so far lost all coolness and presence of
mind, that they had not the sense immediately to lay hold of the cord,
and their deliverers were in the utmost danger of being carried away
the next moment by the stream. At this critical point, the third, who
was standing on the bank, seized the only means remaining to save
his companions. He pushed them before him into the deep water, and
compelled them once more, in conjunction with him, to put forth all
their strength, while the other two struggled with their utmost might
against the stream. In this manner he at length succeeded in making
them catch hold of the rope, by means of which all five were ultimately
dragged in safety to the shore.”
We will now proceed to the weapons with which the Bosjesman kills his
prey and fights his enemies. The small but terrible arrows which the
Bosjesman uses with such deadly effect are constructed with very great
care, and the neatness with which they are made is really surprising,
when we take into consideration the singularly inefficient tools which
are used.
The complete arrow is about eighteen inches in length, and it is made
of four distinct parts. First, we have the shaft, which is a foot
or thirteen inches long, and not as thick as an ordinary black-lead
pencil. This is formed from the common Kaffir reed, which, when dry,
is both strong and light. At either end it is bound firmly with the
split and flattened intestine of some animal, which is put on when wet,
and, when dry, shrinks closely, and is very hard and stiff. One end is
simply cut off transversely, and the other notched in order to receive
the bowstring. Next comes a piece of bone, usually that of the ostrich,
about three inches in length. One end of it is passed into the open end
of the shaft, and over the other is slipped a short piece of reed, over
which a strong “wrapping” of intestine has been placed. This forms a
socket for the true head of the arrow--the piece of ostrich bone being
only intended to give the needful weight to the weapon.
The head itself is made of ivory, and is shaped much like the piece
of bone already described. One end of it is sharpened, so that it can
be slipped into the reed socket, and the other is first bound with
intestine, and then a notch, about the eighth of an inch deep, is made
in it. This notch is for the reception of the triangular piece of
flattened iron, which we may call the blade.
The body of the arrow is now complete, and all that is required is to
add the poison which makes it so formidable. The poison, which is
first reduced to the consistency of glue, is spread thickly over the
entire head of the arrow, including the base of the head. Before it
has dried, a short spike of iron or quill is pushed into it, the point
being directed backward, so as to form a barb. If the arrow strikes a
human being, and he pulls it out of the wound, the iron blade, which
is but loosely attached to the head, is nearly sure to come off and
remain in the wound. The little barb is added for the same purpose,
and, even if the arrow itself be immediately extracted, enough of the
poison remains in the wound to cause death. But it is not at all likely
that the arrow will be extracted. The head is not fastened permanently
to the shaft, but is only loosely slipped into it. Consequently the
shaft is pulled away easily enough, but the head is left in the wound,
and affords no handle whereby it can be extracted. As may be seen from
the illustration No. 4 on the 247th page, a considerable amount of the
poison is used upon each arrow.
This little barb, or barblet, if the word may be used, is scarcely
as large as one nib of an ordinary quill pen, and lies so close to
the arrow that it would not be seen by an inexperienced eye. In form
it is triangular, the broader end being pressed into the poison, and
the pointed end directed backward, and lying almost parallel with the
shaft. It hardly seems capable of being dislodged in the wound, but
the fact is, that the poison is always soft in a warm climate, and so
allows the barb, which is very slightly inserted, to remain in the
wound, a portion of poison of course adhering to its base.
This is the usual structure of a good arrow, but the weapons are not
exactly alike. Some of them have only a single piece of bone by way
of a head, while many are not armed with the triangular blade. Arrows
that possess this blade are intended for war, and are not employed in
the peaceful pursuit of game. Hunting arrows have the head shaped much
like a spindle, or, to speak more familiarly, like the street boy’s
“cat,” being tolerably thick in the middle and tapering to a point at
each end. When not in actual use, the Bosjesman reverses the head, so
that the poisoned end is received into the hollow shaft, and thus is
debarred from doing useless harm. These heads are not nearly as thick
as those which are used for war, neither do they need as much poison.
The Bosjesman quiver and arrows which are illustrated on page 247 were
taken from the dead body of their owner, and were kindly sent to me
by H. Dennett, Esq. They are peculiarly valuable, because they are in
all stages of manufacture, and show the amount of labor and care which
is bestowed on these weapons. There is first the simple reed, having
both ends carefully bound with sinew to prevent it from splitting.
Then comes a reed with a piece of bone inserted in one end. On the next
specimen a small socket is formed at the end of the bone, in order to
receive the ivory head; and so the arrows proceed until the perfect
weapon is seen.
As to the poison which is used in arming the arrows, it is of two
kinds. That which is in ordinary use is made chiefly of vegetable
substances, such as the juice of certain euphorbias, together with
the matter extracted from the poison-gland of the puff-adder, cobra,
and other venomous serpents. In procuring this latter substance they
are singularly courageous. When a Bosjesman sees a serpent which can
be used for poisoning arrows, he does not kill it at once, but steals
quietly to the spot where it is lying, and sets his foot on its neck.
The snake, disturbed from the lethargic condition which is common to
all reptiles, starts into furious energy, and twists and struggles and
hisses, and does all in its power to inflict a wound on its foe. This
is exactly what the Bosjesman likes, and he excites the serpent to the
utmost pitch of fury before he kills it. The reason of this conduct
is, that the desire to bite excites the poison-gland, and causes it to
secrete the venomous substance in large quantities.
The Bosjesmans say that not only is the poison increased in volume, but
that its venomous properties are rendered more deadly by exciting the
anger of the reptile before it is killed. The materials for making this
poison are boiled down in a primitive kind of pot made of a hollowed
sandstone, and, when thoroughly inspissated, it assumes the color
and consistency of pitch. It is put on very thickly, in some parts
being about the eighth of an inch thick. In some arrows, the little
triangular head is only held in its place by the poison itself, being
merely loosely slipped into a notch and then cemented to the shaft with
the poison. In this case it acts as a barb, and remains in the wound
when the arrow is withdrawn.
In our climate the poison becomes hard, and is exceedingly brittle,
cracking in various directions, and being easily pulverized by being
rubbed between the fingers. But in the comparatively hot temperature of
Southern Africa it retains its soft tenacity, and even in this country
it can be softened before a fire and the cracked portions mended. It is
very bitter, and somewhat aromatic in taste, and in this respect much
resembles the dreaded wourali poison of tropical Guiana. In some places
the poison bulb is common, and in its prime it is very conspicuous,
being recognized at a considerable distance by the blue undulated
leaves which rise, as it were, out of the ground, and spread like a
fan. Soon, however, the leaves fall off and dry up, and nothing is seen
but a short, dry stalk, which gives little promise of the bulb below.
In some parts of the Bosjesmans’ country, the juice of amaryllis is
used for poisoning arrows, like that of euphorbia, and is then mixed
with the venom extracted from a large black spider, as well as that
which is obtained from serpents. An antidote for this mixed poison
is not at present known to white men, and whether the Bosjesmans are
acquainted with one is at present unknown. It would be a great boon,
not only to science, but to the inhabitants of that part of Africa,
if a remedy could be discovered, inasmuch as such a discovery would
at once deprive the Bosjesman of the only means whereby he can render
himself terrible to those who live in his neighborhood. Property
would then be rendered comparatively safe, and the present chronic
state of irregular warfare would be exchanged for peace and quiet.
The twofold nature of the poison, however, renders such a discovery a
matter of exceeding difficulty, as the antidote must be equally able to
counteract the vegetable poison as well as the animal venom.
Terrible as is this mixed poison, the Bosjesman has another which is
far more cruel in its effects. If a human being is wounded with an
arrow armed with this poison, he suffers the most intolerable agony,
and soon dies. Even if a small portion of this poison should touch a
scratch in the skin, the result is scarcely less dreadful, and, in
Livingstone’s graphic words, the sufferer “cuts himself, calls for
his mother’s breast, as if he were returned in idea to his childhood
again, or flies from human habitations a raging maniac.” The lion
suffers in much the same way, raging through the woods, and biting the
trees and the ground in the extremity of his pain. The poison which
produces such terrible effects is simply the juice which exudes from
a certain grub, called the N’gwa, or K’aa--the former title being
used by Dr. Livingstone, and the latter by Mr. Baines, who has given
great attention to this dread insect. His account of the insect is as
follows:--
There is a tree called the _Maruru papeerie_, which is about the size
of an ordinary elm, but which has its stems and branches covered with
thorns. The wood of this tree is of very soft texture. Upon the Maruru
papeerie are found the poison grubs, which are of a pale flesh-color,
something like that of the silkworm, and about three quarters of
an inch in length. One curious point in its habits is the singular
covering with which it is invested. “We were much puzzled by a covering
of green matter similar in color to the leaf it feeds on. At first we
thought it was the first skin peeling off, as it lay in loose rolls
parallel to the muscular rings of the body; it seemed gradually driven
forward toward the head, where it formed a shield or hood, portions
breaking off as it dried, and being replaced by fresh. At length we
were enabled to decide that it must be the excrement of the creature,
issuing not only in the usual manner, but from the pores that are
scattered over nearly the whole of its body.
“When the grub attains a length of three quarters of an inch, this
matter is more sparingly distributed, and is of a brownish color. In
a short time the grub drops from the tree, and, burying itself about
two feet below the surface, forms its cocoon of a thin shell of earth
agglutinated round its body. Its entrails, or rather the whole internal
juices, are, in all stages of its grubdom, of the most deadly nature,
and, if brought in contact with a cut, or sore of any kind, cause the
most excruciating agony.”
Through the kindness of Mr. Baines, who enriched my collection with
some specimens of the N’gwa, I am enabled to present my readers with
some figures of this dread insect. Fig. 1 shows the N’gwa, or K’aa,
of its natural size. The specimen was dry, shrivelled, and hard, but
a careful administration of moisture caused it to relax its stiffened
segments, and the wrinkled skin to become plump as in life.
[Illustration: POISON GRUB.]
Fig. 1 shows the under surface of the grub, as it appears when lying on
its back, and exhibits its six little legs, the dark head and thorax,
and the row of spiracles, or breathing apertures, along the sides.
Fig. 2 exhibits the same grub, as it appears when coiled up inside its
cocoon, and serves also to show the flattened form of the N’gwa in this
stage of existence.
Fig. 3 represents the cocoon itself. This domicile made of grains of
dark brown earth or sand, agglutinated together, is wonderfully hard,
strong, and compact, although its walls are exceedingly thin. When
entire, it is so strong that it will bear rather rough handling without
injury, but when it is broken, it tumbles into fragments almost at a
touch. The specimens are represented of their natural size.
When the Bosjesman wishes to poison an arrow-head, he first examines
his hands with the minutest care, so as to be certain that his skin
is not broken even by a slight scratch. He then takes a grub between
his fingers, and squeezes it so as to force out the whole contents of
the abdomen, together with the juices of the body. These he places
in little drops upon the arrow-point, arranging them at a tolerably
regular distance from each other; and when this is done, the dreadful
process is complete. It is no wonder that people who wield such
weapons as these should be equally feared and hated by all around
them. It is bad enough to be shot with arrows which, like those of the
Macoushies, cause certain death, but the terrors of the poison are
aggravated a hundred-fold when it causes fearful agony and absolute
mania before death relieves the sufferer.
A question now naturally arises, namely, the existence of any antidote
to this dreadful poison. Probably there is an antidote to every poison
if it were but known, and it is likely, therefore, that there is one
for the N’gwa. The Kaffirs say that the only antidote is fat. They have
a theory that the N’gwa requires fat, and that it consumes the life
of the wounded beings in its attempts to find fat. Consequently, when
a person is wounded with a poisoned arrow, they saturate the wound
with liquid fat, and think that, if it can be applied in time, and in
sufficient quantities, it satisfies the N’gwa, and saves the man’s life.
The Bosjesmans themselves deny that there is any antidote, but this
they might be expected to do, from their natural unwillingness to part
with so valuable a secret. It is no light matter to possess a poison
which keeps every enemy in terror, as well it may, when we consider
its effects. Dr. Livingstone mentions that the efficiency of this
poison is so great that it is used against the lion. After watching
the lion make a full meal, two Bosjesman hunters creep up to the spot
where the animal is reposing, according to his custom, and approach so
silently that not even a cracked stick announces the presence of an
enemy. One of them takes off his kaross, and holds it with both hands,
while the other prepares his weapons. When all is ready, a poisoned
arrow is sent into the lion’s body, and, simultaneously with the twang
of the bowstring, the kaross is flung over the animal’s head, so as
to bewilder him when he is so unceremoniously aroused, and to give
the bold hunters time to conceal themselves. The lion shakes off the
blinding cloak, and bounds off in terror, which soon gives way to pain,
and in a short time dies in convulsive agonies.
When the N’gwa is used for poisoning arrows, no other substance is
used, and in consequence the head of the weapon presents a much neater
appearance than when it is armed with the pitch-like euphorbia or
serpent poison. This substance being of so terrible a character, its
possessors would naturally be anxious to discover some antidote which
they might use in case of being accidentally wounded, and to give
foreigners the idea that no antidote existed. Consequently Mr. Baines
and his companions found that they persistently denied that they knew
of any antidote, but when they mentioned the very name of the plant
which they had heard was used by them for that purpose, the Bosjesmans
yielded the point, said that white men knew everything, and that it was
useless to conceal their knowledge.
The antidote is called by the name of Kàla haètlwe, and is chiefly made
from a small soft-stemmed plant. The flower is yellow, star-shaped, and
has five petals. The stamens are numerous, and the calyx is divided
into two sepals. The root is “something between a bulb and a tuber,
rough and brown outside, and when cut is seen marked with concentric
lines of light reddish brown and purple.” The leaves are two inches and
a half in length, and only a quarter of an inch wide. The mid-rib of
the leaf projects on the under surface, and forms a depression on the
upper. There are, however, two other plants which bear the same title,
and are used for the same purpose. One of them has a broader leaf and a
larger flower, and tastes something like sorrel, while the third has a
waved or wrinkled leaf. When the Kàla haètlwe is used, the root or bulb
is chewed and laid on the wound, and is followed by the application
of plenty of fat. I may here mention that the word “kàla” signifies
“friend,” and is therefore very appropriate to the plant.
This is not the only use which they make of poisons. If they are
retreating over a district which they do not intend to visit for some
time, they have an abominable custom of poisoning every water-hole in
their track. Sometimes they select one fountain, and mix its waters
with poison for the purpose of destroying game. The substance that is
used for poisoning water is generally of a vegetable nature. The bulb
of the poison-root (_Amaryllis toxicaria_) is much employed, and so
is the juice of the euphorbia. Mr. Moffatt nearly fell a victim to
this custom. After a long and tedious ride under the hot sunbeams, he
approached a Bosjesman village, near which his horse discovered a small
pool of water surrounded with bushes. Pushing his way through them,
Mr. Moffatt lay down and took a long draught at the water, not having
understood that the surrounding bushes were in fact a fence used to
warn human beings from the water. As soon as he had drunk, he perceived
an unusual taste, and then found that the water had been poisoned. The
effects of the poison were rather irritable, though not so painful as
might have been imagined. “I began to feel a violent turmoil within,
and a fulness of the system, as if the arteries would burst, while
the pulsation was exceedingly quick, being accompanied by a slight
giddiness in the head.” Fortunately, a profuse perspiration came on,
and he recovered, though the strange sensations lasted for several days.
To the honor of the Bosjesmans, it must be said that they displayed the
greatest solicitude on this occasion. One of them came running out of
the village, just after the water had been drunk, and, not knowing that
the mischief had already been done, tried to show by gestures that the
water must not be drunk. They then ran about in all directions, seeking
for a remedy; and when they found that the result would not be fatal,
they showed extravagant joy. The escape was a very narrow one, as a
zebra had died on the previous day from drinking at the same fountain.
This anecdote, when taken in conjunction with Dr. Lichtenstein’s
narrative, shows that this despised race of people are not, as some
seem to think, devoid of all human affections, and thereby degraded
below the level of the brute beasts. Subjected, as they are, to
oppression on every side, and equally persecuted by the Hottentots,
the Kaffirs, and the white colonists, it is not to be supposed that
they could be remarkable for the benevolence of their disposition, or
their kindly feelings toward the hostile people with whom they are
surrounded: and, whenever they find an opportunity for retaliation, it
is but natural that they should take advantage of it.
Small, few, and weak, they would have been long ago exterminated but
for their one weapon, the poisoned arrow, and, through its possession,
they have exacted from their many foes the same feeling of respectful
abhorrence which we entertain toward a hornet or a viper. All hate and
dread the Bosjesman, but no one dares to despise him. However powerful
may be a tribe of Kaffirs or Hottentots, or however carefully an
European settlement may be protected, a single Bosjesman will keep them
in constant alarm. Sentries are almost useless when a Bosjesman chooses
to make a nocturnal attack, for he can crawl unseen within a few yards
of the sentinel, lodge a poisoned arrow in his body, and vanish as
imperceptibly as he arrived. As to finding the retreat in which he
hides himself by day, it is almost impossible, even to a Hottentot,
for the Bosjesman is marvellously skilful in obliterating tracks, and
making a false spoor, and has besides the art of packing his tiny body
into so small a compass, that he can lie at his ease in a hole which
seems hardly large enough to accommodate an ordinary rabbit.
Yet, though he is hunted and persecuted like the hornet and the viper,
and, like those creatures, can use his venomed weapon when provoked,
it is evident that he is not incapable of gratitude, and that he can
act in a friendly manner toward those who treat him kindly. Vindictive
he can be when he thinks himself offended, and he can wreak a most
cruel vengeance on those who have incurred his wrath. But that he is
not destitute of the better feelings of humanity is evident from the
above-mentioned accounts, and we ought to feel grateful to the writer
for giving, on undoubted authority, a better character to the Bosjesman
than he was thought to have deserved.
The shape of the arrows, together with the want of feathers, and the
feeble nature of the bow, implies that they are not intended for long
ranges. The Bosjesman is, indeed, a very poor marksman, and does not
care to shoot at an object that is more than thirty or forty yards from
him, preferring a distance of eight or ten yards, if he can manage
to creep so near. In order to test the Bosjesman’s marksmanship, Mr.
Burchel hung on a pole an antelope skin kaross, nearly seven feet
square. One of the men took his bow and arrows, crept toward it until
he was within twenty yards, and missed it with his first arrow, though
he struck it with the second.
The quiver, which seems to be a necessary accompaniment to the bow
and arrow in all nations which use these weapons, is sometimes made
of wood, and sometimes of leather. The example which is shown on page
247 is of the latter material, and is drawn from a specimen in my own
collection. It is made very strongly, and is an admirable example of
Bosjesman workmanship. The hide of which it is made is that of some
large animal, such as the ox or the eland, but as the hair has been
carefully removed, no clue is left as to the precise animal which
furnished the skin. The wooden quivers are almost invariably made from
one of the aloes (_Aloe dichotoma_), which has therefore received
from the Dutch colonists the name of “Kokerboom,” or quiver-tree.
Occasionally, however, they are made from the karree tree, a species of
Rhus, which grows on the banks of rivers, and in habits and appearance
much resembles the English willow.
The Bosjesman has a very ingenious method of carrying his weapons
when upon a journey, the bow, quiver, and knob-kerrie being tied
together, and the whole group slung over the back. A perfectly equipped
Bosjesman, however, has a kind of skin case, in which he places his
weapons. Sometimes it is merely a leathern bag, but in its best form
it is composed of an entire antelope skin, the body of which forms the
case, and the legs acting as straps by which it can be hung on the back.
The bow is extremely small and simple, inasmuch as the Bosjesman cares
little about its strength, because he never shoots at objects at
more than a few yards’ distance. It is mostly made of a species of
Tarchonanthus, but the Bosjesman is not particular about its material,
so that it be tolerably elastic. Neither is he fastidious about its
size, which is seldom more than four feet in length, and often less;
nor about its shape, for the curve is often extremely irregular, the
thickest portion of the bow not having been kept in the centre. Any
little boy can make, with a stick and a string, a bow quite as good as
that which is used by the Bosjesman. In using it, the Bosjesman does
not hold it vertically, after the manner of the ordinary long-bow, but
horizontally, as if it were a cross-bow--a fact which explains the
extremely indifferent aim which can be taken with it.
The Bosjesman generally carries an assagai, but it is not of his own
manufacture, as he is quite ignorant of the blacksmith’s art. Even the
little triangular tips which are placed on the arrow-heads are hammered
with infinite labor, the iron being laid cold on one stone, and
beaten perseveringly with another, until it is at last flattened. Of
softening it by heat the Bosjesman knows nothing, nor does he possess
even the rude instruments which are necessary for heating the iron to
the softening point. The assagai is usually the work of the Bechuanas,
and is purchased from them by the Bosjesman. Now and then, an ordinary
Kaffir’s assagai is seen in the hand of the Bosjesman, and in this
case it is generally part of the spoils of war, the original owner
having been killed by a poisoned arrow. From the same source also is
derived the knife which the Bosjesman usually wears hanging by a thong
round his neck, the instrument being almost invariably of Bechuana
manufacture.
The Bosjesman, indeed, makes nothing with his own hands which is not
absolutely necessary to him. The assagai and the knife are rather
luxuries than necessaries, and are obtained from strangers. The bow
and poisoned arrow, however, with which he fights human enemies, or
destroys the larger animals, are absolutely necessary to him, and so is
the knob-kerrie, with which he obtains the smaller animals and birds.
He also beats his wife with it, and perhaps considers it a necessary
article of property on that score also. These, therefore, every
Bosjesman can make for himself, and considers himself sufficiently
equipped when he possesses them.