A solitary horseman--a youth in early manhood--riding at a snail's pace
over the great plains, or karroo, of South Africa. His chin on his
breast; his hands in the pockets of an old shooting-coat; his legs in
ragged trousers, and his feet in worn-out boots. Regardless of
stirrups, the last are dangling. The reins hang on the neck of his
steed, whose head may be said to dangle from its shoulders, so nearly
does its nose approach the ground. A felt hat covers the youth's curly
black head, and a double-barrelled gun is slung across his broad
shoulders.
We present this picture to the reader as a subject of contemplation.
It was in the first quarter of the present century that the youth
referred to--Charlie Considine by name--rode thus meditatively over that
South African karroo. His depression was evidently not due to lack of
spirit, for, when he suddenly awoke from his reverie, drew himself up
and shook back his hair, his dark eyes opened with something like a
flash. They lost some of their fire, however, as he gazed round on the
hot plain which undulated like the great ocean to the horizon, where a
line of blue indicated mountains.
The truth is that Charlie Considine was lost--utterly lost on the
karroo! That his horse was in the same lost condition became apparent
from its stopping without orders and looking round languidly with a
sigh.
"Come, Rob Roy," said the youth, gathering up the reins and patting the
steed's neck, "this will never do. You and I must not give in to our
first misfortune. No doubt the want of water for two days is hard to
bear, but we are strong and young both of us. Come, let's try at least
for a sheltering bush to sleep under, before the sun goes down."
Animated by the cheering voice, if not by the words, of its rider, the
horse responded to the exhortation by breaking into a shuffling canter.
After a short time the youth came in sight of what appeared to be a herd
of cattle in the far distance. In eager expectation he galloped towards
them and found that his conjectures were correct. They were cattle in
charge of one of that lowest of the human race, a Bushman. The
diminutive, black-skinned, and monkey-faced creature was nearly naked.
He carried a sheepskin kaross, or blanket, on his left shoulder, and a
knobbed stick, or "kerrie," in his right hand.
"Can you speak English?" asked Considine as he rode up.
The Bushman looked vacant and made no reply.
"Where is your master's house?" asked the youth.
A stare was the only answer.
"Can't you speak, you dried-up essence of stupidity!" exclaimed Charlie
with impatience.
At this the Bushman uttered something with so many klicks, klucks, and
gurgles in it that his interrogator at once relinquished the use of the
tongue, and took to signs, but with no better success, his efforts
having only the effect of causing the mouth of the Bushman to expand
from ear to ear. Uttering a few more klicks and gurgles, he pointed in
the direction of the setting sun. As Considine could elicit no fuller
information he bade him a contemptuous farewell and rode away in the
direction indicated.
He had not gone far when a dark speck became visible on the horizon
directly in front.
"Ho! Rob," he exclaimed, "that looks like something--a bush, is it? If
so, we may find water there, who knows--eh? No, it can't be a bush, for
it moves," he added in a tone of disappointment. "Why, I do believe
it's an ostrich! Well, if we can't find anything to drink, I'll try to
get something to eat."
Urging his jaded steed into a gallop, the youth soon drew near enough to
discover that the object was neither bush nor ostrich, but a horseman.
The times of which we write were unsettled. Considine, although "lost,"
was sufficiently aware of his whereabouts to understand that he was near
the north-eastern frontier of Cape Colony. He deemed it prudent,
therefore, to unsling his gun. On drawing nearer he became convinced
from the appearance of the stranger that he could not be a Kafir. When
close enough to perceive that he was a white man, mounted and armed much
like himself, he re-slung his gun, waved his cap in token of friendship,
and galloped forward with the confidence of youth.
The stranger proved to be a young man of about his own age--a little
over twenty--but much taller and more massive in frame. He was, indeed,
a young giant, and bestrode a horse suitable to his weight. He was clad
in the rough woollen and leathern garments worn by the frontier farmers,
or boers, of that period, and carried one of those long heavy flint-lock
guns, or "roers," which the Dutch-African colonist then deemed the most
effective weapon in the universe.
"Well met!" exclaimed Considine heartily, as he rode up.
"Humph! that depends on whether we meet as friends or foes," replied the
stranger, with a smile on his cheerful countenance that accorded ill
with the caution of his words.
"Well met, I say again, whether we be friends or foes," returned
Considine still more heartily, "for if we be friends we shall
fraternise; if we be foes we shall fight, and I would rather fight you
for love, hate, or fun, than die of starvation in the karroo."
"What is your name, and where do you come from?" demanded the stranger.
"One question at a time, if you please," answered the youth. "My name
is Charles Considine. What is yours?"
"Hans Marais."
"Well, Mr Marais, I come from England, which is my native home. In the
coming I managed to get wrecked in Table Bay, landed at Capetown, joined
a frontier farmer, and came up here--a long and roughish journey, as
probably you know, and as my garments testify. On the way I lost my
comrades, and in trying to find them lost myself. For two days nothing
in the shape of meat or drink has passed my lips, and my poor horse has
fared little better in the way of drink, though the karroo-bush has
furnished him with food enough to keep his bones together. So now, you
have my biography in brief, and if you be a man possessed of any powers
of sympathy, you will know what to do."
The young Dutchman held out his huge hand, which Considine grasped and
shook warmly.
"Come," he said, while a slight smile played on his bronzed countenance;
"I have nothing here to give you, but if you will come with me to yon
koppie you shall have both meat and drink."
The koppie to which he referred was a scarce discernible knoll on the
horizon.
Hans Marais seemed to be a man of few words, for he turned and galloped
away, without for some time uttering another syllable to his companion.
As for Considine, the thought of once more feasting on any sort of meat
and drink was so fascinating, in his then ravenous condition, that he
cared for nought else, and followed his guide in silence.
Soon the herbage on the plain became more luxuriant, and in half an hour
the two horsemen found themselves riding among scattered groups of
mimosa bushes, the thorns of which were from three to five inches long,
while their sweet fragrance scented the whole atmosphere.
On reaching the ridge of one of the undulations of the plain, Hans
Marais drew rein and gazed intently towards the distant horizon. At the
same time Considine's horse pricked up its ears, pawed the ground, and
exhibited unwonted signs of a desire to advance.
"Hallo, Rob!" exclaimed its master, "what's wrong with you?"
"Your horse has been gifted by his Maker with a power," said Hans,
"which has been denied to man. He scents water. But before he shall
taste it he must help me to procure fresh meat. Do you see the boks on
that koppie?"
"Do you mean those white specks like ostrich eggs on the hillock to the
right of the big bush?"
"The same. These are springboks. Ride away down by that hollow till
you get somewhat in their rear, and then drive them in the direction of
that clump of bushes on our left, just under the sun."
Without waiting for a reply Hans rode off at a gallop, and Considine
proceeded to obey orders.
A few minutes sufficed to bring him close to the springboks, which
beautiful antelopes no sooner observed him than, after one brief gaze of
surprise, they bounded away in the direction of the bushes indicated by
Hans,--conscious apparently of their superior fleetness, for they seemed
in no great haste, but leaped about as if half in play, one and another
taking an occasional spring of six feet or more into the air. As they
passed the bushes towards which Considine drove them, a white puff was
seen to burst from them, and the huge roer of Hans Marais sent forth its
bellowing report. It seemed as if the entire flock of boks had received
an electric shock, so high did they spring into the air. Then they
dashed off at full speed, leaving one of their number dead upon the
plain.
When Considine came up he found that Hans had already disembowelled the
springbok, and was in the act of fastening the carcase on his horse
behind the saddle. Remounting immediately, the hunter galloped towards
a mound, on the top of which the bushes formed a dense brake. Skirting
this till he reached the other side, he pulled up, exclaiming--
"There, you'll find good water in the hollow; go drink, while I prepare
supper on the koppie."
Considine went off at once. Indeed, he could not have done otherwise,
for his impatient horse took the bit in its mouth and galloped towards a
small pool of water, which was so yellow with mud that it resembled thin
pea-soup.
Thirsty though he was, the youth could not help smiling at his new
friend's idea of "good" water, but he was not in a condition to be
fastidious. Jumping out of the saddle, he lay down on his breast,
dipped his lips into the muddy liquid, and drank with as much enjoyment
as if the beverage had been nectar--or Bass. Rob Roy also stood, in a
state of perfect bliss, in the middle of the pool, sucking the water in
with unwearied vigour. It seemed as if man and horse had laid a wager
as to who should drink most. At last, the point of utmost capacity in
both was reached, and they retired with a sigh of contentment, Rob Roy
to browse on the plain, and his master to betake himself to the
encampment on the knoll, where Hans Marais quickly supplied him with
glorious steaks of springbok venison.
"Isn't it an enjoyable thing to eat when one is hungry, eh?" said
Considine, after half an hour's silent devotion to the duty in
hand.--"Why, where got you that?"
He referred to an ostrich egg which his companion had taken from a
saddle-bag, and in one end of which he was busy boring a hole.
"Found it in the sand just before I found you," said Hans. "Did you
ever eat one?"
"No, never."
"Well then, you shall do so now, and I'll show you how the niggers here
make an omelet."
He planted the huge egg in the hot ashes as he spoke, and kept stirring
its contents with a piece of stick until sufficiently cooked.
"Not bad,--eh?"
"Glorious!" exclaimed Considine, smacking his lips.
Both youths continued to smack their lips over the egg until it was
finished, after which Charlie pronounced it not only a glorious but a
satisfying morsel. This was doubtless true, for an ostrich egg is
considered equal to twenty-four hen's eggs.
Returning to the springbok steaks, the half-starved youth continued his
repast, while Hans Marais, having finished, extended his huge frame
beside the camp-fire, leaned upon his saddle, and smoked his pipe in
benignant contemplation of his companion.
"This is pleasant!" said Charlie, pausing, with a sigh, and looking up.
"Ja, it is pleasant," replied Hans.
"Ja!" repeated Charlie, quoting the Dutch "Yes" of the other; "are you a
Dutchman?"
"I am; at least I am a Cape colonist descended from Dutchmen. Why are
you surprised?"
"Because," replied his companion, while he prepared another steak over
the embers, "you speak English so well that I could not have known it.
How came you to learn the language so perfectly?"
"My father, being wiser than some of his friends and neighbours," said
Hans, "sent me to Capetown to be educated. I suppose that is the
reason. We dwelt in the western part of the colony then, and I was the
eldest of the family. When a number of us Dutchmen left that part of
the country--being disgusted with the Government,--and came up here, my
brothers and sister had to be taken from school. This was a pity, for
education taught me to know that education is an inestimable blessing--
the want of it a heavy misfortune."
"True," remarked Considine. But being still too busy with the steaks to
pursue the subject he merely added--"Does your father live near this?"
"About seven hours' ride, which, as I daresay you know, is forty-two
miles. You shall go home with me to-morrow."
"How many are there of you?" asked Considine, looking at the young
Dutchman over a bone. "Excuse my being so impolite," he added, "but
d'you know, one feels horribly like a tiger after a two days' fast."
"Don't stand on ceremony," said the other, with a laugh. "When you are
satisfied we can converse. There are fifteen of us: father, mother,
sister, and eleven boys besides myself. I'll tell you about them all
after supper; meanwhile I'll go fetch the horses, for there are lions
about, as I daresay you know, and some of them are nearly as ravenous as
yourself."
Hans rose, put his pipe in the band of his broad-brimmed hat, and
sauntered heavily out of the thicket.
In a few minutes he returned, leading the horses, and then busied
himself in surrounding the camp with an almost impenetrable wall of
mimosa-thorn branches, the spikes of which were so tremendous that it
seemed as if nothing smaller than an elephant could force its way
through. This done, he sat down and quietly refilled his pipe, while
Considine, having at last finished his meal, drew the embers of the fire
together, disposed his limbs comfortably on the ground, lay back on his
saddle, and prepared to enjoy a contemplative gaze at the cheering blaze
and an interrogative conversation with his new friend.
"Do you smoke?" asked Hans.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because it makes me sick, and I don't like it."
Hans looked surprised. This was a new idea to him, and he sat for some
time pondering it; indeed, we may say with truth that he "smoked it" In
a few minutes he looked earnestly at the youth, and asked why he came to
the Cape.
"To make my fortune," answered Considine.
"Fortunes are not easily made at the Cape," was the grave reply. "My
father has been making his fortune for the last quarter of a century,
and it's not made yet.--Why did you choose the Cape?"
"I didn't choose it."
"No?" said the Dutchman, with a look of surprise.
"No," responded the Englishman; "my coming here was not a matter of
choice: it was necessity. Come, I will make a confidant of you and
relate my history. Don't be alarmed, I won't keep you up all night with
prosy details. My life, as you may see, has not yet been a long one,
and until this year it has been comparatively uneventful."
He paused a few moments as if to recall the past, while his companion,
picking his pipe with a mimosa thorn, settled himself to listen.
"Father, mother, brothers, and sisters I have none," began Considine as
he whittled a stick--a pastime, by the way, which is erroneously
supposed to be an exclusively American privilege. "Neither have I
grandfathers, grandmothers, aunts, nephews, nieces, or anything else of
the sort. They all died either before or soon after I was born. My
only living relation is an uncle, who was my guardian. He is a
sea-captain, and a good man, but tough. I bear him no ill-will. I
would not speak disrespectfully of him; but he is tough, and, I incline
to think, no better than he should be. Infancy and boyhood with
squalling and schooling I pass over. My uncle ordered me to study for
the medical profession, and I obeyed. Wishing to see a little of the
world before finishing my course, I sailed in a vessel bound for
Australia. We touched at Table Bay in passing. Obtaining leave, I went
ashore at Capetown. The ship also went ashore--without leave--in
company with six other ships, during a terrific gale which sprang up in
the night. Our vessel became a total wreck. The crew were saved, but
my effects went with the cargo to the bottom. Fortunately, however, I
had carried ashore with me the little cash I possessed."
"I found the Capetown people very kind. One of them took me by the hand
and offered me employment, but I preferred to proceed into the interior
with a trader and work or shoot my way, in order to save my money. No
trader being about to start at that time, I was obliged to accept the
offer of a frontier farmer, who, for a small sum, agreed to allow me to
accompany his waggons, on condition that I should make myself generally
useful. I grudged the cash, but closed with the offer, and next day
started on our journey of six hundred miles--such being the distance we
had to go, according to my employer or comrade, Jan Smit."
"Who?" exclaimed Hans, with sudden energy.
"Jan Smit," repeated Considine. "Do you know him?"
"Ja--but go on," said Hans, with a nod and a smile.
"Well, I soon found that my Dutch comrade--"
"He's only half Dutch," interrupted Hans. "His mother was Dutch, but
his father is English."
"Well, Dutch or English, he is the most unmitigated scoundrel I ever
met."
"Ja," muttered Hans, "he is."
"And I soon found that my trip of pleasure became a trip of torment. It
is true we shot plenty of game--lions among the rest--but in camp the
man was so unbearable that disgust counterbalanced all the pleasure of
the trip. I tried hard to get the better of him by good-humour and
jollity, but he became so insolent at last that I could not stand it.
Three days ago when I asked him how far we were from his farm, he
growled that it wasn't far off now; whereupon I could not refrain from
saying that I was glad to hear it, as we should soon have the pleasure
of parting company. This put him in a rage. He kicked over the pot
containing part of our breakfast, and told me I might part company then
and there if I pleased. My temper does not easily go, but it went at
last. I jumped up, saddled my horse, mounted, and rode away. Of course
I lost myself immediately, and for two days have been trying to find
myself, without success, mourning over my fate and folly, and fasting
from necessity. But for my opportune meeting with you, Mr Marais, it
might have gone hard with me and my poor horse, for the want of water
had well-nigh floored us both."
"You'll never make your fortune by doctoring on the frontier," said
Hans, after a few minutes' silence. "Nobody gets ill in this splendid
climate--besides, we couldn't afford to waste time in that way. People
here usually live to a great age, and then go off without the assistance
of a doctor. What else can you turn your hand to?"
"Anything," replied Considine, with the overweening confidence of youth.
"Which means nothing, I suspect," said the Dutchman, "for
Jack-of-all-trades is proverbially master of none."
"It may be so," retorted the other, "nevertheless, without boasting, I
may venture to assert--because I can prove it--that I am able to make
tables, chairs, chests, and such-like things, besides knowing something
of the blacksmith's trade. In regard to doctoring, I am not entitled to
practise for fees, not yet being full-fledged--only a third-year
student--but I may do a little in that way for love, you know. If you
have a leg, for instance, that wants amputating, I can manage it for you
with a good carving-knife and a cross-cut saw. Or, should a grinder
give you annoyance, any sort of pincers, small enough to enter your
mouth, will enable me to relieve you."
At this Hans smiled and displayed a set of brilliant "grinders," which
did not appear likely to give him annoyance for some time to come.
"Can you shoot?" asked Hans, laying his hand on his companion's
double-barrelled gun, which lay on the ground between them, and which,
with its delicate proportions and percussion-locks, formed a striking
contrast to the battered, heavy, flint-lock weapon of the Dutchman.
"Ay, to some extent, as the lions' skins in Jan Smit's waggon can
testify.--By the way," added Considine quickly, "you said that you knew
Smit. Can you tell me where he lives? because I still owe him the half
of the money promised for permission to accompany him on this trip, and
should not like to remain his debtor."
"Ja, I know where he lives. He's a bad specimen of a Dutch farmer in
every respect, except as to size. He lives quite close to our farm--
more's the pity!--and is one of those men who do their best to keep up
bad feeling between the frontier-men and the Kafirs. The evil deeds of
men such as he are represented in England, by designing or foolish
persons, as being characteristic of the whole class of frontier farmers,
hence we are regarded as a savage set, while, in my humble opinion, we
are no worse than the people of other colonies placed in similar
circumstances--perhaps better than some of them. Do you know anything
of our past history?"
"Not much," replied Considine, throwing away the remnant of the stick he
had been whittling, and commencing on another piece. "Of course I know
that the Cape was first doubled by the Portuguese commander Bartholomew
Diaz in, I think, 1486, and after him by Vasco de Gama, and that the
Dutch formed the first settlement on it under Van Riebeek in 1652, but
beyond this my knowledge of Cape history and dates is hazy and confused.
I know, however, that your forefathers mismanaged the country for about
a century and a half, after which it finally came into possession of the
British in 1806."
"Humph!" ejaculated Hans, while a shade of displeasure flitted for a
moment across his broad visage. "'Tis a pity your reading had not
extended farther, for then you would have learned that from 1806 the
colony has been mismanaged by _your_ countrymen, and the last fruit of
their mismanagement has been a bloody war with the Kafirs, which has
only just been concluded. Peace has been made only this year, and the
frontier is now at rest. But who will rebuild the burned homesteads of
this desolated land? who will reimburse the ruined farmers? above all,
who will restore the lost lives?"
The young Dutchman's eyes kindled, and his stern face flushed as he
spoke, for although his own homestead had escaped the ruthless savage,
friends and kindred had suffered deeply in the irruption referred to,
which took place in 1819, and one or two of his intimate comrades had
found early graves in the wild karroo.
Considine, sympathising with his companion's feelings, said, "I doubt
not that you have much to complain of, for there is no colony under the
sun that escapes from the evil acts of occasional bad or incompetent
Governors. But pray do not extend your indignation to me or to my
countrymen at large, for few of us know the true merits of your case.
And tell me, what was the origin of the war which has just ended?"
The young farmer's anger had passed away as quickly as it came. Letting
his bulky frame sink back into the reclining position from which he had
partially risen, he replied--
"Just the old story--self-will and stupidity. That domineering fellow
Lord Charles Somerset, intending to check the plundering of the colony
by Kafirs, chose to enter into treaties with Gaika as paramount chief of
Kafirland, although Gaika himself told him plainly that he was not
paramount chief. Of course the other chiefs were indignant, and refused
to recognise such treaties. They did more: they made war on Gaika, and
beat him, whereupon Somerset, instead of leaving the niggers to fight
their own battles, must needs send a great commando of military and
burghers to `restore' Gaika to his so-called supremacy. This was done.
The chief T'slambi was driven from his villages, and no fewer than
11,000 head of cattle were handed over to Gaika. While this was going
on at the eastern frontier, the Kafirs invaded the colony at other
points, drove in the small military posts, ravaged the whole land, and
even attacked the military headquarters at Grahamstown, where, however,
they were defeated with great slaughter. After this a large force was
sent to drive them out of their great stronghold, the Fish River bush.
This was successfully accomplished, and then, at last, the right thing
was done. The Governor met the Kafir chiefs, when it was agreed that
they should evacuate the country between the Great Fish River and the
Keiskamma, and that the territory so evacuated should form _neutral
ground_. So matters stand at present, but I have no faith in Kafirs.
It is their pride to lie, their business to make war, and their delight
to plunder."
"But is it not the same with _all_ savages?" asked Considine.
"Doubtless it is, therefore _no_ savages ought to be trusted, as
civilised men are trusted, till they cease to be savages. We trust them
too much. Time will show.--By the way, I hear that a new move is about
to be attempted. Rumour says that your Government is going to send out
a strong party of emigrants to colonise the eastern frontier. Is this
true?"
"It is," replied Considine; "I wonder that you have not heard all about
it before now."
"Good reasons for that. For one thing, I have just returned from a long
trip into the north-western districts, and I have not been in the way of
hearing news for some time. Besides, we have no newspapers in the
colony. Everything comes to us by word of mouth, and that slowly. Tell
me about this matter."
"There is little to tell," returned Considine, replenishing the fire
with a thick branch, which sent up a magnificent display of sparks and
scared away a hyena and two jackals that had been prowling round the
camp-fence. "The fact is that there is a great deal of distress in
England just now, and a redundant population of idlers, owing to the
cessation of continental wars. This seems to have put it into the heads
of some people in power to encourage emigration to the eastern part of
this colony. In the House of Commons 50,000 pounds have been voted in
aid of the plan, and it seems that when the proposal was first made
public, no fewer than 90,000 would-be emigrants applied for leave to
come out here. Of these I believe 4000 have been selected, and
twenty-three vessels chartered to convey them out. This is all I could
learn before I left England, but I suppose we shall have more light on
the subject ere many months have gone by."
"A good plan," said the Dutchman, with a grim smile, "but I pity the
emigrants!"
As Considine's head drooped at this point, and his eyes winked with that
owlish look which indicates the approach of irresistible sleep, Hans
Marais rose, and, spreading a large kaross or blanket of leopard skin on
the ground, invited his companion to lie down thereon. The youth
willingly complied, stretched himself beside the Dutchman, and almost
instantly fell sound asleep. Hans spread a lighter covering over
himself and his comrade, and, with his head on his saddle, lay for a
long time gazing tranquilly at the stars, which shone with an intensity
of lustre peculiar to that region of the southern hemisphere, while the
yelling cries of jackals and the funereal moaning of spotted hyenas,
with an occasional distant roar from the king of beasts, formed an
appropriate lullaby.