A Night-Bivouac under the mimosa-bushes of the Zwartkops River. The
Cape-waggons are drawn up in various comfortable nooks; the oxen are
turned loose to graze; camp-fires are kindled. Round these men and
women group themselves very much as they do in ordinary society.
Classes keep by themselves, not because one class wishes to exclude the
other, but because habits, sympathies, interests, and circumstances draw
like to like. The ruddy glare of the camp-fires contrasts pleasantly
with the cold light of the moon, which casts into deepest shadow the
wild recesses of bush and brake, inducing many a furtive glance from the
more timid of the settlers, who see an elephant, a buffalo, or a Cape
"tiger" in every bank and stump and stone. Their suspicions are not so
wild as one might suppose, for the neighbouring jungle, called the Addo
Bush, swarms with these and other wild animals.
The distance travelled on this first day was not great; the travellers
were not much fatigued, but were greatly excited by novelty, which
rendered them wakeful. If one had gone round to the numerous fires and
played eavesdropper, what eager discussion on the new land he would have
heard; what anxious speculations; what sanguine hopes; what noble plans;
what ridiculous ideas; what mad anticipations--for all were hopeful and
enthusiastic.
Round one of these fires was assembled the family and retainers of our
Highland farmer, Kenneth McTavish, among whom were Sandy Black and Jerry
Goldboy. They had been joined by Charlie Considine, who felt drawn
somewhat to Sandy. Quite close to these, round another fire, were
grouped the three bachelor brothers Skyd, with their friend Dobson. At
another, within earshot of these, were Edwin Brook and his wife, his
daughter Gertrude, Scholtz and his wife, Junkie, George Dally, and
Stephen Orpin, with bluff Hans Marais, who had somehow got acquainted
with the Brook family, and seemed to prefer their society to that of any
other.
Down in a hollow under a thick spreading mimosa bush was the noisiest
fire of all, for there were assembled some of the natives belonging to
the waggons of Hans and Jan Smit. These carried on an uproarious
discussion of some sort, appealing frequently to our friend Ruyter the
Hottentot, who appeared to be regarded by them as an umpire or an
oracle. The Hottentot race is a very inferior one, both mentally and
physically, but there are among them individuals who rise much above the
ordinary level. Ruyter was one of these. He had indeed the sallow
visage, high cheek-bones, and dots of curly wool scattered thinly over
his head, peculiar to his race, but his countenance was unusually
intelligent, his frame well made and very powerful, and his expression
good. He entered heartily into the fun of attempting to teach the
Hottentot klick to some of the younger men among the emigrants, who were
attracted to his fire by the shouts of laughter in which the swarthy
slaves and others indulged. Abdul Jemalee, the Malay slave, was there;
also Booby the Bushman--the former grave and silent, almost sad; the
latter conducting himself like a monkey--to which animal he seemed
closely related--and evoking shouts of laughter from a few youths, for
whose special benefit he kept in the background and mimicked every one
else.
"What a noisy set they are over there!" observed Edwin Brook, who had
for some time been quietly contemplating the energetic George Dally, as
he performed the duties of cook and waiter to his party.
"They are, sir," replied Dally, "like niggers in general, fond of
showing their white teeth."
"Come, Gertie, your mother can spare you now; let's go over and listen
to them."
Gertie complied with alacrity, and took her father's arm.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, with a little scream, as a thorn full five inches
long gave her a wicked probe on the left shoulder.
Hans Marais sprang up and gallantly raised the branch which had touched
her.
"It is only Kafirs who can run against mimosa thorns with impunity,"
said the handsome young Dutchman.
Gertie laughed, remarked that mimosa thorns, like South African
gentlemen, were unusually long and sharp, and passed on.
Hans sat down on the ground, filled his large pipe, and gazed dreamily
into the fire, with something of the sensation of a hunter when he makes
a bad shot.
"Now then, Goliath," said the ever busy George Dally; "move your long
legs out o' that. Don't you see the pot's about to bile over?"
Hans quietly obeyed.
"If I chanced to be alongside o' that Tottie over there just now,"
continued George, "I'd be inclined to stop his noise with a rap on his
spotted pate."
"You'd have to make it a heavy rap, then, to produce any effect," said
Hans, taking a long draw at his pipe, "for he belongs to a hard-headed
race."
The truth of the young farmer's words was verified just then in a way
that was alarming as well as unexpected.
One of the heavy waggons, which had been delayed behind the others by
some trifling accident, came lumbering up just as Hans spoke. There was
a softish sandy spot in advance of it, into which one of the front
wheels plunged. The tilt caught on part of the waggon to which Ruyter
belonged. To prevent damage the active Hottentot sprang forward. In
doing so he tripped and fell. At the same instant a tremendous crack of
the whip and a shout produced a wrench at the waggon, the hind wheel of
which went over Ruyter's head and crushed it into the ground!
A roar of consternation followed, and several eager hands carefully dug
out the poor man's head. To the surprise of all, the five-ton waggon
had _not_ flattened it! The sand was so soft that it had not been
squeezed at all--at least to any damaging extent,--a round stone having
opportunely taken much of the pressure on itself, so that the Hottentot
soon revived, and, beyond a headache, was little the worse of the
accident. He returned to his place at the fire, but did not resume his
part in the discussions, which were continued as noisily as before.
In strong contrast with the other groups were those of the Dutch-African
boers who had brought the waggons to the Bay. Most of them were men of
colossal stature. They sat apart, smoking their huge pipes in silent
complacency and comfort, amused a little at the scenes going on around
them, but apparently disinclined to trouble themselves about anything in
particular.
Supper produced a lull in the general hum of conversation, but when
pipes were lit the storm revived and continued far into the night. At
last symptoms of weariness appeared, and people began to make
arrangements for going to rest.
These arrangements were as varied as the characters of the emigrants.
Charlie Considine and Hans Marais, now become inseparable comrades,
cleared and levelled the ground under a mimosa-bush, and, spreading
their kaross thereon, lay down to sleep. George Dally, being an
adaptable man, looked at the old campaigners for a few minutes, and then
imitated their example. Little Jerry Goldboy, being naturally a nervous
creature, and having his imagination filled with snakes, scorpions,
tarantulas, etcetera, would fain have slept in one of the waggons above
the baggage--as did many of the women and children--if he had not been
laughed out of his desire by Dally, and induced to spread his couch
manfully on the bare ground.
It must not be supposed, however, that Jerry, although timid, was
cowardly. On the contrary, he was bold as a lion. He could not control
his sensitively-strung nervous system, but instead of running away, like
the coward, he was prone to rush furiously at whatever startled him, and
grapple with it.
Some families pitched their tents, others, deeming curtains a needless
luxury in such magnificent weather, contented themselves with the
shelter of the bushes.
Meanwhile the Hottentot attendants replenished the fires, while the
boers unslung their huge guns and placed them so as to be handy; for,
although elephants and lions were not nearly so numerous as they once
had been in that particular locality, there was still sufficient
possibility of their presence, as well as of other nocturnal wanderers
in the African wilds, to render such precaution necessary. The whole
scene was most romantic, especially in the eyes of those who thus
bivouacked for the first time in the wilderness. To them the great
waggons; the gigantic Cape-oxen--which appeared to have been created
expressly to match the waggons as well as to carry their own ponderous
horns; the wild-looking Hottentots and Bushmen; the big phlegmatic
Dutchmen; the bristling thorns of the mimosas, cropping out of
comparative darkness; the varied groups of emigrants; the weird forms of
the clumps of cactus, aloes, euphorbias, and other strange plants, lit
up by the fitful glare of the camp-fires, and canopied by the
star-spangled depths of a southern sky--all seemed to them the
unbelievable creations of a wild vision.
Poor Jerry Goldboy, however, had sufficient faith in the reality of the
vision to increase his nervous condition considerably, and he resolved
to lie down with his "arms handy." These arms consisted of a flint-lock
blunderbuss, an heirloom in his father's family, and a bowie-knife,
which had been presented to him by an American cousin on his leaving
England. Twice during that day's march had the blunderbuss exploded
owing to its owner's inexperience in fire-arms. Fortunately no harm had
been done, the muzzle on each occasion having been pointed to the sky,
but the ire of the Dutch driver in front of Jerry had been aroused, and
he was forbidden to reload the piece. Now, however, observing the
preparations above referred to, he felt it to be his duty to prepare for
the worst, and quietly loaded his bell-mouthed weapon with a heavy
charge of buckshot.
"What's that you're after, boy?" asked George Dally, who was making some
final arrangements at the fire, before lying down for the night.
"Oh, nothing," replied Jerry, with a start, for he had thought himself
unobserved, "only seein' to my gun before turnin' in."
"That's right," said George. "Double-load it. Nothin' like bein' ready
for whatever may turn up in a wild country like this. Why, I once knew
a man named Snip who said he had been attacked one night in South
America by a sarpint full forty feet long, and who saved his life by
means of a blunderbuss, though he didn't fire at the reptile at all."
"Indeed, how was that?" asked Jerry.
"Why, just because his weapon was bell-mouthed an' loaded a'most to the
muzzle. You see, the poor fellow was awoke out of a deep sleep and
couldn't well see, so that instead o' firin' at the brute, he fired his
blunderbuss about ten yards to one side of it, but the shot scattered so
powerfully that one o' the outside bullets hit a stone, glanced off, and
caught the sarpint in the eye, and though it failed to kill the brute on
the spot, the wound gave it such pain that it stood up on its tail and
wriggled in agony for full five minutes, sending broken twigs and dry
leaves flying about like a whirlwind, so Snip he jumped up, dropped his
weapon, an' bolted. He never returned to the encampment, and never saw
the big snake or his blunderbuss again."
"What a pity! then he lost it?" said Jerry, looking with some anxiety at
a decayed branch, to which the flickering flame gave apparent motion.
"Yes, he lost the blunderbuss, but he saved his life," replied Dally, as
he lay down near his little friend and drew his blanket over him.
"You'd better put the gun between us, my boy, to be handy to both--an'
if _anything_ comes, the one of us that wakes first can lay hold of it
and fire."
There was, we need scarcely observe, a strong spice of wickedness in
George. If he had suggested a lion, or even an elephant, there would
have been something definite for poor Jerry's anxious mind to lay hold
of and try to reason down and defy, but that dreadful "_anything_" that
might come, gave him nothing to hold by. It threw the whole zoological
ferocities of South Africa open to his unanchored imagination, and for a
long time banished sleep from his eyes.
He allowed the blunderbuss to remain as his friend had placed it, and
hugged the naked bowie-knife to his breast. In addition to these
weapons he had provided himself with a heavy piece of wood, something
like the exaggerated truncheon of a policeman, for the purpose of
killing snakes, should any such venture near his couch.
The wild shrieks of laughter at the neighbouring Hottentot fire helped
to increase Jerry's wakefulness, and when this at last lulled, the
irritation was kept up by the squalling of Master Junkie, whose tent was
about three feet distant from Jerry's pillow, and who kept up a vicious
piping just in proportion to the earnestness of Mrs Scholtz's attempts
to calm him.
At last, however, the child's lamentations ceased, and there broke upon
the night air a sweet sound which stilled the merriment of the natives.
It was the mellow voice of Stephen Orpin singing a hymn of praise, with
a number of like-minded emigrants, before retiring to rest. Doubtless
some of those who had already retired, and lay, perchance, watching the
stars and thinking dreamily of home, were led naturally by the sweet
hymn to think of the home in the "better land," which might possibly be
nearer to some of them than the old home they had left for ever--ay,
even than the new "locations" to which they were bound.
But, whatever the thoughts suggested, the whole camp soon afterwards
sank into repose. Tent-doors were drawn and curtains of waggon-tilts
let down. The boers, sticking their big pipes in their hatbands,
wrapped themselves in greatcoats, and, regardless of snake or scorpion,
stretched their limbs on the bare ground, while Hottentots, negroes, and
Bushmen, rolling themselves in sheepskin karosses, lay coiled up like
balls with their feet to the fire. Only once was the camp a little
disturbed, during the early part of the night, by the mournful howl of a
distant hyena. It was the first that the newcomers had heard, and most
of those who were awake raised themselves on their elbows eagerly to
listen.
Jerry was just dropping into slumber at the time. He sat bolt upright
on hearing the cry, and when it was repeated he made a wild grasp at the
blunderbuss, but Dally was beforehand. He caught up the weapon, and
this probably saved an explosion.
"Come, lie down, you imp!" he said, somewhat sternly.
Jerry obeyed, and his nose soon told that he had reached the land of
dreams.
Dally then quietly drew the charge of shot, but left the powder and laid
the piece in its former position. Turning over with the sigh of one
whose active duties for the day have been completed, he then went to
sleep.
Gradually the fires burned low, and gave out such flickering uncertain
light, when an occasional flame leaped up ever and anon, that to
unaccustomed eyes it might have seemed as though snakes were crawling
everywhere, and Jerry Goldboy, had he been awake, would have beheld a
complete menagerie in imagination. But Jerry was now in blessed
oblivion.
When things were in this condition, that incomprehensible subtlety, the
brain of Junkie Brook--or something else--so acted as to cause the
urchin to give vent to a stentorian yell. Strong though it was, it did
not penetrate far through the canvas tent, but being, as we have said,
within a few feet of Jerry's ear, it sounded to that unhappy man like
the united, and as yet unknown, shriek of all the elephants and
buffaloes in Kafirland.
Starting up with a sharp cry he stretched out his hand towards the
blunderbuss, but drew it back with a thrill of horror. A huge black
snake lay in its place!
To seize his truncheon was the act of a moment. The next, down it came
with stunning violence on the snake. The reptile instantly exploded
with a bellowing roar of smoke and flame, which roused the whole camp.
"Blockhead! what d'you mean by _that_?" growled George Dally, turning
round sleepily, but without rising, for he was well aware of the cause
of the confusion.
Jerry shrank within himself like a guilty thing caught in the act, and
glanced uneasily round to ascertain how much of death and destruction
had been dealt out. Relieved somewhat to see no one writhing in blood,
he arose, and, in much confusion, replied to the numerous eager queries
as to what he had fired at. When the true state of affairs became
manifest, most of the Dutchmen, who had been active enough when aroused
by supposed danger, sauntered back to their couches with a good-natured
chuckle; the settlers who had "turned out" growled or chaffed, according
to temperament, as they followed suit, and the natives spent half an
hour in uproarious merriment over Booby's dramatic representation of the
whole incident, which he performed with graphic power and much
embellishment.
Thereafter the camp sank once more into repose, and rested in peace till
morning.