Again at Tati--Fresh causes of delay--Lions on the
Motloutsi--Threatened by natives--Forthcoming prospects.
By the 21st of May Frank Oates was again back at Tati from Bamangwato,
this time completing the journey without further mishap. Little worthy
of note occurred upon the road. The weather was now settled; the rains
had ceased, and the days were usually bright and fine. The general
aspect of the country was bare and brown, though, where water was met
with, there was still for the most part a corresponding freshness in
the landscape, as was the case at “Tchakani Vlei,” a beautiful pond,
surrounded by wood and covered with water-lilies, which was reached the
second day of the journey. Again at the Palatswe River, further on,
was water and abundance of fresh grass, the latter supplying excellent
pasture for the oxen. But some days forced marches were required, to
get from one watering-place to another, these in the winter season
being few in number.
This scarcity of water sufficiently accounted for the general absence
of game upon the route, only a few small antelope occasionally showing
themselves the whole time. In crossing the Motloutsi two lions were
observed quite close to the waggons, and Frank Oates gave them chase,
but, as related below in a letter referring to the events of this
period, was thrown off the scent by the wiles of the Dutchman, Van
Roozen, who sought to avoid an encounter. The signs of animal life were
rather more numerous on the Shashe River, where some fine water-holes
were found in the sand, into one of which a crocodile had recently
crawled, leaving the track of his tail behind him at the water’s edge.
Here pallah and other game spoor was abundant, and three or four large
monkeys were observed crossing the river-bed. Birds too were numerous,
including herons, kingfishers, and bustards. In the course of the
journey one or two curious snakes were met with, one of which was of a
fine silvery hue upon the back, and salmon-coloured beneath. Another,
quite black, and of a very deadly kind, evinced a remarkable facility
for swelling out its head to an enormous size when alarmed or angry.
This snake had a habit, it was said, of hanging down from the trees
like one of their branches and attacking such creatures as might pass
beneath.
On approaching Tati the traveller was struck with the fine autumnal
tints of the trees, and observed ahead of him the picturesque range of
hills towards the Ramaqueban. At Tati itself the grass was parched and
yellow, and everything had already assumed its autumnal or winter garb.
Here he was met on his arrival by Mr. Fairbairn from Gubuleweyo, from
whom he learnt with pleasure that the king had sent leave for him to
go to the Zambesi, a fresh permission having been required. The other
travellers for the Zambesi, mentioned above in one of Frank Oates’s
letters, had most of them already started northwards, but for one
reason or another he was himself yet detained some days longer at the
settlement.
The only incident of much novelty which occurred during this time was
an angry scene with some Kafirs at the mine, arising out of a second
attempt he had made, when last at Tati, to get possession of the
Bushman remains he had failed to secure when hunting on the Ramaqueban
in February. The story of his encounter with these men and other
circumstances of the time are related by him at some length in the
following letter home:--
“TATI, _May 29th, 1874_.
“I have been here just a week to-day en route for the Zambesi. I have
been delayed, in the first instance, by the illness of Brown, who is
managing Sir John Swinburne’s mine here in the absence of Nelson, who
has gone to the colony; and since, by having something done to my
waggon wheels. I have been able to be of a little use to Brown, and
did not like to leave him as he was, but he is now better. It does not
much matter losing a few days, as I always thought the 1st of June
would be early enough to leave here, in order to reach the Zambesi as
soon as the healthy season there has fairly set in. I may now wait two
or three days longer, as there seems a possibility of my getting my
waggon wheels shortened. I shall be glad if I can get this done, as
wood in this country shrinks so much that the tire often becomes loose,
and then a blacksmith is wanted to shorten the tire unless the wheel is
wedged.
“I am fortunate in having secured the services of the Dutchman and
his little boy, whose engagement I informed you of in my letter from
Bamangwato. These people are very useful to have about a waggon. There
are a thousand shifts, which any one who understands the subject can
have recourse to. A Kafir is scarcely ever the slightest good, even if
he has been working about waggons all his life. I have now, moreover,
far more comfort in the waggon I appropriate to my own use, as it is no
longer crammed to overflowing, half my cargo being stowed away in my
second waggon, which the Boer occupies. My oxen too are, on the whole,
in a very satisfactory state, and I have all the necessary stores. I
don’t suppose I need be more than a month in reaching the place where
my waggons must stand, and then it is two or three days on foot to the
Victoria Falls; but of course I shall go slower than this, and may not
be back here till November, or even later. I feel now as if all was
going well.
“I was eight days in coming here from the place where I last broke
down, and had few incidents on the road. Van Roozen, the Dutchman,
however, got a fright one morning from a couple of lions, and showed
himself to be rather a coward. We were entering the dry bed of the
Motloutsi River about two hours before sunrise, and I was asleep in the
waggon. It appears that Van Roozen had gone across the river in front
of the waggons to ascertain the nature of the opposite bank, which he
had just climbed when the roar of a lion resounded in his ears, and he
asserts that he was chased by a couple of them, and ‘ran like a horse.’
The latter part of his statement, no doubt, is perfectly correct, and
also it was true that there had been two lions within a yard or two of
him at one time, as we saw by the spoor at sunrise. I found the remains
of a pallah they had killed in the bed of the river, and the spoor
of the lions going away into the bush, and set off to follow it with
the dogs and the Dutchman. The latter was in a great fright. I should
have thought nothing of it if he had candidly admitted as much, but
he thought to put me off by making believe to follow the spoor, and
then conveniently losing it. The Kafirs too are most terribly afraid
of lions, and will always lose the spoor; indeed it is almost useless
to attempt to follow it with them, but I had thought better things of
a Dutchman calling himself a ‘hunter.’ The fact is, for one man to go
alone, or only accompanied by Kafirs, may be dangerous, but for two
white men with double-barrelled rifles the danger is very slight; as,
in the remote contingency of an attack, one could help the other, but
really Dutchmen are only a degree better than Kafirs. Still they are
wonderfully useful about a waggon, and my having this one with me takes
a great deal of bother off my hands, and may save me no end of trouble
and delay. My grand mistake was not taking a good man with me from
Natal in the first instance at £8 or £10 a month.
“I have had a row with some rascally Kafirs here in this wise. Last
year a party of unfortunate Bushmen--men, women, and children--were
killed by a party of Matabele. The Bushmen were supposed to have
been hunting where they had no right, or committing some other
offence--probably an imaginary one. Hearing of this, I thought if I
could find the place I could take a sack and fill it with bones, and
I instituted inquiries accordingly as to the locality, offering a
blanket to any Kafir who would take me to the spot. A Dutchman, who
lives here, when he is not away with his wife and daughters in his
waggon on a hunting expedition, offered to act as my guide, and it was
settled that I should give him £5 for doing so. He, however, changed
his mind about going, but told me he had got one of the Matabele who
killed the Bushmen to go with me in his stead. This fellow was working
here at the mine, but when he was brought to me he also refused to
go, evidently thinking I had some ulterior object in wanting to go to
the place--perhaps to get him punished. These people, too, are very
superstitious about going to places where others have been killed.
“This occurred when I was last here, but on my return I was waited
on by another coloured gentleman, who said he too had helped to kill
the Bushmen (and a ferocious beast he looked)--What business was
it of _mine_ to visit the bones? All this, of course, arose
from the Dutchman having made it known that I wanted the bones. The
ferocious-looking Kafir further went on to say that he should complain
of my conduct to the king, the only way to avoid which catastrophe
being to give him something out of my waggon, to bribe his silence.
Moreover, he hinted that if I did not comply, he should not stick at
helping himself, and went through a pantomime with his knob-kerry (a
stick with a round knob at one end, with which Kafirs knock their
enemies on the head), illustrating what he would do to _me_. All
this was bounce, though no doubt he would have liked to do it had he
dared, and he thought to frighten me. My pusillanimous Dutchman at
once begged me to give the fellow something. This I stoutly refused,
not only as a disgraceful proceeding on my part, but as an act of bad
policy. I knew better than to show him I was afraid of him, and I knew
the king was not likely to go against me, even if the worst came to
the worst. There were two other Kafirs with this one, also from the
mine, to back him up. Finding the Dutchman disposed to be friendly with
them, the spokesman asked him for a cigar, seeing us smoking, and the
Dutchman wanted me to comply, as a preliminary to talking the matter
over. All I said, however, to the Kafir was a word or two of his own
language, meaning ‘Go away, you scoundrel.’
“It was Sunday, and at this moment a white man who works at the
mine came up, and I told him the case. He knew the Kafirs, and at
once ordered them off, giving one of them a good slap on the side of
the head, which upset him. Then they all jumped to their feet and
brandished their knob-kerries. I threw off my coat, and my ally and
I stood ready and waited for the first blow to be struck, whilst Van
Roozen stood afar off. This attitude decided the Kafirs not to risk a
fight, and they said they would go with me to Brown and talk the matter
over. We went accordingly, and Brown told them if they wanted to do
so to take the case before the king, and they soon subsided and slunk
away. I might have had the greatest possible annoyance if it had not
been for the plucky conduct of Dobie from the mine.
“Fairbairn’s waggon was stopped when he came here by some Matabele,
and he gave them some goods, but vowed he would complain to the king
and get them into trouble. I suppose these three Kafirs thought they
too could get something. The king, I believe, would kill them if he
knew. There are, of course, no prisons; and when any of his subjects go
too far they get put to death, and thrown out to the hyænas. He is an
excellent friend to the white men here, and his people live in fear and
trembling of their lives. Since I was at the royal residence, I am told
he has killed some dozen of the leading men of the country for making
suggestions to him. ‘I must show them,’ said he, ‘who is king,’--and he
showed them.
“Winter has now fairly set in; it is extremely cold at night, and not
hot even during the day--at least not hot for Africa. The rivers are
dry and the bush withered, and all is yellow and autumnal looking, and
will remain so till the rains fall in October, and the fresh vegetation
springs up. Then the trees will soon be all green, and many of them
blossoming, and there will be many wild flowers. Now things are bleak
and barren looking enough.
“Before I leave here I shall write a few lines more.... I hope every
one is well, and shall live in hope, for what else can I do? I can’t
expect to get any more letters till my return from the Zambesi. It may
be some little time before you hear from me again, as I don’t know
that any waggons will return till November, though there are no end
of them gone to the Zambesi. Should any precede me back I can send a
letter by them. If, however, you don’t hear, you must take for granted
all is going well with me. Humanly speaking, there seems no reason for
uneasiness.”
On the 8th of June, his waggon at last ready, Frank Oates added a
few lines to this letter, announcing his intended departure on the
following day, and on the 9th he started for the Zambesi. There seemed
now no reasonable probability of anything occurring to interfere with
the successful issue of his journey, yet in reality, as things turned
out, this was only the first of three separate attempts he made to
reach the Zambesi from this point the present season. By the shorter
route now to be adopted--for he was not going by Gubuleweyo--he would
proceed pretty direct northwards, passing through the country of the
Makalakas, who are subject to the Matabele, and hold the key to the
Zambesi country by this approach. Before crossing the boundaries of
these people, it is necessary for travellers to have first obtained
permission from the king to proceed, and such a permission Frank Oates
distinctly had; yet, in spite of all remonstrances on his part, the
Makalakas refused to let him pass, thinking, perhaps, to reap some
profit from his discomfiture, or, it may be, that Lobengula would in
reality be no worse pleased if he were stopped. Indeed the traveller
did not himself entirely exonerate the king from blame, but suspected
at one time he was playing a double game--on the one hand giving
him leave to proceed to the Zambesi, whilst on the other purposely
neglecting to send the needful instructions to his subjects to let him
pass. The king was anxious to encourage a certain number of traders in
his country, but may have looked with suspicion on one whose objects
were less intelligible to him.
At all events, be this as it may, it is perfectly certain that these
Makalakas threw every possible obstacle in the way of his advance--and
not once only, but each time he reached their boundaries--whilst
several traders, going and coming, were permitted to proceed upon their
journey, and the final fatal issue of his expedition to the Zambesi
was practically the result of the behaviour of these people. It is
true that other circumstances, irrespective of their proceedings,
combined to hinder and delay him, again throwing his journey into the
unhealthy season of the year; but these alone would not have been of
the same vital consequence, and the period of his misfortunes dates
from the time when the Makalakas--the king’s permission already plainly
granted--first turned him back, as related in the succeeding chapter,
and forced him to seek a fresh interview with Lobengula. In such a
country, with but a brief healthy season, delays like this were little
short of fatal.
[Illustration: WATTLED STARLING.--_Dilophus
carunculatus._]
But it is time to follow him in the first of these ill-starred
journeys.