The time intervening having been spent in getting together the loads,
and otherwise seeing that everything was in order for the road--wheels
greased, waggons overhauled, all necessary supplies for the trip got
safely on board--by the following evening they were ready to start.
The said loads consisted of every conceivable kind of object of barter
then in favour among the up-country natives--blankets and Salampore
cloth, knives and hatchets, tobacco and snuff, beads and umbrellas of
wondrous colours, brass wire for bangles, brass buttons and striped
handkerchiefs, looking-glasses and musical instruments, and a score of
other "notions." For their own use and that of their native servants
they carried sacks of mealie-flour, coffee and sugar, a tin of biscuits
or so, and two or three sides of bacon sewn up in canvas, with a few
tins of preserved fruit, and ditto vegetables.
Each waggon was drawn by a full span of sixteen oxen, which were
engineered by a leader and driver to the span, both natives. The
waggons and their fittings were similar to that which brought Gerard up
from the coast, one of them, indeed, being the same vehicle. The load
took up nearly the whole available space, just leaving room for a small
tilt, which contained a mattress for sleeping on, also lockers, and
canvas pockets hung round the sides. Altogether it is wonderful what a
lot can be stowed away on board these ships of the _veldt_.
One of the waggons had been loaded up in the morning and sent on to the
outspan; the other was ready by sundown. As they went lumbering down
the street, the oxen fresh and rested, stepping out briskly to the shout
of the driver and the occasional crack of his long whip, Gerard, seated
beside Dawes on the box, felt quite elated as he heard the driver's
reply to passing natives inquiring their destination:--"Kwa Zulu," and
could enter fully into the spirit of the said reply, given loftily and
as it were with a touch of pity for the unfortunates condemned to
stagnate at home.
"I was in luck this morning, Ridgeley," said Dawes, as they
superintended the inspanning of the other waggon. "I picked up a
capital Basuto pony, dirt cheap. He'll do for you to ride. There he
is, by the side of mine."
Two steeds were being driven up, knee-haltered. One was a bay, the
other a strongly-built mouse-coloured pony of about fourteen hands.
Gerard was delighted:
"They tell me he's a good shooting horse," went on Dawes, "so that's
another advantage. I always like to have a horse along. One can turn
off the track, and get a shot at a buck without having to fag one's soul
out to catch up the waggons again; and then, too, one sometimes wants to
go into places where one can't take the waggons, and for that, of
course, a horse is nearly indispensable. Are you fond of shooting?"
Gerard answered eagerly that he had hardly ever been lucky enough to get
any. It was, however, the thing of all others he was keenest to
attempt. But he had not even got a gun, though he had a revolver.
"Well, we'll soon make a shot of you," said Dawes. "There's a Martini
rifle in the waggon, and a double gun, one barrel rifled, the other
smooth. We'll find plenty to empty them at when we get up into the Zulu
country, never fear."
Then, the waggons being inspanned, and the two horses made fast behind,
they started. And as they toiled slowly up the long hill which led away
to the border, and presently the lights and blue gum-trees which marked
the site of Maritzbnrg lying in its great basin-like hollow disappeared
behind the rise, Gerard felt that this was the most glorious moment of
his life. The most dazzling vista seemed to open out before him--
adventures and strange experiences to crowd upon each other's heels.
Was he not bound for that wild, mysterious, enchanted land, of which he
had heard many a strange tale from those who had called from time to
time at Anstey's? "Up-country," they would say, with a careless jerk of
the finger, "up-country!" And already he seemed to hear the booming
roar of the prowling lion round the midnight fire, to see the savage
phalanx of the Zulu regiment on the march, bound upon some fell errand
of death and destruction. All the hard and dull routine of the last few
months, the utter desolation of his uncongenial life, even the terrible
and sickening realisation that he was next door to destitute, all were
forgotten now; all such memories swallowed up in the anticipation of
what was before him. As they trekked along in the moonlight, seated
side by side on the box of the foremost waggon, Dawes proceeded to
initiate Gerard further into some of the mysteries of native trade.
"As I was telling you," he said, "there's a regular fashion among
natives, just the same as among white folks. For instance, take
Salampore cloth; there are the two kinds--the thin dark blue and gauzy,
and the lighter-coloured and coarser kind with the orange stripes. Now,
the Zulus are keen as mustard on the first, and simply won't look at the
last, whereas with the natives of Natal, whether of Zulu or Basuto
blood, it's exactly the other way about. Again, take beads. We've got
all sorts--black, white, blue, pink, red. Now, which would you suppose
the Zulus are keenest on?"
Gerard replied that of course they would go for the brightest coloured
ones--say, the red or blue.
"Not a bit of it. The ones they like best of all are the black, after
them the white. There's a fashion about these things, as I tell you.
Now, you'd think one of them pocket-knives, with a blade like a sabre,
and a saw and a corkscrew, and the Lord knows what amount of gimcrackery
all in one handle, would fetch them more than any mortal thing. Well,
it wouldn't. They'd hardly say thank you for one such knife that might
have cost you a guinea, whereas, for them roughly knocked together
butcher knives, that cost me tenpence apiece wholesale, they'll give
almost anything. They like to make a sheath for the thing, to hang
around them."
"What sort of people are they in the way of trade?" asked Gerard.
"Hard as nails. Haggle the eyes out of your head. But you've got to be
firm over a deal, for they're up to all manner of tricks. If the barter
is live stock, they'll try all they know to jockey you with some
worthless and inferior beasts, and so on. Dishonesty? No, they don't
think it dishonest. It is simply their principle of trade--devil take
the hindmost. So far are they from dishonest, that I have more than
once in the Zulu country left my waggon standing for an hour at a time
with absolutely nobody in charge, and have come back to find it
surrounded with people waiting for me, and yet not a thing touched or
displaced. How would that pan out for an experiment in England, for
instance?"
"But poorly, I'm afraid," laughed Gerard.
"Just so. No, the Zulu is the hardest nail going at a deal. But once
the deal is over and it's no longer a question of trade, he's the most
honest man in the world. You'll soon get into their ways and know
exactly how to deal with them, and meanwhile try all you know to pick up
as much of the language as you can. Sintoba, the driver of the other
waggon, is a smart clever chap, and talks English fairly well. You
can't do better than learn all you can from him."
Thus, with many a useful hint and anecdote illustrative of native
character or the life of the _veldt_, would Dawes beguile the time as
they trekked along, all of which Gerard drank in eagerly. His anxiety
to make himself of use knew no bounds. He was up before the first
glimmer of dawn, and would have the "boys" astir and the fire started
for the early pannikin of black coffee, sometimes even before Dawes was
awake, to the latter's astonishment and secret satisfaction. In a day
or two he could take his share at inspanning as readily as the rest, was
as deft at handling the whip as the professional driver, Sintoba
himself, and knew all the oxen by name. And at night, as they sat
around the red embers, he was never tired of listening to Dawes's
narratives of experience and adventure, whether his own or those of
others. He was, in fact, as happy as the day was long, and felt almost
fraternal when he thought of Anstey, remembering that but for that
worthy's rascality he would not be here now.
Several days had gone by. They had passed through Grey Town, and the
magnificent bush country beyond, with its towering heights and great
cliffs rearing up their smooth red faces from tossing seas of verdure.
They had met or passed other waggons from time to time--for it was the
main road to the Transvaal--and now they were descending into the Tugela
valley.
"Hot, eh, Ridgeley?" said Dawes, with a dry smile, mopping his forehead
with a red pocket-handkerchief.
"Yes, it's warm," assented Gerard, who in reality was nearly
light-headed with the terrible heat, but would not own it. There was
not a breath of air. The sun-rays, focused down into the great
bush-clad valley, seemed to beat with the force of a burning-glass, and
the heights on either side shut out whatever breeze might have tempered
the torrid fierceness. A shimmer rose from the ground as from the
outside of the boiler of a steam-engine, and the screech of the crickets
kept up one unending and deafening vibration.
"Do we outspan on this side or cross first?" said Gerard, as the cool
murmur of water became audible.
"We'll outspan on the other. The river's low enough to cross without
any trouble; but the drift isn't always a good one. The principle of
the road is always outspan on the other side of a drift--that is, the
opposite side from the one you arrive at. These rivers, you see, come
down with surprising swiftness, and then, of course, if you delay, you
may be stuck for a week or more. The exception, however, to this rule
is, if there's more water in the river than you quite like but yet not
enough to stop you. Then it is sometimes a good plan to outspan for a
little while to rest your oxen, because they'll need all their strength
for pulling through."
The current, though smooth and swift flowing, proved stronger than it
looked. In splashed the first waggon, amid the shouting and
whip-cracking. The leader could hardly keep his feet, and what with the
force of the current and the plunges of the fore oxen, he was having a
pretty bad time of it. But they emerged panting and dripping on the
other side. Gerard, however, who was on the second waggon, came near
meeting with a disaster that might have cost him his life.
The great vehicle was three parts through. The driver, wading and
splashing beside the span, was urging and encouraging it by the
regulation series of shrill and long-drawn yells. Gerard, who was
standing on the box, cracking the long whip, and also lending his voice
to swell the chorus, was suddenly seen to overbalance, sway, and topple
over into the water, disappearing immediately.
John Dawes, watching progress from the opposite bank, turned white as
death. Gerard had fallen _in front of the wheels_!
"Oh, good God! He's done for!" he gasped.
Meanwhile the driver, who had not seen the accident, was yelling his
loudest, with the result that the span was tugging its hardest. The
waggon was already emerging from the water, rolling up the steep slope
from the drift.
"He's done for," muttered Dawes, ashy pale. "He'll have been ground to
pulp under the water."
But no sooner had the words escaped him, than, lo, Gerard himself,
dripping from head to foot! He jumped down from behind the waggon with
a celerity that showed he had come to no sort of harm.
"What--what did you do that for?" stammered Dawes. "How did you do it?"
"I just grazed one wheel in falling. Luckily I fell between both, and
remembering all you had said about falling off the disselboom, I hung on
like grim death to the bottom of the waggon--held my breath under water,
knowing we would be out in a minute. Then I worked my way along till I
was clear of the wheels and got out. But I'm pretty well blown after
it. I couldn't have held on a minute longer," he gasped, still out of
breath with the almost superhuman exertion he had just gone through.
"By Jove, youngster, but you'll do!" said the other. "You've got pluck
and presence of mind, and that's all you want to carry you through any
mortal thing." And he turned away, to give orders about outspanning,
glad of the opportunity to recover his self-possession, for even he had
undergone a rude shock over the frightfully narrow escape his young
companion had just experienced.