We soon settled down to the routine of our ox-wagon life, and very
pleasant we found it. When the boys would outspan and get things in
readiness for meals, our hunger from the open-air life would be so great
that we could scarcely wait while they made the fire for coffee. Like
all South African travellers, we consumed a prodigious quantity of
coffee. Besides drinking it at every meal, it would be prepared several
times during the day, as we wanted it.
The Dutch people drink it morning, noon, and night, keeping it always on
the fire for their Dutch friends who pass near them. The manner in
which coffee is made in the veldt is: first to boil the water in the
kettle, then pour it on the coffee ready in another kettle; it is then
passed back and forth a few times and the coffee is made; a few drops of
cold water poured into the kettle will soon settle the grounds. We
found the Dutch coffee very good.
Our meals consisted of buck meat, cooked in all sorts of ways, and
sometimes a pair of doves or partridges; we had our canned goods to fall
back upon, and we had also the vegetables of the country, which were
carried in the wagon. We lived most contentedly. One day we suffered
greatly from want of water. We travelled many hours, hoping to find a
stream and fill the water-cans.
A Kafir will find a spring of water in places where a white man would
never think of looking for it, but that day there was no water to be
found, and we positively suffered from thirst. The sun beat down on us
all fiercer than ever, it seemed, and it was not till late in the
afternoon that we came to a small muddy stream. The mud did not
frighten us, and we hurried the boys into making the coffee.
One of our boys had been in the jail at Smithfield, for some petty
misdemeanour, and was discharged in order that he might come with our
staff. He was a raw Kafir about fourteen years of age, with a comical,
laughing face, which peered up at us oddly as he sat on the footboard of
the wagon. He had a funny little squeaking voice which at times would
play him tricks; when apparently about to come forth in a manly roar, it
would suddenly result in a shrill, piping sound, which would throw all
the servants into fits of laughter. He used to perch himself
surreptitiously on the disselboem, against the orders of "the baas," in
the cool of the evening, as we jolted along in the moonlight, and croon
out in Kafir, awfully out of tune, "Sweet bye and bye," a favourite song
of the Sunday-school Kafirs. The missionaries' service with the Kafir,
it may be said, is mostly a service of song. We soon became tired of
his one tune, and sang it for him correctly; but he evidently considered
that our musical education had been neglected, for directly we had
finished he started again, singing it in his own way.
On very hot days we used to contrive an awning on the shady side of the
wagon, under which we would sit and read or make lazy attempts at
sewing. But the silence of the stilly veldt, broken only by the hum of
some buzzing insect, would more often put us to sleep. If our existence
was not one of contentment, then there is no such thing. We became
enamoured of the life and had no desire to hasten on our journey. Some
of the happiest days of our lives were spent during this trip, free from
society, anxiety, and propriety. There was no one to dress for, nor to
come suddenly upon us and disturb our calm existence. When three girls
make up their minds to be contented under all difficulties, difficulties
disappear. They can make their surroundings pretty and can make the
rough fare attractive. If they have been blessed with a good mother,
who has trained them for domestic life, they know how to contrive little
accessories which will give a relish to the plainest fare.
Little trouble was experienced with our servants. They were always
laughing and looking at our mode of life with the interest of a big dog;
they were ludicrously stupid, but they were never sulky or impudent.
Our wagon owner and servants slept on the ground wrapped in blankets or
"karosses," infinitely preferring that to sleeping on a cartel under the
wagon. When we suggested snakes, they only laughed. These fur robes or
"karosses" are light, and when thrown on the ground prevent the ants
from reaching those asleep on them. They are brought from the interior,
beyond the Zambesi River, by the traders. They are beautifully sewed
together by the natives, with thread made from the sinews of wild
animals. These furs are beautiful, being the skins of leopard, silver
fox, jackal, and wolf, and many other animals. They are very
comfortable for travelling on cool nights.
This peaceful region is filled with reptiles and wild animals, but we
saw very few of them.
Our boys would often hold wayside receptions for natives in twos and
threes, coming from goodness knows where, and others, appearing from the
shadows beyond, would surround them, talking rapidly in vowels and
strange sounds, and looking on hungrily at the meals being prepared.
As we outspanned near by a farm during the journey, a farm Kafir, with a
look and bearing of a prince of the soil, dressed to the knees in a
coffee sack, with holes made for arms and head, approached. He stood
talking to the boys in an attitude of utter grace. His calm scrutiny of
us all was very amusing; just as observing and curious as any city-bred
man. He went over to the cactus hedge and cut a pailful of cactus
apples. We could not handle one without having our hands pierced with
hundreds of the little briers found on them. This Kafir sharpened the
end of a long stick, and then stuck it into an apple, and after
dexterously peeling it with a sharp knife, he offered it to us, as if it
had been a bonbon. We were very thirsty, and we found these cactus
apples delicious.
The boys had two dogs with them. One, "Satan," a forbidding-looking
brute, was the remains of what had been a fine Russian water dog, but
life in Africa had not agreed with either his appearance or temper. He
was a disagreeable brute, but after a time got amiable enough to
approach the wagon. Poor little "Stumpy," the other dog, was the
queerest, quaintest little mongrel that ever lived. He would wriggle
his little body most absurdly in vain attempts to wag the apology for a
tail which had given him his name. If we took any notice of him, he
would go mad with delight. He did not know whether to bark, or jump, or
gallop, or dance, or stand on his head, and he would try to do them all
at once.
One lazy, hot afternoon Eva and I made a wager as to which of us could
coax Stumpy to come to her; we went in opposite directions and called
him. The poor little dog's pitiable embarrassment as to which he should
follow, his evident dread of losing either or both his friends by
favouring one or neither, was very funny. He would go a little way to
Eva, then back to me, then stop, then to Eva, then to me, until finally,
after attempting to split himself into halves and go to both, he gave it
up in despair, and just lay down midway between us and howled, refusing
at last to attempt, what so many men have failed to do, to please two
women at the same time.