Durban lies in a landlocked harbour about three and one-half miles long,
and about six hundred yards wide. At the entrance it is--O South
African Nemesis!--obstructed by a sand-bar which modern engineering
science, fighting against nature, has failed to remove. The sand,
however, is shifting, and at times vessels drawing twelve to fourteen
feet of water can enter the harbour and come up to the wharf of the
city. We were soon transported to the steam launch that awaited us,
and, passing under the shadow of the great giant bluff which terminates
the southern arm of the entrance to the harbour, crossed the bar, and
landed on the quay.
The day was intensely hot, by far the hottest we had experienced since
our arrival in the country. The landing wharves and custom-house are
situated at the extremity of the northern arm of the harbour, and we had
a drive of nearly a mile to reach the town. It was soon evident to us
that we were in a different country from that we had just left. Natal
is essentially an English colony, and bears a much closer resemblance to
Australia than the Cape Colony, with its mixed European and African
population.
The town of Durban consists of a long, straggling main street, which is
about two miles in length, containing many very handsome stores, with a
few cross streets to keep the longer ones in countenance. Few of the
business men live in the town, most of them having residences on the
Berea, a beautiful hill which overlooks the town two miles distant, on
which the handsome houses of the citizens are seen rising in well laid
out terraces facing the town and the sea. The entire hill-side is
thickly interspersed with lovely foliage trees. The public park on the
Berea is full of the most beautiful flowering trees and creepers, while
so prodigal is nature in this favoured climate that the very paths are
bordered by pine plants and orange trees; bananas, shaddocks, and other
luscious fruits hanging in rich profusion everywhere.
The weather was so inviting that we spent most of the time out of doors.
One of the first things that attracts the visitor's attention on
arrival in the country is the black man, from the Hindoo Coolie to the
powerful Zulu. The chief native tribe of Natal is the Zulu, whose
records form an important part of colonial history. They are physically
magnificent, tall, broad-chested, with coal black skin that shines like
satin, and a walk that shows strength and power.
They are decidedly intelligent, but have a strong objection to giving
their services readily and continuously for any sort of work, and are to
be found in domestic service in the towns, on the beach and wharves; but
one seldom sees any of them in the field.
The heart of Zulu Land lies within a few hours' ride from Durban.
Though the country is crowded with native Africans, field labour is
difficult, nearly impossible to obtain on any permanent arrangement, a
trouble which forms another complication in the already sufficiently
intricate problem of native labour. As a consequence, the colonists
have been forced to import Coolies, so far with a most satisfactory
result. All, or nearly all the labour on the estates is performed by
imported Hindoo Coolies.
The sugarcane is largely cultivated on the coast line, the climate being
almost, if not quite, tropical, and the vegetation to be seen by the
roadside and on the distant hills is more like what we expect to find in
Africa than the more temperate products of the old colony. The climate
of Natal is one of the boasts of the inhabitants. It is nearer the
tropics than the Cape, but the mean temperature is little above that in
the more southerly colony; the winter is bright, with deliciously mild,
cool evenings and nights, while the summer heat is softened by a clouded
sky and frequent rains.
Almost anything seems to grow in this genial land, and many of the
colonists, apparently more enterprising than their brethren in the older
colony, have extensively laid out and cultivated farms. We spent a week
at Malvern, twelve miles from Durban, where a Yorkshire gentleman, who
had considerable practical experience in scientific gardening in
England, and had travelled extensively in America, had turned his little
farm into a perfect paradise. There is hardly anything edible in the
way of fruit or vegetable, or beautiful in flower, that is not growing
in profusion and to perfection in his grounds or glass-houses. In
addition to acres of strawberries, pines, oranges, etc, there were
several hundred vines of the Catawba grape, with which he intended to
experiment in wine-making. He was confident of success, and certain
that the manufacture of wine would be one of the future great industries
of the country.
A number of very prosperous companies, with their own estates, mills,
and machinery, are engaged in the manufacture of sugar, molasses and
rum, while many private speculators raise, in addition to the sugarcane
and coffee, tea and rice, and some experiments have been made with
cotton. Some Parsee merchants have been attracted there from Calcutta,
and in the quarter of the town where they chiefly reside the
surroundings are such as would make a stranger think he was in the back
streets of an Indian town. The Coolies make excellent cooks and capital
nurses.
The processions of the idolatrous Coolies are a most interesting sight.
We witnessed one of these parades which they seem so fond of making.
They were dressed and made up in all sorts of fantastic ways, carrying
extraordinary models, all made of paper, of palaces, wild animals, etc,
which they burn amid great shoutings and beatings of tom-toms at the end
of the day's rejoicings. Their chief idol was carried in the centre of
an escort of gorgeously attired priests, while round it were carried
smaller ones. Fifty to one hundred grotesquely attired Coolies were
yelling, dancing, and throwing somersaults, during the beating of the
tom-toms and the general uproar.
The intelligent-looking Zulu, who, despite his philosophical appearance,
I fear is not one whit more enlightened, stood still and looked gravely
on. Such novel scenes as these, and the beauty of the surrounding
country made our stay very interesting.
The northwestern boundary of the colony is the great Drakensbergen,
which mountains are more properly the edge of the great stretch to the
table-land situated in the centre of the continent. The aspects of this
great precipice along its whole length are grand and romantic, and as
the land at its foot does not subside to the sea by easy levels, Natal
is picturesque everywhere. The midland districts have in many parts the
look of the English downs; they are rolling sweeps of grass. The coast
lines are singularly beautiful, with their round bosses, rich in bush
and glade, while the shore presents a bold outline, with projecting
bluffs thickly covered with jungle, and long stretches of lands broken
by rocky floors and reef, on which the surf of the Indian Ocean
majestically breaks.
A favourite trip for the town's people is to take a boat and cross the
lagoon to the bluff, where the scenery is highly romantic both at the
base of the great headland and inland. A forest of fine trees lies a
little beyond the bluff, and here the sportsman may find bush buck, a
large description of antelope, in plenty, besides smaller varieties in
any number, and may also make the acquaintance of boa constrictors,
python and puff adders, or disturb the slumbers of a leopard or black
mamba before he returns home. Of all the snake stories that were told
us in Africa, those of Mr Cato, our American Consul, were the best. He
was one of the first settlers in Durban. Of course when the country was
as wild as it once was, snakes had a chance they don't get nowadays, and
made the best of their opportunities. A colonel in the English regiment
stationed there, a very popular and handsome fellow, went hunting during
our stay, and in alighting from his horse in the tall Zulu grass,
stepped on a deadly puff adder, which raised its ugly hooded head and
stung him. In an hour he was a corpse.
The personal experiences of nearly every resident were not so
interesting as they were thrilling. One gentleman, who occupied a
position of trust, and whose word could be depended upon, told us a
snake story which I do not believe was exaggerated. He was alone in his
house one night, and was awakened from a deep sleep by a peculiar sound.
He listened, and soon had a feeling that a snake was crawling through a
knot-hole in the bare floor. He lay nearly paralysed, the perspiration
oozing out all over his body until, with an effort, he sprang up and
over the foot of his bed, and rushed into the next room. He struck a
light, and returned to see if there was any ground for his fright, and
found a long, deadly puff adder lying on his bed which he had so lately
vacated. We heard other stories just as horrid; it was a fascinating
subject.
After remaining in Durban several weeks we prepared to visit the
capital, Pieter Maritzberg, a town forty miles distant. It is connected
with Durban by a railroad, which is being extended to the Transvaal
border, and thence into the interior. The region on the right of the
road from Durban to Maritzberg, after Pinetown, a town midway between
them, has been passed, is remarkable for its fantastic assemblage of
sugar-loaf hills.