The Mission/Chapter XVI

The first step taken by Alexander was to send for the Hottentots, and, after again reproving them for their former behaviour, he asked who were ready to volunteer to proceed with him, as he had decided that he would leave the waggons with Major Henderson, and proceed on horseback the short distance of his journey which remained to be accomplished.

Several of the Hottentots immediately came forward; the heads of the mutiny held back, and thus proved to Alexander that the men who had come forward were persuaded into it by the others, and regretted what they had done. He therefore immediately accepted their services, and their muskets were returned to them. Alexander then stated his intentions to the Caffre head man, who selected the thirty warriors which were required, and in the course of three hours everything was ready for their departure.

It was arranged that in case of danger arising to either party, they should, if possible, fall back to the newly-established Mission of Morley, on the sea-coast; but otherwise, the waggons would remain where they were till Alexander’s return. Having packed up all they required in small packages, to be carried by the Caffres, they bade farewell to the Major, and set off, having no baggage but what we have mentioned: for Alexander would not be encumbered with a load of heavy articles which must prevent rapid progress, or rapid retreat if necessary.

In two hours they arrived by difficult passes at the banks of the Umtata River, which they crossed, and soon afterwards falling in with a Caffre kraal, they were informed that Daaka, the chief whom they sought, did not reside more then twenty miles distant; and they easily procured a guide to show them the way.

The reports of the advance of the Amaquibi army were here fully confirmed, and the natives were preparing to leave the kraal with all their cattle. It appeared, however, that at present the army was stationary; the warriors carousing and enjoying themselves after the victory which they had gained over the Caffres. As these had been assisted by white men and their guns, the spirits of the Amaquibi were raised to an extraordinary degree, and they were intending to carry their arms to the southward, as soon as Quetoo, their chief, had somewhat recovered from his wounds received in the late action. Indeed, it was the wounded state of their chief which was the principal cause of the army not having immediately proceeded to the southward.

Having obtained this information, the travellers resumed their journey along the banks of the Umtata, over a country of surpassing beauty, the deep river being full of hippopotami, which were lying on the banks or snorting in the stream. They could not wait to kill one during the daytime, but promised the men that they would allow them to make the attempt in the evening, after their day’s march was over. Towards sunset, they stopped on the banks of the river on a rising ground, and the Hottentots and some Caffres were then directed to go down to the river in chase of the hippopotami, as it was advisable to save their provisions as much as possible.

Before night they had succeeded, and the carcass of the animal was hauled on shore. As soon as the party had taken as much as they required, the native Caffres carried off the remainder of the flesh. As they were sitting down carousing by the fire which had been lighted, the Caffre head warrior came up to the interpreter, and told Alexander and Swinton not to say that they were Hinza’s warriors if asked where they came from. On being asked why, he told them that Hinza had married the daughter of the chief of this country, and after a time had sent her back again to her father, and that this had created ill-blood between the tribes, although no war had taken place. Alexander and Swinton, who perceived that the advice was judicious, told him that they would not, and after partaking of the hippopotamus-flesh they all lay down to repose under the far-spreading branches of a large tree.

The next morning they set off, and after an hour’s journey the guide told them that they were at the kraal of Daaka, the descendant of the Europeans. The bellowing of the cattle and noise of the calves soon directed them to the spot, and they entered a kraal consisting of several very wretched huts. On inquiring for Daaka, a woman pointed out a hut at a little distance, and, as they dismounted and walked up, he came out to meet them. Swinton and Alexander shook hands with the chief, and said that they were very glad to see him, and that they had come far to pay him a visit. The chief ordered a hut to be swept out for their accommodation, which they took possession of.

“You have no idea, Swinton,” said Alexander, “how much I am excited already by this interview.”

“I can imagine it, my dear Wilmot,” said Swinton; “it is but natural, for he is your kinsman by all report, and certainly, although a Caffre in his habits and manners, his countenance and features are strikingly European.”

“That I have observed myself, and it has fully convinced me of the truth of the statement. I am most anxious to examine him—we must call the interpreter.”

The chief entered the hut soon afterwards, and took his seat; the interpreter was sent for, and the conversation was begun by Daaka, who, like most of the Caffre chiefs, with the hope of obtaining presents, stated himself to be very poor, his cattle to be all dying, and his children without milk. Our travellers allowed him to go on for some time in this manner, and then sent for a present of beads and tobacco, which they gave to him. They then commenced their inquiries, and the first question they asked was, why he resided so near the sea.

“Because the sea is my mother,” replied he “I came from the sea, and the sea feeds me when I am hungry.”

“In that reply he evidently refers to the wreck of the ship,” observed Swinton; “and I presume, from the fish-bones which we have seen about the kraal, that these Caffres feed on fish, which the other tribes do not, and therefore it is that he says his mother feeds him.”

“Was your mother white?” inquired Alexander.

“Yes,” replied Daaka, “her skin was white as yours; her hair was just like yours, long and dark; but before she died it was quite white.”

“What was your mother’s name?”

“Kuma,” replied the chief.

“Had you any brothers and sisters?”

“Yes, I had; I have one sister alive now.”

“What is her name?” inquired Swinton.

“Bess,” replied the chief.

“This is very confirmatory,” said Alexander; “my aunt’s name was Elizabeth; she must have called her child after herself.”

“Whom did your mother marry?”

“She first married my uncle, and had no children; and then she married my father: both were chiefs, and I am a chief; she had five children by my father.”

A long conversation took place after this, the substance of which we may as well communicate to the reader in few words. From the children of Kuma, supposed to be Elizabeth, the aunt of Alexander, were produced a numerous race of the European blood, who were celebrated in the Caffre-land for their courage; they were continually engaged in war, as their alliance was eagerly sought, and in consequence had nearly all perished. Daaka himself was renowned for warlike exploits, but he was now a very old man. In the evening the chief took his leave, and went to his own but.

As soon as they were alone, Alexander said to Swinton, “I have now so far fulfilled my promise to my worthy relation that I have seen this descendant of his child; but what am I to do? An old man like him is not very likely to consent to go to England, and as for his sister Bess, he states that she is equally infirm; the progeny of the rest of the family are scattered about, and he himself knows nothing about them; to collect them would be impossible, and if collected, equally impossible to remove them, for they would not leave. My old relative fancies, in his mind’s eye, his daughter weeping over her captivity, and longing to be restored to her country and her relations; still retaining European feelings and sympathies, and miserable in her position; her children brought up by her with the same ideas, and some day looking forward to their emancipation from this savage state of existence: I think if he were here, and saw old Daaka, he would soon divest himself of all these romantic ideas.”

“I think so too; but there is one thing which has struck me very forcibly, Alexander, which is, if this Daaka is the son of your aunt how comes it that he is so old? When was the Grosvenor lost?”

“In the year 1752.”

“And we are now in 1829. Your aunt you stated to have been ten or twelve years old at the time of the wreck. Allowing her to marry at the earliest age, Daaka could not well be more than forty-eight years old; and surely he is more than that.”

“He looks much older, certainly; but who can tell the age of a savage, who has been living a life of constant privation, and who has been so often wounded as his scars show that he has been? Wounds and hardship will soon make a man look old.”

“That is very true, but still he appears to be to be older than the dates warrant.”

“I think his stating that his sister was named Bess is full corroboration.”

“It is rather circumstantial evidence, Wilmot: now what do you propose to do?”

“I hardly know; but I wish to be in Daaka’s company some time longer, that I may gain more intelligence; and I think of proposing to him that we should go down to visit the remains of the wreck of his mother, as he terms it. I should like to see a spot so celebrated for misfortune, and behold the remains of the ill-fated vessel; I should like to have to tell my good old uncle all I can, and he will wish that I should be able to give him every information.”

“Well, I think it is a good plan of yours, and we will propose it to him to-morrow morning.”

“And I should like to visit his sister Bess—indeed, I must do so. He says she is much younger than he is.”

“He did, and therefore I think his age does not correspond with our dates, as I observed before,” replied Swinton; “but, as you say, you must see his sister.”

Daaka had sent an old cow as a present to Alexander, which was a very seasonable supply, as the hippopotamus-flesh had all been eaten. The next morning they proposed that he should accompany them to where the Grosvenor had been wrecked.

Daaka did not at first appear to know what they wished, and inquired, through the interpreter, whether they meant the ship that was wrecked on the sea-coast, pointing to the eastward. On receiving an answer in the affirmative, he agreed to set off with them that afternoon, saying that it was about forty miles off, and that they would not get there until the next day.

About noon they set off on their journey, and as they made but slow progress over a rugged although most beautiful country, they stopped at night at a kraal about half-way. Early the next morning they were led by Daaka and some Caffres who accompanied him to the sea-shore, and when they had arrived at the beach, it being then low water, Daaka pointed to a reef, upon which were to be seen the guns, ballast, and a portion of the keelson of a ship—all that remained of the unfortunate Grosvenor.

As the sea washed over the reef, now covering and now exposing these mementoes of misery and suffering, Alexander and Swinton remained for some time without speaking; at last Alexander said—

“Swinton, you have read the history of this unfortunate vessel, I know, for you asked me for it to read. What a succession of scenes of horror do these remains, which from their solid weigh only have defied the power of the winds and waves, conjure up at this moment in my mind. I think I now behold the brave vessel dashed upon the reefs—the scream of despair from all on board—the heart-rending situation of the women and children—their wonderful escape and landing on shore, only to be subjected to greater suffering. See, Swinton, that must have been the rock which they all gained, and upon which they remained shivering through the night.”

“It is, I have no doubt, from its position,” said Swinton.

“Yes, it must have been; I think I see them all—men, women, and helpless children—huddled together, half-clothed and suffering, quitting that rock by this only path from it, and setting off upon their mad and perilous journey: the scattering of the parties—their perils and hunger—their conflicts with the natives—their sufferings from heat and from thirst—their sinking down one by one into the welcome arms of death, or torn to pieces by the wolves and hyenas as they lagged behind the others. How much more fortunate those who never gained the shore.”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Swinton; “except the eight who reached the Cape, and the five that Daaka asserts were saved, all the rest must have perished in that dreadful manner.”

Alexander remained for some time in painful thought; at last he turned to Daaka and said, as he pointed to the remains of the wreck, “And this then is your mother?”

Daaka looked at him and shook his head. “No, not my mother this,” replied he; “my mother down there,” replied he, pointing out in a northerly direction.

“What does he mean, Swinton? he says this is not his mother.”

“I will speak to him, Wilmot; you are too much agitated,” replied Swinton.

“Is not that the vessel which your mother was lost in?” said Swinton, through the interpreter.

“No,” replied Daaka; “my mother came on shore in a vessel up the little river out there; I was a boy when this large ship was wrecked; and got some iron from her to make assaguays.”

“Merciful heaven! what joy I feel; I trust it is true what he says.”

“I have no doubt of it, Wilmot; I told you he was too old a man,” replied Swinton; “but let me question him further.”

Our readers may imagine the impatience of Alexander while the questions of Swinton were being answered, and by which it appears that Daaka’s mother was lost at the mouth of the Lauwanbaz, a small river some miles to the eastward of the Zemsooboo. An old Caffre, who had come down with Daaka, now gave a particular account of the wreck of the Grosvenor, corroborating all Daaka’s assertions.

“Were there none of the Grosvenor’s people left in the country?” inquired Swinton.

“None,” replied the old man; “they all went to the southward.”

“Did you hear what became of them?”

“Some lay down and died, some fought the natives and were killed; the wolves ate the rest; not one left alive; they all perished.”

“Were none of the women and children saved and kept as slaves?”

“No, not one; they had no meat, no milk, and they all died.”

After some other inquiries, the old man, who at first did not reply willingly, stated that he had, with other Caffres, followed the last party; had seen them all dead, and had taken off their clothes, and that as they died they were buried by those who still survived.

“A better fate, cruel as it was, than living as they must have lived,” said Swinton.

“Yes, truly,” replied Alexander; “you don’t know, Swinton, what a load has been removed from my mind, and how light-hearted I feel, notwithstanding this recital of their sufferings. My poor uncle! God grant that he may live till my return with this distinct intelligence, with the assurance that he has no grandchildren living the life of a heathen, and knowing no God. What a relief will it prove to him; how soothing will it be to his last days! How grateful am I to God, that I have had so happy an issue to my mission! Now, Swinton, we will return as soon as you please; as soon as we arrive at Daaka’s kraal, I will take down in writing the statement of these people, and then we will hasten back to the Major.”

“And I dare say,” said Swinton, as he remounted his horse, “that you will make old Daaka a more handsome present, for proving himself no relation to you, than if he had satisfactorily established himself as your own first cousin.”

“You may be sure that my gratitude towards him is much greater than ever could have been my kindred feelings from relationship. I am so light-hearted, Swinton, and so grateful to God, that I almost wish to dismount in my anxiety to return my thanks; but I do so in my heart of hearts, at all events.”

On the following day they arrived at Daaka’s kraal, and then Alexander took down very carefully in writing the statements made by Daaka and the other Caffres. They all agreed on the one point, which was, that the European descendants now living in the country were wrecked in another vessel many years before the loss of the Grosvenor, and that not one of the Grosvenor’s people—men, women, or children—had survived, except the few who arrived at the Cape.

Having obtained these satisfactory documents, they made a handsome present to Daaka and the other Caffres, and immediately set out upon their return to the waggons. As they journeyed back to the westward, they found the Caffres quitting their huts, and driving away the cattle, that they might not fall into the power of the army of Quetoo, which it was said was now in motion, and scattering the tribes before them. As our travellers were not at all anxious to have any communication with these savage invaders, in two days they crossed the Umtata, and towards the evening were within sight of the waggons. A shout from the Hottentots and Caffres gave notice of their approach. The shout was returned, and in a few minutes they were shaking hands with the Major, who was delighted to see them.

“I did not expect you back so soon,” replied the Major; “and I perceive that you are unaccompanied, I presume that your Caffre relations would not quit their kraals.”

“You shall know all about it, Major, very soon; it will be enough at present to let you know that we have nothing but good news.”

“That I rejoice to hear; but it was well you came back as you did, for I have been making every preparation, and had you not returned in a few days, I should have retreated; the invaders are close at hand.”

“We know it, and, if they are told that there are waggons here well loaded, they will come on quickly, with the hopes of plunder, so we must delay no longer,” replied Alexander; “to-morrow we will yoke and set off. We can determine upon our route as we are travelling, but the first point’s to retreat from this quarter.”

“Exactly; the oxen are in prime order and can make a long day’s march, and we know our country for some days, at all events; but enter my fortress, dismount, and let us go into the tent which I have pitched. You shall then tell me your adventures, while Mahomed fries a delicate piece of elephant’s flesh for you.”

“Have you killed an elephant?”

“Yes, but not without much difficulty and some danger, I assure you; I wanted your help sadly, for these Hottentots are too much alarmed to take good aim, and I had only my own rifle to trust to; but I have done very well considering, and I shall prove to our commander-in-chief that I have supplied the garrison without putting him to any expense during his absence. We have been feeding upon green monkeys for three days, and very good eating they are, if you do not happen upon a very old one.”

When they entered the inclosure made by the Major, they were surprised at the state of defence in which he had put it. His hedge of thorns upon rocks piled up was impregnable, and the waggons were in the centre, drawn up in a square; the entrance would only admit one person at a time, and was protected by bars at night.

“Why, Major, you might have held out against the whole force of the Amaquibi in this position.”

“Yes, provided I had provisions and water,” replied the Major; “but I fear they would soon have starved me out; however, it was as well to be prepared against any sudden night-attack, and therefore I fortified my camp: now come in, and welcome back again.”

The news which they had to impart to the Major was soon given, and he was highly delighted at the intelligence:— “And now,” said he, “what do you mean to do, Wilmot?—go back again, of course, but by what route?”

“Why, Major, you and Swinton have been so kind in coming with me thus far, and I have been so successful in my expedition, that I shall now leave you to decide as you please. I have effected all that I wished, my business is over, and I am ready to meet you in any way you choose; anything you decide upon I shall agree to willingly and join in heartily, so now speak your wishes.”

“Well, I will speak mine very frankly,” replied the Major. “We have had some sport in this country, it is true, but not so much as I could have wished; for game is rather scarce, with the exception of elephants and sea-cows. Now I should like to cross the mountains, and get into the Bechuana and Bushman country, where game is as plentiful as I believe water is scarce; we can return that way, if you please, almost as well as we can through the Caffre country—what say you, Swinton?”

“Well, I am of your opinion. As Wilmot says, business is over, and we have nothing to do but to amuse ourselves; I am very anxious to pass through the country, as I shall add greatly to my collections, I have no doubt; but it must not be expected that we shall fare as well as we have done in this; it will be the dry season, and we may be in want of water occasionally.”

“I am equally desirous of going through that country, where I hope to shoot a giraffe,—that is my great ambition,” replied Wilmot; “therefore we may consider that we are all agreed, and the affair is settled; but the question is, how shall we proceed back? We must return to Hinza’s territory and send back the Caffres. Shall we return to Butterworth?”

“I think that must depend upon circumstances, and we can talk it over as we go along: the first point to ascertain is, the best passage over the mountains; and it appears to me that we shall be diverging much too far to the eastward if we return to Butterworth; but the Caffres will soon give us the necessary information.”

“I wonder if the quarrel between Hinza and Yoosani has been made up,” said Alexander; “for we must pass through the Tambookie tribe if we cross the mountains, and if there is war between them we may meet with difficulty.”

“We shall hear as soon as we have crossed the Bashee river,” replied Swinton; “and then we must decide accordingly. All that can be settled now is, that to-morrow we start on our return, and that we will cross the mountains, if we possibly can.”

“Yes, that is decided,” replied Alexander.

“Well, then, as soon as you have finished your elephant-steak, Wilmot, we will get out a bottle of wine, drink the first half of it to congratulate you upon the success of your mission, and the other half shall be poured out in bumpers to a happy return.”