The Mission/Chapter XXIII

There was no alarm during the night, and the next morning they yoked the oxen and changed their course to the northward. The whole of the cattle had been led down to the river to drink, and allowed two hours to feed before they started; for they were about to pass through a sterile country of more than sixty miles, where they did not expect to find either pasturage or water. They had not left the river more than three miles behind them, when the landscape changed its appearance. As far as the eye could scan the horizon, all vestiges of trees had disappeared, and now the ground was covered with low stunted bushes and large stones. Here and there were to be seen small groups of animals, the most common of which were the quaggas. As our travellers were in the advance, they started six or seven ostriches which had been sitting, and a ball from the Major’s rifle brought one to the ground, the others running off at a velocity that the fastest horse could scarcely have surpassed.

“That was a good shot, Major,” said Alexander.

“Yes,” replied Swinton, “but take care how you go too near the bird; you have broken his thigh, and he may be dangerous. They are very fierce. As I thought, here is the nest. Let Bremen kill the bird,—he understands them, Major. It is the male, and those which have escaped are all females.”

“What a quantity of eggs!” said Alexander. “Is the nest a joint concern?”

“Yes,” replied Swinton. “All those which are in the centre of the nest with their points upwards are the eggs for hatching. There are, let me see, twenty-six of them; and you observe that there are as many more round about the nest. Those are for the food of the young ostriches as soon as they are born. However, we will save them that trouble. Bremen must take the eggs outside of the nest for us, and the others the people may have. They are not very particular whether they are fresh or not.”

“This is a noble bird,” said the Major, “and has some beautiful feathers. I suppose we may let Bremen take the feathers out and leave the body?”

“Yes; I do not want it; but Bremen will take the skin, I dare say. It is worth something at the Cape.”

As soon as the Hottentots had secured the eggs, and Bremen had skinned the ostrich, which did not occupy many minutes, they rode on, and Swinton then said:—

“The male ostrich generally associates with from three to seven females, which all lay in the same nest. He sits as well as the females, and generally at night, that he may defend the eggs from the attacks of the hyenas or other animals.”

“You do not mean to say that he can fight these animals?”

“And kill them also. The ostrich has two powerful weapons; its wing, with which it has been often known to break a hunter’s leg, the blow from it is so violent; and what is more fatal, its foot, with the toe of which it strikes and kills both animals and men. I once myself, in Namaqua-land, saw a Bushman who had been struck on the chest by the foot of the ostrich, and it had torn open his chest and stomach, so that his entrails were lying on the ground. I hardly need say that the poor wretch was dead.”

“I could hardly have credited it,” observed Alexander.

“The Bushmen skin the ostrich, and spread the skin upon a frame of wicker-work; the head and neck are supported by a stick thrust through them. The skin they fix on one of their sides, and carry the head and neck in one of their hands, while the other holds the bow and arrows. In this disguise—of course with the feathered side of him presented to the bird or beast he would get near to—he walks along, pecking with the head at the bushes, and imitating the motions of the ostrich. By this stratagem he very often is enabled to get within shot of the other ostriches, or the quaggas and gnoos which consort with these birds.”

“I should like to see that very much,” said the Major.

“You would be surprised at the close imitation, as I have been. I ought to have said that the Bushman whitens his legs with clay. It is, however, a service of danger, for I have, as I told you, known a man killed by the male ostrich; and the natives say that it is by no means uncommon for them to receive very serious injury.”

“Hold hard,” said the Major, “there is a lion; what a terrible black mane he has got! What do you say, Swinton? he is by himself.”

Swinton looked at the animal, which was crossing about three hundred yards ahead of them; he was on a low hill, with his head close to the ground.

“I certainly say not. Let him pass, by all means; and I only hope he will take no notice of us. I must give you the advice which an old Namaqua chief gave me. He said—‘Whenever you see a lion moving in the middle of the day, you may be certain that he is in great want of food and very angry. Never attack one then, for they are very dangerous and most desperate.’ If, therefore, Major, you wish a very serious affair, and one or two lives lost, you will attack that animal. But you must expect that what I say will happen.”

“Indeed, my dear Swinton, I neither wish to lose my own life, nor to risk those of others, and therefore we will remain here till his majesty has had time to get out of our way; and I hope he may soon find a dinner.”

By this time the caravan had come up with them, and they then proceeded. The face of the country became even more sterile, and at last not an animal of any description was to be seen. As there was nothing for the oxen to feed upon, they continued their route during the whole of the day, and at night they halted and secured the cattle to the waggons. Wood for fires they were not able to procure, and therefore they made one half of the Hottentots watch during the night with their muskets to scare off wild beasts. But, as Swinton observed, there was little chance of their being disturbed by lions or other animals, as they were so distant from water, and there was no game near them, upon which the wild beasts prey; and so it proved, for during the whole night they did not even hear the cry of a hyena or a jackal.

At the first gleaming of light the oxen were again yoked, with the hopes of their being able to gain the Vaal River by night. The relay oxen were now put to, to relieve those which appeared to suffer must. At noon the heat was dreadful, and the horses, which could not support the want of water as the oxen could, were greatly distressed. They continued for about two hours more, and then perceived a few low trees. Begum, who had been kept without water, that she might exert herself to find it, started off as fast as she could, followed by Omrah. After running to the trees, they altered their course to the eastward, towards some ragged rocks. The caravan arrived at the trees, which they found were growing on the banks of the river Alexandria, which they knew they should pass; but not a drop of water was to be discovered; even the pools were quite dry. As they searched about, all of a sudden Begum came running back screaming, and with every mark of terror, and clung, as usual, to the Major when:—

“Where is the Bush-boy?” said Bremen.

“Something has happened,” cried Swinton; “come all of you with your guns.”

The whole party, Hottentots and all, hastened towards the rocks where Omrah and Begum had been in search of water. As soon as they reached within fifty paces, quite out of breath with their haste, they were saluted with the quah, quah, of a herd of baboons, which were perched at the edge of the rocks, and which threatened them in their usual way, standing on their fore-legs, and making as if they would fly at them.

“Now, then, what is to be done?” said the Major. “Shall we fire? Do you think that they have possession of the boy?”

“If they have, they will let him go. Yes, we are too numerous for them now, and they will not show fight, depend upon it. Let us all take good aim and fire a volley right into them.”

“Well, then, I’ll take that venerable old chap that appears to be the leader, and the great-grandfather of them all,” said the Major. “Are you all ready?—then fire.”

The volley had its effect; three or four of the animals were killed, many were wounded, and the whole herd went scampering off with loud shrieks and cries, the wounded trailing themselves after the others as well as they could.

The whole party then ascended the crags to look after Omrah—all but Begum, who would not venture. They had hardly gained the summit when they heard Omrah’s voice below, but could not see him. “There he is, sir,” said Swanevelt, “down below there.” Swinton and the Major went down again, and at last, guided by the shouts of the boy, they came to a narrow cleft in the rock, about twenty feet deep, at the bottom of which they heard, but could not see, the boy. The cleft was so narrow that none of the men could squeeze down it. Swinton sent one of them back for some leathern thongs or a piece of rope to let down to him.

During the delay, Bremen inquired of Omrah if he was hurt, and received an answer in the negative. When the rope came, and was lowered down to him, Omrah seized it, and was hauled up by the Hottentots. He appeared to have suffered a little, as his hair was torn out in large handfuls, and his shirt was in ribbons; but with the exception of some severe scratches from the nails of the baboons, he had no serious injury. Omrah explained to the Hottentots, who could talk his language, that Begum and he had come to the cleft, and had discovered that there was water at the bottom of it; that Begum had gone down, and that he was following, when the baboons, which drank at the chasm, had come upon them. Begum had sprung up and escaped, but he could not; and that the animals had followed him down, until he was so jammed in the cleft that he could descend no farther; and that there they had pulled out his hair and torn his shirt, as they saw. Having heard Omrah’s story, and satisfied themselves that he had received no serious injury, they then went to where the baboons had been shot. Two were dead; but the old one, which the Major had fired at, was alive, although severely wounded, having received two shots, one in his arm and the other in his leg, which was broken by the ball. All the poor old creature’s fierceness appeared to have left him. It was evidently very weak from the loss of blood, and sat down leaning against the rock. Every now and then it would raise itself, and look down upon the wound in its leg, examining the hole where the bullet had passed through; then it would hold up its wounded arm with its other hand, and look them in the face inquiringly, as much as to say, “What have you done this for?”

“Poor creature,” said Alexander; “how much its motions are those of a human being. Its mute expostulation is quite painful to witness.”

“Very true,” said the Major; “but still, if it had not those wounds, it would tear you to pieces if it could.”

“That it certainly would,” said Swinton; “but still it is an object of pity. It cannot recover, and we had better put it out of its misery.”

Desiring Bremen to shoot the animal through the head, our travellers then walked back to the caravan. As they returned by the banks of the river, they perceived Begum very busy, scraping up the baked mud at the bottom of a pool.

“What is the princess about?” said Alexander.

“I know,” cried Omrah, who immediately ran to the assistance of the baboon; and after a little more scraping, he pulled out a live tortoise about a foot long.

“I have heard that when the pools dry up, the tortoises remain in the mud till the pools are filled again,” said Swinton.

“Are they good eating, Swinton?”

“Excellent.”

“Turtle soup in the desert, that’s something unexpected.”

The Hottentots now set to work and discovered five or six more, which they brought out. They then tried in vain to get at the water in the deep cleft, but finding it impossible, the caravan continued its course.

“How much more of this desert have we to traverse,” said Alexander, “before we come to the river?”

“I fear that we shall not arrive there before to-morrow night,” said Swinton, “unless we travel on during the night, which I think will be the best plan; for, fatiguing as it will be to the animals, they will be even more exhausted if they pass another day under the burning sun without water, and at night they will bear their work better. We gain nothing by stopping, as the longer they are on the journey, the more they will be exhausted.”

“I really am fearful for the horses, they suffer so much.”

“At night we will wash their mouths with a sponge full of water; we can spare so much for the poor creatures.”

“In the deserts of Africa you have always one of three dangers to encounter,” said Swinton; “wild men, wild beasts, and want of water.”

“And the last is the worst of the three,” replied the Major. “We shall have a moon to-night for a few hours.”

“Yes, and if we had not, it would be of no consequence; the stars give light enough, and we have little chance of wild beasts here. We now want water; as soon as we get rid of that danger, we shall then have the other to encounter.”

The sun went down at last, the poor oxen toiled on with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. At sunset, the relay oxen were yoked, and they continued their course by the stars. The horses had been refreshed, as Swinton had proposed; but they were too much exhausted to be ridden, and our travellers, with their guns on their shoulders, and the dogs loose, to give notice of any danger, now walked by the sides of the waggons over the sandy ground. The stars shone out brilliantly, and even the tired cattle felt relief, from the comparative coolness of the night air. All was silent, except the creaking of the wheels of the waggons, and the occasional sighs of the exhausted oxen, as they thus passed through the desert.

“Well,” observed the Major, after they had walked about an hour without speaking, “I don’t know what your thoughts may have been all this while, but it has occurred to me, that a party of pleasure may be carried to too great lengths; and I think that I have been very selfish, in persuading Wilmot to undergo all that we have undergone and are likely to undergo, merely because I wished to shoot a giraffe.”

“I presume that I must plead guilty also,” replied Swinton, “in having assisted to induce him; but you know a naturalist is so ardent in his pursuit that he thinks of nothing else.”

“I do not think that you have either of you much to answer for,” replied Alexander; “I was just as anxious to go as you were; and as far as I am concerned, have not the slightest wish to turn back again, till we have executed our proposed plans. We none of us undertook this journey with the expectation of meeting with no difficulties or no privations; and I fully anticipate more than we have yet encountered, or are encountering now. If I get back on foot, and without a sole left to my shoe, I shall be quite content; at the same time, I will not continue if you both wish to return.”

“Indeed, my dear fellow, I have no wish but to go on; but I was afraid that we were running you into dangers which we have no right to do.”

“You have a right, allowing that I did not myself wish to proceed,” replied Alexander. “You escorted me safe through the country to ascertain a point in which you had not the slightest interest, and it would be indeed rewarding you very ill, if I were now to refuse to gratify you; but the fact is, I am gratifying myself at the same time.”

“Well, I am very glad to hear you say so,” replied the Major, “as it makes my mind at ease: what time do you think it is, Swinton?”

“It is about three o’clock; we shall soon have daylight, and I hope with daylight we shall have some sight to cheer us. We have travelled well, and cannot by my reckoning be far from the Vaal River. Since yesterday morning we have made sixty miles or thereabouts; and if we have not diverged from our course, the poor animals will soon be relieved.”

They travelled on another weary hour, when Begum gave a cry, and started off ahead of the waggons; the oxen raised their heads to the wind, and those which were not in the yokes after a short while broke away from the keepers, and galloped off; followed by the horses, sheep, and dogs. The oxen in the yokes also became quite unruly, trying to disengage themselves from the traces.

“They have smelt the water, it is not far off, sir,” said Bremen; “we had better unyoke them all, and let them go.”

“Yes, by all means,” said Alexander.

So impatient were the poor beasts, that it was very difficult to disengage them, and many broke loose before it could be effected; as soon as they were freed, they followed their companions at the same rapid pace.

“At all events, we shall know where to find them,” said the Major, laughing: “well, I really so felt for the poor animals that I am as happy as if I was as thirsty as they are, and was now quenching my thirst. It’s almost daylight.”

As the day dawned, they continued to advance in the direction that the animals had taken, and they then distinguished the trees that bordered the river, which was about two miles distant. As soon as it was broad daylight, they perceived that the whole landscape had changed in appearance. Even where they were walking there was herbage, and near to the river it appeared most luxuriant. Tall mimosa-trees were to be seen in every direction, and in the distance large forests of timber. All was verdant and green, and appeared to them as a paradise after the desert in which they had been wandering on the evening before. As they arrived at the river’s banks, they were saluted with the lively notes of the birds hymning forth their morning praise, and found the cattle, after slaking their thirst, were now quietly feeding upon the luxuriant grass which surrounded them.

“Well may the Psalmist and prophets talk of the beauty of flowing rivers,” said Alexander; “now we feel the truth and beauty of the language; one would almost imagine that the sacred writings were indited in these wilds.”

“If not in these, they certainly were in the Eastern countries, which assimilate strongly with them,” said Swinton; “but, as you truly say, it is only by having passed through the country that you can fully appreciate their beauties. We never know the real value of anything till we have felt what it is to be deprived of it; and in a temperate climate, with a pump in every house, people cannot truly estimate the value of flowing rivers.”

The Hottentots having now arrived, the cattle were driven back to the waggons and yoked, that they might be brought up to a spot which had been selected for their encampment. In the mean time our travellers, who were tired with their night’s walk, lay down under a large mimosa-tree, close to the banks of the river.

“We shall stay here a day or two, of course,” said the Major.

“Yes, for the sake of the cattle; the poor creatures deserve a couple of days’ rest.”

“Do you observe how the mimosas are torn up on the other side of the river?” said Swinton; “the elephants have been very numerous there lately.”

“Why do they tear the trees up?” said Alexander.

“To feed upon the long roots, which are very sweet; they destroy an immense number of the smaller trees in that manner.”

“Well, we must have another elephant-hunt,” said the Major.

“We may have hunts of every kind, I expect, here,” replied Swinton; “we are now on the very paradise of wild animals, and the further we go the more we shall find.”

“What a difference there is in one day’s journey in this country,” observed Alexander: “yesterday morning there was not a creature to be seen, and all was silent as death. Now listen to the noise of the birds, and as for beasts, I suspect we shall not have far to look for them.”

“No, for there is a hippopotamus just risen; and now he’s down again—there’s food for a fortnight at one glance,” cried the Major.

“How the horses and sheep are enjoying themselves—they are making up for lost time; but here come the waggons.”

“Well, then, I must get up and attend to my department,” said the Major. “I presume that we must expect our friends the lions again now.”

“Where there is food for lions, you must expect lions, Major,” said Swinton.

“Very true, and fuel to keep them off: by the bye, turtle soup for dinner, recollect; tell Mahomed.”

“I’ll see to it,” said Alexander; “but we must have something for breakfast, as soon as I have had a wash at the river’s side. I would have a bath, only I have such a respect for the hippopotami.”

“Yes, you will not forget them in a hurry,” said Swinton, laughing.

“Not as long as I have breath in my body, for they took all the breath out of it. Come, Swinton, will you go with me, and make your toilet at the river’s banks?”

“Yes, and glad to do so; for I am covered with the sand of the desert.”