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Title: Lake Ngami
        Or, explorations and discoveries during four years' wanderings in the wilds of southwestern Africa

Author: Charles John Andersson

Release date: June 2, 2024 [eBook #73758]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Harper & Brothers, 1856

Credits: Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAKE NGAMI ***






[Illustration: LIONS PULLING DOWN GIRAFFE.]




                               LAKE NGAMI;

                                   OR,
                       EXPLORATIONS AND DISCOVERIES
                                  DURING
                   FOUR YEARS’ WANDERINGS IN THE WILDS
                                    OF
                           SOUTHWESTERN AFRICA.

                                    BY
                         CHARLES JOHN ANDERSSON.

                       WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS,
      REPRESENTING SPORTING ADVENTURES, SUBJECTS OF NATURAL HISTORY,
                 DEVICES FOR DESTROYING WILD ANIMALS, &c.

                                NEW YORK:
                      HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
                             FRANKLIN SQUARE.
                                  1856.




PREFACE.


The following Narrative of Explorations and Discoveries during four years
in the wilds of the southwestern parts of Africa contains the account of
two expeditions in that continent between the years 1850 and 1854. In the
first of these journeys, the countries of the Damaras (previously all but
unknown in Europe) and of the Ovambo (till now a _terra incognita_) were
explored; in the second, the newly-discovered Lake Ngami was reached by a
route that had always been deemed impracticable. It is more than probable
that this route (the shortest and best) will be adopted as the one by
which commerce and civilization may eventually find their way to the Lake
regions.

The first journey was performed in company with Mr. Francis Galton, to
whom we are indebted for a work on “Tropical South Africa;” on the second
the Author was alone, and altogether dependent on his own very scanty
resources.

It was suggested to the Author, as regards the first journey, that,
from the ground having been preoccupied, it would be best for him to
commence where his friend left off. There was some reason for this;
but, on mature consideration, he deemed it desirable to start from the
beginning, otherwise he could not have given a connected and detailed
account of the regions he visited. Moreover, from the Author having
remained two years longer in Africa than Mr. Galton, he has not only been
enabled to ascertain the truth respecting much that at first appeared
obscure and doubtful, but has had many opportunities of enlarging the
stock of information acquired by himself and friend when together.
Besides, they were often separated for long periods, during which many
incidents and adventures occurred to the Author that are scarcely alluded
to in “Tropical South Africa.” And, lastly, the impressions received by
different individuals, even under similar circumstances, are generally
found to vary greatly, which, in itself, would be a sufficient reason for
the course the Author has decided on pursuing.

As will be seen, the present writer has not only described the general
appearance of the regions he visited, but has given the best information
he was able to collect of the geological features of the country, and of
its probable mineral wealth; and, slight though it may be, he had the
gratification of finding that the hints he threw out at the Cape and
elsewhere were acted upon, that mining companies were formed, and that
mining operations are now carried on to some extent in regions heretofore
considered as utterly worthless.

The Author has also spoken at some length of the religion, and manners,
and customs of such of the native tribes (previously all but unknown to
Europeans) visited by him during his several journeys. He also noted
many of their superstitions, for too much attention, as has been truly
observed, can not be paid to the mythological traditions of savages.
Considerable discretion is, of course, needful in this matter, as,
if every portion were to be literally received, we might be led into
grievous errors; still, by attending to what many might call absurd
superstitions, we not only attain to a knowledge of the mental tendencies
of the natives, but are made acquainted with interesting facts touching
the geographical distribution of men and inferior animals.

Since the different members constituting the brute creation are so
intimately connected with the economy of man, and since many of the
beasts and birds indigenous to those parts of Africa visited by the
Author are still but imperfectly known, he has thought it advisable to
enter largely into their habits, &c., the rather as natural history has
from childhood been his favorite pursuit, and is a subject on which
he therefore feels conversant; and though part of what he has stated
regarding the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, the koodoo, the ostrich,
and others of the almost incalculable varieties of animals found in the
African wilderness may be known to some inquirers, it is still hoped that
the general reader will find matter he has not previously met with.

The larger portion of the beautiful plates to be found in this work
(faithfully depicting the scenes described) are by Mr. Wolf—“the Landseer
of animals and vegetation,” to quote the words of the Earl of Ellesmere
in a note which his lordship did me the honor to write to me.

The Author has endeavored in the following pages faithfully, and in
plain and unassuming language, to record his experiences, impressions,
feelings, and impulses, under circumstances often peculiarly trying. He
lays claim to no more credit than may attach to an earnest desire to make
himself useful and to further the cause of science.

It is more than probable that his career as an explorer and pioneer to
civilization and commerce is terminated; still he would fain hope that
his humble exertions may not be without their fruits.

When he first arrived in Africa, he generally traveled on foot throughout
the whole of the day, regardless of heat, and almost scorning the idea
of riding on horseback, or using any other mode of conveyance; indeed,
he was wont to vie with the natives in endurance; but now, owing to the
severe hardships he has undergone, his constitution is undermined, and
the foundation of a malady has been laid that it is feared he will carry
with him to the day of his death; yet such is the perverseness of human
nature that, did circumstances permit, he would return to this life of
trial and privation.




CONTENTS.


                               CHAPTER I.

    Departure from Sweden.—Day-dreams.—Fraternal Love.—A tempting
    Offer.—Preparations for Journey to Africa.—Departure from
    England.—Arrival at the Cape.—Town and Inhabitants.—Table
    Mountain.—Curious Legend.—Preparation for Journey into the
    Interior.—Departure for Walfisch Bay                           Page 19

                               CHAPTER II.

    Arrival at Walfisch Bay.—Scenery.—Harbor described.—Want of
    Water.—Capabilities for Trade.—Fish.—Wild-fowl.—Mirage.—Sand
    Fountain.—The Bush-tick.—The Naras.—Quadrupeds scarce.—Meeting
    the Hottentots.—Their filthy Habits.—The Alarum.—The
    Turn-out.—Death of a Lion.—Arrival at Scheppmansdorf.—The
    Place described.—Mr. Bam.—Missionary Life.—Ingratitude of
    Natives.—Missionary Wagons                                          29

                              CHAPTER III.

    Preparations for Journey.—Breaking-in Oxen.—Departure from
    Scheppmansdorf.—An infuriated Ox.—The Naarip Plain.—The
    scarlet Flower.—The Usab Gorge.—The Swakop River.—Tracks of
    Rhinoceros seen.—Anecdote of that Animal.—A Sunrise in the
    Tropics.—Sufferings from Heat and Thirst.—Arrival at Daviep:
    great resort of Lions.—A Horse and Mule killed by them.—The
    Author goes in pursuit.—A troop of Lions.—Unsuccessful
    Chase.—Mules’ flesh palatable                                       44

                               CHAPTER IV.

    The Gnoo and the Gemsbok.—Pursuit of a Rhinoceros.—Venomous
    Fly.—Fruit of the Acacia nutritious.—Sun-stroke.—Crested
    Parrot.—A Giraffe shot.—Tjobis Fountain.—Singular
    Omelet.—Nutritious Gum.—Arrival at Richterfeldt.—Mr. Rath and
    the Missions.—The Damaras: their Persons, Habits, &c.—Lions
    Troublesome.—Panic.—Horse Sickness                                  56

                               CHAPTER V.

    Hans Larsen.—His Exploits.—He joins the Expedition.—How
    people travel on Ox-back.—Rhinoceros Hunt.—Death of the
    Beast.—“Look before you Leap.”—Anecdote proving the
    Truth of the Proverb.—Hans and the Lion.—The Doctor in
    Difficulties.—Sufferings on the Naarip Plain.—Arrival at
    Scheppmansdorf                                                      68

                               CHAPTER VI.

    Return to Scheppmansdorf.—Training Oxen for the
    Yoke.—Sporting.—The Flamingo.—The Butcher-bird: curious
    Superstition regarding it.—Preparing for Journey.—Servants
    described                                                           76

                              CHAPTER VII.

    Departure from Scheppmansdorf.—Cattle refractory at
    starting.—Tincas.—Always travel by Night.—Rhinoceros Hunt.—The
    Author in danger of a second Sun-stroke.—Reach Onanis.—A
    Tribe of Hill-Damaras settled there.—Singular Manner in
    which these People smoke.—Effects of the Weed.—The Euphorbia
    Candelabrum.—Remarkable Properties of this vegetable
    Poison.—Guinea-fowl: the best Manner of shooting them.—Meet
    a troop of Giraffes.—Tjobis Fountain again.—Attacked by
    Lions.—Providential Escape.—Arrival at Richterfeldt                 83

                              CHAPTER VIII.

    A hearty Welcome.—We remove the Encampment.—An
    Apparition.—Audacity of wild Beasts.—Depriving Lions of their
    Prey.—Excessive Heat.—Singular effects of great Heat.—Depart
    for Barmen.—Meet a troop of Zebras.—Their flesh not equal
    to Venison.—The Missionary’s Wall.—A sad Catastrophe.—The
    “Kameel-Doorn.”—Buxton Fountain.—The Scorpion.—Arrival at
    Barmen                                                              95

                               CHAPTER IX.

    Barmen.—Thunder-storm in the Tropics.—A Man killed by
    Lightning.—Warm Spring.—Mr. Hahn: his Missionary Labor; Seed
    sown in exceeding stony Ground.—The Lake Omanbondè.—Mr.
    Galton’s Mission of Peace.—The Author meets a Lion by the way;
    the Beast bolts.—Singular Chase of a Gnoo.—“Killing two Birds
    with one Stone.”—A Lion Hunt.—The Author escapes Death by a
    Miracle.—Consequences of shooting on a Sunday                      106

                               CHAPTER X.

    A Christmas in the Desert.—Mr. Galton’s Return from the Erongo
    Mountain.—He passes numerous Villages.—Great Drought; the
    Natives have a Choice of two Evils.—The Hill-Damaras.—The
    Damaras a Pastoral People.—The whole country Public
    Property.—Enormous herds of Cattle.—They are as destructive as
    Locusts to the Vegetation.—Departure from Richterfeldt.—The
    Author kills an Oryx.—The Oxen refractory.—Danger of traversing
    dry Water-courses on the approach of the Rainy Season.—Message
    from the Robber-chief Jonker.—Emeute among the Servants.—Depart
    for Schmelen’s Hope                                                119

                               CHAPTER XI.

    Schmelen’s Hope.—Scenery.—Missionary Station.—Raid of the
    Namaquas.—Ingratitude of the Natives.—Jonker’s Feud with
    Kahichenè; his Barbarities; his Treachery.—Mr. Galton departs
    for Eikams.—Author’s successful sporting Excursions.—He
    captures a young Steinbok and a Koodoo.—They are easily
    domesticated.—Hyænas very troublesome; several destroyed by
    Spring-guns.—The latter described.—Visit from a Leopard; it
    wounds a Dog; Chase and Death of the Leopard.—The Caracal          126

                              CHAPTER XII.

    Wild-fowl abundant.—The Great Bustard.—The Termites.—Wild
    Bees.—Mushrooms.—The Chief Zwartbooi.—Return of Mr. Galton.—He
    makes a Treaty with Jonker.—He visits Rehoboth.—Misdoings
    of John Waggoner and Gabriel.—Change of Servants.—Swarm of
    Caterpillars.—A reconnoitring Expedition.—Thunder-storm.—The
    Omatako Mountains.—Zebra-flesh a God-send.—Tropical
    Phenomenon.—The Damaras not remarkable for Veracity.—Encamp
    in an Ant-hill.—Return to Schmelen’s Hope.—Preparations for
    visiting Omanbondè                                                 135

                              CHAPTER XIII.

    Depart from Schmelen’s Hope.—Meeting with Kahichenè.—Oxen
    Stolen.—Summary Justice.—Superstition.—Meeting an old
    Friend.—Singular Custom.—Gluttony of the Damaras.—How they
    eat Flesh by the Yard and not by the Pound.—Superstitious
    Custom.—A nondescript Animal.—The Author loses his Way.—Ravages
    of the Termites.—“Wait a bit, if you please.”—Magnificent
    Fountain.—Remains of Damara Villages.—Horrors of War.—Meet
    Bushmen.—Meet Damaras.—Difficulties encountered by African
    Travelers.—Reach the Lake Omanbondè.—Cruel Disappointment          146

                              CHAPTER XIV.

    Omanbondè visited by Hippopotami.—Vegetation, &c.,
    described.—Game somewhat scarce.—Combat between Elephant
    and Rhinoceros.—Advance or Retreat.—Favorable reports of
    the Ovambo-land.—Resolve to proceed there.—Reconnoitre
    the Country.—Depart from Omanbondè.—Author shoots a
    Giraffe.—Splendid Mirage.—The Fan-palm.—The Guide
    absconds.—Commotion among the Natives.—Arrive at
    Okamabuti.—Unsuccessful Elephant-hunt.—Vegetation.—Accident
    to Wagon.—Obliged to proceed on Ox-back.—The Party go
    astray.—Baboon Fountain.—Meeting with the Ovambo; their
    personal Appearance, &c.—Return to Encampment.—An Elephant
    killed.—Discover a curious Plant.—Immorality.—Reflections          162

                               CHAPTER XV.

    Depart from Okamabuti.—Visit from a Lion.—Amulets.—Revisit
    Baboon Fountain.—Otjikoto; a wonderful Freak of Nature;
    Remarkable Cavern.—Natives unacquainted with the Art
    of Swimming.—Fish abundant in Otjikoto; frequented by
    immense Flocks of Doves.—Panic of the Ovambo on seeing
    Birds shot on the Wing.—Arrive at Omutjamatunda.—A greasy
    Welcome.—Ducks and Grouse numerous.—Author finds himself
    somewhat “overdone.”—“Salt-pans.”—All “look Blue.”—A second
    Paradise.—Hospitable Reception.—Vegetation.—People live in
    Patriarchal Style.—Population.—Enormous Hogs.—Arrive at the
    Residence of the redoubtable Nangoro                               178

                              CHAPTER XVI.

    Visit from Nangoro.—His extreme Obesity.—One must be fat to
    wear a Crown.—His non-appreciation of Eloquence.—Singular
    Effects of Fireworks on the Natives.—Cure for making
    a wry Face.—Ball at the Palace.—The Ladies very
    attractive and very loving.—Their Dress, Ornaments,
    &c.—Honesty of the Ovambo.—Kindness to the Poor.—Love of
    Country.—Hospitality.—Delicate manner of Eating.—Loose
    Morals.—Law of Succession.—Religion.—Houses.—Domestic
    Animals.—Implements of Husbandry.—Manner of Tilling the
    Ground.—Articles of Barter.—Metallurgy                             190

                              CHAPTER XVII.

    The River Cunenè.—The Travelers are Prisoners at large.—Kingly
    Revenge.—Kingly Liberality.—Depart from Ondonga.—Sufferings and
    Consequences resulting from Cold.—Return to Okamabuti.—Damara
    Women murdered by Bushmen.—Preparations for Journey.—Obtain
    Guides.—Depart from Tjopopa’s Werft.—Game abundant.—Author
    and three Lions stalk Antelopes in Company.—Extraordinary
    Visitation.—The Rhinoceros’s Guardian Angel.—The Textor
    Erythrorhynchus.—The Amadina Squamifrons; singular Construction
    of its Nest.—Return to Barmen                                      201

                             CHAPTER XVIII.

    The Damaras.—Whence they came.—Their Conquests.—The
    Tide turns.—Damara-land only partially inhabited.—Climate.—
    Seasons.—Mythology.—Religion.—Superstitions.—Marriage.—
    Polygamy.—Children.—Circumcision.—Bury their Dead.—Way they
    mourn.—Children interred alive.—Burial of the Chief, and
    Superstitions consequent thereon.—Maladies.—Damaras do not live
    long; the Cause thereof.—Food.—Music and Dancing.—How they
    swear.—Power of the Chieftain limited.—Slothful
    People.—Numerals.—Astronomy.—Domestic Animals; their Diseases
                                                                       214

                              CHAPTER XIX.

    Dispatch a Messenger to Cape-Town.—Depart from
    Barmen.—Eikhams.—Eyebrecht.—Depart from Eikhams.—Elephant
    Fountain.—Tunobis.—Enormous quantities of Game.—Shooting
    by Night at the “Skarm.”—The Author has several narrow
    Escapes.—Checked in attempt to reach the Ngami.—The Party
    set out on their Return.—Reach Elephant Fountain.—How to
    make Soap.—Pitfalls.—A night Adventure.—Game scarce.—Join
    Hans.—The Party nearly poisoned.—Arrival at Walfisch
    Bay.—A tub Adventure.—Extraordinary Mortality among the
    Fish.—Author narrowly escapes Drowning.—Arrival of the
    Missionary Vessel.—Letters from Home.—Mr. Galton returns to
    Europe.—Reflections                                                229

                               CHAPTER XX.

    Capture of young Ostriches.—Natural History of the Ostrich;
    where found; Description of; Size; Weight; Age; Voice;
    Strength; Speed; Food; Water; Breeding; Incubation; Cunning;
    Stones found in Eggs; Chicks; Flesh.—Brain in request among the
    Romans.—Eggs highly prized.—Uses of Egg-shells.—Feathers an
    article of Commerce.—Ostrich Parasols.—The Bird’s destructive
    Propensities.—Habits.—Resembles Quadrupeds.—Domestication.—The
    Chase.—Snares.—Ingenious Device.—Enemies of the Ostrich            247

                              CHAPTER XXI.

    Sudden Floods.—John Allen’s Sufferings.—Hans and the
    Author enter into Partnership.—Young Grass injurious
    to Cattle.—Depart from Walfisch Bay.—Attractive
    Scenery.—Troops of Lions.—Extraordinary Proceedings of
    Kites.—Flight of Butterflies.—Attachment of Animals to one
    another.—Arrival at Richterfeldt; at Barmen.—Hans’s narrow
    Escape.—Self-possession.—Heavy Rains.—Runaway Ox; he tosses
    the Author.—Depart from Barmen.—Difficulty of crossing
    Rivers.—Encounter great numbers of Oryxes                          264

                              CHAPTER XXII.

    The Oryx; more than one Species.—Where found.—Probably
    known in Europe previous to the discovery of the
    Passage round the Cape of Good Hope.—Description of the
    Oryx.—Gregarious.—Speed.—Food.—Water not necessary to its
    existence.—Will face the Lion.—Formidable Horns.—Their
    Use.—Flesh.—The Chase of this Animal                               272

                             CHAPTER XXIII.

    Arrival at Eikhams.—Native Dogs; cruelly treated.—Jonker
    Afrikaner.—The Author visits the Red Nation; the bad Repute
    of these People.—The Author attacked by Ophthalmia.—The
    embryo Locust.—The “flying” Locust; its Devastations.—The
    Locust-bird.—Arrival at Rehoboth; the Place described              277

                              CHAPTER XXIV.

    Return to Eikhams.—Ugly Fall.—Splendid Landscape.—Jonker’s
    Delinquencies.—How to manage the Natives.—The Ondara.—It
    kills a Man.—How his Comrade revenges him.—Medical Properties
    of the Ondara.—The Cockatrice.—The Cobra di Capella.—The
    Puff-adder.—The Spitting Snake.—The Black Snake.—Few Deaths
    caused by Snakes.—Antidotes for Snake-bites.—Return to Rehoboth
                                                                       287

                              CHAPTER XXV.

    The Author’s Tent takes Fire.—He loses every thing but his
    Papers.—He is laid on a bed of Sickness.—Want of Medicine,
    &c.—Reflections.—Whole Villages infected with Fever.—Abundance
    of Game.—Extraordinary Shot at an Ostrich.—A Lion breakfasts
    on his Wife.—Wonderful shooting Star.—Remarkable Mirage.—Game
    and Lions plentiful.—The Ebony-tree.—Arrival at Bethany, a
    Missionary Station.—The Trouble of a large Herd of Cattle.—A
    thirsty Man’s Cogitation.—Curious Superstition.—The Damara
    Cattle described.—People who live entirely without Water.—Cross
    the Orange River.—Sterile Country                                  299

                              CHAPTER XXVI.

    Great Namaqua-land.—Its Boundaries and Extent.—Its
    Rivers.—Nature of the Country.—Vegetation and
    Climate.—Geological Structure.—Minerals.—“Topnaars” and
    “Oerlams.”—Houses.—Mythology and Religion.—Tumuli.—Wonderful
    Rock.—Curious Legend of the Hare.—Coming of Age.—The
    Witch-doctor.—Amulets.—Superstitions.—A Namaqua’s notion
    of the Sun.—Marriage.—Polygamy.—Children.—Barbarous
    Practice.—Longevity.—Singular
    Customs.—Ornaments.—Tattooing.—Arms.—Idle Habits.—Fond of
    Amusements.—Music and Dancing.—Spirits.—Mead.—Domestic Animals
                                                                       311

                             CHAPTER XXVII.

    Leave the Orange River.—Arrival at Komaggas.—Gardening and
    Agriculture.—The Author starts alone for the Cape.—Colony
    Horses.—Enmity of the Boers to “Britishers.”—Dutch
    Salutation.—The Author must have been at Timbuctoo, whether or
    no.—He arrives at Cape-Town.—Cuts a sorry figure.—Is run away
    with.—A Feast of Oranges.—Ghost Stories.—Cattle Auction.—Hans
    and John Allen proceed to Australia.—Preparations for Journey
    to the Ngami.—Departure from the Cape                              325

                             CHAPTER XXVIII.

    Arrival at Walfisch Bay.—Atrocities of the Namaquas.—Mr.
    Hahn.—His Philanthropy.—Author departs for Richterfeldt.—Shoots
    a Lion.—Lions unusually numerous.—Piet’s Performances with
    Lions.—The Lion a Church-goer.—Barmen.—Eikhams.—Kamapyu’s
    mad Doings and Consequences thereof.—Kamapyu is wounded by
    other Shafts than Cupid’s.—Author visits Cornelius; here he
    meets Amral and a party of Griqua Elephant-hunters.—Reach
    Rehoboth.—Tan’s Mountain.—Copper Ore.—Jonathan Afrika.—A Lion
    sups on a Goat.—A Lion besieges the Cattle                         339

                              CHAPTER XXIX.

    Dispatch Cattle to the Cape.—Terrible Thunder-storm.—Trees
    struck by Lightning.—The Nosop River.—A Comet.—The Author
    nearly poisoned.—Some of the Men abscond; they return
    to their Duty.—Babel-like confusion of Tongues.—Game
    abundant.—Author shoots a Giraffe.—Meet Bushmen.—Unsuccessful
    Elephant-hunt.—Sufferings from Hunger.—Tunobis.—Game
    scarce.—Author and Steed entrapped.—Pitfalls.—The Men turn
    sulky.—Preparations for departure from Tunobis.—Vicious
    Pack-oxen.—Consequences of excessive Fatigue.—The Jackal’s
    handiwork.—Tracks of Elephants.—More Pitfalls.—Loss of the
    Anglo-Saxon Lion and the Swedish Cross.—Reach Ghanzé               351

                              CHAPTER XXX.

    Ghanzé.—Spotted Hyæna.—The Rhinoceros.—Where found.—Several
    Species.—Description of Rhinoceros.—Size.—Appearance.—Age.—
    Strength.—Speed.—Food.—Water.—The Young.—Affection.—Senses.—
    Disposition.—Gregarious.—Indolence.—Domestication.—Flesh.—
    Horns.—The Chase.—Mr. Oswell’s Adventures with Rhinoceroses.—A
    Crotchet.—Where to aim at the Rhinoceros.—Does not bleed
    externally when wounded.—Great numbers slain annually              368

                              CHAPTER XXXI.

    Departure from Ghanzé.—Nectar in the Desert.—Difficulty in
    finding Water.—Arrive at Abeghan.—Unsuccessful Chase.—A
    “Charm.”—How to make the undrinkable drinkable.—An Elephant
    wounded and killed.—Bold and courageous Dog.—Kobis.—Author
    seized with a singular Malady.—Messengers dispatched to the
    Chief of the Lake Ngami.—A large troop of Elephants.—Author
    kills a huge Male.—Lions and Giraffe.—Author’s hair-breadth
    Escapes: from a black Rhinoceros; from a white Rhinoceros;
    from two troops of Elephants; he shoots a couple of his
    Adversaries.—Where to aim at an Elephant                           386

                             CHAPTER XXXII.

    Timbo’s Return from the Lake; his Logic; he takes the Law
    in his own Hands.—Calf of Author’s Leg goes astray.—A
    troop of Elephants.—Author is charged by one of them, and
    narrowly escapes Death.—He shoots a white Rhinoceros.—He
    disables a black Rhinoceros.—He is charged and desperately
    bruised and wounded by the latter.—He saves the Life of his
    Attendant, Kamapyu.—Author again charged by the Rhinoceros,
    and escapes Destruction only by the opportune Death of his
    Antagonist.—Reflections.—He starts for the Ngami                   402

                             CHAPTER XXXIII.

    Start from Kobis.—Meet Bechuanas.—False Report.—Wonderful
    Race of Men.—The Baobob-tree.—The Ngami.—First Impressions of
    the Lake.—Reflections.—Experience some Disappointment.—Reach
    the Zouga River and encamp near it.—Interview with Chief
    Lecholètébè.—Information refused.—Immoderate Laughter.—Presents
    to the Chief.—His Covetousness.—His Cruelty.—Formidable
    Difficulties.—Author permitted to proceed northward                413

                             CHAPTER XXXIV.

    The Ngami.—When discovered.—Its various Names.—Its Size and
    Form.—Great Changes in its Waters.—Singular Phenomenon.—The
    Teoge River.—The Zouga River.—The Mukuru-Mukovanja
    River.—Animals.—Birds.—Crocodiles.—Serpents.—Fish                  423

                              CHAPTER XXXV.

    The Batoana.—Government.—Eloquence.—Language.—Mythology.—
    Religion.—Superstition.—The Rain-maker.—Polygamy.—
    Circumcision.—Burial.—Disposition of the Bechuanas.—Thievish
    Propensities.—Dress.—Great Snuff-takers.—Smoking.—Occupations.—
    Agriculture.—Commerce.—Hunting and Fishing                         436

                             CHAPTER XXXVI.

    Departure for Libèbé.—The Canoe.—The Lake.—Reach the
    Teoge.—Adventure with a Leché.—Luxurious Vegetation.—Exuberance
    of animal Life.—Buffaloes.—The Koodoo.—His
    Haunts.—Pace.—Food.—Flesh.—Hide.—Disposition.—Gregarious
    Habits.—The Chase                                                  456

                             CHAPTER XXXVII.

    Tsetse Fly.—Confined to particular Spots.—Its Size.—Its
    Destructiveness.—Fatal to Domestic Animals.—Symptoms in the Ox
    when bitten by the Tsetse                                          468

                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.

    The Crocodile.—An Englishman killed by one of these
    Monsters.—The Omoroanga Vavarra River.—Hardships.—Beautiful
    Scenery.—Lecholètébè’s Treachery.—The Reed-ferry                   471

                             CHAPTER XXXIX.

    The Bayeye.—Their Country; Persons; Language;
    Disposition; Lying and Pilfering Habits.—Polygamy
    practiced among the Bayeye.—Their Houses; Dress;
    Ornaments; Weapons; Liquors; Agriculture; Grain; Fruits;
    Granaries.—Hunting.—Fishing.—Nets.—Diseases.—The
    Matsanyana.—The Bavicko.—Libèbé                                    476

                               CHAPTER XL.

    Departure from the Bayeye Werft.—The Reed-raft.—The
    Hippopotamus.—Behemoth or Hippopotamus.—Where found.—Two
    Species.—Description of Hippopotamus.—Appearance.—Size.—Swims
    like a Duck.—Food.—Destructive Propensities of the
    Animal.—Disposition.—Sagacity.—Memory.—Gregarious
    Habits.—Nocturnal
    Habits.—Domestication.—Food.—Flesh.—Hide.—Ivory.—Medicinal
    Virtues                                                            485

                              CHAPTER XLI.

    The Bayeye harpoon the Hippopotamus.—The Harpoon described.—How
    the Chase of the Hippopotamus is conducted by the Bayeye.—How
    it was conducted by the ancient Egyptians.—The Spear used by
    them.—Ferocity of the Hippopotamus.—Killed by Guns.—Frightful
    Accident.—The Downfall                                             495

                              CHAPTER XLII.

    Return to the Lake.—The Author starts for Namaqua-land to
    procure Wagons.—Night Adventure with a Lion.—Death of the
    Beast.—Sufferings of the Author                                    506




ILLUSTRATIONS.


                                              Page

    LIONS PULLING DOWN GIRAFFE      _To face Title._

    MALAY                                       24

    VIEW OF WALFISCH BAY                        30

    DAMARAS                                     63

    HILL-DAMARA PIPE                            89

    THE LUCKY ESCAPE                           117

    SHOOTING-TRAP                              132

    FAN-PALM                                   167

    OVAMBO PIPE                                174

    OVAMBO DAGGER AND SHEATH                   174

    OVAMBO HATCHET                             174

    OVAMBO BASKET FOR MERCHANDISE              174

    OTJIKOTO FOUNTAIN                          180

    INTERVIEW WITH KING NANGORO                191

    OVAMBO BEER-CUP AND BEER-SPOON             193

    OVAMBO GUITAR                              193

    OVAMBO                                     195

    OVAMBO MEAT-DISH                           197

    OVAMBO DWELLING-HOUSE AND CORN-STORES      200

    VIEW IN ONDONGA                            201

    OVAMBO BLACKSMITHS AT WORK                 203

    UNWELCOME HUNTING COMPANIONS               211

    DAMARA GRAVE                               224

    JONKER AFRIKANER                           232

    WILD BOAR’S HEAD                           233

    COURSING YOUNG OSTRICHES                   249

    ORYX OR GEMSBOK                            273

    SKULL OF A BECHUANA OX                     308

    DACRE’S PULPIT                             333

    NEGRO BOY                                  338

    PITFALLS                                   361

    HEADS OF RHINOCEROSES                      371

    HORNS OF RHINOCEROS OSWELLII               372

    FŒTUS OF RHINOCEROS KEITLOA                376

    THE APPROACH OF ELEPHANTS                  398

    MORE CLOSE THAN AGREEABLE                  406

    DESPERATE SITUATION                        409

    NAKONG AND LECHÉ                           432

    THE BECHUANA PICHO                         438

    ASCENDING THE TEOGE                        461

    TSETSE FLY                                 468

    THE REED-FERRY                             476

    BAYEYE                                     481

    MEDAL                                      493

    HIPPOPOTAMUS HARPOON                       496

    THE REED-RAFT AND HARPOONERS               497

    THE SPEAR                                  498

    EGYPTIANS AND HIPPOPOTAMUS                 500

    THE SPEAR                                  501

    THE REEL                                   501

    THE DOWNFALL                               505

    AUTHOR AND STEED BROKEN DOWN               510

    SIGNAL STATION AT CAPE-TOWN                511




LAKE NGAMI.




CHAPTER I.

    Departure from Sweden.—Day-dreams.—Fraternal Love.—A tempting
    Offer.—Preparations for Journey to Africa.—Departure from
    England.—Arrival at the Cape.—Town and Inhabitants.—Table
    Mountain.—Curious Legend.—Preparation for Journey into the
    Interior.—Departure for Walfisch Bay.


It was at the close of the year 1849 that I left Gothenbourg, in a
sailing vessel, for Hull, at which place I arrived in safety, after
a boisterous and somewhat dangerous passage of about fourteen days’
duration. Though a Swede by birth, I am half an Englishman by parentage;
and it was with pleasure that I visited, for the second time, a country
endeared to me by the ties of kindred and the remembrance of former
hospitality.

My stay in England, however, was intended to be only of short duration.
I carried with me thither a considerable collection of living birds
and quadrupeds, together with numerous preserved specimens of natural
history, the produce of many a long hunting excursion amid the mountains,
lakes, and forests of my native country. These I was anxious to dispose
of in England, and then proceed in my travels, though to what quarter of
the globe I had scarcely yet determined.

From my earliest youth, my day-dreams had carried me into the wilds of
Africa. Passionately fond of traveling, accustomed from my childhood to
field sports and to the study of natural history, and (as I hope I may
say with truth) desirous of rendering myself useful in my generation, I
earnestly longed to explore some portion of that continent where all my
predilections could be fully indulged, and where much still remained in
obscurity which might advantageously be brought to light. The expense,
however, of such a journey was to me an insurmountable obstacle. I had,
therefore, long since given up all idea of making it, and had turned my
thoughts northward to Iceland, a country within my reach, and where I
purposed studying the habits and characteristics of the rarer species of
the northern fauna. While at Hull, accordingly, I consulted some whaling
captains on the subject of my enterprise, and had almost completed my
arrangements, when a visit to London, on some private affairs, entirely
changed my destination.

Before leaving Hull I witnessed a striking example of that attachment
toward each other so frequently found to exist in the most savage
animals. By the kindness of the secretary, I had been permitted to place
my collection in the gardens of the Hull Zoological Society. Among
others were two brown bears—twins—somewhat more than a year old, and
playful as kittens when together. Indeed, no greater punishment could be
inflicted upon these beasts than to disunite them for however short a
time. Still, there was a marked contrast in their dispositions. One of
them was good-tempered and gentle as a lamb, while the other frequently
exhibited signs of a sulky and treacherous character. Tempted by an offer
for the purchase of the former of these animals, I consented, after much
hesitation, to his being separated from his brother.

It was long before I forgave myself this act. On the following day, on my
proceeding, as usual, to inspect the collection, one of the keepers ran
up to me in the greatest haste, exclaiming, “Sir, I am glad you are come,
for your bear has gone mad!” He then told me that, during the night, the
beast had destroyed his den, and was found in the morning roaming wild
about the garden. Luckily, the keeper managed to seize him just as he
was escaping into the country, and, with the help of several others,
succeeded in shutting him up again. The bear, however, refused his food,
and raved in so fearful a manner that, unless he could be quieted, it was
clear he would do some mischief.

On my arrival at his den, I found the poor brute in a most furious state,
tearing the wooden floor with his claws, and gnawing the barricaded front
with his teeth. I had no sooner opened the door than he sprang furiously
at me, and struck me repeated blows with his powerful paws. As, however,
I had reared him from a cub, we had too often measured our strength
together for me to fear him now; and I soon made him retreat into the
corner of his prison, where he remained howling in the most heartrending
manner. It was a most sickening sight to behold the poor creature with
his eyes bloodshot, and protruding from the sockets; his mouth and chest
white with foam, and his body crusted with dirt. I am not ashamed to
confess that at one time I felt my own eyes moistened. Neither blows nor
kind words were of any effect: they only served to irritate and infuriate
him; and I saw clearly that the only remedy would be, either to shoot
him, or to restore him to his brother’s companionship. I chose the latter
alternative; and the purchaser of the other bear, my kind friend Sir
Henry Hunloke, on being informed of the circumstance, consented to take
this one also.

Shortly after my arrival in London, Sir Hyde Parker, another valued
friend of mine, and “The King of Fishermen,” introduced me to Mr. Francis
Galton, who was then just on the point of undertaking an expedition to
Southern Africa; his intention being to explore the unknown regions
beyond the boundary of the Cape of Good Hope Colony, and to penetrate,
if possible, to the recently discovered Lake Ngami. Upon finding that
I also had an intention of traveling, and that our tastes and pursuits
were in many respects similar, he proposed to me to give up my talked-of
trip to the far north, and accompany him to the southward; promising, at
the same time, to pay the whole of my expenses. This offer awoke within
me all my former ambition; and, although I could not be blind to the
difficulties and dangers that must necessarily attend such an expedition,
I embraced, after some hesitation, Mr. Galton’s tempting and liberal
proposal.

Preparations for our long and hazardous journey were now rapidly made. An
immense quantity of goods of every kind was speedily amassed, intended
partly for barter and partly for presents to barbarous chiefs. Muskets,
long sword-knives, boar-spears, axes, hatchets, clasp and strike-light
knives, Dutch tinder-boxes, daggers, burning-glasses, compasses, gilt
rings (copper or brass), alarums, beads of every size and color,
wolf-traps, rat-traps, old military dresses, cast-off embassador’s
uniforms—these, and a host of other articles too various to enumerate,
formed our stock in trade.

To the above we added, mostly for our own use, guns and rifles, a vast
quantity of ammunition of all kinds, instruments for taking observations,
arsenical and other preparations for preserving objects of natural
history, writing materials, sketch-books, paints, pencils, canteens,
knives, forks, dishes, &c.

It was also deemed advisable that we should take with us boats for the
navigation of Lake Ngami, those used by the natives being unsafe. We
therefore supplied ourselves with three, each adapted for a specific
purpose.

Having thus provided, as far as possible, for all emergences, we
transferred ourselves and baggage on board the splendid but unfortunate
ship, the _Dalhousie_.[1] Here we found, to our dismay, in addition to
a number of other passengers, several hundred emigrants, destined to the
Cape of Good Hope. Instead, however, of these people proving, as we had
at first anticipated, a great annoyance, we found that they contributed
considerably toward enlivening and diverting us during a long and tedious
passage.

I am not, however, about to inflict upon my readers the particulars of
our voyage to the Cape. Suffice it to say that, after a few days’ delay
at Plymouth, we put to sea in half a gale of wind, on the 7th of April,
1850, and experienced subsequently the usual vicissitudes of rough and
smooth weather. At one time we were carried by a gentle breeze past the
lovely island of Madeira, and so near as to distinguish its pleasant
vineyards, and neat, pretty cottages, scattered over the mountain side
to the very summit; at another we were driven so far westward by gales
and adverse winds as to sight the coast of South America, until, at
length, on the night of the 23d of June, the much-wished-for land was
descried, and on the following noon we anchored safely in Table Bay,
after a passage of eighty-six days—a time at least a third longer than
the average. How truly welcome to my eyes, as we sailed into the bay, was
the fine panoramic view of Cape-Town, with the picturesque Table Mountain
rising immediately in the background!

Upon landing, we took up our quarters at Welch’s hotel. Our design was to
stay a short time at Cape-Town, in order to obtain information respecting
our intended route, and to procure whatever was still wanting for our
journey. We then proposed to proceed by land northward, taking the course
of the Trans-Vaal river. It will presently be seen, however, that our
desires in this respect were entirely frustrated.

To give to an English reader a full description of Cape-Town would,
indeed, be a superfluous task. I fear, also, that in some respects I
should be found to differ from other travelers.

Cape-Town is generally described as a clean and neat place. With all due
deference, I must dissent widely from this opinion. All the streets, for
instance, are unpaved, and are, moreover, half filled with rubbish, swept
from the shops and warehouses, until some friendly shower carries it
away. Undoubtedly the town is regularly built, with broad streets, laid
out at right angles to each other; but as almost every person of property
resides in the country, few handsome dwelling-houses are to be met
with—and by far the greater number are in the Dutch style. Here, however,
as every where else where the English have obtained firm footing,
improvements are very apparent; and, doubtless, now that the colony has
obtained its own Legislature, such improvements will become still more
visible.

No one can be at Cape-Town for a single day without being struck by the
infinite variety of the human race encountered in the streets: Indians,
Chinese, Malays, Caffres, Bechuanas, Hottentots, Creoles, “Afrikanders,”
half-castes of many kinds, negroes of every variety from the east and
west coasts of Africa, and Europeans of all countries, form the motley
population of the place.

[Illustration: MALAY.]

Of all these, with the exception of the Europeans, the Malays are
by far the most conspicuous and important. They comprise, indeed,
no inconsiderable portion of the inhabitants, and are, moreover,
distinguished for their industry and sobriety. Many of them are
exceedingly well off, and, not unfrequently, keep their carriages and
horses. They profess the Mohammedan religion, and have their own clergy
and places of worship. Two thirds of the week they work hard, and devote
the remainder to pleasure, spending much of their time and money on their
dress, more especially the women. These latter seldom have any covering
for the head; but the men tie round it a red handkerchief, over which
they wear an enormous umbrella-shaped straw hat, admirably adapted to
ward off the sun’s rays, but useless and inconvenient in windy weather.

The Malays are usually very honest; but, strange to relate, on a certain
day of the year they exert their ingenuity in purloining their neighbors’
poultry, and, Spartan-like, do not consider this dishonorable, provided
they are not detected in the fact:

    “To be _taken_, to be _seen_,
    _These_ have crimes accounted been.”

To be at Cape-Town, without ascending the far-famed Table Mountain,
was, of course, not to be thought of. The undertaking, however, is not
altogether without danger. On the side of the town, access to the summit
is only practicable on foot, and that by a narrow and slippery path; but
on the opposite side the Table may be gained on horseback, though with
some difficulty. The whole mountain side, moreover, is intersected by
deep and numerous ravines, which are rendered more dangerous by the dense
fogs that, at certain seasons of the year, arise suddenly from the sea.

One fine afternoon I had unconsciously approached the foot of the
mountain, and the top looked so near and inviting, that, though the sun
was fast sinking, I determined to make the ascent. At the very outset I
lost the road; but, having been all my life a mountain-climber, I pushed
boldly forward. The task, however, proved more difficult than I expected,
and the sun’s broad disk had already touched the horizon when I reached
the summit. Nevertheless, the magnificent panorama that now lay spread
before me amply rewarded me for my trouble. It was, however, only for a
very short time that I could enjoy the beautiful scene; darkness was
rapidly encroaching over the valley below; and as in these regions there
is but one step from light to darkness, I was compelled to commence
the descent without a moment’s delay. I confess that this was not done
without some apprehension; for, what with the quick-coming night, and
the terrible ravines that lay yawning beneath my feet, the task was any
thing but agreeable. I found it necessary for safety to take off my
boots, which I fastened to my waist; and at length, after much exertion,
with hands torn, and trowsers almost in rags, I arrived late in the
evening at our hotel, where they had begun to entertain some doubt of my
safety. As a proof that my fears were not altogether groundless, a short
time before this, a young man, who was wandering about the mountain in
broad daylight, missed his footing, was precipitated down its sides, and
brought in the next day a mutilated corpse.

When Europeans first arrived in the Cape Colony, it would appear that
almost all the larger quadrupeds indigenous to Southern Africa existed in
the neighborhood of Table Mountain. A curious anecdote is preserved in
the archives of Cape-Town relating to the death of a rhinoceros, which,
for its quaintness and originality, is perhaps worthy of record.

Once upon a time—so runs the legend—some laborers employed in a field
discovered a huge rhinoceros immovably fixed in the quicksands of the
salt river which is within a mile of the town. The alarm being given, a
number of country people, armed with such weapons as were at hand, rushed
to the spot with an intention of dispatching the monster. Its appearance,
however, was so formidable, that they deemed it advisable to open their
battery at a most respectful distance. But, seeing that all the animal’s
efforts to extricate itself were fruitless, the men gradually grew
more courageous, and approached much nearer. Still, whether from the
inefficiency of their weapons, or want of skill, they were unable to make
any impression on the tough and almost impenetrable hide of the beast.
At length they began to despair, and it was a question if they should not
beat a retreat; when an individual, more sagacious than the rest, stepped
forward, and suggested that a hole should be cut in the animal’s hide, by
which means easy access might be had to its vitals, and they could then
destroy it at their leisure! The happy device was loudly applauded; and
though, I believe, the tale ends here, it may be fairly concluded that,
after such an excellent recommendation, success could not but crown their
endeavors.

We had now been at Cape-Town somewhat less than a week, and had already
added considerably to the stock of articles of exchange, provisions, and
other necessaries for our journey. To convey the immense quantity of
luggage, we provided ourselves with two gigantic wagons, each represented
to hold three or four thousand pounds’ weight, together with a sort of
cart[2] for ourselves.

Mr. Galton bought also nine excellent mules, which could be used either
for draft or packing; two riding horses; and, in addition to these, he
secured about half a dozen dogs, which, if the truth be told, were of a
somewhat mongrel description.

Mr. Galton also engaged the needful people to accompany us on our
travels, such as wagon-drivers, herdsmen, cooks, &c., in all amounting to
seven individuals.

Our preparations being now complete, we were about to set out on our
journey, when, to our dismay, we received information which entirely
overthrew our plans. It was reported to us that the Boers on the
Trans-Vaal River (the very line of country we purposed taking) had
lately turned back several traders and travelers who were on their
way northward, and had, moreover, threatened to kill any person who
should attempt to pass through their territories with the intention of
penetrating to Lake Ngami. This intelligence being equally unexpected
and unwelcome, we were at a loss on what to decide. On asking the
opinion of the Governor of the Cape, Sir Harry Smith, to whose kindness
and hospitality we were, on several occasions, indebted, he strongly
dissuaded us from attempting the route in question. “The Boers,” he said,
“are determined men; and, although I have no fear for the safety of your
lives, they will assuredly rob you of all your goods and cattle, and thus
prevent your proceeding farther.” The counsel given us by his excellency
settled the point. We were, however, determined not to be idle; but it
was by no means easy to decide on what course to pursue. As the whole
of the interior, by which a passage could be obtained to the lake, was
either occupied by the Boers, or served as their hunting-ground, we
were compelled to choose between the eastern and western coasts. The
former of these, however, was well known to be infected by fevers fatal
to Europeans; while the latter presented, for a considerable distance
northward, nothing but a sandy shore, destitute of fresh water and
vegetation. The country intervening between the western coast and the
lake, moreover, was represented as very unhealthy.

While in this state of uncertainty, we made the acquaintance of a Mr.
M⸺, who lately had an establishment at Walfisch Bay, on the west coast
of Africa, about seven hundred geographical miles north of the Cape.
He strongly recommended us to select this place as the starting-point
for our journey into the interior, which opinion was confirmed by some
missionaries whom we met in Cape-Town, and who had a settlement in the
neighborhood of the bay in question.

This route was ultimately adopted by us; but, as vessels only frequented
Walfisch Bay once or twice in the course of every two years, Mr. Galton
at once chartered a small schooner, named the _Foam_, the sixth part of
the expense of which was defrayed by the missionaries referred to, who
were anxious not only to forward some supplies, but to obtain a passage
for a young member of their society, the Rev. Mr. Schöneberg, who was
about proceeding on a mission of peace and good-will into Damara-land.

As our plans were now so entirely changed, and as we were about to travel
through an almost unknown region, we thought it expedient to disencumber
ourselves of whatever could in any way be spared. We left, accordingly,
at the Cape, among other things, two of our boats; taking with us,
however, the other, a mackintosh punt, as being light and portable,
hoping some day or other to see her floating on the waters of the Ngami.

Our arrangements being finished, and the goods, &c., shipped, we unfurled
our sails on the 7th of August, and bade farewell to Cape-Town, where,
during our short stay, we had experienced much kindness and hospitality.




CHAPTER II.

    Arrival at Walfisch Bay.—Scenery.—Harbor described.—Want of
    Water.—Capabilities for Trade.—Fish.—Wild-fowl.—Mirage.—Sand
    Fountain.—The Bush-tick.—The Naras.—Quadrupeds scarce.—Meeting
    the Hottentots.—Their filthy Habits.—The Alarum.—The
    Turn-out.—Death of a Lion.—Arrival at Scheppmansdorf.—The
    Place described.—Mr. Bam.—Missionary Life.—Ingratitude of
    Natives.—Missionary Wagons.


In the afternoon of the 20th of August we found ourselves safely anchored
at the entrance of Walfisch Bay. From the prevalence of southerly winds,
this voyage seldom occupies more than a week, but on the present occasion
we were double that time performing it.

The first appearance of the coast, as seen from Walfisch Bay, is little
calculated to inspire confidence in the traveler about to penetrate into
the interior. A desert of sand, bounded only by the horizon, meets the
eye in every quarter, assuming, in one direction, the shape of dreary
flats; in another, of shifting hillocks; while in some parts it rises
almost to the height of mountains.

[Illustration: VIEW OF WALFISCH BAY.]

Walfisch Bay has been long known to Europeans, and was once hastily
surveyed by Commodore Owen, of the Royal Navy. It is a very spacious,
commodious, and comparatively safe harbor, being on three sides protected
by a sandy shore. The only winds to which it is exposed are N. and N.W.;
but these, fortunately, are not of frequent occurrence. Its situation is
about N. and S. The anchorage is good. Large ships take shelter under the
lee of a sandy peninsula, the extremity of which is known to navigators
by the name of “Pelican Point.” Smaller craft, however, ride safely
within less than half a mile of the shore.

The great disadvantage of Walfisch Bay is that no fresh water can be
found near the beach; but at a distance of three miles inland abundance
may be obtained, as also good pasturage for cattle. I mention this
circumstance as being essential to the establishment of any cattle-trade
in future.

During the time the guano trade flourished on the west coast of Africa,
Walfisch Bay was largely resorted to by vessels of every size, chiefly
with a view of obtaining fresh provisions. At that period, certain
parties from the Cape had an establishment here for the salting and
curing of beef. They, moreover, furnished the guano-traders, as also
Cape-Town, with cattle; and had, in addition, a contract with the
British government for supplying St. Helena with live-stock. The latter
speculation proved exceedingly lucrative for a time, and a profit of
many hundred per cent. was said to be realized. From some mismanagement,
however, the contract for St. Helena was thrown up by the government,
and the parties in question were fined a large sum of money for its
non-fulfillment. Shortly afterward the establishment was broken up, and
for several years the house and store remained unoccupied; but they are
now again tenanted by people belonging to merchants from Cape-Town.

Walfisch Bay affords an easy and speedy communication with the interior.
By the late explorations of Mr. Galton and myself in that quarter, we
have become acquainted with many countries previously unknown, or only
partially explored, to which British commerce might easily be extended.

Walfisch Bay and the neighborhood abounds with fish of various kinds: at
certain seasons, indeed, it is much frequented by a number of the smaller
species of whale, known by the name of “humpbacks,” which come here
to breed. Several cargoes of oil, the produce of this fish, have been
already exported.

At the inner part of the harbor, a piece of shallow water extends nearly
a mile into the interior, and is separated from the sea, on the west
side, by Pelican Point. This lagoon teems with various kinds of fish,
and at low water, many that have lingered behind are left sprawling
helplessly in the mud. At such times, the natives are frequently seen
approaching; and, with a gemsbok’s horn affixed to a slender stick, they
transfix their finny prey at leisure. Even hyænas and jackals seize such
opportunities to satisfy their hunger.

Walfisch Bay is frequented by immense numbers of water-fowl, such as
geese, ducks, different species of cormorants, pelicans, flamingoes, and
countless flocks of sandpipers. But, as the surrounding country is every
where open, they are difficult of approach. Nevertheless, with a little
tact and experience, tolerably good sport may be obtained, and capital
rifle-practice at all times. Hardly any of the water-fowl breed here.

Every morning, at daybreak, myriads of flamingoes, pelicans, cormorants,
&c., are seen moving from their roosting-places in and about the bay, and
flying in a northerly direction. About noon they begin to return to the
southern portion of the bay, and continue arriving there, in an almost
continuous stream, until nightfall.

The way in which the “duikers” (cormorants and shags) obtain their food
is not uninteresting. Instead of hovering over their prey, as the gull,
or waiting quietly for it in some secluded spot, like the kingfisher,
they make their attacks in a noisy and exciting manner. Mr. Lloyd, in his
“Scandinavian Adventures,” has given a very interesting account of the
manner in which the Arctic duck (_harelda glacialis_, Steph.) procures
its food; and, as it applies to the birds above named, I can not do
better than quote him on the subject.

“The hareld is a most restless bird,” says he, “and perpetually in
motion. It rarely happens that one sees it in a state of repose
during the daytime. The flock—for there are almost always several in
company—swim pretty fast against the wind; and the individuals comprising
it keep up a sort of race with each other. Some of the number are always
diving; and, as these remain long under water, and their comrades are
going rapidly ahead in the mean while, they are, of course, a good
way behind the rest on their reappearance at the surface. Immediately
on coming up, therefore, they take wing, and, flying over the backs
of their comrades, resume their position in the ranks, or rather fly
somewhat beyond their fellows, with the object, as it would seem, of
being the foremost of the party. This frequently continues across the
bay or inlet, until the flock is “brought up” by the opposing shore,
when they generally all take wing and move off elsewhere.... ‘Fair play
is a jewel,’ says the old saw, and so, perhaps, thinks the hareld; for
it would really appear as if it adopted the somewhat curious manœuvre
just mentioned to prevent its companions from going over the ground
previously.”

The day after our arrival we moved our small craft within half a mile
of the shore, and, as soon as she was safely anchored, we proceeded
to reconnoitre the neighborhood. The first thing which attracted our
attention was a mirage of the most striking character and intensity
of effect. Objects, distant only a few hundred feet, became perfectly
metamorphosed. Thus, for instance, a small bird would look as big as
a rock, or the trunk of a tree; pelicans assumed the appearance of
ships under canvas; the numerous skeletons and bones of stranded whales
were exaggerated into clusters of lofty houses, and dreary and sterile
plains presented the aspect of charming lakes. In short, every object
had a bewildering and supernatural appearance, and the whole atmosphere
was misty, tremulous, and wavy. This phenomenon is at all times very
remarkable, but during the hot season of the year it is more surprising
and deceptive. At an after period Mr. Galton tried to map the bay, but
this mirage frustrated all his endeavors. An object that he had, perhaps,
chosen for a mark, became totally indistinguishable when he moved to the
next station.

On the beach we found a small house, constructed of planks, in tolerable
preservation, which at high water was completely surrounded by the sea.
This had originally been erected by a Captain Greybourn for trading
purposes, but was now in the possession of the Rhenish Missionary
Society. It was kindly thrown open to our use, and proved of the greatest
comfort to us; for at this season the nights were bitterly cold, and the
dew so heavy as completely to saturate every article of clothing that was
exposed.

We had not been many minutes on shore when some half-naked, half-starved,
cut-throat-looking savages made their appearance, armed with muskets
and assegais. Nothing could exceed the squalid, wretched, and ludicrous
aspect of these people, which was increased by a foolish endeavor to
assume a martial bearing, no doubt with a view of making an impression
on us. Without noticing either their weapons or swaggering air, and in
order to disarm suspicion, we walked straight up to them, and shook
hands with apparent cordiality. Our missionary friend, Mr. Schöneberg,
then explained to them, by signs and gestures, that he wished to have a
letter conveyed to Mr. Bam, his colleague, residing at Scheppmansdorf,
some twenty miles off, in an easterly direction. It soon became apparent
that they were accustomed to similar errands; for, on receiving a small
gratuity of tobacco on the spot, with a promise of further payment on
their return, they set out immediately, and executed their task with so
much dispatch, that, before the dawn of next morning, Mr. Bam had arrived.

In the mean time, we made an excursion to a place called Sand Fountain,
about three miles inland. On our way there we crossed a broad flat,
which in spring tides is entirely flooded. In spite of this submersion,
the tracks of wagons, animals, &c., of several years’ standing, were
as clear and distinct as if imprinted but yesterday! At Sand Fountain
we found another wooden house, but uninhabited, belonging to Mr. D⸺, a
partner of Mr. M⸺. The natives had taken advantage of the absence of the
owner to injure and destroy the few pieces of furniture left behind, and
leaves of books and panes of window glass were wantonly strewn about the
ground. We next visited the so-called “fountain,” which was hard by; but,
instead of a copious spring—as the name of the place gave us reason to
expect—we found, to our dismay, nothing but a small hole, some five or
six inches in diameter, and half as many deep; the water, moreover, was
of so execrable a quality as to make it totally undrinkable. However,
on cleaning away the sand, it flowed pretty freely, and we flattered
ourselves that, by a little care and trouble, we might render it fit for
use, if not exactly palatable.

After having thus far explored the country, we returned to the vessel.
On the following morning, at daybreak, we set about landing our effects,
mules, horses, &c., which was not done without some difficulty. As soon
as the goods belonging to the missionary should have been removed to
Scheppmansdorf, Mr. Bam most considerately promised to assist us with
his oxen. In the interval—as there was no fresh water on the beach—we
deemed it advisable to remove our luggage, by means of the mules, to Sand
Fountain, where we should, at least, be able to obtain water—though bad
of its kind—and be better off in other respects.

On the fourth day, the schooner which had conveyed us to Walfisch Bay set
sail for the Cape, leaving us entirely to our own resources on a desert
coast, and—excepting the several missionary stations scattered over the
country—at several months’ tedious journey by land to the nearest point
of civilization.

On returning to Sand Fountain, our first care was to sink an old
perforated tar-barrel in a place dug for the purpose; but instead
of improving the quality of the water, it only made matters worse!
Fortunately, we had taken the precaution to bring with us from the Cape a
“copper distiller;” but the water, even thus purified, could only be used
for cooking, or making very strong coffee and tea. Strange enough, when
the owner of the house resided here, water was abundant and excellent;
but the spot where it was obtained was now hidden from view by an immense
sand-hill, which defied digging.

At Sand Fountain we had the full benefit of the sea-breeze, which
made the temperature very agreeable, the thermometer never exceeding
seventy-five degrees in the shade at noon. The sand, however, was a
cruel annoyance, entering into every particle of food, and penetrating
our clothes to the very skin. But we were subjected to a still more
formidable inconvenience; for, besides myriads of fleas, our encampment
swarmed with a species of bush-tick, whose bite was so severe and
irritating as almost to drive us mad. To escape, if possible, the
horrible persecutions of these bloodthirsty creatures, I took refuge
one night in the cart, and was congratulating myself on having at last
secured a place free from their attacks. But I was mistaken. I had not
been long asleep before I was awakened by a disagreeable irritation over
my whole body, which shortly became intolerable; and, notwithstanding the
night air was very sharp, and the dew heavy, I cast off all my clothes,
and rolled on the icy-cold sand till the blood flowed freely from every
pore. Strange as it may appear, I found this expedient serviceable.

On another occasion, a bush-tick, but of a still more poisonous species,
attached itself to one of my feet; and, though a stinging sensation was
produced, I never thought of examining the part, till one day, when
enjoying the unusual luxury of a cold bath, I accidentally discovered
the intruder deeply buried in the flesh, and it was only with very
great pain that I succeeded in extracting it, or rather its body, for
the head remained in the wound. The poisonous effect of its bite was so
acrimonious as to cause partial lameness for three following months!

The bush-tick does not confine its attacks to men only, for it attaches
itself with even greater pertinacity to the inferior animals. Many a
poor dog have I seen killed by its relentless persecutions; and even the
sturdy ox has been known to succumb under the poisonous influence of
these insects.[3]

Sand Fountain, notwithstanding its disagreeable guests, had its
advantages. Almost every little sand-hillock thereabout was covered
with a “creeper,” which produced a kind of prickly gourd (called by the
natives naras), of the most delicious flavor. It is about the size of an
ordinary turnip (a Swede), and, when ripe, has a greenish exterior, with
a tinge of lemon. The interior, again, which is of a deep orange color,
presents a most cooling, refreshing, and inviting appearance. A stranger,
however, must be particularly cautious not to eat of it too freely, as
otherwise it produces a peculiar sickness, and great soreness of the gum
and lips. For three or four months in the year it constitutes the chief
food of the natives.

The naras contains a great number of seeds, not unlike a peeled almond in
appearance and taste, and being easily separated from the fleshy parts,
they are carefully collected, exposed to the sun, dried, and then stored
away in little skin bags. When the fruit fails, the natives have recourse
to the seeds, which are equally nutritious, and perhaps even more
wholesome. The naras may also be preserved by being boiled. When of a
certain consistency, it is spread out into thin cakes, in which state it
presents the appearance of brown moist sugar, and may be kept for almost
any length of time. These cakes are, however, rather rich and luscious.

But it is not man alone that derives benefit from this remarkable plant,
for every animal, from the field-mouse to the ox, and even the feline and
canine race, devour it with great avidity. Birds[4] are also very partial
to it, more especially ostriches, who, during the naras season, are found
in great abundance in these parts.

It is in such instances, more especially, that the mind becomes
powerfully impressed with the wise provisions of nature, and the great
goodness of the Almighty, who even from the desert raises good and
wholesome sustenance for man and all his creatures.

                      “By his bounteous hand,
    God covers earth with food for man and beast,
    Insect and bird; yea, the poor creeping worm
    Partakes the Creator’s bounty.”

In this barren and poverty-stricken country, food is so scarce that,
without the naras, the land would be all but uninhabitable. The naras
serves, moreover, a double purpose; for, besides its usefulness as food,
it fixes with wonderful tenacity, by means of extensive ramifications,
the constantly shifting sands; it is, indeed, to those parts what the
sand-reed (_ammophila arundinacia_) is to the sandy shores and downs of
England.

The naras only grows in the bed of the Kuisip River, in the neighborhood
of the sea. A few plants are to be met with at the mouth of the Orange
River, as also, according to Captain Messum, in a few localities between
the Swakop and the Nourse River.

The general aspect of the country about Sand Fountain is very dreary
and desolate. The soil is entirely composed of sand. The vegetation,
moreover, is stunted in the extreme, consisting chiefly of the
above-mentioned creeper, a species of tamarisk tree (or rather bush), and
a few dew-plants. Consequently, the animal world, as might be expected,
did not present any great variety. Nevertheless, being an enthusiastic
sportsman, and devoted to the study of natural history, I made frequent
short excursions into the neighborhood, on which occasions my spoils
consisted for the most part of some exquisitely beautiful lizards, a few
long-legged beetles, and some pretty species of field-mice. Once in a
time, moreover, I viewed a solitary gazelle in the distance.

A few miles from our encampment resided a small kraal of Hottentots,
under the chief Frederick, who occasionally brought us some milk and a
few goats as a supply for the larder, in exchange for which they received
old soldiers’ coats (worth sixpence a piece), handkerchiefs, hats,
tobacco, and a variety of other trifling articles. But they infinitely
preferred to beg, and were not the least ashamed to ask for even the
shirt on one’s back.

These men were excessively dirty in their habits. One fine morning I
observed an individual attentively examining his caross, spread out
before him in a sunny and sheltered spot. On approaching him, in order to
ascertain the cause of his deep meditation, I found, to my astonishment
and disgust, that he was feasting on certain loathsome insects, that can
not with propriety be named to ears polite. This was only one instance
out of a hundred that might be named of their filthy customs.

As Frederick the chieftain, and a few of his half-starved and
Chinese-featured followers, were one day intently watching the process
of our packing and unpacking divers trunks, I placed alongside of him,
as if by accident, a small box-alarum, and then resumed my employment.
On the first shrill sound of the instrument, our friend leaped from his
seat like one suddenly demented; and during the whole time the jarring
notes continued, he remained standing at a respectful distance, trembling
violently from head to foot.

As no draft cattle could be obtained in the neighborhood, nor, indeed,
within a less distance than from one hundred and fifty to two hundred
miles, Mr. Galton started on an excursion into the interior with a view
of obtaining a supply.

His “turn-out” was most original, and would have formed an excellent
subject for a caricature. From both ends of the cart with which he made
the journey protruded a number of common muskets and other articles
intended for barter. The mules harnessed to the vehicle kept up a most
discordant concert, viciously kicking out to the right and left. The
coachman, bathed in perspiration, kept applying his immense Cape-whip to
their flanks with considerable unction, while a man sitting alongside of
him on the front seat abused the stubborn animals with a burst of all the
eloquent epithets contained in the Dutch-Hottentot vocabulary. Two sulky
goats, tied to the back of the cart, were on the point of strangling
themselves in their endeavors to escape. To complete the picture, Galton
himself, accompanied by half a dozen dogs of nondescript race, toiled on
cheerfully through the deep sand by the side of the vehicle, smoking a
common clay pipe.

On my friend’s arrival at Scheppmansdorf, however, he found it necessary
to adjourn his trip into the interior for a few days.

In the mean time, as Mr. Bam’s oxen had arrived at Sand Fountain, I
busied myself with conveying the baggage to Scheppmansdorf; but, on
account of its great weight and bulk, and the badness of the road, this
occupation lasted several days. In the last trip we had so overloaded
the wagons, that, after about three miles, the oxen came to a dead
stand-still. The two teams were now yoked to one of the vehicles, and
it proceeded on its way without further interruption, while I remained
alone in charge of the other. It was agreed that some of the men should
return with the cattle on the following night; but, on arriving at
Scheppmansdorf, they and the oxen were so exhausted that it was found
necessary to give both the one and the other two days’ rest. For this
delay I was not at all prepared. My small supply of water had been
exhausted on the second day, and I began, for the first time in my life,
to experience the misery of thirst. I was, however, fortunately relieved
from my embarrassing situation by the arrival of a Hottentot, who, for a
trifling consideration, brought me an ample supply of water.

At length all the baggage was safely deposited at Scheppmansdorf, where I
rejoined Mr. Galton.

He had not, I found, been many days at that place, when a magnificent
lion suddenly appeared one night in the midst of the village. A small
dog, that had incautiously approached the beast, paid the penalty of
its life for its daring. The next day a grand chase was got up, but the
lion, being on his guard, managed to elude his pursuers. The second day,
however, he was killed by Messrs. Galton and Bam; and, on cutting him up,
the poor dog was found, still undigested, in his stomach, bitten into
five pieces.

The natives highly rejoiced at the successful termination of the hunt;
for this lion had proved himself to be one of the most daring and
destructive ever known, having, in a short time, killed upward of fifty
oxen, cows, and horses. Though he had previously been chased, he had
always escaped unscathed, and every successive attack made upon him only
served to increase his ferocity.

I regretted much being prevented from taking part in so interesting and
exciting an event, but, on the other hand, I felt pleased that my friend
had thus early had an opportunity of exercising his skill on one of the
most noble and dreaded of the animal creation. My turn was yet to come.

Scheppmansdorf—Roëbank—Abbanhous—as it is indifferently called—was
first occupied as a missionary station in the year 1846, by the Rev.
Mr. Scheppman, from whom it takes its name. It is situated on the left
bank of the River Kuisip, and immediately behind rise enormous masses
and ridges of sand. The Kuisip is a periodical stream, and is dependent
on the rains in the interior; but, from the great uncertainty of this
supply, and the absorbing nature of the soil, it is seldom that it
reaches Walfisch Bay, where it has its estuary. On our arrival, the
Kuisip had not flowed for years; but when it does send down its mighty
torrent, it fertilizes and changes the aspect of the country to a
wonderful degree. Rain falls seldom or never at this place, but thirsty
nature is relieved by heavy dews. Fresh water and fuel, however, two of
the great necessaries of life, are found in abundance.

Sandy and barren as the soil appears to the eye, portions of it,
nevertheless, are capable of great fertility. From time to time, Mr. Bam
has cultivated small spots of garden ground in the bed of the river; but,
although many things thrive exceedingly well, the trouble, risk, and
labor were too great to make it worth his while to persevere. A sudden
and unexpected flood, the effect of heavy rains in the interior, often
lays waste in a few minutes what has taken months to raise.

The principal trees thereabouts are the ana and the giraffe-thorn
(_acacia giraffæ_); and the chief herbage, a species of sand-reed,
which is much relished by the cattle when once accustomed to it, but
more especially by horses, mules, and donkeys, which thrive and fatten
wonderfully on this diet.

During our stay at Scheppmansdorf we were the constant guests of Mr. and
Mrs. Bam, but we felt almost sorry to trespass on a hospitality that we
knew they could ill afford, for it was only once in every two years that
they received their supplies from the Cape, and then only in sufficient
quantities for their own families. The genuine sincerity, however, with
which it was offered overruled all scruples.

Mr. Bam had long been a dweller in various parts of Great
Namaqua-land.[5] His present residence, however, in this its western
portion, was of comparatively recent date. Although he had used
every effort to civilize and Christianize his small community,
all his endeavors had hitherto proved nearly abortive; but as we
become acquainted with the character of the Namaquas, who are
partially-civilized Hottentots, the wonder ceases, and we discover that
they possess every vice of savages, and none of their noble qualities.
So long as they are fed and clothed, they are willing enough to
congregate round the missionary, and to listen to his exhortation. The
moment, however, the food and clothing are discontinued, their feigned
attachment to his person and to his doctrines is at an end, and they do
not scruple to treat their benefactor with ingratitude, and load him with
abuse.

The missionary is more or less dependent on his own resources. Such
assistance as he obtains from the natives is so trivial, and procured
with so much trouble, that it is often gladly dispensed with. The good
man is his own architect, smith, wheelwright, tinker, gardener, &c.,
while his faithful spouse officiates as nurse, cook, washerwoman, and so
forth. Occasionally, to get the drudgery off their hands, they adopt some
poor boy and girl, who, after they have been taught with infinite labor
to make themselves useful, and have experienced nothing but kindness,
will often leave their protectors abruptly, or, what is nearly as bad,
become lazy and indolent.

A Namaqua, it would appear, is not able to appreciate kindness, and
no word in his language, as far as I can remember, is expressive of
gratitude! The same is the case, as I shall hereafter have occasion to
mention, with their northern neighbors, the Damaras, and though a sad, it
is nevertheless a true picture.

When wagons were first introduced into Great Namaqua-land, they caused
many conjectures and much astonishment among the natives, who conceived
them to be some gigantic animal possessed of vitality. A conveyance of
this kind, belonging to the Rev. Mr. Schmelen, once broke down, and was
left sticking in the sand. One day a Bushman came to the owner, and said
that he had seen his “pack-ox” standing in the desert for a long time
with a broken leg, and, as he did not observe it had any grass, he was
afraid that it would soon die of hunger unless taken away!




CHAPTER III.

    Preparations for Journey.—Breaking-in Oxen.—Departure from
    Scheppmansdorf.—An infuriated Ox.—The Naarip Plain.—The
    scarlet Flower.—The Usab Gorge.—The Swakop River.—Tracks of
    Rhinoceros seen.—Anecdote of that Animal.—A Sunrise in the
    Tropics.—Sufferings from Heat and Thirst.—Arrival at Daviep:
    great resort of Lions.—A Horse and Mule killed by them.—The
    Author goes in pursuit.—A troop of Lions.—Unsuccessful
    Chase.—Mules’ flesh palatable.


Mr. Galton had now so far altered his plans that, instead of proceeding
up the country with only one half of his party for the purchase of
cattle, it was arranged that we should make the journey together. The
wagons and the bulk of our effects were to be left at Scheppmansdorf,
and we were only to take with us some few articles of exchange, a small
quantity of provisions, and a moderate supply of ammunition.

Finding, however, that the cart could not conveniently hold all our
baggage, though now reduced to the smallest quantity possible, it was
resolved to pack a portion on oxen. These animals, on account of their
great hardihood, are invaluable in South Africa; the more so, as they can
be equally well used for draft, the “pack,” or the “saddle.” But as we
had no cattle trained for either of these purposes, and only one or two
were procurable at the missionary station, we were necessitated, prior to
our departure thence, to break in a few. No easy matter, by-the-by; for
oxen are of a wild and stubborn disposition, and it requires months to
make them tractable. We were, however, totally at a loss how to set to
work.

But fortunately, at this time, Mr. Galton had engaged a Mr. Stewardson,
tailor by profession, but now “jack of all trades,” to accompany us up
the country in the capacity of cicerone, etc.; and as this man, from
long residence among the Hottentots, was thoroughly conversant with the
mysteries of ox-breaking, to him, therefore, we deputed the difficult
task.

At the end of a “riem,” or long leather thong, a pretty large noose is
made, which is loosely attached to, or rather suspended from, the end
of a slight stick some five or six feet in length. With this stick in
his hand, a man, under shelter of the herd, stealthily approaches the
ox selected to be operated on. When sufficiently near, he places the
noose (though at some little distance from the ground) just in advance
of the hind feet of the animal; and when the latter steps into it, he
draws it tight. The instant the ox finds himself in the toils, he makes
a tremendous rush forward; but, as several people hold the outer end of
the “riem,” he—in sailor language—is quickly “brought up.” The force of
the check is indeed such as often to capsize one or more of the men. He
now renews his efforts; he kicks, foams, bellows; and his companions, at
first startled, return and join in chorus; the men shout, the dogs bark
furiously, and the affair becomes at once dangerous and highly exciting.
The captured animal not unfrequently grows frantic with rage and fear,
and turns upon his assailant, when the only chance of escape is to let
go the hold of the “riem.” Usually he soon exhausts himself by his own
exertions, when one or two men instantly seize him by the tail, another
thong having also been passed round his horns; and by bringing the two
to bear in exactly opposite directions, or, in other words, by using the
two as levers at a right angle with his body, he is easily brought to the
ground. This being once effected, the tail is passed between his legs and
held forcibly down over his ribs, and the head is twisted on one side,
with the horns fixed in the ground. A short, strong stick, of peculiar
shape, is then forced through the cartilage of the nose, and to either
end of this stick is attached (in bridle fashion) a thin, tough leathern
thong. From the extreme tenderness of the nose he is now more easily
managed; but if he is still found very vicious, he is either packed in
his prostrate position, or fastened with his head to a tree, while two
or three persons keep the “riem” tight about his legs, so as to prevent
him from turning round or injuring any person with his feet. For the
“packing,” however, a more common and convenient plan is to secure him
between two tame oxen, with a person placed outside each of these animals.

For the first day or two, only a single skin, or empty bag, is put on
his back, which is firmly secured with a thong eighty or ninety feet in
length (those employed by the Namaquas for the same purpose are about
twice as long); but bulk as well as weight is daily added; and though he
kicks and plunges violently, and sometimes with such effect as to throw
off his pack, the ox soon becomes more tractable. Strange enough, those
who show the most spirit in the beginning are often the first subdued.
But an ox that lies down when in the act of “packing” him generally
proves the most troublesome. Indeed, not one in ten that does so is fit
for any thing.

I have seen oxen that no punishment, however severe, would induce
to rise; not even the application of fire. This would seem a cruel
expedient; but when it is remembered that his thus remaining immovable is
entirely attributable to obstinacy, and that a person’s life may depend
on getting forward, the application of this torture admits of some excuse.

But even when, at last, he has been trained to carry the pack or the
saddle, there is another difficulty, scarcely less formidable, to
overcome. From the gregarious habits of the ox, he is unwilling either
to proceed in advance of the rest, or to remain at any distance behind
his comrades; and if there is no one to lead, the whole troop will
instantly come to a stand-still. Only a few can be trained as leaders.
Such animals are always selected as have a quick step, and of themselves
are in the habit of keeping ahead, and apart from the rest of the herd.
Oxen of this description at all times hold the first rank in a traveling
caravan.

At length, after great exertions and endless delays, we were able to fix
upon the day for our departure. Our arrangements were as follows: On
the cart, which was drawn by eight mules, we placed about one thousand
pounds, consisting chiefly of guns, presents for chieftains and others,
articles for barter, implements of natural history, bedding, &c. Six
hundred weight (ammunition and provisions) were besides distributed among
four “pack”-oxen and one mule.

The object of the expedition being entirely for the purpose of obtaining
cattle for draft and slaughter, we were given to understand that after
about eight to ten days’ journey we should arrive at some native
villages, where we might procure any number of beasts required. Our
course, as far as we could understand, was to the northeast, and through
an exceedingly wild and sterile part of the country.

On the morning of the 19th of September we left Scheppmansdorf. The
young cattle proved exceedingly unmanageable; and we had not been on
the road many minutes before a small handsome ox, which from the very
beginning had given us much trouble in breaking-in, left the herd, and
was apparently about retracing his steps to the missionary station. To
prevent this, Galton and I endeavored to head him, on which he set off
at a rapid pace. On finding himself hard pressed, however, he suddenly
wheeled round and rushed toward my friend at headlong speed. Thinking
it merely a demonstration, Mr. Galton remained stationary; but by so
doing he nearly lost his life, for the infuriated beast charged home.
Fortunately, however, his horn merely grazed my friend’s leg, though it
inflicted some injury on the shoulder of the horse.

After this little adventure, we continued our route at a pretty quick
pace over a hard, crisp, gravely country, totally devoid of water, with
scarcely a vestige of vegetation.

It was not until about ten o’clock at night, and after having traveled
nearly twelve hours, that we reached a small granite rock, at the foot of
which we succeeded in obtaining a few pints of very brackish water. Both
Mr. Galton and myself were very tired. In order to save the horses, and
to give the men an occasional mount, we had walked a considerable part of
the way; and after partaking of some coffee, &c., we quickly resigned our
weary limbs to sleep.

At break of day we were again stirring; and while the men were harnessing
the mules, &c., I ascended the rock, where I discovered a most beautiful
air-plant in full blossom, of a bright scarlet color, with the lower part
of the interior of the corolla tinged with lemon.

The sight of such a lovely flower in this dreary and desolate region
excited within me some emotion, and I now fully appreciated the touching
expression of Mungo Park, when, having in a state of complete exhaustion
thrown himself down to die, he discovered at his side a beautiful little
moss, and exclaimed, “Can that Being who planted, watered, and brought to
perfection in this obscure part of the world a thing which appears of so
small importance, look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings
of a creature formed after his own image? Surely not.”

Even the mighty Nimrod, Gordon Cumming, whose whole soul one would
imagine to be engrossed by lions and elephants, seems to have been struck
with equal delight as myself at the sight of this charming flower: “In
the heat of the chase,” says he, “I paused, spell-bound, to contemplate
with admiration its fascinating beauty.”

We continued our journey over the same sterile plain (Naarip) till about
ten o’clock A.M., when we suddenly entered a narrow and desolate-looking
mountain gorge, called Usab, sloping rapidly toward the bed of a
periodical river. Here, under the shade of a stunted acacia, Stewardson
recommended us to “outspan;” and, leaving our cook in charge of the cart,
we proceeded with the animals at once in search of water.

For more than two miles we continued to follow the gorge, which, as we
approached the river, assumed a more gloomy, though perhaps more striking
appearance, being overhung with towering and fantastically-shaped granite
rocks. Notwithstanding this, the river—to which the natives give the name
of Schwackaup, or Swakop, as Europeans call it—presented a most cheerful
and pleasant aspect; for, though not flowing at the time, its moist bed
was luxuriantly overgrown with grass, creepers, and pretty ice-plants.
The banks on either side were also more or less lined with gigantic
reeds, of a most refreshing color; and above the reeds rose several
beautiful trees, such as the acacia, the black ebony, &c.

Under a projecting rock, a few hundred paces from the spot where we
struck upon the river, we discovered a pool of excellent water, where man
and beast, in long and copious drafts, soon quenched a burning thirst.
This being done, we indulged in a delicious bath, which highly refreshed
our fatigued and dusty limbs.

On a lofty and inaccessible rock overhanging the river-bed I again saw
some of those beautiful flowers which in the early morning had caused
me so much delight, and, with a well-directed ball, I brought down one
almost to my feet.

In the sand we discovered the broad footprints of a rhinoceros. From
their freshness it was apparent that the monster had visited the
river-bed during the preceding night, but all our endeavors to rouse him
proved ineffectual.

While still talking about the prospect of soon seeing this singular
animal in his native haunts, I remembered a story Mr. Bam had told us of
a wonderful escape he once had from one of these beasts, and which I
will endeavor to give in his own words.

“As we entered the Swakop River one day,” said he, “we observed the
tracks of a rhinoceros, and, soon after unyoking our oxen, the men
requested to be allowed to go in search of the beast. This I readily
granted, only reserving a native to assist me in kindling the fire and
preparing our meal. While we were thus engaged, we heard shouting and
firing; and, on looking in the direction whence the noise proceeded,
discovered, to our horror, a rhinoceros rushing furiously at us at the
top of his speed. Our only chance of escape was the wagon, into which
we hurriedly flung ourselves. And it was high time that we should seek
refuge, for the next instant the enraged brute struck his powerful horn
into the ‘buik-plank’ (the bottom boards) with such force as to push the
wagon several paces forward, although it was standing in very heavy sand.
Most providentially, he attacked the vehicle from behind; for, if he had
struck it on the side, he could hardly have failed to upset it, ponderous
as it was. From the wagon he made a dash at the fire, overturning the pot
we had placed alongside it, and scattering the burning brands in every
direction. Then, without doing any further damage, he proceeded on his
wild career. Unfortunately, the men had taken with them all the guns,
otherwise, I might easily have shot him dead on the spot. The Damara,
however, threw his assegai at him, but the soft iron bent like a reed
against his thick and almost impenetrable hide.”

The greater part of the afternoon was spent under the shade of some
wide-spreading acacias, and in hunting for specimens of natural history.
A species of Francolin (_francolinus adspersus_), and one or two pretty
kinds of fly-catchers, were among the day’s spoil.

A little before sunset we returned to the camp; and, as we were to
continue our journey on the morrow’s dawn, we picketed the mules and
horses, and made our encampment as snug as possible. Though the ground
was our couch, and the sky our canopy, we slept soundly, and awoke early
the next morning, greatly refreshed. We much needed this renewal of our
vigor, for the day proved exceedingly trying both to men and cattle.

Once more we were on the Naarip plain, though this time we traveled
parallel with the Swakop (which here pursued an easterly course), on the
edge of those gloomy rocks through which its deep and turbulent channel
has forced its way.

Just as we entered this wild and dreary waste, the sun rose in all its
refulgence, converting, as if by magic, the whole of the eastern sky into
one mass of the most dazzling light—tinting the distant mountains with a
soft vermilion, and causing the dew-bespangled pebbles beneath our feet
to sparkle like so many diamonds. He who has not witnessed a sunrise or a
sunset in the tropics (rendered the more remarkable by the nearly total
absence of twilight) can not form the least idea of its magnificence and
splendor.

But alas! these sights, so lovely to the eye, are often followed by such
intense heats as to be nearly insupportable to the way-worn traveler.
We were now in the month of September, and the rays of the sun, at noon
falling almost vertically on our heads, caused a fearfully high state of
temperature. The hot sand, moreover, cruelly burnt our feet, and not a
breath of wind stirred the glaring and seething atmosphere. To complete
our misery, we suffered from the most violent thirst, which our scanty
supply of water, half boiling as it was, could in no way tend to mitigate.

Our poor animals seemed to suffer as much as ourselves. Their gait,
protruding tongues, and drooping heads indicated great distress. Still
they toiled on, but slowly and painfully, through the sand, which had
now become soft and yielding. Long before we had accomplished the day’s
stage, one of the mules dropped down from exhaustion, and we were
obliged to leave the poor animal to its fate, trusting, however, that
when the atmosphere should become a little cooler, it would follow on our
track. We dared not stop, nor would delay have been of any avail, for as
far as the eye could reach neither bush nor blade of grass was to be seen.

In the early morning I rode one of the horses, but after a time,
observing that some of the men looked jaded and faint, I dismounted, and
gave it up to them, proceeding myself on foot during the remainder of the
day. Mr. Galton had ridden in advance on the other shore, and when we met
I was almost speechless from thirst, with my mouth and lips dreadfully
parched. Often subsequently have I suffered cruelly from want of water,
and for a much longer period than on the present occasion, but never
do I remember to have been so much distressed as now; for though from
childhood accustomed and inured to privations of all kinds, I had not
previously experienced the effect of thirst under a tropical sun.

Again we left our cart some little way from the river, and drove the
thirsty and weary animals loose to the water, which was fortunately not
far distant; but, though men and beasts drank to repletion, the water
seemed to have lost its property, for our best endeavors to slake our
thirst proved unavailing.

The name of the place was Daviep, and it was reported to be a favorite
resort of lions, who regularly reared their young in a neighboring
mountain, called Tincas, whence they made predatory excursions. We
accordingly lost no time in reconnoitring the ground; but, not finding
any indications of the presence of lions, or even that they had haunted
the place lately, we had little apprehension of their paying us a visit;
and as the mules and horses sadly wanted rest and food, we deemed it
advisable to leave them to themselves during the night, merely taking the
precaution to “knee-halter” them. We paid dearly, however, for our too
easy confidence.

As, on our return to the cart in the evening, the mule that had been left
behind in the course of the day had not yet made her appearance, I and
Stewardson, each mounting an ox, returned to the spot where she had last
been seen. The animal, however, had disappeared; and finding that her
tracks led toward the river, where it would have been next to madness
to follow her in the dark, we retraced our steps at once, trusting that
instinct, which had made her go in search of water, would also be a guide
in seeking her companions.

Early on the following morning one of the wagon-drivers was dispatched to
the river to look after our animals, while Mr. Galton and myself followed
at our ease; but what was our horror, on entering the bed of the stream,
to find that several lions had recently passed and repassed it in every
direction! This, together with the absence of the mules and horses, at
once foreboded evil. We were not long left to conjectures, for almost
immediately our servant joined us, and said that a mule and a horse had
been killed by the lions, and partly devoured. He added, that on his
approaching the scene of the catastrophe, he saw five of those beasts
feasting on the carcasses, but on perceiving him they had retreated with
terrible growlings! Instead of his presence having scared the lions from
their prey, however, as he asserted, we had reason to believe that,
so soon as he was aware of them, he immediately hid himself among the
rocks, and that it was not until emboldened by seeing us he had left his
hiding-place. Had it been otherwise, he would have had ample time to give
us notice of what had occurred prior to our leaving the encampment.

Singularly enough, the dead mule was the identical one we had been in
search of on the preceding night, and it would appear that it had just
rejoined its companions, or was on the point of doing so, when it was
attacked and killed. Being a remarkably fine and handsome animal, its
loss was much regretted: the horse, moreover, was the best of the two we
had brought from the Cape.

On examining the ground, we were glad to find that the other horse and
remaining mule had made good their escape down the bed of the river,
though evidently pursued by the lions for some distance. How many of
these beasts there really had been we were unable to ascertain, but they
could not have been less than seven or eight.

Having thus far ascertained the fate of the poor animals, we dispatched
our brave wagon-driver for Stewardson and the remainder of the men, as
also for proper guns and ammunition, as we had determined, if possible,
to have our revenge.

On leaving Scheppmansdorf, we had, unfortunately, only brought with us
three or four small goats as provision for the journey. This scanty
supply was now nearly exhausted, and it being uncertain when we should
meet with any native village where we could barter for more, we deemed
it advisable, in order to provide against contingencies, to lay in
a store of mule-flesh and horse-flesh; and though our people seemed
horror-stricken at the idea, there was not a second alternative. While
waiting the return of the men, we accordingly set about cutting off from
the slain animals such pieces as had not been defiled by the lions. This
being accomplished, we covered the meat with a heap of stones, and the
men having arrived, we proceeded in search of the depredators.

But, though we beat both sides of the river for a considerable distance,
we were unable to discover the beasts. At one time, and when I was quite
alone on the inner side of the thick reed-bed that lined the bank, I
observed some beautiful “klip-springers,” or mountain gazelles, and fired
both barrels, though, unfortunately, without effect. The report of my gun
caused a momentary consternation to Mr. Galton and the men, who imagined
that I had fallen in with the lions, while, from the nature of the
ground, they would have been unable to render me any assistance.

Being at last obliged to give up the search, two or three of the men on
whom we could best depend were sent on the tracks of the scared mules and
the remaining horse. After many hours’ hard walking they were discovered,
but the poor beasts had received such a fright that it was only with
great trouble and exertion that they were secured.

Thinking that the lions would in all probability return during the night
to make an end of what was left of the horse and mule, Galton and I
determined to watch for them, and selected for our ambush the summit of a
steep rock immediately near one of the carcasses.

Shortly after sunset we proceeded to put our plan into execution, and,
having arrived within a short distance of the slain animals, one of the
people suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! look at the six bucks!” Imagine our
astonishment when, turning our eyes in the direction to which he pointed,
we saw, instead of antelopes, six magnificent lions; and this, moreover,
on the very rock on which we had purposed ambushing ourselves, and where,
as we foolishly imagined, we should have been in perfect security!

On perceiving that they were discovered, the beasts retreated behind
the rock, but one or another of them would nevertheless steal from its
hiding-place occasionally and take a peep at us.

Contrary to the counsel of Mr. Galton and others of our party, I now
ascended the acclivity where we had last seen the beasts; but, although
they were nowhere visible, I had every reason to believe the whole troop
was not far distant from the spot where I stood.

To have ambushed ourselves in the rock originally selected was (from the
evidence we had just had of its insecurity) not now to be thought of, and
we therefore looked out for a safer place. The only one that offered,
however, was a large acacia; but it was more than two hundred yards from
either of the carcasses, and its stem was so thick and straight that it
was impossible to ascend it. Moreover, total darkness had now succeeded
the short twilight; and, however reluctantly, we left the lions in full
possession of the field and the remnant of their prey.

On returning to our encampment, we found a wagon had arrived, belonging
to Mr. Hahn, a missionary of the Rhenish Society, settled among the
Damaras. The vehicle was on its road to Scheppmansdorf, in order to fetch
some goods that had recently arrived from the Cape. The driver civilly
supplied us with a few sheep, which, to the great joy of our people,
enabled us to dispense with the store of horse-flesh and mule-flesh we
had just laid in. We did not, however, throw the meat away altogether,
for both Mr. Galton and myself subsequently dined upon it on more than
one occasion, and really found it very palatable, more especially that of
the horse.




CHAPTER IV.

    The Gnoo and the Gemsbok.—Pursuit of a Rhinoceros.—Venomous
    Fly.—Fruit of the Acacia nutritious.—Sun-stroke.—Crested
    Parrot.—A Giraffe shot.—Tjobis Fountain.—Singular
    Omelet.—Nutritious Gum.—Arrival at Richterfeldt.—Mr. Rath and
    the Missions.—The Damaras: their Persons, Habits, &c.—Lions
    Troublesome.—Panic.—Horse Sickness.


The second morning after the adventure with the lions we continued our
journey, alternately on the banks and in the bed of the Swakop. The
road was exceedingly heavy, being for the most part composed of loose
gravel and fine sand. Stewardson, who had the management of our traveling
arrangements, instead of starting us at daybreak, or previously, as he
ought to have done, did not put the cavalcade in motion until an hour
after sunrise. The consequence was, that before we were half through the
allotted stage the sun had reached its zenith, and scorched and harassed
us dreadfully.

As yet, with the exception of a few zebras, &c., we had seen no wild
animals, though the “spoor” or track of the gnoo and the gemsbok were
frequent enough. This day, however, at a turn of the road, we came
suddenly upon a few of the latter, but the sight so fascinated us that,
instead of firing, as we might have done, for they were within range, we
gazed at them in astonishment.

We passed the night at a fountain called Annis, situated on the side of
the river. On the following morning, and at only a few hundred paces from
our bivouac, we discovered the tracks of several rhinoceroses. Finding
that one of these animals had been drinking in a pool hard by during the
latter part of the night, Galton, Stewardson, and myself went in search
of the beast, the cart following in the bed of the river. But, though we
pursued the tracks of the animal at a pretty rapid pace for nearly three
hours, we were unable to come up with him, and therefore discontinued the
chase in despair and rejoined our caravan.

During the following day I observed several curious-looking crested
parrots of a grayish color, which screamed discordantly on our approach;
but as they always perched on the top of the very highest trees, and kept
an excellent look-out, I could not possibly get within gun-shot.

I met, besides, with a vast number of delicate and pretty butterflies, as
also a wasp-looking fly of the most brilliant dark blue. Having struck
one of these to the ground, I was about to secure it, when it stung me
severely in the hand, and in a very few seconds the wounded part began to
fester, and swelled to an enormous size, causing the most acute pain.

While following the bed of the river, our mules and cattle fared
sumptuously; for, although we found but little grass, there was always an
abundance of fine young reeds; but, until animals are accustomed to this
diet, it only serves to weaken them. Cattle, however, that are used to
this coarse food soon become fat, and when killed prove, contrary to what
might be expected, capital eating. When the reeds become somewhat old and
dry they are fired by the natives, and in a fortnight or three weeks they
have again attained a luxuriant growth.

The pods of a species of acacia (_ana_), which had dropped from the
trees, were also much relished by the cattle. Stewardson informed us that
when the latter are able to feed on them regularly, they soon become fat.
The fruit has an acrid taste, but is not altogether unpalatable.

The wood of this tree, though straight-grained, close, and weighty, is
not considered good for implements of husbandry. I have been assured,
however, that when the tree is burned down the quality of the wood is
much improved!

Stewardson’s habit of starting late had nearly proved fatal to me; for
one day, while pursuing on foot some interesting birds, I had fallen
considerably behind my companions, and, in order to come up with them,
I was necessitated to put my best foot forward. The sun’s rays (in
themselves exceedingly powerful) being reflected from the surrounding
barren hills and the burning sand, made the heat equal to that of an oven.

I had only just caught sight of our party, when I was seized with sudden
giddiness, and the horrible idea flashed across my mind that I had
received a “sun-stroke.” Being fully aware of the danger, I collected all
my energies, and made the most strenuous efforts to overtake my friend.
But the stupor increased every moment, and my voice became so faint that
for a long time I was unable to make myself heard. However, I did at last
succeed, and Galton at once rode up to me and placed his horse at my
disposal. It was high time, for another minute would probably have proved
too late. As it was, I managed with great difficulty to reach a small
clump of trees hard by, and, tumbling off the animal, remained for some
time in a state of almost total unconsciousness. When at last I recovered
from this stupor, the heat was less, and a gentle breeze having sprung
up, I was able slowly to proceed. My head, however, ached intolerably.

The usual result of a _coup de soleil_ is known to be either almost
instantaneous death, or an affection of the brain for life. In my case I
expected nothing short of the latter infliction. Happily, however, after
about several months daily suffering I was thoroughly restored, and in
time I could brave heat and fatigue as well as any native.

Having followed the course of the Swakop for some days, we struck into
one of its tributaries called Tjobis. At the mouth of this stream we
met, for the first time, with a vast number of Guinea-fowls, which
we afterward found very common throughout the country. We also made
acquaintance with one or two species of toucans; and I succeeded, at
last, in obtaining several specimens of the parrot-looking birds of which
mention has lately been made. They were the _chizoerhis concolor_ of
Doctor Smith.

After many hours of fatiguing travel we met Galton, who had ridden on in
advance. His face beamed with delight while announcing to us that he had
just killed a fine giraffe. The news was most welcome to every one; for,
to say nothing of the prospect of a feast, the heat of the sun and the
heavy nature of the ground made us all feel exceedingly weary, and we
were, therefore, extremely glad of a pretext to take some repose.

The mules were forthwith unharnessed, and all hands were put in
requisition to cut up our prize and to “jerk” the meat; but this proved
lean and tough.

The bones, however, of the giraffe contain a great deal of marrow, which,
when properly prepared, is eaten with _gusto_ by every one, and even when
in a raw state is sometimes greedily devoured by the natives.

As there was no water where we had “outspanned,” we were obliged
toward evening to continue our journey; and when we arrived at “Tjobis
Fountain,” situated in the bed of the Tjobis River, it was already dark.

Here we were at once visited by several Hill-Damaras, of whom more
hereafter. On finding that a giraffe had been killed and that they were
at liberty to take what flesh we had left, their joy knew no bounds, and
some of them actually returned that same night to the carcass. These men
kindly brought us some sweet gum, a kind of coarse stir-about made from
the seeds of a species of grass, and a few ostrich eggs.

Our cook soon made us an excellent omelet from one of the last, and that
by a very simple process. A hole is made at one end of the egg, through
which is introduced some salt, pepper, &c. The egg is then well shaken,
so as thoroughly to mix the white, the yolk, and the several ingredients
mentioned. It is then placed in the hot ashes, where it is baked to
perfection. An egg thus prepared, although supposed to contain as much
as twenty-four of the common fowl egg, is not considered too much for a
single hungry individual!

We remained nearly two days at “Tjobis Fountain,” which gave our animals
time to recover a little from their late exhaustion; but as it was
reported to be another favorite resort of lions, and recollecting that
we had lately been taught a severe lesson, we took the precaution—as may
well be imagined—to secure the horse and the mules during the night. Many
zebras came off in the dark to drink, but always absented themselves
during the day, and the heat was too intense and harassing for pursuing
them at a distance.

The soil continued sandy as before, but the vegetation had,
notwithstanding, vastly improved; for, instead of naked and desolate
plains, the ground was now covered with a profusion of thin grass,
dwarfish shrubs, isolated aloes, and one or two species of thorn
trees. The latter produced at this season an abundance of excellent and
nutritious gum, which, though almost as sweet as sugar, might be partaken
of in any quantity without the least inconvenience or disagreeable
consequence.

In the afternoon of the third day we took our departure from “Tjobis
Fountain,” and at an early hour on the following morning found ourselves
once more in the bed of the Swakop; but here, unfortunately, our mules
came to a dead stand-still, and nothing could induce them to proceed any
further. Indeed, they were completely knocked up, and we had entirely to
thank Stewardson for this misfortune; for had we traveled by night, as we
ought to have done, instead of during the hottest part of the day, the
poor creatures might have been as fresh as when they left Scheppmansdorf,
and we ourselves spared much suffering. It stands to reason that no
animal, however hardy, will bear much work or fatigue in the day at this
terribly hot season of the year. Fortunately, the missionary station of
Richterfeldt was now within two hours’ ride, and Galton at once pushed
on for the purpose of obtaining assistance. In a short time, six oxen,
with attendants, yokes, &c., arrived, and we were able to prosecute our
journey without further delay. On reaching the station, we were most
kindly and hospitably received by the Rev. Mr. Bath, of the Rhenish
Society.

Richterfeldt is prettily situated on the bank of the River Swakop, and
at the junction of one of its tributaries, the Ommutenna. It is well
supplied with fresh water, which is either obtained from a prolific
mineral spring, or by digging a few inches in the bed of the rivers.
There is an abundance of garden ground, which, when properly cultivated
and irrigated, is exceedingly productive. Nearly all European vegetables
thrive well; wheat grows to perfection, and is of excellent quality;
but here, as at Scheppmansdorf, floods at times cause sad havoc. The
pasturages are extensive and excellent.

Richterfeldt was founded in 1848, and Mr. Rath had consequently not been
very long settled there. He had taken up his quarters in a temporary
hut, consisting of a mud wall four feet high, covered over by mat-work
and canvas. At the back of his house were three small native villages,
composed of about fifty or sixty wretched hovels, and numbering—children
included—about two hundred inhabitants. They were all very poor; but a
few possessed a small drove of sheep or goats, which they obtained in
barter for goods given them by the missionary as recompense for labor,
errands, and other services. The currency is iron-ware: the regular price
for an ox, at this time, was an iron assegai, without the handle; that
of a sheep or goat, a certain quantity of iron or copper wire, or two
pieces of iron hoop, each five or six inches in length. The Damaras have
a perfect mania for copper and iron, but more especially for the latter;
and it is strange to see how well a few pieces of polished iron become
them, when worn as ornaments.

The Damaras, speaking generally, are an exceedingly fine race of men.
Indeed, it is by no means unusual to meet with individuals six feet and
some inches in height, and symmetrically proportioned withal. Their
features are, besides, good and regular; and many might serve as perfect
models of the human figure. Their air and carriage, moreover, is very
graceful and expressive. But, though their outward appearance denotes
great strength, they can by no means compare, in this respect, with even
moderately strong Europeans.

The complexion of these people is dark, though not entirely black;
but great difference is observable in this respect. Hence, in their
own language, they distinguish between the _Ovathorondu_—the black
individuals—and _Ovatherandu_, or red ones. Their eyes are black, but the
expression is rather soft.

I never saw any albinos in Damara-land, though such are said to occur
among the Caffres.

[Illustration: DAMARAS.]

The women are often of the most delicate and symmetrical shape, with full
and rounded forms, and very small hands and feet. Nevertheless, from
their precarious mode of life, and constant exposure to the sun, &c.,
any beauty they possess is soon lost; and, in a more advanced age, many
become the most hideous of human beings.

Both sexes are exceedingly filthy in their habits. Dirt often accumulates
to such a degree on their persons as to make the color of their skin
totally indistinguishable; while, to complete the disguise, they smear
themselves with a profusion of red ochre and grease. Hence the exhalation
hovering about them is disgusting in the extreme.

Neither men nor women wear much clothing. Their habiliments consist
merely of a skin or two of sheep or goats, with the hair on or off, which
they wrap loosely round the waist, or throw across the shoulders. These
skins, as with their own limbs, are besmeared with large quantities of
red ochre and grease, and with the wealthier classes are ornamented with
coarse iron and copper beads, of various size.

The men usually go bareheaded; but, in case of cold or rain, they wear
a sort of cap, or rather piece of skin, which they can convert into any
shape or size that fancy may dictate.

Independently of the skins, the women wear a kind of bodice, made from
thousands of little rounded pieces of ostrich egg-shells strung on
threads, seven or eight such strings being fastened together; but I
am not sure that it is not more for ornament than real utility. The
head-dress of the married women is curious and highly picturesque, being
not unlike a helmet in shape and general appearance.

Boys are usually seen in a state of almost absolute nudity. The girls,
however, wear a kind of apron, cut up into a number of fine strings,
which are sometimes ornamented with iron and copper beads.

Few ornaments are worn by the men, who prefer seeing them on the
persons of their wives and daughters. They delight, however, in an
amazing quantity of thin leathern “riems” (forming also part of their
dress), which they wind around their loins in a negligent and graceful
manner. These “riems”—which are often many hundred feet in length—serve
as a receptacle for their knobsticks or kieries, their arrows, &c., but
become, at the same time, a refuge for the most obnoxious insects.

The women, when they can afford it, wear a profusion of iron and copper
rings—those of gold or brass are held in little estimation—round their
waists and ankles.

The weapons of the Damaras are the assegai, the kierie, and the bow and
arrow; they have also a few guns.

The head of the assegai consists of iron, and is usually kept well
polished; being, moreover, of a soft texture, it is easily sharpened,
or repaired, if out of order. The shaft, though, at times, also made of
iron, is commonly of wood, the end being usually ornamented with a bushy
ox-tail. On account of its great breadth, the assegai is not well adapted
for stabbing, and its weight is such that it can not be thrown to any
considerable distance. This weapon, in short, is chiefly used instead of
a knife, and, though rather an awkward substitute, it answers the purpose
tolerably well.

The kierie is a favorite weapon with the Damaras. They handle it with
much adroitness, and kill birds and small quadrupeds with surprising
dexterity. Most savage tribes in Southern Africa use this instrument with
great advantage and effect. Thus, in speaking of the Matabili, Harris
says, “They rarely miss a partridge or a Guinea-fowl on the wing.” In
an experienced hand, the kierie becomes a most dangerous and effective
weapon, as a single well-directed blow is sufficient to lay low the
strongest man.

The bow and arrow, on the other hand, though a constant companion, is
not, with the Damaras, as effective as it ought to be. They never attain
perfection in archery. At ten or a dozen yards they will shoot tolerably
well, but beyond that distance they are wretched marksmen.

The Damaras are divided into two large tribes, the _Ovaherero_ and the
_Ovapantiereu_, of which the former lives nearest to the sea; still,
with the exception of a slight difference in the language, they appear
to be one and the same people. They may again be divided into rich and
poor Damaras,[6] or those who subsist on the produce of their herds, and
those who have no cattle, or at least very few, and who live chiefly by
the chase, and what wild fruit and roots they can pick up abroad. These
are called _Ovatjimba_, and are looked upon with the utmost contempt by
the prosperous classes, who reduce them to a state of slavery, and do not
even scruple to take their lives.

But, as the Damaras are little known to Europeans, much is to be said of
them, and they will require a chapter to themselves. I shall, therefore,
reserve a more detailed account of their peculiarities, customs, manners,
&c., to a later period, when I became better acquainted with them and
their country.

In consequence of an unusually severe drought this year, most of the
rain-pools in the neighborhood of Richterfeldt were dried up; but as
spring-water was still to be found at that place, a great number of wild
animals nightly congregated there. As usual under such circumstances, the
game was followed by troops of lions, who were a constant annoyance to
us. To guard against their attacks, we had on our first arrival made a
strong fence or inclosure round the camp, but even then we did not feel
very secure.

One evening these beasts were more than usually troublesome. The sun
had hardly sunk below the horizon when they began their terror-striking
music, and kept it up without intermission till a late hour, when all
became silent. Believing that they had taken themselves off, I sent the
men who had been watching to sleep. I was, however, deceived; for two
hours had hardly elapsed when within a short distance of our encampment,
there arose a most horrible roaring, intermingled with the rushing to
and fro, the kicking, plunging, and neighing of a troop of zebras,
which instantly brought every man to his feet, and the consternation
and confusion became indescribable. Some of them rushed about like
maniacs, lamenting most piteously that they ever left the Cape. Others
convulsively grasped their blankets in their arms, and cried like
children; while a few stood motionless, with fear and anguish depicted in
their countenances. It was in vain that I tried to calm their agitation.
They seemed fully convinced that their last hour had come, and that they
should perish miserably by the fangs of wild beasts.

On going just outside the inclosure, I could distinctly see the
glimmering of lions’ eyes, as our small, well-kept bivouac-fire fell full
upon them. I sent a ball or two after the intruders, but, as it appeared
afterward, without effect.

The next morning we found that the zebras had escaped unscathed, and
we attributed the unusual anger and ferocity of their pursuers to the
disappointment they had experienced in losing their favorite prey.

We had only been a short time at Richterfeldt when three of our mules,
and the remaining horse, were seized with a mortal disease, and in the
course of a few hours they all died. Though the loss of the animals was
great to us, their death was a god-send to the poor Damaras, who devoured
the carcasses bodily, and without the least disagreeable result.

The distemper in question is usually known by the vague name of
“paarde-sikte” (the horse-sickness); and, as the cause is totally
unknown, no remedy has yet been found efficient to stop it. Throughout
Great Namaqua-land it is particularly fatal. Some people attribute
this singular disease to poisonous herbs, of which the animals have
inadvertently partaken; others, to the dew; and others, again, to
the eating the young grass;[7] but all these suppositions are highly
improbable, for reasons which it would be unnecessary to enter into here.

Fatal as the disease is to horses, yet, happily, there are places (even
in districts where it commits the greatest ravages) that are always
exempt from it. And, as these localities are well known to the natives,
if one’s horse be sent to them prior to the commencement of the sickly
season—usually the months of November and December—the animals invariably
escape the malady. The attack of our animals was an unusual exception to
this rule, for they fell victims to the disease fully a month prior to
the rainy season.

From the Orange River on the south, and as far north as Europeans have
penetrated from the Cape side, this deadly disease is known to prevail,
and is one of the greatest drawbacks to successful traveling in South
Africa.




CHAPTER V.

    Hans Larson.—His Exploits.—He joins the Expedition.—How
    people travel on Ox-back.— Rhinoceros Hunt.— Death of
    the Beast.—“Look before you Leap.”—Anecdote proving the
    Truth of the Proverb.—Hans and the Lion.—The Doctor in
    Difficulties.—Sufferings on the Naarip Plain.—Arrival at
    Scheppmansdorf.


When at the Cape we heard much of an individual named Hans Larsen, who
was distinguished in a very remarkable degree for courage, energy,
perseverance, and endurance. This man was a Dane by birth, and a sailor
by profession; but, becoming disgusted with a seafaring life, had a few
years previously left his ship, and was now residing somewhere near to
Walfisch Bay.

On visiting Mr. Bam at Scheppmansdorf, that gentleman confirmed to the
full all we had been told about Hans, and strongly recommended Mr. Galton
to take him into his service. It was not, however, until our arrival at
Richterfeldt, where Hans then resided, that we had an opportunity to make
his personal acquaintance. Up to a rather recent period he had been in
charge of a herd of cattle, but he was now living independently on the
produce of his live-stock and the spoils of the chase.

Hans was a fine specimen of the true Northman—fair complexion, light
hair, blue eyes; and, though not above the ordinary stature, he was very
muscular, and powerfully built. His strength, indeed, almost exceeded
belief. One of his feats was to carry an enormous anvil—which no ordinary
man could lift from the ground—with as many persons as could possibly
cling to it. On one occasion he had borne from place to place a block of
stone which required ten men to lift on to his shoulders!

In consequence of his great strength and courage, he was much feared by
the natives, who nevertheless took pleasure in teasing him; but, being
of a very quiet disposition, he seldom resented their impertinences. One
day, however, when they had carried their jokes somewhat too far, he
raised his Herculean fist, and with a single blow leveled to the ground
the nearest of his tormentors. At first it was thought that the man was
killed; but, fortunately, he was only stunned. On recovering from his
stupor he vowed vengeance; but, unable to carry out his purpose alone,
he laid his complaint before the chief of the tribe, and a “raad,” or
counsel, was held. Many were for severe punishment; but at last, when
all the members had spoken, the chief rose and told them that, in his
opinion, the offense should be passed over, and that, for the future, it
would be better not to molest Hans, for if they did they would only fare
worse. This advice was felt to be a prudent caution, and from that day
forward they ceased to worry the Dane.

Hans was an excellent and indefatigable sportsman, and so successful
that, though the country, on his first arrival, literally teemed with
rhinoceroses, lions, giraffes, zebras, gnoos, gemsboks, &c., he had all
but exterminated them.

To give the reader some idea of the abundance of game and wild beasts
then existing in this part of Africa, I may mention than Hans once shot,
with his own hand, no less than nine rhinoceroses in the course of a
single day.[8]

Hans ate very little animal food, but, whenever he could afford it, he
drank an amazing quantity of tea and coffee. His chief nourishment,
however, was thick sour milk, which he swallowed in gallons. It is
wonderful how people thrive on this diet, which is the main sustenance of
the Damaras, who, as has been already said, are remarkably fine-looking
men.

Hans, on the proposal being made to him by Mr. Galton, agreed to
accompany us in the capacity of head man, and we were truly fortunate to
secure so able and practiced a hand. Indeed, from after-experience, it is
very doubtful whether we should have been able to get on without him. We
had, moreover, found that it would be next to impossible to obtain from
the natives, by barter, any considerable number of cattle; and, even had
we succeeded, they would have been so wild and unmanageable that we could
not have made use of them for months. Now, as Hans had a small drove of
his own, several of which were already broken-in, and the rest more or
less tractable, and was willing to part with them at a moderate price,
Mr. Galton secured the whole lot without a moment’s hesitation, and thus
we had overcome a difficulty which had long given us some uneasiness.

Hans had in his employ an English lad named John Allen, who had also been
a sailor, and who, like his master, had left his ship in Walfisch Bay. In
the absence of his employer, John had been accustomed to take charge of
the cattle and the house; and, being an excellent and well-behaved youth,
he also was admitted into Mr. Galton’s service.

After a few day’s rest, it was determined that Hans and myself, together
with most of the people, should return to Scheppmansdorf for the purpose
of breaking-in the oxen, and bringing up the wagons and the stores.

Hans presented me with an ox called “Spring,” which I afterward rode
upward of two thousand miles. On the day of our departure he mounted us
all on oxen, and a curious sight it was to see some of the men take their
seats who had never before ridden on ox-back. It is impossible to guide
an ox as one would guide a horse, for in the attempt to do so you would
instantly jerk the stick out of his nose, which at once deprives you of
every control over the beast; but by pulling _both_ sides of the bridle
at the same time, and toward the side you wish him to take, he is easily
managed. Your seat is not less awkward and difficult; for the skin of
the ox, unlike that of the horse, is loose, and, notwithstanding your
saddle may be tightly girthed, you keep rocking to and fro like a child
in a cradle. A few days, however, enables a person to acquire a certain
steadiness, and long habit will do the rest.

Ox-traveling, when once a man is accustomed to it, is not so disagreeable
as might be expected, particularly if one succeeds in obtaining a
tractable animal. On emergences, an ox can be made to proceed at a
tolerably quick pace; for, though his walk is only about three miles an
hour at an average, he may be made to perform double that distance in the
same time. Mr. Galton once accomplished twenty-four miles in four hours,
and that, too, through heavy sand!

Early one morning we reached Annis Fountain, where, as on a previous
occasion, we observed a number of rhinoceros tracks. Leaving the men to
take care of the oxen, Hans, Stewardson, and myself selected the freshest
“spoor,” and started off in pursuit; but after several hours’ hard
walking under a burning sun, we were apparently as far from the quarry as
ever, and Stewardson, who was quite knocked up, used his best endeavors
to persuade us from proceeding farther. We would not listen to him,
however, but, allowing him to return to the encampment, continued to toil
on, though with but little hope of success.

An hour might have elapsed after we had thus parted from Stewardson
when I observed in a distant glen a dark object, which, as it excited
my suspicion, I instantly pointed out to Hans, who would not believe
that it was any thing but a large “boulder.” Nevertheless, we proceeded
toward the spot, and I soon saw that the shapeless mass was nothing
less than the rhinoceros of which we were in search. Hans, however, who
had had frequent opportunities of seeing this animal in all positions,
remained skeptical on the point, and it was not till we were within about
twenty paces of the beast that his doubts were removed. With noiseless
and quickened step, and our guns on the fullest cock, we made up to the
monster, which still gave no signs of life. At last, however, one of
us whistled, on which, and with the rapidity of thought, the beast sat
up on its haunches, and surveyed us with a curious and sulky look. But
it was only a moment; for, before he had time to get on his legs, two
well-directed balls laid him prostrate within less than half a dozen
paces of our feet.

In the pride of success, I somewhat foolishly leaped upon his back, and,
African-like, plunged my hunting-knife into the flesh, to ascertain if
our prize was fat. But whether life was not altogether extinct, or that
the sudden access of my weight caused a vibration in the lately-living
body, certain it is that I felt the beast move under me, when, as may be
supposed, I speedily jumped to the ground again, and made off. Though my
apprehensions in this instance were groundless, the following anecdote,
related to me by the natives, will show that there is considerable danger
in too quickly approaching an apparently dead rhinoceros:[9]

Some Namaquas had shot one of these animals as it was rising from its
sleep. One of the party, imagining the beast to be dead, straightway
went up to it and (with like object as myself) acted precisely as I
had done. The beast, however, had only been stunned, and, as soon as
he felt the cold steel enter his body, he started to his feet and made
off at full speed. This action was so instantaneous as to prevent the
man from dismounting, and the other Namaquas were paralyzed with fear.
Fortunately, however, after the beast had run forty or fifty paces, he
suddenly stopped short and looked round. The favorable opportunity was
not lost; for one of the party, more courageous than the rest, instantly
fired, and, as good luck would have it, brought the animal to the ground,
with his terror-stricken rider still clinging to his back.

On rejoining our party, Stewardson was not a little surprised at our
success, and mortified at his own want of perseverance. The flesh of
the rhinoceros was poor but not unpalatable, and we remained a day at
Annis to cut up and dry part of it as provision for the journey. We also
carried away a goodly supply of the beast’s hide for the purpose of
converting it into “shamboks.”[10]

One day, as I was riding with Hans, he pointed out to me a place where
he had been attacked by a lion in broad daylight, pulled off his ox, and
only escaped death by a miracle.

Not being encumbered by a vehicle, we were now able to hold the course
of the Swakop uninterruptedly; but on arriving at the Usab gorge, it
became necessary to leave the river and to cross the Naarip plain to
Scheppmansdorf. From the great length of this stage (fifteen hours’
actual travel), and the total absence of water and pasturage, it is
necessary to traverse it during the night. As thick fogs and mists,
however, are not uncommon here, the traveler is exposed to some risk.
It not unfrequently happens that he loses the track; the result of
which usually is, that when the day breaks upon him he finds himself
either back at the place from which he started or in some unknown part
of the plain. Instances are narrated of people having remained in this
inhospitable desert as long as three days! “Losing the way,” as my friend
Galton says, “is the rule here and not the exception; and a person who
has crossed the plain without doing so rather plumes himself upon the
feat.”

Hans recited to me the particulars of an adventure which happened to a
European in this wilderness. During the time Captain Greybourn (to whom
allusion has already been made) was established at Walfisch Bay, the
medical gentleman who resided with him had occasion to cross the Naarip
plain; but, being a total stranger to the country, he engaged a Hottentot
as guide. The day proved hot and oppressive, and the wayfarers had not
proceeded far when the doctor felt faint and thirsty. On inquiry of his
attendant whether any water could be obtained, he received a sulky and
unsatisfactory answer, and was about to prosecute his journey, when the
man thus abruptly addressed him:

“You’ve got a very nice hat, sir, which you must give me, or I will not
stir another step.”

Under ordinary circumstances, to comply with such a request would
have been inconvenient, but it was still more annoying in the present
instance, exposed as the doctor was to a scorching sun. Finding himself,
however, entirely at the man’s mercy, and seeing nothing but a howling
wilderness all around him, he grudgingly gave the hat, hoping to be
exempted from further importunity. But he was mistaken in this matter;
for he had not proceeded much farther when the Hottentot sat himself
quietly down on the sand, complaining bitterly of the immense distance
they had yet to perform, adding, with a sly look at the doctor, that
he thought his jacket would fit him exactly! The medical gentleman was
amazed at the fellow’s impudence, and at first refused this new demand;
but, as the man said that unless he received the garment he would leave
him to his fate, he was obliged to comply.

In this manner he gradually divested the chicken-hearted doctor of his
apparel, and would, in all probability, not have left him in possession
of the shirt on his back had it not been for the timely arrival of Hans
and another European, then on their way to Walfisch Bay. The doctor’s
story was, of course, soon told, and the rascally Hottentot was not only
deprived of his booty, but soundly thrashed into the bargain.

After having given the animals the necessary rest, we set out the next
afternoon, about three o’clock, on the last stage for Scheppmansdorf.
As the evening was starlight, we proceeded at a brisk pace till about
midnight, when there suddenly arose from the sea a gloomy, bitter
cold mist, which soon enveloped us in total darkness, and completely
saturated every article of our dress. Unfortunately, in the early
part of the night we had purposely left the wagon-track to save a very
circuitous part of the road, and we had now nothing to guide us. Still,
we toiled on as well as we could.

But we had great difficulty in getting the poor Damaras to keep pace with
us, who, being naked, suffered extremely. Every ten minutes they would
lie down on the cold sand, perfectly indifferent to the consequences. If
we had not used the utmost vigilance in keeping them moving, I am quite
convinced that some of them would have perished. Toward morning the cold
became so intense that I was no longer capable of holding the reins, and
therefore dismounted and proceeded on foot. Daybreak brought no relief,
for the fog still prevented us from ascertaining our position. The
instinct of the oxen, however, came to our rescue, and, by giving them
their own way, they soon took us safely to our destination.




CHAPTER VI.

    Return to Scheppmansdorf.—Training Oxen for the
    Yoke.—Sporting.—The Flamingo.—The Butcher-bird: curious
    Superstition regarding it.—Preparing for Journey.—Servants
    described.


Mr. and Mrs. Bam and their family were, I was glad to find, in good
health, and, as heretofore, they gave me not only a most kind reception,
but placed at my disposal the best of every thing which the house
afforded.

It is wonderful what habit and association will effect. When I visited
Scheppmansdorf in the first instance, I thought it the most dismal spot
that human eye ever rested on; but in the short space of a few weeks
it had almost become endeared to me. I found what Shakspeare calls the
“soul of goodness in things evil.” Dreariness was softened down into
peaceful seclusion; the savage country round about assumed the dignity
of primeval nature, fresh from the hand of the Creator; and the solemn
and stern night-silence only hushed me into sounder sleep. These feelings
and this trusting repose mainly originated in the kind ministrations and
unaffected welcome of sincere friends.

After a day or two’s rest we began the difficult and laborious task of
breaking-in the oxen; but it proved a much more difficult one than I had
anticipated. While herded together these animals looked tame and docile
enough, but the instant they felt the lasso round their legs or horns
their character changed completely.

The spirit of Damara cattle is fiery and wild in the extreme, and I have
known many an ox which ten strong men were unable to manage. The only
remedy in such a case is to lasso the beast by his legs and horns, and,
after having thrown him down, to affix to his neck a heavy iron chain, of
sufficient length to trail along the ground. The effect on the animal of
this incumbrance is in some instances very remarkable; for, instead of a
wild, stubborn, and unbending brute, in a short time he is all docility.
Indeed, it not unfrequently happens that he becomes too lazy to be of any
use.

While at Scheppmansdorf, and whenever I could snatch a moment from my
busy life, I never failed to shoulder my gun with a view of obtaining
specimens of natural history or a “re-enforcement for the larder,” and an
hour’s walk not unfrequently procured me a tolerable share of both. Ducks
and geese, though somewhat shy, were by no means uncommon. Quadrupeds of
every description, however, were scarce, yet I managed occasionally to
bag a steinbok or a hare.

Almost every morn we were visited by a splendid flock of pelicans, who
kept soaring above the place for hours together; now in wide, graceful
circles, the next instant in a compact body, sometimes rising into the
sky till they became nearly invisible, then suddenly sinking till they
almost touched the earth; when abruptly, as if recollecting that the
land was not their proper home, they would resume their airy station.
They generally ended by settling near a large reedy fountain; but they
were very difficult of approach.

The _lanius subcoronatus_, a species of shrike, first described by
Dr. Andrew Smith, I found to be common at Scheppmansdorf, as also the
butcher-bird, which, as known, always impales its prey on some thorn or
sharp-pointed stick before devouring it. The Cape people call this bird
the “fiscaal,” or magistrate, in consequence of a superstitious belief
that it represents among the smaller animals what the judge does among
men. Many even go farther, and say that the “fiscaal” only administers
justice on a Friday; probably from the Dutch court of justice being held
in former times on that particular day.

Part of the oxen being at length pretty well trained to the yoke, we made
preparations for our departure.

When we left the Cape, the belief was entertained that we should be able
to carry thirty or forty hundred weight on each wagon; but on taking into
account our young and wild cattle, and the sandy and heavy soil through
which we should have to pass, we had, ere this, made up our minds to
reduce the quantity to rather less than one third of this weight, or to
about fifteen hundred pounds. Even this, as will be shortly seen, proved
too great. Accordingly, every article was carefully weighed with the
steelyard previously to being stowed away in the wagons.

Before proceeding farther in my narrative, it may be proper to introduce
to the reader our traveling establishment, as the character of the
several individuals composing it had by this time become pretty well
developed. And though among our retainers we had more than one “black
sheep,” and others whom it was exceedingly difficult to keep in order,
yet, taking them together, they were probably a fair average of the
servants likely to be picked up by the African traveler. On an expedition
similar to the one in which we were engaged, I should remark, people can
not be too particular in the selection of their attendants; for, to say
nothing of the success of the undertaking, one’s personal comfort mainly
depends on their good behavior.

First in order was a youth named Gabriel, a native of the Cape. He had
been engaged by Galton chiefly for his smiling face and winning looks,
but he proved himself to be the most troublesome of the whole lot. In
our journey up the country he had already exhibited a vindictive temper
and quarrelsome disposition, which at length broke forth with increased
violence. On two separate occasions he attempted, if I was rightly
informed, the lives of his fellow-servants. Upon this atrocity, I spoke
to him with earnest reprobation, and trusted that I had produced some
effect; when, to my astonishment and mortification, the very next day
he was guilty of the same outrage. After a dispute with one of his
companions, he rushed upon him with a hatchet, and would undoubtedly
have cleft his skull had it not been for a Hottentot, who warded off the
blow. So little did the young villain think of the crime he had intended
to perpetrate, that upon receiving punishment he had the impudence to
remonstrate, and to ask why he was flogged!

Next in order came Abraham Wenzel (a native also, I believe, of
Cape-Town), a wheelwright by trade, and by habit a thief. Even before
leaving Scheppmansdorf I received information that he had purloined
divers articles from the stores, for which crime he received his due
punishment.

Another of our servants was named John Waggoner. This man teased us
continually by his sulkiness and reluctance to work, assigning as a
reason that he had been seized with home-sickness, and that he wished
to return immediately to the Cape. Some little time afterward he was
gratified in his wish; and, as will subsequently be seen, he proved
himself the worst scamp of the set. But John performed his fraudulent
tricks with so much cleverness, ingenuity, and self-confidence, that,
out of mere admiration at his dexterity, I could not refrain from
excusing him.

John St. Helena, a relative of the last-mentioned, was born in the
Cape colony, and officiated as our head wagoner. This man exhibited
the most extraordinary disposition; for, though sometimes he would
be good-natured, willing, and hard-working, at others he was sulky,
ill-tempered, and indolent. At first I felt much annoyed at his irritable
and changeable temper; but I soon found that by interfering I only made
matters worse; and, as he was an “excellent whip,” it was necessary to
put up with and overlook a great deal, as we should have found it almost
impossible to replace him in so wild and inhospitable a region. About
three years afterward I employed him again, and, strange to say, he was
then the best of servants.

Another of the attendants, John Williams, also a colony man, was a
short, stout, merry, mischievous-looking lad, who agreed to serve in
any capacity to which he might be competent. He now cooked for the men,
assisted in “inspanning” and leading the oxen, washed clothes—in short,
made himself generally useful. Still he was careless, thoughtless,
and dirty in his habits, and had not the least idea of husbanding the
provisions. The result was, that before we had been many months in the
country, our stock of vegetables, coffee, tea, and other necessaries was
all but gone.

Our own cook, John Mortar, a native of Madeira, was the very reverse of
this. He was careful, frugal, industrious, strictly honest, and deeply
attached to his master’s interest. His only fault was irritability; but
this, in a cook, is always excusable. I had a great regard for poor John,
and I believe the attachment was mutual.

Mortar had been cook to the club in Cape-Town, where he won golden
opinions; but, though he had certainly attained some proficiency in the
culinary art, he required a whole grocer’s shop to prepare a dinner; and
it was some time before he could reconcile himself to make a beef-steak
_à la façon sauvage_.

John had a famous way of telling stories, and, like his own dishes,
they were very savory and well-spiced: a tale never degenerated in his
hands; and when, in his happier moments, he condescended to open his
mind, he never failed to keep his audience in a roar of laughter. He
had, moreover, great ambition, and could never bear that any one should
interfere with his cooking establishment. The arrival of a batch of
natives at his fire was the signal for a general burst of eloquent abuse;
and if this did not suffice, he had a provoking way of scattering the hot
coals and ashes over the naked legs of the poor unsuspecting savages,
which, of course, never failed to have the desired effect. I often
trembled for John, for his mind was clearly too republican to make any
difference between chief and subject, and I was surprised that he never
got into a scrape. I suppose, however, the comical manner in which his
dangerous experiments were always carried on served rather to amuse than
irritate or provoke.

John lived to return to the Cape, where he became another Gulliver,
embellishing his adventures among the savages with marvels which would
have done honor to the invention even of Dean Swift.

I now come to the last, but certainly not the least interesting of the
servants. This man’s name was Timbo. He was a native of Mazapa, a country
far in the interior, lying to the west of the Portuguese settlements on
the east coast of Africa.

When yet a child, Timbo’s country was invaded by a ferocious and powerful
tribe of Caffres, who carried off the cattle, and slew many of the
inhabitants. Among the latter were his parents; he himself escaped to a
neighboring tribe. As this, however, soon after shared a similar fate to
his own, he was, for a long time, a “stranger on the face of the earth.”
At last he was sold as a slave to the Portuguese, but after a while
effected his escape. His liberty, however, was of short duration, for he
was soon recaptured, and put on board a slaver. Fortunately, the vessel
fell into the hands of an English cruiser, and Timbo, together with a
great number of slaves, was brought to the Cape and liberated.

Though of a shining dark complexion, Timbo was a remarkably fine-looking
man, and well formed. He bore the reputation of being a complete
lady-killer, not only with those of his own color, but also among the
European “fair sex.” He had, therefore, no great difficulty in securing
a partner. His choice, however, seems to have been unfortunate; for, on
his return after eighteen months’ absence, he found that his faithless
spouse had not only deserted him for another, but had also carried off
with her nearly the whole of his hard-earned wages. On asking him one day
whether he had any intention of again marrying, he replied in his strange
_patois_, “No, maser; me no more marry; women too great rascals in the
Kaap!”

But it was not only of a handsome face and good figure that Timbo could
boast, for he possessed, in addition, many excellent qualities, such
as even temper, generosity, honesty, prudence, industry; and, like our
cook, he was sincere in his attachment to the interest of his employer.
With Galton and myself he was a great favorite. He possessed, moreover,
the most cheerful disposition, and an inexhaustible store of fun. I was,
indeed, never tired of listening to his tales, for he told them with such
force and simplicity that it was impossible not to be pleased and amused.

When reproached for any thing of which he knew himself to be innocent,
he would lay his hand on his breast and say, “No, maser; me know dat, me
tell you.” Or, “No, maser; me heart know that, me heart reproach me, and
me tell you.”

Timbo had a wonderful aptitude for languages; but, though acquainted
with many, he spoke none well. Still, his speech was remarkably fluent,
and nothing brought it forth with such abundant fervor as when mention
was made of his own country. This was like touching an electric rod,
and he spoke in ecstasies. No European could take more pride in his
native soil than this man did in his; and if the rest of his countrymen
resembled him, they must indeed have been a fine race of men, and,
undoubtedly, capable of a very high degree of cultivation.




CHAPTER VII.

    Departure from Scheppmansdorf.—Cattle refractory at
    starting.—Tincas.—Always travel by Night.—Rhinoceros Hunt.—The
    Author in danger of a second Sun-stroke.—Reach Onanis.—A
    Tribe of Hill-Damaras settled there.—Singular Manner in
    which these People smoke.—Effects of the Weed.—The Euphorbia
    Candelabrum.—Remarkable Properties of this vegetable
    Poison.—Guinea-fowl: the best Manner of shooting them.—Meet
    a troop of Giraffes.—Tjobis Fountain again.—Attacked by
    Lions.—Providential Escape.—Arrival at Richterfeldt.


After only three weeks’ stay at Scheppmansdorf, and though our oxen were
but partially broken-in, Hans one day informed me that we might set out
in safety. Accordingly, the final arrangements were hastily completed,
and on the 13th of November I once more bade farewell to the place, and
its kind, obliging, and hospitable inhabitants.

At first starting, and while the sand was very deep and yielding, the
oxen caused us much trouble; but when we were on the hard and firm
Naarip, all went well, and we arrived at the Usab gorge, where we
encamped, without farther inconvenience than passing a cold and sleepless
night.

The next evening we resumed our journey, but, instead of following the
course of the Swakop—which, with our young oxen and heavy wagons, would
have been next to impossible—it was deemed advisable that we should
still continue on the Naarip, where, though water was scarce, the road
was hard and good. Tincas Mountain, which on our former journey was to
the right, was now, of course, to our left. After about fourteen hours’
fatiguing travel we reached the small River Tincas, where we unyoked, and
rested ourselves and the weary oxen until nightfall, when we were again
_en route_.

As we had now adopted the plan of traveling during the night, so as not
to distress the animals too much, we found it necessary to keep a sharp
look-out, both on account of the wild beasts, and for fear of losing our
way. The latter was particularly to be guarded against; for, in this
land of drought, any considerable deviation from the regular track is
not unfrequently followed by serious consequences. Hans and myself were
accustomed to keep watch by turns, for we never dared trust to the men;
but this night, owing to our previous fatigue, we both unfortunately fell
asleep.

When I awoke, I found that we were far out of our proper course, and all
the men were snoring in the wagons. However, as it was starlight, and the
landmarks very conspicuous, we had not much difficulty in recovering the
proper track.

Toward break of day we unyoked the tired oxen in the bed of a small dry
water-course, where we found abundance of excellent grass. The unattached
cattle did not join us till late in the afternoon, as the men in charge
of them had fallen asleep. Their negligence, however, was excused on
account of the good news they brought. It appeared that soon after it
was light they discovered a huge rhinoceros, accompanied by a nearly
full-grown calf, following in their wake, and that they had only lost
sight of the beasts when within a short distance of our bivouac.

So favorable an opportunity was too tempting to let slip. Having
hurriedly partaken of some breakfast, and provided ourselves with a
small supply of water, I, Hans, and an attendant started in pursuit of
the animals, and we had not left the camp for much more than an hour when
we fell in with their “spoor.” The beasts themselves, however, could
nowhere be seen; and as several tracks crossed each other more than
once (the animals having probably been feeding thereabouts), Hans and
I took different directions in search of the trail we were to follow.
We had hardly parted when I heard a tremendous crash among the bushes,
and about a hundred yards in advance I saw, to my great vexation, the
two rhinoceroses going away at full speed. Notwithstanding the distance
and the unfavorable position of the beasts, I fired at the mother; but,
though the ball apparently took effect, she in no wise slackened her pace.

Hans did not discharge his gun, because, as he said, the bushes prevented
him from having more than a very indistinct view of the beasts.

When I had reloaded we gave chase, and as that part of the plain we had
now reached was totally devoid of every kind of vegetation that could
obstruct the sight, we easily kept the animals in view. By degrees they
slackened their speed, and in about twenty minutes abruptly came to a
stand-still, curiously regarding me as, having (though unobserved to
myself) separated from Hans, I rapidly made up to them. When within
fifteen to twenty paces, I halted, took aim at the mother, and pulled the
trigger, but, to my great annoyance, my gun missed fire. While in the
very act of discharging my second barrel she wheeled about, and the ball,
instead of entering her heart, lodged in her hind quarters, and only
tended to quicken her pace.

In the heat of pursuit, I had taken no notice of Hans and our attendant;
but, now that my attention was no longer exclusively drawn to the
rhinoceros, I looked round to ascertain why they had not fired as well as
myself, when, to my utter astonishment, I saw both of them about half a
mile in the background, standing motionless, and watching my proceedings.
On their rejoining me, and in the first burst of indignation, I charged
them with cowardice; but Hans immediately drew himself up to his full
height, and indignantly but respectfully replied as follows:

“Sir! when you have had my experience, you will never call that man a
coward who does not attack a wounded black rhinoceros on an open and
naked plain. I would rather,” he continued, “face fifty lions than one
of these animals in such an exposed situation, for not one in a hundred
would take it as quietly as this has done. A wounded black rhinoceros
seldom waits to be attacked, but charges instantly; and there would not
have been the least chance of saving one’s life in an open place like
this. Had there been but the smallest bush or stone, I shouldn’t have
hesitated a moment, for the sight of the rhinoceros is bad, and if there
is the least cover it is easy to avoid him. Not many years ago, a great
Namaqua chief, who, contrary to the advice of his friends, had fired at
a rhinoceros under precisely similar circumstances to yourself, lost his
life by his rashness.”

I could not but be sensibly aware of the injustice of my accusation and
my own foolhardiness; yet I then felt but half convinced of the truth
of what Hans had told me, and should certainly have acted in the like
imprudent manner (as indeed I did on many subsequent occasions) had
another opportunity offered. But, after all, Hans was perfectly right,
as I am sure every one who has come much in contact with the beast in
question will readily admit. Indeed, after the severe lesson which, at an
after period, I received from a black rhinoceros, I am free to confess
that nothing in the world would ever again induce me willfully to expose
myself in the way just mentioned.

To proceed. After receiving my fire, both mother and calf galloped off as
fast as their legs would carry them; but gradually they slackened their
pace to a canter, then to a trot, and finally to a walk. By this time,
however, they were so far away that, but for the certain knowledge of
their identity, we might readily have taken them for stocks or stones.
The indistinctness of objects, moreover, even at a moderate distance, was
increased by the effects of a most perplexing mirage.

While discussing the propriety of following up the rhinoceroses, we saw
them make for an isolated tree, no doubt with the intention of sheltering
themselves from the scorching rays of the sun. This decided us on
continuing the chase; and, although suffering greatly from thirst (our
small supply of water having been long exhausted), the hope of ultimate
success gave us strength to proceed.

Approaching under cover of some stunted bushes, and when almost certain
of closing with the beasts, and putting an end to one or both, I was
startled by the report of guns close behind me, and on turning round I
found that Hans and our man had fired. I never felt more vexed in my
life, for we were still a good hundred yards from the animals, and it had
been previously agreed that—unless the beasts knew of our presence—we
were not to fire until within a very short distance of them. As, however,
the evil could not be remedied, I lost no time in firing; but the brutes
being fully one hundred and fifty paces from me, I had small hope of
inflicting serious injury. That I hit the mother, however, was very
certain, for, at the instant of discharging my gun, she bounded like a
cat into the air; and Hans, who looked upon this as a sure sign of her
being mortally wounded, exclaimed, “Aha, old girl, you are safe!” Annoyed
as I was, I could not help smiling, and ironically replied, “To be sure,
she is safe enough.” And so it proved, for we never saw her or her calf
again.

I felt disappointed at our failure and the chance of a feast, and was
moreover sorry for the poor rhinoceros; for, though she was lost to us,
I felt certain it was only to die a lingering death at a distance. From
experience, indeed, I should say that a similar fate awaits a large
portion of birds and animals that escape us after being badly wounded.

Under ordinary circumstances, I would certainly have continued the
pursuit; but this was now impossible. We could not reach our encampment
under many hours, and we suffered painfully from thirst; while, owing to
severe and continued exertions under a burning sun, I was attacked by
torturing headache. Long before we could reach the wagons, I experienced
precisely the same feelings as when I received a sun-stroke. Knowing that
a renewal of the same infliction would in all probability prove fatal,
I still toiled on; yet, at last, the faintness and exhaustion became so
overpowering, that, regardless of danger, I threw myself on a small flat
rock, so heated by the sun that I was unable to hold my hand on it for a
moment, and even the limbs protected by my dress were almost blistered. I
then urged Hans to proceed as quickly as possible, in order that, if he
found I did not immediately follow, he might send me some water.

Hans had not long been gone, however, when the rock became so intolerably
hot that, stupefied as I was, I found it necessary to rise from it; when,
with a faltering step, and in a state of almost total unconsciousness,
I made for the wagons, which I reached in safety just as Hans was about
to dispatch a man to me with an ample supply of water. My apprehensions,
however, had been vain. A few hours’ rest and quiet gradually restored me.

The oppressive heat under which I had suffered so severely had also
made the cattle very thirsty, and they refused to eat the dry and
sunburnt grass. As soon, therefore, as the air became a little cooler,
we pushed on to Onanis, where we arrived somewhat late in the evening.
Notwithstanding the darkness, and the risk of being attacked by lions,
which sometimes swarm here, we were obliged to supply our cattle with
water; and, as we had to dig for it in the bed of a small periodical
stream hard by, it was close on midnight before we could think of
refreshment or sleep.

Onanis is the permanent residence of a kraal of very poor
Hill-Damaras,[11] who subsist chiefly upon the few wild roots which their
sterile neighborhood produces. Most of them, however, manage to raise a
little tobacco, for which they have a perfect mania, and which, moreover,
they value nearly as much as the necessaries of life.

They also cultivate “dacka,” or hemp, not, as with us, for its fibre,
but for the sake of the young leaves and seeds, which they use as a
substitute for tobacco, and which is of the most intoxicating and
injurious character. It not unfrequently happens, indeed, that those who
indulge too freely in the use of this plant are affected by disease of
the brain.

The manner in which the Hill-Damaras smoke is widely different either
from Hindu, Mussulman, or Christian. Instead of simply inhaling the
smoke, and then immediately letting it escape, either by the mouth or
nostril, they _swallow it deliberately_. The process is too singular to
be passed over without notice.

[Illustration: HILL-DAMARA PIPE.]

A small quantity of water is put into a large horn—usually of a
koodoo—three or four feet long. A short clay pipe, filled either with
tobacco or “dacka,” is then introduced, and fixed vertically into the
side near the extremity of the narrow end, communicating with the
interior by means of a small aperture. This being done, the party present
place themselves in a circle, observing deep silence, and with open
mouths, and eyes glistening with delight, they anxiously abide their
turn. The chief man usually has the honor of enjoying the first pull at
the pipe. From the moment that the orifice of the horn is applied to his
lips, he seems to lose all consciousness of every thing around him, and
becomes entirely absorbed in the enjoyment. As little or no smoke escapes
from his mouth, the effect is soon sufficiently apparent. His features
become contorted, his eyes glassy and vacant, his mouth covered with
froth, his whole body convulsed, and in a few seconds he is prostrate
on the ground. A little water is then thrown over his body, proceeding
not unfrequently from the mouth of a friend; his hair is violently
pulled, or his head unceremoniously thumped with the hand. These somewhat
disagreeable applications usually have the effect of restoring him to
himself in a few minutes. Cases, however, have been known where people
have died on the spot from overcharging their stomachs with the poisonous
fumes.

The Ovaherero use tobacco in a similar manner as just described, with
this difference only, that they inhale the smoke simply through short
clay pipes without using water to cool it, which, of course makes it all
the more dangerous.

The first time we were present at a smoking bout we were disgusted and
frightened; but, from its being of every-day occurrence, we at length
became somewhat reconciled to it, as also to many other unpleasant sights
and customs.

Instead of the naked and barren Naarip, the country had now begun to
assume a more pleasing appearance; for, though every thing looked dry
and parched at this season, there was no want of vegetation. Besides a
variety of shrubs and stunted bushes, the periodical water-courses were
marked by the handsome black-stemmed mimosa, and other species of the
acacia family. The hill-sides, also, were in many places covered with
the graceful but poisonous _euphorbia candelabrum_.

The Ovaherero tip their arrows with this vegetable poison, and the
Hill-Damaras introduce it in a liquid state into pools where wild
beasts are known to drink; and the flesh of any animal thus destroyed
is perfectly wholesome. But its most remarkable property is, that while
it invariably kills the _white_ rhinoceros, it is freely and harmlessly
partaken of by the _black_ species, whether the plant itself be eaten, or
a solution of it drunk. The juice of the _euphorbia candelabrum_ has a
milk-white appearance, and is very gummy, with an acrid taste.

The wild bee is occasionally known to extract its food from the flowers
and the juice of this cactus. In such a case the honey becomes more or
less poisonous. Mr. Moffat mentions an instance of his party suffering
much pain and inconvenience from having partaken of such honey. They felt
as if their throats had been on fire.

In seasons when rain falls abundantly, Onanis becomes one of the finest
grazing localities throughout Namaqua-land, and is capable of sustaining
many hundred head of cattle for several months together. The hills then
afford a variety of shrubs and bushes of which goats and sheep are fond.
The surrounding plains are covered with fine grass, and a species of
yellow flower much relished by the cattle.

This district used to be one of Hans’ favorite camping places; for,
besides the abundant and excellent pasture-grounds, it was largely
resorted to by game of all kinds, and is still frequented by the lion,
the gemsbok, the giraffe, the zebra, the gnoo, the rhinoceros, and
several other animals.

We were to have resumed our journey on the following night, but in the
interval Hans’ right hand and arm had suddenly, and from some unknown
cause, swelled in a most alarming manner. In consequence of this mishap,
we found it necessary to devote another day to rest.

On the evening of our arrival at Onanis, we had started an immense number
of Guinea-fowls near the water, and, thinking it a favorable opportunity
to replenish our exhausted larder, I slung a double-barreled gun across
my shoulder, and immediately started off; but, though I soon found the
birds, they were so wild that for a long time I could not get within
range of them. At last, after having chased them about the rocks till I
was nearly tired, they scattered themselves among the stones, and lay so
close that, unless I almost trod upon them, they would not rise. With a
steady pointer, I believe the whole flock might easily have been killed,
and, as it was, I made a very large bag.

The flesh of the wild Guinea-fowl—that of the young, at least—is tender
and well-flavored, and their eggs are excellent. The speed of this
bird is almost incredible. On even ground a man is no match for it.
Where the country is well wooded, the best plan to shoot them is with a
“cocker,” or other dog that challenges freely to them when “treed;” for
while the birds are intently watching his movements, they may easily be
approached within gun-shot. With a small pea-rifle this sort of sport is
particularly amusing.

Early on the afternoon of the second day, Hans having now partially
recovered, we started from Onanis, and with the exception of a short
stoppage, for the purpose of preparing some coffee and to allow the
cattle to take a few mouthfuls of grass, we traveled throughout the whole
night.

Soon after daylight we discovered a numerous troop of giraffes. The
country, however, was open and unfavorable for stalking, and before we
could get within range they were off. The speed of these animals is by no
means inconsiderable, more especially on gently rising ground. In such a
locality, and from their being very long-winded, a tolerably swift horse
is seldom able to overtake them under less than two or three miles. It is
one of the most curious sights imaginable to see a troop of these animals
at full speed, balancing themselves to and fro in a manner not easily
described, and whisking, at regular intervals, from side to side, their
tails, tufted at the end, while their long and tapering necks, swaying
backward and forward, follow the motion of their bodies.

On account of the many short turns, the hilly nature of the ground in
places, and the unusual length of the wagons, we anticipated considerable
difficulty in the course of this stage. But we got safely through it
without accident of any kind, and arrived at Tjobis Fountain about nine
o’clock.

We left this place the evening of the same day, and, with the exception
of resting for an hour or two by the way, we pushed on throughout the
night.

At daybreak, and just as we reached the Swakop, we were suddenly startled
by the most tremendous roaring of lions, which evidently were close at
hand. In a few moments afterward, two of those magnificent beasts—male
and female—emerged from the bushes at about one hundred and fifty paces
ahead of us. On perceiving the cavalcade, they gave another terrific
roar, of so angry a nature as to cause the greatest consternation
among the cattle. Those attached to the foremost wagon wheeled round
instantaneously, and, before it was possible to prevent them, ran right
into the midst of the aftermost team, and I expected every moment to see
the vehicles capsized or smashed to atoms.

What with the bellowing of the oxen, the shouting and screaming of the
men, the smashing and breaking of yokes, &c., and the continued roar of
the lions, the scene was such as to baffle all description.

The lion himself, after having approached very near to us, again
retreated into the bushes; but the lioness seated herself quietly within
less than a hundred yards of the wagons, growling most furiously.
Throwing the reins over the saddle of “Spring,” who, by-the-by, had
nearly unseated me on the first appearance of the lions, I sprang to the
ground, and seizing a double-barreled gun, which I always kept loaded
for emergences, I made toward the beast, intending to punish her for her
audacity, when Hans imploringly begged me to desist. “For,” said he, “if
you do not shoot her dead on the spot, she will be down upon us in an
instant.”

Allowing myself to be guided by his advice, I refrained from firing,
but nevertheless took up my position within about fifty paces of, and
opposite to the lioness, as well to draw off her attention from the men,
and thus enable them to put the cattle and vehicles to rights, as to be
in readiness to give her a warm reception, should she think proper to
charge.

A short time before we were thus unceremoniously attacked, one of the
draft oxen, which had always been very wild, managed to escape from the
yoke, and a fleet-footed Damara was left behind to bring him on. In the
midst of our confusion, we heard cries of distress and loud shouting
behind us, and, on looking round, we saw, to our horror, the lion in
full chase as well of the refractory ox as the man, who was trying to
keep off his fierce pursuer by violently waving the fire-brand which he
carried in his hand.[12] Telling Hans to mind the lioness as well as
he could in my absence, I immediately ran to the rescue of the Damara
and his charge; but, before I had proceeded far, the ox, catching sight
of the remainder of the herd, made a successful dash right across the
lion’s path, and fortunately rejoined us in safety. The object of the
lion was clearly more the beast than the man; for, upon finding himself
thus suddenly baffled, he stopped short, and with a savage look at us,
and an angry growl, bounded out of sight as quick as thought, and by the
time I returned to the wagons, the lioness had thought fit to follow her
lord’s example. Thus, almost without any effort on our side, we were
providentially saved from this most extraordinary and dangerous attack.

At the first appearance of the lions the men took refuge in the wagons,
and long after the danger was over they trembled violently from fear and
apprehension.

As a general rule, a lion, unless previously molested, will seldom attack
an ox in the yoke or when attended by man, but long abstinence makes him
desperate.

After considerable trouble and difficulty, we succeeded in rearranging
the oxen, which had become excessively scared. Two or three hours’
further traveling brought us, without other mishap, safe to Richterfeldt,
where our hair-breadth escape was listened to with the deepest interest.

We had left Scheppmansdorf, as said, in the afternoon of the 13th of
November, and reached our present quarters early on the morning of the
22d of the same month. The whole of the distance by road could not have
been much less than one hundred and thirty miles. Having performed
this in five stages, and in about the same number of days, our rate of
traveling, at an average, had been twenty-five miles daily. Taking into
consideration the nature of the ground, the young and half-broken oxen,
&c., it may fairly be considered first-rate speed, and our efforts were
loudly praised by every one.




CHAPTER VIII.

    A hearty Welcome.—We remove the Encampment.—An
    Apparition.—Audacity of wild Beasts.—Depriving Lions of their
    Prey.—Excessive Heat.—Singular effects of great Heat.—Depart
    for Barmen.—Meet a troop of Zebras.—Their flesh not equal
    to Venison.—The Missionary’s Wall.—A sad Catastrophe.—The
    “Kameel-Doorn.”—Buxton Fountain.—The Scorpion.—Arrival at
    Barmen.


Immediately on our arrival at Richterfeldt we were surrounded by scores
of natives, who, with yells, vociferations, clapping of hands, grotesque
dances, and so forth, testified their joy at our return. Mr. Rath,
moreover, highly complimented us on the dispatch with which we had
broken-in the oxen and performed the journey.

Mr. Galton, I ascertained, had lately departed for Barmen, Mr. Hahn’s
station. I determined to follow him as soon as I had taken sufficient
rest after my fatiguing journey. In the mean time, the wagons were to
remain at Richterfeldt till our return to that place.

At first we pitched our camp in the same spot we had occupied previously
to our departure for Scheppmansdorf; but the high palisades that
protected it had been destroyed in our absence by the natives, who had
carried away the wood for fuel. This, however, was of little consequence,
as the old inclosure would now have been too small to contain both
the cattle and our cumbersome conveyances. Moreover, as the place was
situated in the bed of a periodical stream, a tributary of the Swakop,
and as the rainy season was fast approaching, it would have been
imprudent to remain here any length of time. Accordingly, we brought our
wagons, &c., to Hans’ own kraal, which was near at hand on the bank of
the river, as there we should be perfectly secure in case of any sudden
inundation.

The day before our removal, the men had asked and obtained permission to
spend the evening with Hans at his encampment. Even the dogs had absented
themselves, and I was thus left altogether alone. This night, though
somewhat warm, was delightfully bright and still. To enjoy the beautiful
weather, I had taken my bedding out of the wagon, and placed it on the
ground alongside the wheels, facing a small clump of low tamarisk-trees,
distant not above twenty paces. Being a bad sleeper, I lay awake until a
very late hour. All nature was hushed and silent, and the night so calm
that I might have heard the falling of a leaf. Suddenly my attention was
drawn to the tamarisk grove, whence proceeded a low, rustling noise like
that of some animal cautiously making its way through it. Thinking it
probable that a hyæna or a jackal was about to pay me a visit, I sat
up in my bed, and seizing my gun, which I invariably kept within reach,
I prepared to give the intruder a warm reception. Imagine my surprise,
however, when, instead of one or other of these skulking animals, a
stately lion stood suddenly before me! In an instant my gun was pointed
at his breast; but, hoping he would presently turn his broadside toward
me, which would have given me a much better chance of destroying him, I
refrained from firing. In this expectation, however, I was disappointed;
for, on perceiving the wagons, he retreated a step or two, and uttering a
low growl, vanished the next moment among the bushes.

There is something so grand and imposing in the appearance of the king of
beasts in his native wilds, more especially when he assumes an attitude
of surprise or defiance, that it is impossible not to feel more or less
awed in his presence.

On mentioning to Mr. Rath, the following morning, my adventure of the
preceding night, he expressed no kind of surprise, for the tamarisk grove
in question was often known, he said, to harbor lions and other beasts
of prey. He added, moreover, that lions not unfrequently penetrated
thence into his garden, and even approached within a few paces of the
dwelling-house itself.

Returning somewhat late one very dark night from Mr. Rath’s house to
our encampment, I was suddenly startled by sounds of the most painful
description, not unlike the stifled groanings of a person who is on the
point of drowning. It at once struck me that the lions had surprised some
unfortunate native while lying in ambush near the water for wild animals
that came there to drink. While listening in anxious suspense to the
wailings in question—which gradually became more and more faint—there
reached me from another quarter a confused sound of human voices and of
hurried footsteps. This only tended to confirm my first impression; but,
from the impenetrable darkness, I could not ascertain any thing with
certainty. Being unable, however, to endure the suspense any longer,
and regardless of the danger to which I exposed myself, I caught up my
fowling-piece, which happened to be loaded with ball, and set out in the
direction whence the wailings, now fast dying away, proceeded.

I had not gone very far, however, before I fell in with a number of the
natives, who were hastening in the same direction as myself.

My road, for the most part, lay through a dense tamarisk coppice, and it
was surprising to me how I ever managed to thread the labyrinth. The hope
of saving human life, however, enabled me to overcome all obstacles. I
might have been three or four minutes in the brake when, on coming to a
small opening, I suddenly encountered, and all but stumbled over, a large
black mass lying at my feet, while close to my ear I heard the twang of a
bow-string and the whizzing of an arrow. At the same moment, and within a
very few paces of where I stood, I was startled by the terrific roar of a
lion, which seemed to shake the ground beneath me. This was immediately
followed by a savage and exulting cry of triumph from a number of the
natives.

Having recovered from my surprise, I found that the dark object that had
nearly upset me was one of the natives stooping over a dead zebra, which
the lion had just killed, and then learned, for the first time, to my
great astonishment as well as relief, that the wailings which had caused
me so much uneasiness, and which I imagined were those of a dying man,
proceeded from this poor animal.[13]

The design of the natives, who, from the first, I take it, well knew
what they were about, was simply to possess themselves of the zebra, in
which they had fully succeeded. While some busied themselves in lighting
a fire, the rest joined in a sort of war-dance round the carcass,
accompanied by the most wild and fantastic gestures, totally disregarding
the proximity of the lion, who had only retreated a few paces. As the
fire began to blaze, indeed, we could distinctly see him pacing to and
fro among the bushes on the edge of the river’s bank.

He, moreover, forcibly reminded us of his presence by cruelly lacerating
a small dog belonging to one of the party which had incautiously
approached him too closely. By a slight touch of his murderous paw he
ripped up its body from head to foot; but, notwithstanding its entrails
dragged on the ground, the poor creature managed to crawl to our fire,
where it breathed its last in the course of a few seconds. It was a most
touching sight to see the faithful animal wagging its tail in recognition
of its master, who was trying to replace the intestines and to stop the
flow of the blood.

The savage features of the natives, which received an unnaturally wild
character as the glare of the half-blazing fire fell upon them; the dying
dog, with his wild master stooping despondingly over him; the mutilated
carcass of the zebra, and the presence of the lion within a few paces of
us, presented one of the most striking scenes it was ever my fortune to
witness.

Expecting every moment that the lion would make a dash at us, I stood
prepared to receive him. More than once, indeed, I leveled my gun at him,
and was on the point of pulling the trigger; but, being now sufficiently
acquainted with the character of the animal to know that, if I did not
shoot him on the spot, the attempt would probably prove the death-signal
to one or other of us, I refrained from firing.

Contrary to my expectation, however, he allowed us to cut up and to
carry away the entire zebra without molesting us in any way. During the
process, the natives occasionally hurled huge burning brands at the
beast; but these, instead of driving him to a distance, had only the
effect of making him the more savage.[14]

Similar attempts to deprive the lion of his prey are of frequent
occurrence in the interior of Africa. Indeed, it is no unusual thing
to find a number of natives residing near such pools of water as
are frequented by antelopes, other wild animals, and their constant
attendant, the lion, subsisting almost altogether in this way, or on
carcasses which the lion has not had time to devour before the return of
day, when it is his habit to retire to his lair.

But it is not always that the attempt to deprive the lion of his prey
succeeds as well as in the instance just mentioned. Generally speaking,
indeed, if he is famishing with hunger, he turns upon his assailants,
and many a man has thus lost his life. One often meets with individuals,
either mutilated or bearing dreadful scars, the result of wounds received
in such encounters.

The heat had, by this time, become almost insupportable, and it was
only with great inconvenience that a person could move about after the
sun was a few hours above the horizon. Even the cattle were dreadfully
distressed. As early as eight o’clock in the morning they would leave off
grazing, in order to seek shelter under some tree or bush against the
scorching rays of the sun.

Every afternoon, regularly at two o’clock, we had a strong breeze from
the westward. Strange to say, however, this, though coming from the
sea, instead of cooling the atmosphere, only tended to increase its
oppressiveness. We experienced precisely the same sensation as when
standing before the mouth of a heated oven. The quicksilver rose to such
a height as almost to make us doubt our own eyes. Even at Scheppmansdorf,
which is situated less than twenty miles as the crow flies from the sea,
and where there is almost always a refreshing breeze, the thermometer,
at noon, in an airy situation, and in the shade, rises, for many days
together, to 110 degrees of Fahrenheit!

In consequence of the fiery state of the atmosphere, every article
of horn or wood shrank and contracted most surprisingly. Even the
gun-stocks, made of the best English walnut, lost an eighth of an inch of
their original solidity. The ink dried in the pen almost the instant it
left the stand.[15]

Our wagons, moreover, which on leaving Scheppmansdorf were in excellent
order, were now quite infirm. The spokes and the tires became loose, and
the felloes and naves exhibited large gaps and fissures. To save them,
however, as much as possible, we set about making a shed of reeds and
rushes, strongly bound together by cords and light wooden sticks.

As soon as this was finished, I began my preparations for visiting
Galton at Barmen; and as Mr. Schöneberg was also anxious to make the
acquaintance of Mr. Hahn, his intended colleague, it was agreed that
we should travel together. On the day appointed we set out, mounted on
oxen, and accompanied by a Hottentot as guide and interpreter. Besides
his native tongue, this man spoke Dutch and Damara fluently. One or two
natives were also engaged to drive and to assist in packing the oxen.

As usual, I rode “Spring,” and Mr. Schöneberg an ox lent to him by Mr.
Rath; but, unfortunately, the latter animal turned very vicious, and
before we had proceeded many hundred yards I saw my friend pitched
head foremost into the moist bed of the Swakop. On rising from his
uncomfortable berth, the reverend gentleman looked very blank and
crestfallen, and nothing could again induce him to remount the brute.
Being, however, anxious to prosecute the journey, I made him an offer of
my own ox, which was gratefully accepted.

After this little mishap, all went on well for a while. Unfortunately,
however, in an unguarded moment, I too was doomed to be “un-oxed,”
to the great delight and amusement of my companion. Confiding in his
superior skill in managing a refractory ox, our guide now generously
exchanged with me. Notwithstanding his boasting, he was as unfortunate
as ourselves, for in the course of half an hour he had twice bitten the
dust. Nothing daunted, however, he mounted a third time, and ultimately
succeeded in convincing the animal that he was determined to be master.

In the course of the day we suddenly came upon a troop of zebras. Quickly
dismounting, I took a running shot at them as they were disappearing in
the brushwood, and had the good fortune to bring a fine male dead to
the ground. Immediately “off-saddling,” we helped ourselves to the best
parts of the meat, leaving the rest to one of our Damaras, who thought
a “tuck-out” of flesh—as Hans would have called it—preferable to a
wearisome journey to Barmen.

The flesh of the zebra, or “wild horse,” as the Dutch call it, is
eatable, but by no means good; for, besides possessing a very strong odor
and peculiar flavor, it has a very oily taste. With plenty of pepper and
salt, however, a steak is not to be despised by the hungry traveler.

The heat throughout the day had been terrific. Before the sun had
well disappeared behind the mountains between which we traveled, Mr.
Schöneberg was completely knocked up, and we were obliged to encamp for
the night. Each of us carried a small tin water-can; but, instead of
having it filled, as I did, with the pure liquid, Mrs. Rath had kindly,
but unwisely, provided her friend with a mixture of water, sugar, and
cinnamon. This, as may be supposed, only served to increase his thirst.

We had hardly finished removing the packs and saddles from our tired
steeds before the poor missionary threw himself despondingly on the
ground, exclaiming, “Ah! Mr. Andersson, if we were to tell people in
Europe what we suffer here, none would believe us.” I could not help
smiling at this burst of despair; for, though from the heat the day had
been distressing enough, we had by no means suffered either from want
of water or food. Poor Mr. Schöneberg! he was totally unfit for the
hardships he must necessarily encounter in the African deserts. Indeed,
not many weeks afterward he all but perished from his inability to endure
thirst for a short period.

The next morning at daybreak we were again in the saddle. Our course was
northerly, and a little by east; and the greater part of the road lay
some distance from the Swakop, which at one point forced its way through
a narrow, picturesque, and bold gorge.

In one place we passed at the foot of “Scheppman’s Mountain,” so called
from a melancholy event which occurred here a few years ago. A missionary
named Scheppman had made the ascent to obtain a view of the surrounding
country, but in descending the cock of his gun was caught by a bough,
and the contents were lodged in one of his legs. After having suffered
agonies for a few days, he expired, and the hill has ever since gone by
his name.

The vegetation was more rank than in the parts we had previously
traversed. In the course of the day we crossed the dry beds of several
large, sandy, and periodical streams, which were all tributaries to the
Swakop. The country near these streams was thickly studded with splendid
forests of the gigantic and park-like acacia, known to the Dutch as the
“kameel-doorn,” or giraffe thorn (_acacia giraffæ_). This tree derives
its name from its constituting the favorite and principal food of the
beautiful camelopard. On account of its immense size and peculiar growth,
having the foliage disposed from the top downward in umbrella-shaped
masses, it is a great ornament to the country; but, strange to say, it is
invariably found only in arid districts.

The “kameel-doorn” is evidently of very slow growth, and requires,
probably, many hundred years to arrive at maturity. The grain is
therefore very close; and the wood is so heavy that, after being dried
for years, it will sink when thrown into the water. Our northern oak
can in no wise be compared with it as regards hardness and solidity.
The grain is, however, rather short, and the wood consequently brittle.
Notwithstanding this defect, it is very strong, and is extensively used
for building purposes and implements of husbandry. It is, moreover,
almost the only wood strong enough for the axle-trees of wagons. Tools
of the best materials, however, are indispensable in working it. I have
seen many a well-tempered axe and adze blunted and spoiled when brought
in contact with it. The outer part of the tree is of a whitish color, but
the heart is reddish-brown, not unlike mahogany, and capable of a high
polish.

It is in the branches of this acacia, mentioned by several South African
travelers, that the social grossbeak (_loxia socia_) chiefly constructs
its interesting and singular nest.

Through the stupidity and mismanagement of our guide, who apparently
knew but little of the road, we missed a watering-place where we were to
have halted, and, in consequence, suffered extremely from thirst. Mr.
Schöneberg, moreover, had been very unwell during the day, and when we
arrived at the end of the stage, which was not until seven o’clock at
night, he was even more fatigued and exhausted than on the preceding
evening.

We bivouacked by the side of “Buxton Fountain,” so called in honor of the
late Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, from whom and his family, if I am rightly
informed, Mrs. Hahn had experienced much kindness. It is a hot spring,
and the water, which flows out of a granite rock, is nearly of a boiling
temperature, and has a brackish and disagreeable taste.

The soil, moreover, all round this fountain is impregnated with saline
substances. A considerable number of wild animals congregate here nightly
in order to quench their thirst. Lions, also, are at times numerous, but
on this occasion they did not molest us.

Having partaken of some supper, I was about to resign my weary limbs to
repose, when suddenly there issued from a small hole, close to my head, a
swarm of scorpions. Their appearance brought me to my feet in an instant;
for, though not a particularly nervous man, I am free to confess to a
great horror of all crawling things.

During the hot months these animals lie dormant, but on the approach of
the rainy season they come forth in great numbers. On removing stones,
decayed pieces of wood, &c., it is necessary to be very cautious. The
instant the scorpion feels himself in contact with any part of the body
of a man or beast, he lifts his tail, and with his horny sting inflicts a
wound which, though rarely fatal, is still of a very painful nature.[16]

Like the snake, the scorpion is fond of warmth, and it is not uncommon,
on awakening in the morning, to find one or two of these horrid
creatures snugly ensconced in the folds of the blanket or under the
pillow. On one occasion I killed a scorpion measuring nearly seven and a
half inches in length, that had thus unceremoniously introduced itself
into my bed.

The following morning our guide declared it to be only a few hours’
further traveling to Barmen. We therefore did not hurry our departure,
but took ample time to prepare, and to partake of, a substantial
breakfast, consisting of some strong coffee, and steaks of zebra-flesh,
simply prepared on the hot embers of our bivouac fire.

We arrived at Barmen just as the family was sitting down to dinner, and
Mr. Hahn kindly invited us to join in the ample repast. I was happy to
find Mr. Galton in the enjoyment of health and excellent spirits, and he
seemed delighted at our safe and speedy return.




CHAPTER IX.

    Barmen.—Thunder-storm in the Tropics.—A Man killed by
    Lightning.—Warm Spring.—Mr. Hahn: his Missionary Labor; Seed
    sown in exceeding stony Ground.—The Lake Omanbondè.—Mr.
    Galton’s Mission of Peace.—The Author meets a Lion by the way;
    the Beast bolts.—Singular Chase of a Gnoo.—“Killing two Birds
    with one Stone.”—A Lion Hunt.—The Author escapes Death by a
    Miracle.—Consequences of shooting on a Sunday.


At a first glance, Barmen has a rather dreary aspect. Hans thought it
resembled many of the most desolate parts of Iceland; but, when more
closely examined, it is found to be by no means devoid either of interest
or beauty. It is situated about three quarters of a mile from the Swakop,
and on its right bank. Toward the west, and immediately behind the
station, rise irregular masses of low, broken rocks, ending abruptly on
one side in a bluff, about one thousand feet high. The whole are covered
with a profusion of shrubs, and several species of thorn-trees of the
genus acacia, which, during the greater part of the year, assume every
shade of green. To the eastward it faces the Swakop, the course of which
is conspicuously marked by the handsome black-stemmed mimosa. Beyond
this, the view is limited by a noble range of picturesque mountains,
rising between six and seven thousand feet above the level of the sea.
These receive additional interest from being more or less a continuation
of those mighty chains which take their rise a very few miles from
Cape-Town, thus extending, in a direct line, about one thousand miles.

Within a stone’s-throw of the missionary house, a turbulent mountain
stream winds its tortuous course. It flows, however, only during heavy
rains, when its great fall and violence prove very destructive to the
native gardens.

About two years from the period of which I am now writing, I happened
to be on a visit to Barmen, on which occasion I witnessed one of those
extraordinary phenomena only to be seen to perfection in tropical climes.
One afternoon, heavy and threatening clouds suddenly gathered in the
eastern horizon, the thunder rolled ominously in the distance, and the
sky was rent by vivid lightnings. Knowing, from long experience, its
imports, we instantly set about placing every thing under shelter that
could be injured by the wet. This was hardly accomplished when large
drops of rain began to descend, and in a few seconds the sluice-gates
of heaven appeared to have opened. The storm did not last above half an
hour, but this short time was sufficient to convert the whole country
into one sheet of water. The noise, moreover, caused by the river and
a number of minor mountain streams, as they rolled down their dark,
muddy torrents in waves rising often as high as ten feet, was perfectly
deafening. Gigantic trees, recently uprooted, and others in a state of
decay, were carried away with irresistible fury, and tossed about on
the foaming billows like so many straws. Every vestige of many gardens
was swept away; and some of the native huts, which had been imprudently
erected too close to the river, shared a similar fate. Indeed, it must
have been a miniature deluge.

Wonderful, however, as is the sudden creation of these floods, the very
short time they require to disappear is no less striking. An hour’s
sunshine is sometimes sufficient to transform flooded fields into a
smiling landscape.

These commotions of the elements are of frequent occurrence in the
tropics during the rainy season. Soon after Mr. Galton’s arrival at
Barmen there was a very heavy thunder-storm. One evening, as he and Mr.
Hahn were conversing, they saw a Damara struck dead by lightning within a
hundred yards of where they stood.

Water was abundant at Barmen, and very good. Mr. Hahn had dug a large
well in his own garden, which was of very great convenience and comfort,
as the water thus obtained was always clean and wholesome. Within a
couple of hundred paces of the dwelling-house there were, moreover, two
copious fountains. One of these was a warm spring, the temperature being
157 degrees of Fahrenheit. By means of small channels, this spring was
made to irrigate a considerable portion of garden land, and was also
of great use in seasoning timber. To the laundress, besides, it was
invaluable. During our stay at Barmen we indulged freely in the unusual
and uncommon luxury of a bath, but it proved somewhat relaxing.

Mr. Hahn was a Russian by birth, but had, for a number of years, devoted
himself to the service of the German Rhenish Missionary Society, and was
now using his best endeavors to convert the natives of this benighted
land. At first he had settled among a tribe of Namaquas, under the
powerful robber-chief Jonker Afrikaner, of whom presently. Finding,
however, that these people infinitely preferred to cut the throats of
their fellow-creatures than to listen to his exhortations, and knowing,
moreover, that several missionaries had already established themselves
throughout various parts of Great Namaqua-land, he thought that he
might use his influence to more advantage with the Damaras, among whom,
therefore, he had pitched his tent. Messrs. Rath and Kolbé were his
coadjutors in the good cause.

Seeing that their best endeavors were of little avail without a proper
knowledge of the Damara language, they worked hard in order to master
it, but the difficulty was immense. At last, by the merest chance, they
discovered the key to it, and from that moment they made rapid progress;
so much so that, in the course of a few years, Mr. Hahn was able to
return to Germany, where he has compiled and published a grammar and
dictionary.

On the first appearance of the missionaries in Damara-land, the natives
were very reserved, and retired with their cattle into the interior.
Being wholly dependent on them for supplies of live-stock, the settlers
suffered great hardships and privations. Indeed, on more than one
occasion starvation stared them in the face, and they lived for a long
time in a precarious way on such wild animals as their Hottentot servants
managed to kill. The Damaras, moreover, probably judging others by
themselves, conceived the idea that the missionaries had come into the
country with some sinister object, and that it would be advisable to
frustrate it. Accordingly, they assembled in great numbers within a few
miles of Barmen for the purpose of exterminating the new settlers. Their
diabolical intentions were, however, frustrated by the counsel of one
of their tribe. At the time of which I am now writing, Mr. Hahn and his
coadjutors had completely succeeded in pacifying and conciliating the
Damaras, and a great number of the poorer classes were now living at the
station, where, by a little industry and perseverance, many managed to
live in tolerable comfort. The great source of their wealth consisted in
the cultivation of tobacco, which here grew to perfection, the leaves
of this plant often attaining the size of three feet by two. What they
did not consume themselves was bartered for cattle to their wealthier
countrymen.

Here, however, their civilization seemed to be at a stand-still. The
missionaries were laudably and strenuously exerting themselves in their
behalf, but as yet they had met with little or no encouragement. To the
mind of a Damara, the idea of men visiting them solely from love and
charity is utterly inconceivable. They can not banish a suspicion that
the motives of the stranger must be interested; and they not unfrequently
require a bribe in return for any services they may render to the
missionary cause. As an instance of the utter failure of religious zeal
in these parts, I may mention that Mr. Hahn, who is liked and respected
by the natives, never succeeded, as he himself told me, in converting
a single individual! In one instance, however, he imagined that he had
made a convert; but, before the individual in question could be finally
admitted as a member of the Christian Church, it was necessary that he
should give satisfactory answers to certain questions. One of these was,
whether, according to the usages of Christianity, he would be contented
with _one_ wife. To this the man replied that though he was very anxious
to oblige Mr. Hahn and his friends personally, and to further the objects
of the mission in every way possible, yet his conscience would not permit
him to make so great a sacrifice as that required.

The wealthy Damaras were even more indifferent to spiritual matters than
their poorer brethren; and if they happened to visit any of the stations,
it was not for the purpose of hearing the Gospel preached, but either in
the hope of protection against their enemies, or with a view to business
by bartering tobacco, iron-ware, and so forth. One exception to this rule
was found in the case of the chief Kahichenè, who had settled with part
of his tribe at Schmelen’s Hope.

Mr. Galton had not been idle during my absence. Besides collecting much
interesting information with regard to the Damaras and the Namaquas, he
had ascertained the existence of a fresh-water lake called Omanbondè.
This had the effect of raising our spirits considerably. We had landed
at Walfisch Bay with a vague idea as to our route, and had hitherto felt
quite at a loss how to act.

To enable us to reach Omanbondè it was necessary to pass through
Damara-land, which was totally unknown to Europeans. Even the
missionaries who had resided several years on the frontiers were
ignorant of the country beyond a very few miles of their own stations.
The Damaras themselves entertained the most extravagant notions of its
extent, population, and fertility. The people, however, were known to
be inhospitable, treacherous, suspicious, and inimical to strangers.
It had always been considered insecure to travel among them, but
more particularly so at this time, since their southern neighbors,
the Namaquas, attracted by their vast herds, had lately made several
extensive raids upon them, killing the people, and carrying off large
numbers of cattle, sheep, &c. They believed, and with some show of
reason, that every individual of a light complexion was leagued against
them. They well knew that the cattle stolen from them by their enemies,
the Namaquas, were sold to European traders; and they knew, also, that
if, by accident or design, the cattle belonging to the missionaries,
or other white men, were stolen by the thievish people in question,
they were always restored on application. This, together with the fact
than a European could pass unmolested through the Namaqua territory,
strengthened them in the conviction that we were enemies in disguise.

In order, therefore, to calm their excited feelings, to assure them
of our friendly and peaceable intentions, and to explain to them the
real motive of our journey, Mr. Galton had dispatched messengers to the
principal Damara chiefs. He also wrote to Jonker Afrikaner (having
previously sent messengers to him while at Richterfeldt), remonstrating
with him on the barbarity and injustice of his conduct. Jonker is a
leading chieftain among the Namaqua-Hottentots. He headed in person the
greater part of the marauding expeditions into Damara-land.

Having spent a few days agreeably and usefully at Barmen, we prepared to
return to our camp at Richterfeldt; but when the day of departure had
arrived, I felt very feverish, and Galton was obliged to prosecute his
journey without me. In a short time, however, I was able to follow.

On riding briskly along early one morning, I observed, as I thought, a
solitary zebra a few hundred yards in advance. Instantly alighting, and
leaving “Spring” to take care of himself, I made toward the quarry, gun
in hand, under cover of a few small trees. Having proceeded for some
distance, I peeped cautiously from behind a bush, when I found, to my
astonishment, that the animal which I had taken for a zebra was nothing
less than a noble lion. He was quietly gazing at me. I must confess I
felt a little startled at the unexpected apparition; but, recovering
quickly from my surprise, I advanced to meet him. He, however, did not
think fit to wait till I was within proper range, but turned tail, and
fled toward the Swakop. Hoping to be able to come to close quarters with
him, I followed at the top of my speed, and was rapidly gaining ground on
the brute, when suddenly, with two or three immense bounds, he cleared
an open space, and was the next moment hidden from view among the thick
reeds that here lined the banks of the river. Having no dogs with me,
all my efforts to dislodge him from his stronghold proved unavailing.
While still lingering about the place, I came upon the carcass of a gnoo,
on which a troop of lions had apparently been feasting not many minutes
previously. Undoubtedly my somewhat dastardly friend had been one of the
party.

In the afternoon of the same day that I reached Richterfeldt a very
exciting and animating chase took place. A gnoo had been slightly wounded
by a Hottentot servant of Mr. Rath. The natives, who had watched the
whole affair from the station, immediately gave chase to the animal.
Finding itself hard pressed, the gnoo, in its fright, took refuge in
the village, where it was quickly hemmed in on all sides. Every woman
and child had turned out to witness its destruction, while the men
were vociferously contending about the right to the carcass. Assegais
and arrows, moreover, were whizzing thick round our ears, and I had
considerable difficulty in making my way through this scene of confusion
to the poor gnoo, which I found at bay in the middle of Mr. Rath’s
sheep-kraal, not twenty feet from his own dwelling. It was pierced with
two assegais, and the blood flowed in streams down its panting and
foaming sides.

Though the gnoo is but a comparatively small animal, its high fore
quarters, its coarse and shaggy mane, and its buffalo head, gives it a
very imposing and formidable appearance. It was impatiently stamping
and striking the ground with its fore feet, and its looks seemed to bid
defiance to us all.

At some risk, on account of the immense concourse of people assembled,
I put a ball through the animal’s shoulders, which at once ended its
sufferings. A few minutes more—nay, rather seconds—there was not a
vestige to be seen of it. Indeed, it was literally torn to pieces by the
natives.

On paying my respects, later in the evening, to Mr. and Mrs. Rath, I was
politely informed that the penalty for shooting the gnoo was a goat.
This being explained, I found, to my surprise, that the ball had passed
clean through the antelope, and had struck dead a goat belonging to these
worthy people.

The day previously to my reaching the encampment, Mr. Galton had started
on an excursion to the westward. His object was chiefly to procure
cattle from the natives, for we had not yet succeeded in obtaining a
sufficiency of animals. He was also anxious to see and explore Erongo, a
mountain famous at once for its peculiar formation, and as a stronghold
of that curious race, the Hill-Damaras. Mr. Galton was accompanied by
Hans, who had already visited the place, and a few other servants. On his
return from Erongo, we were to start, with the wagons, up the country.

One day, when eating my humble dinner, I was interrupted by the arrival
of several natives, who, in breathless haste, related that an _ongeama_,
or lion, had just killed one of their goats close to the mission station
(Richterfeldt), and begged of me to lend them a hand in destroying
the beast. They had so often cried “wolf” that I did not give much
heed to their statements; but, as they persisted in their story, I at
last determined to ascertain its truth. Having strapped to my waist a
shooting-belt, containing the several requisites of a hunter, such as
bullets, caps, knife, &c., I shouldered my trusty double-barreled gun
(after loading it with steel-pointed balls), and followed the men.

In a short time we reached the spot where the lion was believed to have
taken refuge. This was in a dense tamarisk brake of some considerable
extent, situated partially on and below the sloping banks of the Swakop,
near to its junction with the Ommutenna, one of its tributaries.

On the rising ground above the brake in question were drawn up, in battle
array, a number of Damaras and Namaquas, some armed with assegais, and a
few with guns. Others of the party were in the brake itself, endeavoring
to oust the lion.

But as it seemed to me that the “beaters” were timid, and, moreover,
somewhat slow in their movements, I called them back, and, accompanied
by only one or two persons, as also a few worthless dogs, entered the
brake myself. It was rather a dangerous proceeding; for, in places, the
cover was so thick and tangled as to oblige me to creep on my hands and
knees, and the lion, in consequence, might easily have pounced upon me
without a moment’s warning. At that time, however, I had not obtained
any experimental knowledge of the old saying, “A burnt child dreads the
fire,” and therefore felt little or no apprehension.

Thus I had proceeded for some time, when suddenly, and within a few paces
of where I stood, I heard a low, angry growl, which caused the dogs, with
hair erect in the manner of hogs’ bristles, and with their tails between
their legs, to slink behind my heels. Immediately afterward a tremendous
shout of “Ongeama! Ongeama!” was raised by the natives on the bank above,
followed by a discharge of fire-arms. Presently, however, all was still
again, for the lion, as I subsequently learned, after showing himself on
the outskirts of the brake, had retreated into it.

Once more I attempted to dislodge the beast; but, finding the enemy
awaiting him in the more open country, he was very loth to leave his
stronghold. Again, however, I succeeded in driving him to the edge of the
brake, where, as in the first instance, he was received with a volley;
but a broom-stick would have been equally efficacious as a gun in the
hands of these people, for out of a great number of shot that were fired,
not one seemed to have taken effect.

Worn out at length by my exertions, and disgusted beyond measure at the
way in which the natives bungled the affair, I left the tamarisk brake,
and, rejoining them on the bank above, offered to change places with
them; but my proposal, as I expected, was forthwith declined.

As the day, however, was now fast drawing to a close, I determined
to make one other effort to destroy the lion, and, should that prove
unsuccessful, to give up the chase. Accordingly, accompanied by only a
single native, I again entered the brake in question, which I examined
for some time without seeing any thing; but on arriving at that part of
the cover we had first searched, and when in a spot comparatively free
from bushes, up suddenly sprung the beast within a few paces of me. It
was a black-maned lion, and one of the largest I ever remember to have
encountered in Africa. But his movements were so rapid, so silent and
smooth withal, that it was not until he had partially entered the thick
cover (at which time he might have been about thirty paces distant) that
I could fire. On receiving the ball, he wheeled short about, and with a
terrific roar bounded toward me. When within a few paces, he couched,
as if about to spring, having his head imbedded, so to say, between his
fore-paws.

Drawing a large hunting-knife and slipping it over the wrist of my right
hand, I dropped on one knee, and, thus prepared, awaited his onset.
It was an awful moment of suspense, and my situation was critical in
the extreme. Still, my presence of mind never for a moment forsook
me—indeed, I felt that nothing but the most perfect coolness and absolute
self-command would be of any avail.

I would now have become the assailant; but, as—owing to the intervening
bushes, and clouds of dust raised by the lion’s lashing his tail against
the ground—I was unable to see his head, while to aim at any other part
would have been madness, I refrained from firing. While intently watching
his every motion, he suddenly bounded toward me; but, whether it was
owing to his not perceiving me, partially concealed as I was in the long
grass, or to my instinctively throwing my body on one side, or to his
miscalculating the distance, in making his last spring he went clear over
me, and alighted on the ground three or four paces beyond. Instantly,
and without rising, I wheeled round on my knee and discharged my second
barrel; and as his broadside was then toward me, lodged a ball in his
shoulder, which it completely smashed. On receiving my second fire, he
made another and more determined rush at me, but, owing to his disabled
state, I happily avoided him. It was, however, only by a hair’s breadth,
for he passed me within arm’s length. He afterward scrambled into the
thick cover beyond, where, as night was then approaching, I did not deem
it prudent to pursue him.

[Illustration: THE LUCKY ESCAPE.]

At an early hour on the next morning, however, we followed his “spoor,”
and soon came to the spot where he had passed the night. The sand here
was one patch of blood, and the bushes immediately about were broken, and
beaten down by his weight as he had staggered to and fro in his effort to
get on his legs again. Strange to say, however, we here lost all clew to
the beast. A large troop of lions, that had been feasting on a giraffe in
the early morning, had obliterated his tracks, and it was not until some
days afterward, and when the carcass was in a state of decomposition,
that his death was ascertained. He breathed his last very near to where
we were “at fault;” but, in prosecuting the search, we had unfortunately
taken exactly the opposite direction.

On our homeward path from the pursuit of the lion we fell in with a herd
of zebras, and, while discharging my gun at them, I accidentally pulled
both triggers at once. The piece being very light, and loaded with double
charges, the barrel flew out of the stock, the cocks burying themselves
deep in the flesh on either side of my nose, just under the eyes, and
left scars visible to this day. Mr. Rath, on seeing me in this plight,
was good enough to say, by way of consolation, that it was undoubtedly a
just punishment of Heaven in consequence of my having carried a gun on a
Sunday!




CHAPTER X.

    A Christmas in the Desert.—Mr. Galton’s Return from the Erongo
    Mountain.—He passes numerous Villages.—Great Drought; the
    Natives have a Choice of two Evils.—The Hill-Damaras.—The
    Damaras a Pastoral People.—The whole country Public
    Property.—Enormous herds of Cattle.—They are as destructive as
    Locusts to the Vegetation.—Departure from Richterfeldt.—The
    Author kills an Oryx.—The Oxen refractory.—Danger of traversing
    dry Water-courses on the approach of the Rainy Season.—Message
    from the Robber-chief Jonker.—Emeute among the Servants.—Depart
    for Schmelen’s Hope.


We had now been rather more than four months in the country, and
Christmas had imperceptibly stolen upon us. Singularly enough, though I
kept a journal, I was not aware of the fact until one morning the men
came to wish me a “merry Christmas.” A merry Christmas! alas! there were
no merry children—no joyous feast—no Christmas trees or other indication
of “the hallowed and gracious time.” One day was of the same importance
to us as another. Moreover, our store of grocery, &c., was too scant to
enable our cook to produce us a plum-pudding, or any of those dainty
dishes that even the working-man in civilized countries would be sorry
to be without at this season. Fortunately, we had now so accustomed
ourselves to “bush-diet,” that we did not even feel the want of what
others might deem to be the necessaries of life. Constant exposure
to the fresh air and perpetual exercise had so greatly increased our
appetites, and improved our digestive powers, that, though we might not,
like the natives, demolish a “yard” or so of flesh at a meal, we could,
nevertheless, play our part at meals as well as any London alderman;
in fact, we could eat at all times, and scarcely any thing ever came
amiss. A draft of water from the pure spring, and a piece of dried meat
just warmed in the hot ashes, was as much relished by us as a glass of
sparkling pale ale and a slice of Yorkshire ham would have been in Europe.

In this way we managed to live on cheerfully and agreeably; yet thoughts
of home, with all its comforts, and friends dear to memory, would now
and then flash across our minds. Such reflections, however, we tried to
avoid, as they only served to sadden us.

On the morning of the 26th of December Galton returned from his excursion
to Erongo. He had been suffering from fever, and was right glad to
find himself safe back at the encampment. The trip had been rather
satisfactory. The chief result of it was an addition of about twenty
oxen, and double that number of sheep and goats, to our live-stock. We
were now pretty well provided against all emergences, at least for some
time to come. Galton had, moreover, ascended the mountain, with which
he expressed himself much struck and pleased. He fully corroborated the
story of the natives as to its impregnability, for it was accessible only
in one or two places, and these could easily be defended against a whole
army by a mere handful of men.

In round numbers, it was about three thousand feet above the level of
the plain, and extended in a straight line upward of fifteen miles. The
vegetation appeared very much the same as elsewhere in Damara-land, but
perhaps more rank. The wild fig-tree grew rather plentifully among the
crevices of the rocks, and the travelers obtained an abundance of the
fruit, which was very palatable.

Erongo was only inhabited by Hill-Damaras, under the rule of different
petty chiefs. From all accounts, they were possessed of numerous herds
of cattle; but my friend only saw their tracks, as the natives were
unwilling to sell or to exhibit any of the animals. They waged an
exterminating war with the Damaras, who lived in the plains below, and,
having seen the party pass unmolested through the territory of their
mortal enemies, they were naturally suspicious as to their motive. They
probably thought that Mr. Galton had come with a view to spy out and
reconnoitre their stronghold, and then to return with re-enforcements in
order to carry off their cattle.

Both in going and coming Galton had passed through several large villages
of Damaras, who complained bitterly of the severe drought, which was
daily carrying off numbers of their stock. The only place that still
afforded grass and water in tolerable abundance was the country bordering
on the River Swakop; but there they feared the Namaquas. However, they
had only two alternatives—either to risk being plundered by these
unscrupulous people, or to perish, with their cattle, from hunger and
thirst. The first of these was thought the least of the two, and they
were, therefore, gradually approaching the dangerous district. Indeed,
several kraals had already been established at Richterfeldt.

Being entirely a pastoral people, the Damaras have no notions of
permanent habitations. The whole country is considered public property.
As soon as the grass is eaten off or the water exhausted in one place,
they move away to another. Notwithstanding this, and the loose notions
generally entertained by them as to _meum_ and _tuum_, there is an
understanding that he who arrives first at any given locality is the
master of it as long as he chooses to remain there, and no one will
intrude upon him without having previously asked and obtained his
permission. The same is observed even with regard to strangers. Thus
the once powerful chief Kahichenè was anxious to take up his quarters
at Richterfeldt; but, acting on the understanding described, he first
dispatched some of his head men to Mr. Rath, to ascertain from him how
far he was agreeable to his proposal. The reverend gentleman replied that
their master could do as he liked in this matter, as he himself was but a
stranger, and consequently could not lay any claim to the soil. However,
the messengers would not listen to this, and told him that their chief
would never think of intruding without having obtained special permission
to do so.

At this period Kahichenè was supposed to be the richest and most potent
chieftain throughout the country. His wealth, of course, consisted solely
in oxen and sheep. To give some idea of the number he then possessed,
I will state that, early on the day after the interview just mentioned
had taken place, the first droves began to make their appearance, and
continued to arrive, without intermission, till late in the evening of
the second day. Moreover, they did not come in files of one or two, but
the whole bed and banks of the Swakop were actually covered with one
living mass of oxen; and, after all, this was but a small portion of
what he really owned. In the space of three short weeks not a blade of
grass or green thing was to be met with for many miles on either side of
Richterfeldt. Indeed, a person unacquainted with the real cause of this
desolation would have been likely to attribute it to the devastating
influence of that scourge of Africa, the locust.

Much valuable time had hitherto been lost in obtaining information of
the country and the inhabitants, in buying and breaking-in of cattle,
and so forth, and this without our having accomplished any considerable
distance. We were now in hopes, however, of being able to prosecute our
journey in earnest, and no time was lost in making the final arrangements
for our departure. Our intended route lay to the north of Richterfeldt;
but as the country was said to be very hilly and densely wooded, we
deemed it advisable to proceed _viâ_ Barmen. As hardly mules enough were
left to draw the cart, it was thought best to leave it behind in charge
of Mr. Rath, who kindly promised to look after it in our absence. The two
wagons were thought sufficiently large to contain ourselves and baggage.

The oxen, which from the beginning had been only partially broken-in,
were now, from their long rest, wild, refractory, and unmanageable in
the extreme. Before we could effectually secure the two spans (teams)
necessary for the wagons, several hours had elapsed, and it was not till
late in the afternoon of the 30th of December, 1850, that we were able to
bid a final farewell to Richterfeldt and its obliging inhabitants.

We made but little progress the first day; and when we bivouacked for
the night, which was on the right bank of the Swakop, we were only three
hours’ journey from the missionary station. Indeed, we were obliged to
come to an early halt in consequence of the mules and some of the oxen
having taken themselves off.

During the night we were serenaded by whole troops of lions and hyænas.
One of the latter had the boldness to come within the encampment, and
only retreated after an obstinate combat with the dogs. In the bed of the
river, moreover, and where our cattle had been drinking during the night,
we discovered a spot where a lion had made a dash at a zebra, but his
prey had evidently disappointed him.

Next morning, without waiting for the return of the men who had been
sent in search of the missing animals, I shouldered my gun and went in
advance, in the hope of procuring a few specimens of natural history, as
also of meeting with game of some kind or other; nor was I disappointed.
At a bend of the river I suddenly encountered a fine herd of oryxes or
gemsboks, the supposed South African unicorn. As they dashed across my
path at double-quick time, and at least one hundred and fifty yards
in advance, I fired at the leading animal (which proved a full-grown
female), and had the satisfaction to see it drop to the shot. On going up
to my prize, I found that the ball—a conical one—had passed clean through
both shoulders, and this was, perhaps, somewhat remarkable, as the
gun-barrel was smooth in the bore. Having carefully removed the skin,
with the head attached to it, I set to work to quarter the flesh, which
was rather a laborious task.

Though it was winter (January), the day was oppressively hot, and the
leafless thorn-trees afforded no shelter against the burning rays of the
sun. I suffered excessively from thirst, and, unfortunately, the wagons
did not overtake me till after sunset. The Damaras yelled with delight
at the sight of the oryx. They had a glorious gorge that night, and the
return of daylight found them still at their feast!

With the exception of a heavy thunder-storm, accompanied by a deluge
of rain, our journey to Barmen was marked by no farther incident worth
recording. We reached it in safety on the 9th of January, 1851, after
seven days’ travel, half of which would have been sufficient under
ordinary circumstances; but we had experienced very considerable
difficulties in getting our wagons forward. The oxen pulled well enough
so long as the country was level, but the moment they had to face a hill
they came to a stand, and no amount of flogging would induce them to
move. When the whip was applied, it only produced a furious bellowing,
kicking, tossing of heads, switching of tails, and so forth. On such
occasions they would not unfrequently twist themselves entirely round in
the yoke, and it often took a whole hour to put them to rights again.

On account of the thick wood and general ruggedness of the country, the
dry beds of periodical water-courses afford the only really practicable
road. On the approach of the rainy season, however, these are not always
safe; for, when in imagined security, the traveler may perhaps all at
once find himself in the midst of a foaming torrent. If the oxen are not
well trained, most serious results are to be dreaded. There are many
instances of wagons with their teams having been thus surprised and swept
away. Our fears on this head, therefore, were not quieted until we were
in full view of the missionary-house at Barmen. Indeed, it was high
time, for on the third day of our arrival there the Swakop sent down its
mighty flood.

The first showers of rain, it should be remarked, usually fall as early
as September and October, but the rainy season does not fairly set in
until December and January.

A letter from Jonker Afrikaner was awaiting our arrival, expressing a
wish that Mr. Galton, in person, would pay him an early visit, that
they might confer together on the affairs of the country. My friend
was at first a little undecided how to act, as it might only have been
a _ruse_ of the crafty chief to entrap him. However, as, under every
circumstance, it would be better to know his real intentions than to be
kept in constant uncertainty and suspense, he determined, as soon as
circumstances permitted, to comply with Jonker’s desire.

When we bade farewell to Richterfeldt, it was in the firm conviction that
the principal obstacles to the expedition had been removed; but we were
sadly mistaken. Under different pretexts, the natives whom we had engaged
suddenly refused to proceed any further. Even the man who had first
drawn our attention to the Lake Omanbondè, and who seemed to be the only
one acquainted with it, threatened to leave us. Our Cape servants also
became somewhat sulky and discontented. Indeed, two of them, Gabriel and
John Waggoner, whom the reader will remember as having already given us
some trouble, demanded and obtained their dismissal. Thus circumstanced,
it was out of the question to think of immediately carrying our plan
into execution. We felt excessively annoyed, and our stock of patience
was well-nigh exhausted. Still, we did not give up all hope of ultimate
success.

Barmen, however, was ill suited as an encampment; for, though agreeable
enough as a residence for ourselves, grass for the cattle was scarce and
distant. Mr. Hahn advised us to push on to Schmelen’s Hope, situated at
about fifteen miles to the northward, where, inasmuch as there had not
been any natives dwelling of late, we should find abundance of pasturage.
Accordingly, we acted on his suggestion, and in the afternoon of the 13th
of January were established at that place.




CHAPTER XI.

    Schmelen’s Hope.—Scenery.—Missionary Station.—Raid of the
    Namaquas.—Ingratitude of the Natives.—Jonker’s Feud with
    Kahichenè; his Barbarities; his Treachery.—Mr. Galton departs
    for Eikams.—Author’s successful sporting Excursions.—He
    captures a young Steinbok and a Koodoo.—They are easily
    domesticated.—Hyænas very troublesome; several destroyed by
    Spring-guns.—The latter described.—Visit from a Leopard; it
    wounds a Dog; Chase and Death of the Leopard.—The Caracal.


Schmelen’s Hope is picturesquely situated on the right bank of the
Little Swakop, and just at the confluence of one of its tributaries,
the banks of which were lined with majestic trees of the mimosa and the
acacia family. Some of these were now in full bloom, and presented an
interesting and beautiful appearance. Heavy showers of rain, moreover,
having lately fallen, the grateful earth acknowledged the tribute by
rapidly sending forth her boundless store of aromatic herbs and plants—

    “Herbs for man’s use of various power,
    That either food or physic yield.”

The whole aspect of the country changed as if by magic, and I gazed
on the altered features of the landscape in rapture and amazement. It
strongly reminded me of the Psalmist’s words—

    “His rains from heaven parch’d hills recruit,
      That soon transmit the liquid store,
    Till earth is burden’d with her fruit,
      And Nature’s lap can hold no more.”

Schmelen’s Hope (_Schmelen’s Vervachtung_) is so called, partly on
account of its advanced position, and partly in honor of its founder, the
Rev. Mr. Schmelen, who, by all accounts, was one of the most gifted and
most enterprising of missionaries that ever set foot on African soil.
For a time this station was occupied by Mr. Hahn, and recently by his
colleague, Mr. Kolbé. About the time that we landed at Walfisch Bay,
however, the latter had found it necessary to beat a precipitate retreat,
in consequence of an attack upon the station by a party of Namaquas.

Shortly after Mr. Kolbé’s settlement at Schmelen’s Hope he was joined
by Kahichenè—of whom mention has been made in the foregoing pages—and a
considerable number of his tribe. They continued to live here in the most
unsuspecting security. The missionary cause made considerable progress,
and hopes were really entertained that Damara-land might eventually be
civilized. The golden visions of a happy future for this unfortunate
country were, however, speedily dispersed by the sudden appearance of
a party of Namaquas, under the immediate command of Jonker Afrikaner.
By this band a great number of natives were massacred; a considerable
booty of cattle was earned off; and Kahichenè himself had a hair-breadth
escape. Just as he was making good his retreat, he was observed and
followed by a mounted Namaqua. On finding himself hard pressed, and that
it was impossible to avoid his pursuer, the chief turned quickly round,
and the next instant, with a poisoned arrow, laid the man dead at his
feet.

Many acts of great cruelty were perpetrated on this occasion, of which
the following may be cited. Several Damaras had taken refuge on the
summit of an isolated rock eighty or ninety feet in height. As soon as
the Namaquas perceived them, they coolly seated themselves round the
base, and, whenever any of the poor fellows peeped forth from their
hiding-places, they were shot like so many crows. Mr. Galton and myself
visited the spot soon after our arrival at Schmelen’s Hope, and saw
the bleached bones of the victims scattered about, but we were unable
to ascertain the exact number of people killed, as the jackals and the
hyænas had carried away and demolished many parts of the skeletons.

Though no direct attack was made on the missionary station on this
occasion, Mr. Kolbé nevertheless considered it would be imprudent to
remain there any longer. Accordingly, packing the most valuable of his
goods on his wagon, he hurriedly departed for Barmen.

A few days afterward, some fugitive Damaras returned to the place of
their misfortunes, and, on finding the house abandoned, they were base
enough to despoil it of its contents. Moreover, what they could not
themselves use they wantonly destroyed or scattered about on the ground.
On our arrival at Schmelen’s Hope, therefore, we found nothing remaining
but the mere shell of the house. This, though simply constructed of clay,
and thatched with reeds, was rather neatly executed, and had apparently,
at one time, been the exterior of a comfortable dwelling.

Water was obtained from a large pool or vley, which, however, in very
arid years, might dry away. About five miles up the Swakop was, moreover,
a rather copious fountain, called Okandu, where cattle might drink.

Generally speaking, if they have a chance of obtaining cattle, the
Namaquas are not at all nice as to whether they rob friend or foe. On
this particular occasion, however, they were supposed to have had an old
grudge against Kahichenè and his tribe. Once, as Jonker and a large party
of his followers were on the way to Walfisch Bay, their provisions failed
them, and hearing that Kahichenè, with whom they were then on friendly
terms, was in the neighborhood, they bent their steps toward his kraal.
Kahichenè received them civilly, but refused to supply their wants. He,
however, advised Jonker to help himself to cattle from another Damara
chief, who, he said (though without any kind of foundation), was their
mutual enemy. Jonker did not wait to be told twice, but immediately
attacked this man’s kraal. In the fight that ensued, some of Kahichenè’s
people were accidentally killed; but he, believing the slaughter had
been intentionally perpetrated, made a furious onset on Jonker that very
night. As usually happens, however, and perhaps in some degree owing to
the Damaras having fewer guns than the Namaquas, he was beaten off with
very severe loss. Though the affair was afterward made up between the
chiefs, Jonker, in his heart, never forgave Kahichenè’s attack upon him,
which he looked upon as a breach of faith.

In all the attacks of the Namaquas the most atrocious barbarities were
committed. The men were unmercifully shot down; the hands and the feet
of the women lopped off; the bowels of the children ripped up, &c.; and
all this to gratify a savage thirst for blood. Many poor creatures have
I myself seen dragging out a miserable existence that had thus been
deprived of limbs or otherwise cruelly mutilated.

Jonker himself would seem to have been callous to all the better feelings
of our nature. News having been brought to him on one occasion of the
loss of a merchant vessel (somewhere about Cape Cross), he and his men
started in search of the wreck. Before reaching it, some of his cattle
were stolen, and as the theft was conjectured to have been committed by
the Damaras, Jonker sent for the chief of the suspected tribe, received
him in a friendly way, and invited him to remain at his camp for the
night, in the course of which, however, he caused him to be brutally
murdered. Before expiring, the poor fellow requested permission to see
his wife and children, but Jonker was inhuman enough to refuse his
request. On receiving a denial, the unfortunate man turned toward his
slayer, and, wiping the blood from his face, exclaimed, “Since you have
dealt thus treacherously by me, and even refused to allow me to see my
family, you shall never prosper; and my cattle, which I well know you
covet, shall be a curse to you!”

It has been asserted that Jonker once contemplated the extermination of
all grown men among the Damaras, and of dividing the women, the children,
and the cattle among his own people, hoping thereby to make his tribe the
most powerful in that part of Africa.

On the 16th of January Mr. Galton started for Eikhams, the residence of
Jonker Afrikaner, on his mission of peace. He was accompanied by Hans,
John Mortar, and two or three native servants.

Two days later, the mules, though closely watched, managed to elude our
vigilance and make good their escape. Fortunately, they were intercepted
at Barmen, whence they were kindly sent back by Mr. Hahn. Not long
afterward they again went off, but, passing Barmen this time in the
night, no one saw them, and, consequently, they were allowed to pursue
their course uninterruptedly, and were never retaken. Strange to relate,
these animals (with the exception of two that were destroyed by lions
in the neighborhood of Richterfeldt) ultimately found their way back to
Scheppmansdorf, having traveled above 200 miles by themselves!

During Mr. Galton’s absence I managed to beguile the time agreeably
and usefully. Indeed, I spent some of my happiest days in this quiet,
secluded, and charming spot, in the full enjoyment of unrestrained
liberty. The mornings were usually devoted to excursions in the
neighborhood in search of game. Of quadrupeds, we had the giraffe, the
gnoo, the gemsbok, the springbok, the koodoo, the pallah, the steinbok,
&c., so that I had no difficulty in keeping the larder pretty well
supplied. I also made many an interesting and valuable addition to my
collection of specimens of natural history.

One day a young steinbok was captured, as also a koodoo, and I was
fortunate enough to rear both.

With the steinbok I had very little trouble, a she-goat, whom I deprived
of its kid, having taken to it kindly, and become to it a second mother.
The koodoo did not give me much more trouble; for, after a few days,
during which milk was given to it with a spoon, it would of itself suck
from what mothers call a “feeding-bottle,”[17] and butt and pull away at
it as if it was drawing nourishment from the teats of its dam.

Both the steinbok and the koodoo were very pretty creatures, and in
a short time became very tame and affectionate. Their lively and
graceful caperings, and playful frolics, were to us all a source of much
amusement. Their end, however, was somewhat tragical: the steinbok died
from exhaustion after a severe day’s march, and the koodoo, which would
have been a valuable addition to the beautiful menagerie in Regent’s
Park, I was obliged to kill, because we could not obtain a sufficiency
of proper food for its maintenance, and had no room in the wagon for its
conveyance. It grieved me much to destroy the poor creature, but there
was no alternative.

Hyænas, called wolves by the colonists, were very numerous at Schmelen’s
Hope, and exceedingly audacious and troublesome. More than once, during
dark and drizzling nights, they made their way into the sheep-kraal,
where they committed sad havoc. We had several chases after them, but
they managed invariably to elude us.

To get rid of these troublesome guests, we placed some spring-guns in
their path, and by means of this contrivance compassed the death of
several.

The manner in which the spring-gun is set for the hyæna is as follows:

[Illustration: SHOOTING TRAP.]

Two young trees are selected and divested of their lower branches, or,
in lieu of such, a couple of stout posts, firmly driven into the ground,
will answer the purpose equally well. To these trees or posts, as the
case may be, the gun is firmly lashed in a horizontal position, and with
the muzzle pointing slightly upward. A piece of wood about six inches in
length—the lever, in short—is tied to the side of the gun-stock in such a
manner as to move slightly forward and backward. A short piece of string
connects the trigger with the lower part of the lever. To the upper
extremity of the latter is attached a longer piece of cord, to the outer
end of which, after it has been passed through one of the empty ramrod
tubes, is tied a lump of flesh, which is pushed over the muzzle of the
gun.

These matters being arranged, a sort of fence, consisting of thorny
bushes, is made around the spot, only one small, narrow opening being
left, and that right in front of the muzzle of the gun. A “drag,”
consisting of tainted flesh or other offal, is then trailed from
different points of the surrounding country directly up to the “toils.”

When the hyæna seizes the bait—which she can only do by gaping across the
muzzle of the weapon—and pulls at it, the gun at once explodes, and the
chances are a hundred to one that the brains of the animal are scattered
far and wide.

During our stay at Schmelen’s Hope we not unfrequently received visits
from leopards, by the Dutch erroneously called “tigers,” under which
denomination the panther is also included; but I do not believe that
tigers, at least of the species common to the East Indies, exist on the
African continent. The Damaras, however, assert that the real tiger is
found in the country, and they once pointed out to Mr. Rath the tracks
of an animal which he declared to me were very different from any he had
ever before seen in Africa, and which the natives assured him were those
of the animal in question.

One night I was suddenly awoke by a furious barking of our dogs,
accompanied by cries of distress. Suspecting that some beast of prey
had seized upon one of them, I leaped, undressed, out of my bed, and,
gun in hand, hurried to the spot whence the cries proceeded. The night
was pitchy dark, however, and I could distinguish nothing; yet, in the
hope of frightening the intruder away, I shouted at the top of my voice.
In a few moments a torch was lighted, and we then discerned the tracks
of a leopard, and also large patches of blood. On counting the dogs, I
found that “Summer,” the best and fleetest of our kennel, was missing.
As it was in vain that I called and searched for him, I concluded that
the tiger had carried him away, and as nothing further could be done that
night, I again retired to rest; but the fate of the poor animal continued
to haunt me, and drove sleep away. I had seated myself on the front chest
of the wagon, when suddenly the melancholy cries were repeated, and,
on reaching the spot, I found “Summer” stretched at full length in the
middle of a bush. Though the poor creature had several deep wounds about
his throat and chest, he at once recognized me, and, wagging his tail,
looked wistfully in my face. The sight sickened me as I carried him into
the house, where, in time, however, he recovered.

The very next day “Summer” was revenged in a very unexpected manner.
Some of the servants had gone into the bed of the river to chase away a
jackal, when they suddenly encountered a leopard in the act of springing
at our goats, which were grazing, unconscious of danger, on the river’s
bank. On finding himself discovered, he immediately took refuge in a
tree, where he was at once attacked by the men. It was, however, not
until he had received upward of sixteen wounds—some of which were
inflicted by poisoned arrows—that life became extinct. I arrived at the
scene of conflict only to see him die.

During the whole affair the men had stationed themselves at the foot
of the tree, to the branches of which the leopard was pertinaciously
clinging; and, having expended all their ammunition, one of them
proposed—and the suggestion was taken into serious consideration—that
they should pull him down by the tail!

The poorer of the Damaras, when hard pressed for food, eat the flesh of
the leopard, the hyæna, and many other beasts of prey.

The caracal (_felis caracal_), or the wild-cat, as it is generally called
in these parts, was not uncommon in the neighborhood of Schmelen’s Hope.
The fur of this animal is warm and handsome, and is much esteemed by the
natives, who convert the skins into carosses, &c.

According to Professor Thunberg, who gives it on the authority of the
Dutch boers, the skin of the caracal is also “very efficacious as a
discutient when applied to parts affected with cold or rheumatism.”




CHAPTER XII.

    Wild-fowl abundant.—The Great Bustard.—The Termites.—Wild
    Bees.—Mushrooms.—The Chief Zwartbooi.—Return of Mr. Galton.—He
    makes a Treaty with Jonker.—He visits Rehoboth.—Misdoings
    of John Waggoner and Gabriel.—Change of Servants.—Swarm of
    Caterpillars.—A reconnoitring Expedition.—Thunder-storm.—The
    Omatako Mountains.—Zebra-flesh a God-send.—Tropical
    Phenomenon.—The Damaras not remarkable for Veracity.—Encamp
    in an Ant-hill.—Return to Schmelen’s Hope.—Preparations for
    visiting Omanbondè.


We never fared better than at Schmelen’s Hope. Besides the larger
game mentioned, our table was plentifully supplied with geese, ducks,
Guinea-fowls, francolins, grouse, and so forth. The large bustard
(_otis kori_, Burch.), the South African _paauw_, was, moreover, very
abundant, but so shy that to kill it, even with the rifle, was considered
a dexterous exploit. One that I shot weighed no less than twenty-eight
pounds. I have since repeatedly killed African bustards of this species,
but I never saw a second bird that attained more than two thirds of the
weight just specified; usually they do not exceed fourteen or fifteen
pounds. The flesh is very tender and palatable; indeed, to my notion, it
is the best-flavored of all the game-birds found throughout this portion
of South Africa.

It being now the breeding season, the numerous flocks of Guinea-fowls in
the neighborhood afforded us a constant supply of fresh eggs, which, as
has been said elsewhere, are excellent.

Schmelen’s Hope swarmed with termites, or white ants.[18] My ideas of
ant-hills were here, for the first time, realized; for some of the abodes
of this interesting though destructive insect measured as much as one
hundred feet in circumference at the base, and rose to about twenty in
height! Termites are seldom seen in the daytime; but it is not an unusual
thing, after having passed a night on the ground, to find skins, rugs,
&c., perforated by them in a hundred different places.

In constructing their nests, the termites do not add to them externally,
as with the species of ant common to England, but enlarge them from
within by thrusting out, so to say, the wall. Their labors are commonly
carried on in the dark, and at early morn each night’s addition to the
building may be discovered by its moisture. “They unite,” says the
“English Cyclopædia,” “in societies composed each of an immense number
of individuals, living in the ground and in trees, and often attacking
the wood-work of houses, in which they form innumerable galleries, all
of which lead to a central point. In forming these galleries they avoid
piercing the surface of the wood-work, and hence it appears sound, when
the slightest touch is sometimes sufficient to cause it to fall to
pieces.” This is a clear, and, I have no doubt, a correct account. I
myself have often been astonished to find huge trees, apparently sound,
crumble to pieces on being touched by the hand.

Wild bees very frequently make their nests in the gigantic dwellings
of the termites. In some years bees are very numerous. The disposition
of these insects would appear to be unusually quiet and forbearing.
Indeed, I never knew a man to be stung by them when robbing their nests.
Commonly, these are smoked in the first instance, but just as often (as
I myself have many times witnessed) they are fearlessly approached, and
plundered by the naked savage without this precaution.

It is another interesting fact in connection with the dwellings of the
termites that, during the rainy season, mushrooms grow in great abundance
on their sides. In size and flavor these mushrooms are far superior to
any found in Europe. Care, however, must be taken in selecting them, for
other fungi of a poisonous nature are almost identical in appearance. Two
of the children of one of our Damaras were very nearly killed by eating
some of these instead of mushrooms.

On the 6th of February I received a visit from a great Namaqua chieftain
named William Zwartbooi, and found him a very agreeable old personage. He
had met Mr. Galton not far from Eikhams, who had sent him to Schmelen’s
Hope to wait his return.

At one time this chief had robbed and massacred the Damaras in precisely
a similar way as Jonker Afrikaner; but, thanks to the exertions of the
missionaries, he had been gradually weaned from his evil practices, and
was now living on excellent terms with his neighbors.

Jonker and Zwartbooi associated occasionally, but they were by no means
well disposed toward each other. On one occasion, when the latter had
expressed displeasure at his friend’s inhuman proceedings against the
Damaras, Jonker told him that if he (Zwartbooi) meddled with his affairs
he would pay him such a visit as would put a stop to his devotions and
make him cry for quarter.

Within Zwartbooi’s territory was a mountain called Tans, where horses
might pasture throughout the year without being exposed to the “paarde
ziekte,” the cruel distemper to which these animals are subject. Almost
all the northern Namaquas, Jonker among the rest, are in the habit of
sending their horses here during the sickly season.

On one occasion, when Jonker was about to make a “raid” on the Damaras,
he sent an express to Zwartbooi for his horses; but this chief, having
been apprised of the cause for which the steeds were wanted, refused,
under some pretext, to give them up, and, while parleying, the favorable
opportunity was lost. It seems Jonker never forgave Zwartbooi this act of
treachery, as he called it, and determined, let the risk be whatever it
might, never again to put himself in another man’s power.

Two days after Zwartbooi’s arrival at Schmelen’s Hope Mr. Galton
returned. He had been successful beyond his most sanguine expectations,
for Jonker had not alone formally apologized to Mr. Kolbé for his brutal
behavior at Schmelen’s Hope, but had expressed regret at his past
conduct, and had faithfully promised, for the future, to live in peace
and amity with the Damaras. Several important regulations had, moreover,
been proposed by my friend and approved of by Jonker and his tribe, with
a view of upholding order and justice in the land, but how far they were
carried out the sequel will show.

Fresh messengers had also been dispatched to the respective Namaqua and
Damara chiefs, with a request that they would attend a general meeting in
order to secure to the country a lasting peace. We could not, however,
induce them to do this. The late attacks were too fresh in their memory
to inspire confidence in either party: each distrusted his neighbor.

Jonker gave Mr. Galton much interesting and valuable information
regarding the country northward. He had himself made two or three
expeditions in that direction, the last of which, as mentioned, was for
the purpose of plundering a vessel reported to have been wrecked off Cape
Cross.

In the course of his journey Mr. Galton visited Rehoboth, a Rhenish
missionary station, and the residence of William Zwartbooi. The mission
was here conducted by the Rev. Messrs. Kleinschmidt and Vollmer, and was
at this period the most flourishing establishment of the kind in the
country.

Here my friend learned with regret that John Waggoner, who, as the
reader may remember, was dismissed at Barmen, had afterward acted very
disgracefully and dishonestly. He began by selling the same sheep to
a trader three times over; and, just as Mr. Galton arrived, John had
absconded with several head of cattle, stolen from the missionaries and
the natives. My friend at once started off in pursuit; but, though he
followed on his track for a day and a night, he was obliged to return
without being able to overtake him.

Wherever John Waggoner went he represented himself as Mr. Galton’s
servant, and affirmed that he was intrusted with dispatches of moment
for the British government at the Cape. He added, moreover, that, under
such circumstances, they were in duty bound to assist and speed him on
his way. The most extravagant reports of our greatness and importance
had already been circulated throughout the length and breadth of the
land by the natives themselves. This, together with John’s impudent and
confident air, produced the desired effect. Horses, cattle, wagons, &c.,
were every where promptly placed at his disposal. Even the missionaries
were duped, and John is said to have reached his destination, enriched
with spoils, in an incredibly short time. His first act on arriving at
the Cape was to engage himself to a trader, who imprudently advanced him
a considerable sum of money, which he coolly pocketed and then decamped.

Our lad, Gabriel, also marked his road to the colony with many traits of
violence and insolence, but he had neither the cunning nor the impudence
of his associate.

Abraham Wenzel, the thief, had again behaved improperly, and Mr. Galton
found it necessary to give him his dismissal.

We had thus, in a short time, lost the services of three men; but,
fortunately, through the kindness of our friend Zwartbooi, we were able
to replace them by two others. The first of these was his own henchman,
Onesimus, who was a Damara by birth, but had been captured as a child and
brought up among the Namaquas. He spoke the language of these two nations
most fluently, and understood, moreover, a few words of Dutch. What
with his capacity as an interpreter, his even temper and general good
behavior, he became one of the most useful men of our party.

The other man, Phillippus, was also a Damara by birth, but had forgotten
his native tongue. He spoke, however, the Namaqua and the Dutch fluently.
He was appointed a wagon-driver.

One morning, to our surprise, we found the whole ground about our
encampment covered with larvæ of a dark-green color. Whence, or how they
came there, was to us quite a mystery. We at length conjectured that
at some previous period a swarm of locusts, in passing the place, had
deposited their ova in the sand, and, now that the green grass began to
spring up (which provided them with suitable food), their progeny emerged
in the shape of worms.

At the same time many thousand storks appeared, and evidently much
relished the rich and abundant repast.

Mr. Galton’s successful remonstrances with Jonker had pacified the
excited minds of our Damaras. It had inspired them with fresh
confidence, and they no longer declined to accompany us. The worst of
our Cape servants had been weeded out, and their places filled with
useful and competent men. Our stud of draft-oxen, moreover, had been
greatly increased, to say nothing of a large supply of live-stock.
Matters thus once more looked bright and cheering, and we no longer
hesitated to prosecute our journey. Nevertheless, before making the final
arrangements, it was deemed advisable to know something of the country
immediately in advance of us, and how far it was practicable for wagons.
Galton having just returned from an excursion, it was thought only fair
that I should undertake to ascertain this point.

Accordingly, I left Schmelen’s Hope on the 24th of February, on ox-back,
accompanied by Timbo, John St. Helena, and John Allen, perhaps the three
most trustworthy and useful of our servants, as also a few Damaras, who
were to serve me as guides and herdsmen.

On the first night after leaving Schmelen’s Hope we were visited by a
terrific thunder-storm, accompanied by a deluge of rain, which continued
without intermission till four o’clock the next morning.

With my legs drawn up under my chin, and the caross well wrapped round
my head, I spent this dreadful night seated on a stone, while the men,
strange to say, slept soundly at my feet in a deluge of water. The next
day, however, was bright and warm. The earth steamed with the sweet
odors of a tropical herbage, and the landscape looked so beautiful and
smiling that I felt my heart leap with joy and gratitude to the Giver of
all good. The misery of the night was soon forgotten, and we proceeded
cheerfully on our journey.

As we traveled on, we caught a glimpse of the beautiful cones of Omatako,
which rise about two thousand feet above the level of the plain. I
scarcely remember having ever been more struck or delighted with any
particular feature in a landscape than when these _two_ “Teneriffes”
first broke upon my view.

    “Then felt I like some watcher of the skies,
    When a new planet swims into his ken.”

We must have been fifty or sixty miles from these conical mountains, yet
there they were as distinct as if we had stood at their base. The immense
distance at which objects can be seen in these regions, in a clear
atmosphere, is truly marvelous.

With the exception of a single kraal of impoverished Damaras, we found no
inhabitants. On leaving Schmelen’s Hope, we had been led to suppose that
we should meet with several werfts of wealthy natives, from whom we might
obtain, in barter, an unlimited number of cattle. We foolishly enough
trusted to this chance, and started with only one day’s provision. Game,
it is true, we found very abundant; but the animals were very wild, and
I was pressed for time, and could not give chase to them. One evening I
fired at a zebra, but, not distinguishing the peculiar sound of the ball
when striking the animal (a power of ear acquired by much practice), I
supposed I had missed it, and, therefore, did not follow its tracks. On
passing, however, nearly by the same place next evening, we found that
the animal had been killed, and, excepting the head and part of the
neck, was devoured by vultures. The conical ball I used on the occasion
was found loose in the inside of the skeleton. Notwithstanding the
defiled state of what was left of the carcass, we hailed it as a perfect
god-send. For the two previous days we had been living on zebra-flesh in
a state of decay, which our Damaras had accidentally picked up. Indeed,
our guides had absconded from want of food.

One evening, when very much fatigued from the day’s march, and suffering
cruelly from thirst, our native servants, by way of consolation,
entertained us with the following interesting account of their
countrymen.

“The Damaras,” they said, “are now watching us from a distance; and, as
soon as we shall have gone to sleep, they will suddenly fall upon us, and
assegai us.”

Timbo, John St. Helena, and John Allen evidently believed them, and
looked wretchedly uncomfortable. As for myself, though there certainly
was nothing at all improbable in the story, I felt less apprehensive
than annoyed, well knowing the bad effect it would have on the timid and
superstitious minds of my men.

On the third day, about noon, we reached the northern side of Omatako,
where we struck a small periodical river of the same name. To our dismay,
however, we found it perfectly dry; and, as we had then already been
twenty-four hours without a drop of water, I was afraid to proceed any
further. Just as we were about to retrace our steps, the river, to our
inexpressible delight, came down with a rush. To those of my readers
who are not conversant with the mysteries of a tropical climate, it may
appear almost impossible that a dry water-course should in the space of
five minutes, and without any previous indication, be converted into a
foaming torrent; yet, in the rainy season, this is almost an every-day
occurrence. Not a cloud obscured the transparent atmosphere at the time,
but on the preceding night there had been vivid lightning and heavy
thunder in the direction of the source of the river, which sufficiently
accounted for the phenomenon.

On this river I saw for the first time the gigantic footprints of
elephants. The natives told me that these animals come here in great
numbers in the winter-time, and when the water begins to diminish they
return slowly northward. Hans assured me that their tracks are still to
be seen as far south as the River Swakop, close to its embouchure.

From this point we had a very good prospect of the country. Several
interesting mountains presented themselves to the view. To the north, the
Konyati, Eshuameno, Ia Kabaka, and Omuvereoom, stood out in bold relief.
Some of these were similar to that of Erongo, and, like it, inhabited by
Hill-Damaras, as also a few Bushmen.

I was particularly anxious to learn something of the country toward
the north, in which direction—as before said—our route to Omanbondè
lay; but it was in vain that I endeavored to get any thing like correct
information from the natives, notwithstanding some had actually been
living there. I was excessively annoyed, and imagined that their
conflicting accounts were purposely invented to deceive and frighten
me; but, as I became more intimate with the Damara character, I found
that they lied more from habit than for the mere sake of lying. Indeed,
a Damara would believe his own lies, however glaring and startling
they might be. Thus, for instance, they informed me that the mountain
Omuvereoom, which was distinctly visible, lay ten long days’ journey off,
and was inhabited by Hill-Damaras and Bushmen, whom they represented
as perfect devils; moreover, that the intervening space was entirely
destitute of water, and that any one attempting to traverse it would be
sure to perish. At a subsequent period, we not only reached this mountain
after fourteen hours’ traveling, but found an abundance of water; and the
natives, instead of being monsters, were the most timid and harmless of
human beings.

This, however, is only one of the hundred instances that might be
mentioned of the difficulty of eliciting truth from the Damaras. The
missionaries had been living for several years at Barmen and Schmelen’s
Hope before they were aware of the existence of either “Buxton” or Okandu
fountain, and yet these places were within a very short distance of the
stations, and they had made repeated inquiries after springs.

With regard to the distance and situation of Omanbondè, the chief object
of our journey, they could not say whether one or ten weeks would be
required in order to reach it. One man told Galton that if he started at
once for this place, and traveled as fast as he could, he would be an
old man by the time he returned.[19]

Returning homeward, we pursued a somewhat different course. The first
night, the men, for the sake of variety it is presumed, thought fit to
encamp in the middle of an ant-hill! I was absent at the time, and on
returning, all the arrangements had been made for the night. Tired as we
were, I could not well think of moving. The result may easily be imagined.

The next day, in the more open parts of the country, we met with a very
great abundance of a kind of sweet berry, about the size of peas, which
afforded us a most delicious feast.

Early in the morning of the sixth day we found ourselves back at
Schmelen’s Hope, having been sixty hours on the move, or, at an average,
twelve hours daily. Allowing three miles per hour at the lowest
estimation, we had gone over a tract of country fully one hundred and
eighty miles in extent, the greater part of which, moreover, had been
performed on foot. Under ordinary circumstances, we should, perhaps, have
thought nothing of the performance; but, what with bad living, previous
long rest, and so forth, we were in poor condition for such sudden and
severe exertions. Indeed, before we were at the journey’s end, both man
and beast were completely knocked up.

The object, however, had been gained. We had ascertained that the
country, for several days’ journey, was tolerably open and traversable
for wagons; that grass abounded; and that (the most important point of
all) we should be sure of water for ourselves and cattle.

No time was now lost in making ready for a final start. An American,
who had long been in Mr. Hahn’s service, was about to travel to the
Cape by land. Although the journey was supposed to last at least six or
seven months, communication was so rare in these parts that we deemed it
advisable to benefit by it. Letters were accordingly written to friends
and acquaintances, as also dispatches for the British government at the
Cape.




CHAPTER XIII.

    Depart from Schmelen’s Hope.—Meeting with Kahichenè.—Oxen
    Stolen.—Summary Justice.—Superstition.—Meeting an old
    Friend.—Singular Custom.—Gluttony of the Damaras.—How they
    eat Flesh by the Yard and not by the Pound.—Superstitious
    Custom.—A nondescript Animal.—The Author loses his Way.—Ravages
    of the Termites.—“Wait a bit, if you please.”—Magnificent
    Fountain.—Remains of Damara Villages.—Horrors of War.—Meet
    Bushmen.—Meet Damaras.—Difficulties encountered by African
    Travelers.—Reach the Lake Omanbondè.—Cruel Disappointment.


On the morning of the 3d of March we left Schmelen’s Hope. The
alternately rugged and sandy nature of the soil, the embarrassing thorn
coppices, and the stubbornness and viciousness of the oxen, rendered our
progress at first very slow and tedious.

On the fifth day we arrived at a splendid vley, called Kotjiamkombè.
From the branches of the trees and bushes which lined the sides of this
piece of water were suspended innumerable graceful and fanciful nests of
the well-known weaver-bird species. The rank grasses and reeds afforded
shelter to a great variety of water-fowl, some of which were gorgeously
plumaged. Here we found Kahichenè waiting to receive us; he had already
announced his intention to visit us, and, in order to propitiate our
favor, had a few days previously forwarded us a present of several head
of cattle. The chief was accompanied by about forty of his people, who,
taking them as a whole, were the finest body of men I have ever seen
before or since; yet they were _all_ arrant knaves. Kahichenè told them
as much in our presence; but, strange to say, they were not in the least
abashed.

This tribe had at one time been the richest, the most numerous, and the
most powerful in the country; but, what with their own civil broils, and
the exterminating wars with the Namaquas, they had gradually dwindled to
about twenty-five villages, with perhaps ten or fifteen thousand head of
horned cattle.[20]

Notwithstanding Kahichenè in former days had committed many depredations
against his neighbors, we could not help liking him. In a very short time
he had thoroughly ingratiated himself in our favor. Indeed, he was the
only Damara, whether high or low, for whom we entertained any regard.
Perhaps, also, his late misfortunes had insured our sympathy. With the
missionaries, Kahichenè had always been a very great favorite, and they
looked upon him as the stepping-stone to the future civilization of
Damara-land; but we have already seen how far this was realized.

Kahichenè was somewhat advanced in years, but his deportment was
dignified and courteous. He was, moreover, truthful and courageous—rare
virtues among his countrymen. It would have been well had the rest of the
nation at all resembled this chief.

Kahichenè was at this period at variance with a very warlike and powerful
tribe of Damaras, under the rule of Omugundè, or rather his son, whom he
represented as a man degraded by every vice, and particularly inimical
toward strangers. We, of course, made due allowances, as our friend was
speaking of his mortal enemy; but the account so terrified our men that
three of them begged to be dismissed, and they could only be persuaded to
discontinue their solicitation by our promising them not to pass through
the territory of the hostile chief.

On one occasion, some cattle belonging to Mr. Hahn had been stolen by a
party of Omugundè’s men. Remonstrances being made, they were after a time
returned, but minus their tails, which were cut off by the natives, and
kept by them as “trophies.”

In conflict with Omugundè, several of Kahichenè’s children had been
killed, and one or two had unfortunately fallen alive into the hands of
the enemy. These were kept as prisoners. Only one stripling was now left
to solace Kahichenè in his old age. He informed us that he had made up
his mind to try to recover his offspring and his property, or to die in
the attempt. At first he appeared anxious for our assistance; but, on
mature consideration, he generously refused any interference on our part
in his behalf. “For,” said he, “when once the war begins, there is no
saying when or where it will end. The whole country will be in an uproar;
much blood will be shed; and it would involve you in endless difficulties
and dangers.” He, moreover, strongly endeavored to persuade us from
proceeding northward at all, but in that matter he of course failed.

We had only been a short time at Kotjiamkombè when it was discovered
that four of our best draft-oxen were stolen by some stranger Damaras.
On being informed of this theft, Kahichenè became exceedingly annoyed,
and even distressed, as he considered us under his special protection. He
immediately dispatched men on their tracks, with strict orders to recover
the oxen, and, if possible, to bring back the thieves. They succeeded
in recapturing all the beasts but one, which the natives had slain and
eaten. With regard to the fate of the rogues, we could never ascertain
any thing with certainty. We were, however, strongly inclined to think
they were all killed, the more so as Kahichenè himself told us that, in
case of their capture, they ought to be punished with death, and coolly
suggested hanging as the most eligible way of ridding the world of such
scoundrels. We, of course, took the liberty to remonstrate with the chief
upon the severity of this measure, but with little or no effect. Indeed,
one man was accidentally found at a distance from our camp in a horribly
mangled state, and, on being brought to us, he stated that he himself,
together with several of his friends, were driving away the cattle,
when they were overtaken by Kahichenè’s men, who immediately attacked
them with their kieries, and only left them when they thought life was
extinct. He had, however, partially recovered, but was completely naked,
having, as is usual on similar occasions, been stripped of every article
of dress. The exterior of his body was nearly covered with blood. The
head was almost double its natural size; indeed, it resembled rather a
lump of mashed flesh; no particular feature could be distinguished, and
his eyes were effectually hidden from view. The sight altogether was
hideous.

Instead of proceeding due north, as was originally proposed, it was
found necessary, in order to avoid Omugundè, to make a considerable
_détour_ to the westward. As Kahichenè, with his tribe, was encamped in
that direction, he invited us to take his werft by the way, to which we
cordially assented. On the day of our departure from Kotjiamkombè, the
chief led the way. A branch of a particular kind of wood (having a small,
red, bitter berry, not unlike that of the mountain-ash) was trailed
before him—a superstitious act, thought to be essential in insuring
success during the pending attack against his mortal enemy.

Before reaching the chief’s kraal, we passed the foot of a very
conspicuous mountain called Ombotodthu. This elevation is remarkable for
its peculiar red stone, which is eagerly sought after by the natives.
Having reduced it to powder, they mix it with fat, when it is used as an
ointment. I was at first struck by its great resemblance to quicksilver
ore, and was led to believe that we had really discovered a mine of that
valuable mineral. However, on considering the harmless effect it had
on the natives, and that, had it been quicksilver, its use would have
produced an opposite result, I came to the conclusion that it was simply
oxide of iron, which has since been confirmed by analysis.

On arriving at Kahichenè’s werft we were well received by our host and
his tribe, from whom we obtained by barter a few head of cattle. Indeed,
we might here have sold all our articles of exchange to great advantage;
but this was not thought advisable, as, in case of the cattle being
lost or stolen, we should have been in a state of complete destitution.
Could we, however, have foreseen the future, our tactics would have been
different; for, as it afterward turned out, this was almost the last
opportunity we had of providing ourselves with live-stock.

By a strange chance, I accidentally became the owner of a percussion
rifle, which had at one time belonged to Hans, but who, years previously,
had disposed of it to a Damara. The latter, however, finding that he
could not obtain a regular supply of caps, offered to exchange it
for a common flint-lock musket. The rifle was a very indifferent and
clumsy-looking concern, and had, if I remember rightly, been manufactured
by Powell, of London. In justice to the maker, however, I must confess
that a man could not possibly wish for a better. While in my possession,
many hundred head of large game, to say nothing of a host of bustards,
geese, ducks, Guinea-fowl, &c., fell to this piece.

Game was abundant in the neighborhood of Kahichenè’s kraal, and Hans
made several successful shots. Very little, however, of what was killed
reached us, for the portion not immediately appropriated by the Damaras
ultimately found its way to them through the medium of our native
servants. In Damara-land the carcasses of all animals, whether wild or
domesticated, are considered public property; therefore, unless the
natives should share their allowances with every stranger that might
choose to intrude himself into their company, a withering “curse” was
supposed to befall them. I have seen the flesh of four zebras, that had
been shot by our party, brought to the camp in a single day, and the next
morning we could not obtain a steak for our breakfast.

The Damaras are the most voracious and improvident creatures in the
world. When they have flesh they gorge upon it night and day, and in
the most disgusting manner, until not a particle is left; and, as a
consequence, they not unfrequently starve for several days together; but
they are so accustomed to this mode of living that it has no injurious
effect on them.

In this hot climate, unless preventives of some kind were adopted, flesh
would, of course, soon become tainted; and as salt, from the difficulty
of conveyance, is exceedingly scarce in Damara-land, the following
expedient is adopted. As soon as the animal is killed, lumps are
indiscriminately cut from the carcass; a knife is plunged into an edge of
one of these lumps, and passed round in a spiral manner, till it arrives
at the middle, when a string of meat, often ten to twenty feet long, is
produced, which is then suspended like festoons to the branches of the
surrounding trees. By cutting the flesh very thin it soon dries, and may
in that state be carried about any length of time. There is considerable
waste in this process, as fully one third of the meat thus jerked is
lost. On such occasions, the natives take care not to forget their own
stomachs. Besides large pots filled with the most delicate morsels,
immense coils may be seen frizzling on the coals in every direction. When
half roasted, they seize one end with their hands, and, applying it to
their mouth, they tug away voraciously, not being over particular as to
mastication. In this way they soon manage to get through a yard or two,
the place of pepper and salt being supplied by ashes attached to the
flesh, which ashes are, moreover, found to be an excellent remedy against
bad digestion.

I frequently observed the daughter of Kahichenè’s favorite wife
sprinkling water over the large oxen as they returned to the werft about
noon to quench their thirst. On such occasions she made use of a small
branch of some kind of berry-tree, such as that which Kahichenè caused
to be trailed after him when wishing to be successful in his attack
on Omugundè. In this instance (as they somewhat poetically expressed
themselves), the aspersion was supposed, should the cattle be stolen,
to have the power of scattering them like drops of water, in order to
confuse their pursuers, and to facilitate their return to the owners.

On the 18th of March we were again _en route_. It was with regret that
we parted with our friendly and hospitable host. Poor Kahichenè we were
doomed never to meet again! A few months after our departure he made an
attack on Omugundè; but, at the very commencement of the fight, and when
every thing promised success, his dastardly followers (as he always had
predicted) left him. But too proud himself to fly, he fell, mortally
wounded, pierced with a shower of arrows.

Being in advance of the wagons, I suddenly came upon an animal which,
though considerably smaller, much resembled a lion in appearance. Under
ordinary circumstances I should certainly have taken it for a young lion;
but I had been formerly given to understand that in this part of Africa
there exists a quadruped which, in regard to shape and color, is like a
lion, but in most other respects totally distinct from it. The beast in
question is said to be nocturnal in its habits, to be timid and harmless,
and to prey, for the most part, on the small species of antelopes. In the
native language it is called Onguirira, and would, as far as I could
see, have answered the description of a puma. As it was going straight
away from me, I did not think it prudent to fire.

Immense quantities of game were now observed, but the country was open
and ill adapted for stalking, and, having no horses, it was difficult to
get within range. A few springboks, however, were killed. I also shot a
hartebeest; but, having been obliged to leave it for about an hour, I
found, on my return, that it had been entirely devoured by vultures; but
as they could not manage to eat the bones, our men consoled themselves
by sucking them. The flesh of the hartebeest is considered extremely
palatable.

The next day we rounded the cones of Omatako; but, to my great
astonishment, the river of that name, although running breast-high on
my visit to it about a fortnight previously, was now perfectly dry.
Fortunately, a pool still remained on its left bank.

The estimate of the Damaras as to the distance between the mountains
Omatako and Omuvereoom, of which mention was recently made, was now
reduced from ten to three long days’ journey. These men still said that
the intervening country was destitute of water. We dared no longer trust
to their conflicting and unsatisfactory accounts; but, in order to enable
us to judge in a measure for ourselves, Galton rode to the neighboring
mountain, Eshuameno, whence, from its advanced and isolated position, a
good view of the country was likely to be obtained. After the absence of
a day and a night, he returned with favorable news. By means of a rough
triangulation, he had ascertained that Omuvereoom could not possibly be
distant above twelve or fourteen hours’ traveling. To the north and west
of Omuvereoom the country appeared as one unbounded plain, only covered
by brushwood. Eastward grass and trees were abundant. This, together with
a timely fall of rain, at once determined us to make the attempt.

On the morning of our departure a bitterly cold wind swept over the
dreary wastes, and suddenly reminded us of the approach of the winter
season. Hitherto a shirt and a pair of trowsers had been enough to
protect our bodies, but this day an addition of thick flannel and a warm
pea-jacket was found to be insufficient.

One evening, as Hans and myself were giving chase to a troop of
giraffes, we were overtaken by darkness, and, in the heat of pursuit,
had completely lost our way. Hans being the most experienced of the two,
I blindly abandoned myself to his instinct and guidance. After a while,
however, it struck me we were actually retracing our steps to Omatako,
and I told him so, but he only laughed at my apprehensions. Still, the
more I considered the matter, the more I became convinced that we were
pursuing a wrong course. In order, therefore, to split the difference, I
proposed to Hans that if in about an hour he did not find any indications
of our whereabouts, he should permit me to act as “pilot” for the same
space of time, and that if I were equally unsuccessful as himself, we
should quietly wait for the return of daylight. Hans was skeptical, and,
shaking his head, grudgingly gave his consent. His hour having elapsed
without gaining the object of our search, I wheeled right round, to his
great disapproval, and walked as hard as I could in an exactly opposite
direction. Singularly enough, only two or three minutes were wanting in
completing my hour when I was suddenly and agreeably surprised to find my
foot in the deep track made by the wheels of the wagons. Nothing could
have been more fortunate, for I struck it precisely at a right angle.
Another half an hour’s walk brought us safe back to our bivouac, where,
over a substantial dinner, we joked Hans on his singular obstinacy. His
pride as a skillful woodsman had received a severe blow, and he would at
intervals shrug his shoulders and repeat broken sentences of, “Well, I am
sure! It’s too bad!” and so forth.

The day after this little adventure we continued our journey, and in the
afternoon found ourselves safe at the foot of the southern extremity
of Omuvereoom, and its sister hill, Ia Kabaka, from which it is only
separated by a narrow valley. We “outspanned” at a small vley, where, for
the first time, I observed the willow-tree—an agreeable reminiscence of
my native land. The water, however, was of the most abominable quality,
being apparently much frequented by wild animals, who had converted the
pool into something like what we see in a farm-yard.

At this place we had a striking instance of the fearful ravages which
termites are capable of committing in an incredibly short time. In the
early part of the day after our arrival, Mr. Galton and Hans started on
foot, with the intention of ascending Omuvereoom. In consequence of a
sudden and distressing pain in my side, I was unable to accompany them,
and, in the hope of obtaining a little ease, made a sort of extempore
couch on the ground, covering it with a plaid. On rising after a while,
I discovered, to my dismay and astonishment, that my bedding had been
completely cut to pieces by the destructive insects, and yet, when I
first laid down, not one was visible.

Early the next morning we pushed on to a large vley, upward of a mile
in length, the finest sheet of standing water we had yet seen in
Damara-land. It was swarming with geese and ducks. The vegetation had a
very tropical appearance; several—to us—new trees and plants, without
thorns, presented themselves, and we began to flatter ourselves that
we had at last passed the boundary-line of those thorny woods which
had so long and pertinaciously harassed us. In this, however, we were
disappointed. The very next day we entered a region far worse than any we
had yet seen, which, indeed, bade fair to stop us altogether. Our poor
cattle were cruelly lacerated, and it was with the utmost difficulty
we succeeded in getting the wagons through. I counted no less than
seven distinct species of thorny trees and bushes, each of which was a
perfect “Wacht-een-bigte,” or “Wait a little,” as the Dutch colonists
very properly call these tormentors. Few individuals have ever traveled
in the more northerly parts of Southern Africa without being greeted
with a friendly salutation of ‘Stop a little, if you please;’ and fewer
still, who have disregarded this gentle hint, ever came away without
first paying a forfeit of some part or other of their dress. Indeed,
the fish-hook principle on which most of the thorns are shaped, and the
strength of each, make them most formidable enemies. At an average, each
prickle will sustain a weight of seven pounds. Now, if the reader will be
pleased to conceive a few scores of these to lay hold of a man at once,
I think it will not be difficult to imagine the consequences. Indeed, on
our return to Barmen, after a few months’ absence, I possessed hardly
a decent article of clothing; and, had not Mr. Hahn kindly taken pity
on my forlorn condition, I am afraid there would soon have been little
difference between me and the savages.

In the course of the day we arrived at a magnificent fountain, called
Otjironjuba—the Calabash—on the side of Omuvereoom. Its source was
situated fully two hundred feet above the base of the mountain, and took
its rise from different spots; but, soon uniting, the stream danced
merrily down the cliffs. These cascades, falling to the plain below,
flowed over a bed of red gravel. A gigantic fig-tree had entwined its
roots round the scattered blocks of stone by the side of Otjironjuba
fountain, its wide and shady branches affording a delicious retreat
during the heat of the noonday sun. It bore an abundance of fruit; but
it was not yet the season for figs. Several half-ripe ones that I opened
contained a large quantity of small ants, and even wasps. Great caution,
therefore, is necessary in eating them.

Otjironjuba was to us a perfect paradise. We enjoyed it the more on
account of the marked contrast it presented to the country we had
previously traversed.

At the foot of the mountain we discovered the remains of a large
Hill-Damara kraal. A considerable extent of land had at one time been
carefully cultivated, and a few young calabashes and pumpkins were still
seen springing up from the parent stock of the preceding season. The day
after our arrival one or two natives came to visit us, and no doubt,
also, for the purpose of ascertaining who and what we were. We of course
entertained them well, and at parting gave them a few trifling presents,
with a request that they would soon return with the remainder of their
tribe, in order that we might buy from them some goats, which, from the
surrounding evidences, they must have possessed in great numbers. The
fresh tracks of a few horned cattle were also to be seen. However, our
friends never came back, nor did we encounter any more of the natives.

While sauntering about the place we stumbled upon several deserted Damara
villages, and our native servants now told us that, after the late attack
on Schmelen’s Hope by Jonker, Kahichenè and his tribe had fled with the
remainder of their cattle to this secluded spot; and yet, a short time
previously, they had positively asserted that the country was impassable
for man and beast! They, moreover, informed us that several bloody
fights, or rather massacres, had at that time taken place between the
contending parties; and that whenever a man, woman, or child was met, and
the deed could be perpetrated with impunity, they were cruelly murdered.
These sanguinary outrages were sometimes inflicted, they said, by the
Damaras, and at others by the Hill-Damaras.

I climbed to the top of the Omuvereoom, whence I had a very extensive
view of the country to the eastward; but, excepting a few periodical
water-courses which originated in the sides of the mountain, nothing
but an immense unbroken bush was to be seen. It was in vain that I
strained my eyes to catch a glimpse of Omanbondè, which we were told lay
only about five days’ journey hence, and at the northern extremity of
Omuvereoom.

Elephants occasionally visited this neighborhood, and even breed near a
fountain somewhat farther to the northward.

After having spent a couple of days very pleasantly at Otjironjuba
fountain, we for a short time followed the course of the rivulet which
has its rise there; but it was soon lost in a marsh.

On the second day of our departure we came, unobserved, upon a few
Bushmen, engaged in digging for wild roots, and succeeded in capturing
a man and woman, whom, with some difficulty, we persuaded to show us
the water. The dialect of these people was so different to any we
had yet heard, that, notwithstanding our two excellent interpreters,
we could with difficulty understand them. However, by a good deal of
cross-questioning, we managed to make out that they had both been to
Omanbondè, which they called Saresab; that the “water was as large as the
sky,” and that hippopotami existed there. The man, moreover, said that
he would conduct us to the lake; but this was only a _ruse_, for in the
course of the night both he and his wife absconded.

Our doubts and anxiety increased as we approached nearer and nearer the
inland sea, and all our thoughts were concentrated in the single idea of
the lake. The Bushman’s story of the water being “as large as the sky”
wrought greatly on our expectation.

“Well, Andersson, what should you suppose this lake’s greatest length to
be, eh?” said Galton. “Surely it can not cover less than fifteen miles
anyhow; and as for its breadth, it is, no doubt, very considerable, for
the Hottentots declare that if you look at a man from the opposite shore
he appears no bigger than a crow.”

It would have been well for us had we been less sanguine.

As we journeyed on a course somewhat parallel with Omuvereoom, we fell
in with a sort of vley river—if river it could be called, since it
consisted alternately of dry, open spaces and deep gulleys. Both banks of
this peculiar water-course were hemmed in by one vast thorn-jungle, which
seemed to defy the passage of man or beast. It was doubly fortunate,
therefore, that we met this river, as its sides served as a good and open
road, while a plentiful supply of water was afforded by the occasional
pools. It was here, at last, that we arrived at some Damara villages,
on the fifth day after leaving Otjironjuba. At first the natives tried
to run away; but we captured a few women, which soon induced the men
to return. These people had never before seen a white man; and our
sudden appearance, therefore, created no small astonishment, not to say
consternation. But of all our property, nothing amused them more than the
sight of a looking-glass. On finding that the mirror faithfully reflected
the smallest of their motions or gesticulations, they became convulsed
with laughter; and some of them were so excited as to throw themselves
on the ground, pressing their hands against their stomachs. Others would
approach with their faces to the glass as close as they could, then
suddenly turn it round, fully expecting somebody at its back. It is a
great pity that the Damaras are such unmitigated scoundrels, for they are
full of fun and merriment. Give them a “yard of meat” and a bucket of
water, and they are the happiest creatures on the face of the earth.

After some parleying, a man agreed to guide us to the lake. An
afternoon’s farther traveling brought us to a second werft, the captain
of which was the jolliest and the most amusing Damara that we ever
saw before or since. He mimicked the figure and the actions of the
hippopotamus so admirably that we should never have mistaken the animal,
even had we not known a word of the language. He also gave us an amusing
and laughable account of the people to the north.

One day more, and the goal of our hopes and anxieties would be realized!
We carefully examined our Mackintosh punt to see that it was sound, as we
fully purposed to spend a few weeks on the shores of Omanbondè, in order
to enjoy some fishing and shooting.

By this time we had lost sight of Omuvereoom, which gradually dwindled
into a mere sand-ridge, and was now identified with the plain. The vley
river just mentioned, which had so long befriended us, we also left
behind, and were now traveling across a very sandy tract of country.
Fortunately, though the bushes were very thick, only a few were thorny.
Moreover, their wood, which was quite new to us, was of so brittle
a nature that, although trees from five to six inches in diameter
repeatedly obstructed our path, our ponderous vehicles crushed them to
the ground like so many rotten sticks. A European can form no conception
of the impracticable country one has to travel over in these parts, and
the immense difficulties that must be surmounted. To give a faint idea
of the obstructions of this kind of traveling, we will suppose a person
suddenly placed at the entrance of a primeval forest of unknown extent,
never trodden by the foot of man, the haunt of savage beasts, and with
soil as yielding as that of an English sand-down; to this must be added a
couple of ponderous vehicles, as large as the coal-vans met with in the
streets of London, only a great deal stouter, to each of which are yoked
sixteen or twenty refractory, half-trained oxen. Let him then be told,
“Through yonder wood lies your road; nothing is known of it. Make your
way as well as you can; but remember, your cattle will perish if they do
not get water in the course of two or three days.”

No greater calamity could possibly befall us than the breaking of an
axle-tree at a distance from water. Therefore, every time the wagons
struck against a tree, or when the wheels mounted on a stone several feet
in height, from which they descended with a crash like thunder, I would
pull up abruptly, and hold my breath till all danger was over, when a
weight like that of the nightmare fell from my mind. However, in the
course of time, we became tolerably accustomed to the hazards that beset
us, and looked almost with indifference on the dangers which constantly
threatened destruction to our conveyances.

About noon on the 5th of April we were rapidly approaching Omanbondè, but
oh, how were we disappointed! My heart beat violently with excitement.
The sleepy motion of the oxen, as they toiled through the heavy sand,
being far too slow for my eagerness and excited imagination, I proceeded
considerably in advance of the wagons, with about half a dozen Damaras,
when all at once the country became open, and I found myself on some
rising ground, gently sloping toward the bed of what I thought to be a
dry water-course.

“There,” suddenly exclaimed one of the natives—“there is Omanbondè!”

“Omanbondè!” I echoed, almost in despair; “but where, in the name of
heaven, is the water?”

I could say no more, for my heart failed me, and I sat down till the
wagons came up; when, pointing to the dry river-bed, I told Galton that
he saw _the_ lake before him.

“Nonsense!” he replied; “it is only the end or tail of it which you see
there.”

After having descended into the bed, we continued to travel, at a
rapid pace, about a mile in a westerly direction, when, at a bend, we
discovered a large patch of green reeds. At this sight a momentary ray of
hope brightened up every countenance; but the next instant it vanished,
for we found that the natives were actually searching for _water_ among
the rushes!

The truth at last dawned upon us. We were indeed at Omanbondè—the lake
of hippopotami! We all felt utter prostration of heart. For a long while
we were unable to give utterance to our feelings. We first looked at the
reeds before us, then at each other in mute dismay and astonishment. A
dried-up vley, very little more than a mile in extent, and a patch of
reeds, was the only reward for months of toil and anxiety!




CHAPTER XIV.

    Omanbondè visited by Hippopotami.—Vegetation, &c.,
    described.—Game somewhat scarce.—Combat between Elephant
    and Rhinoceros.—Advance or Retreat.—Favorable reports of
    the Ovambo-land.—Resolve to proceed there.—Reconnoitre
    the Country.—Depart from Omanbondè.—Author shoots a
    Giraffe.—Splendid Mirage.—The Fan-palm.—The Guide
    absconds.—Commotion among the Natives.—Arrive at
    Okamabuti.—Unsuccessful Elephant-hunt.—Vegetation.—Accident
    to Wagon.—Obliged to proceed on Ox-back.—The Party go
    astray.—Baboon Fountain.—Meeting with the Ovambo; their
    personal Appearance, &c.—Return to Encampment.—An Elephant
    killed.—Discover a curious Plant.—Immorality.—Reflections.


Dry as the basin of Omanbondè then was, it nevertheless appeared evident
that, at no distant period, it had contained a good deal of water.
Moreover, there could be but little doubt as to hippopotami having also,
at one time, existed there.

On becoming better acquainted with the geography of these regions, we
thought we were able to explain the phenomenon satisfactorily. Thus,
for instance, from (or to?) the deep, trough-shaped basin of Omanbondè
leads a peculiar water-course, in an easterly direction, called
Omuramba-[21]k’Omanbondè, consisting of a succession of immense gulleys,
very similar to Omanbondè itself. These (after being in a short time
joined by the Omuramba-k’Omatako) we supposed to be connected with some
large permanent water, abounding with hippopotami. In seasons when rains
are plentiful, these troughs or gulleys fill, and, no doubt, retain the
water from one rainy period to another, which enables the animals to
travel at their ease to Omanbondè. Indeed, by similar omurambas they have
found their way even as far south as Schmelen’s Hope. According to Jonker
Afrikaner’s account, a hippopotamus had taken up its abode at this place,
but was at last killed by a sudden inundation of the Swakop. The carcass
was washed up at the mouth of the Tjobis, where he saw its remains.

On a first look at Damara-land, an inexperienced person would “as soon
expect,” as Mr. Galton says, “a hippopotamus to have traveled across the
great Sahara as from Omanbondè to Tjobis.” The fact, however, is, that
this country, after heavy rains, differs as much from its normal state as
a sea-beach when dry and when at spring-tide.

Little or no rain had fallen this year at Omanbondè, and, consequently,
it presented a very dreary and uninteresting appearance. In its bed,
however, we discovered several wells, which, together with numerous
remains of Damara villages, clearly indicated that the so-called lake
was, at times, largely resorted to by the natives.

The vegetation remained precisely as hitherto, but the thorn coppices
were, if possible, thicker and more harassing. The monotony of the scene
was somewhat relieved by clumps of very fine kameel thorn-trees.

Game was rather scarce, yet I managed to bag a few red bucks (pallahs)
and koodoos. Tracks of giraffes, rhinoceroses, and elephants were by no
means uncommon, but I never had the good fortune to fall in with any of
these animals.

Furious battles are said to take place occasionally between the two
last-named; and though, of course, strength in the elephant is infinitely
superior to the rhinoceros, the latter, on account of his swiftness
and sudden movements, is by no means a despicable antagonist. Indeed,
instances are known where they have perished together. At Omanbondè,
we were told that a combat of this kind occurred not long before our
arrival. A rhinoceros, having encountered an elephant, made a furious
dash at him, striking his long sharp horn into the belly of his
antagonist with such force as to be unable to extricate himself, and in
his fall the elephant crushed his assailant to death.

In sauntering one day about the neighborhood of Omanbondè, Galton
suddenly found himself confronted by a lion, which seems terribly to
have terrified him; and he candidly tells us that, being only armed with
a small rifle, he would “much rather have viewed him at a telescopic
distance.”

As soon as we had somewhat recovered from our bitter disappointment, we
began seriously to consider our situation, and to consult on our future
plans. Once more we were without a definite object. Should we return, or
push boldly forward? At one time my friend entertained thoughts of going
no farther; in which case, though it was probable we might reach home in
safety, it was very certain we should reap but little credit for what
had been done. On the other hand, by continuing to travel northward, we
exposed ourselves to much risk and danger. From experience, we were aware
that, to accomplish even a comparatively short distance in our very slow
mode of traveling, months would elapse. In that time, all the pools and
vleys which now contained water would probably be dried up. This would
be certain destruction to ourselves and cattle. Besides this, our men
were disheartened, and wished to return. However, in that respect there
would be less difficulty, as they were now nearly as much dependent on us
as we on them, inasmuch as a broad tract of wild, inhospitable country
separated us from the nearest point of civilization.

From Jonker Afrikaner and various other sources of information, we had
already learned that at a considerable distance to the north there lived
a nation called Ovambo, who had much intercourse with the Damaras, with
whom they bartered cattle for iron-ware. They were a people, moreover, of
agricultural habits, having permanent dwellings, and were reported to be
industrious and strictly honest. The Damaras spoke in raptures of their
hospitality and friendliness toward strangers, and represented them as a
very numerous and powerful nation, ruled by a single chief or king named
Nangoro, who, to their notions, was a perfect giant in size. With regard
to the distance to this country, they gave us the same wild, conflicting,
and unsatisfactory accounts as those we received about the position
of Omanbondè. A variety of circumstances at last induced us, let the
consequence be whatever it might, to attempt to reach this interesting
land.

As, however, no reliance could possibly be placed on the accounts of the
natives with regard to water, character of the country, and so forth, it
was deemed advisable, before moving from our present encampment, to make
a short exploratory excursion in order to see and judge for ourselves.

Mr. Galton, accompanied by a few of the men, therefore rode northward, in
order to ascertain if the route we purposed taking was traversable with
wagons. On the evening of the third day he returned, being assured of its
practicability. He had met with several native villages, and, though his
reception there had by no means been very flattering, we determined to
proceed without a moment’s delay.

None of the Damaras whom we had brought with us from Barmen professed
to know any thing of the country we were about to explore. The guide,
however, whom we had procured a short distance south of Omanbondè, said
that he was well acquainted with it, and volunteered to show us the way
to the Ovambo provided his services should be rewarded with a cow-calf.
Mr. Galton gladly agreed to his terms, but, unfortunately, as the event
proved, paid him his wages in advance.

Early in the morning of the 12th of April we bade farewell to the
inhospitable _shores_ of Omanbondè. For a few hours we kept parallel with
the Omuramba, when we struck into a more easterly course.

During the day we saw vast troops of camelopards, and just at nightfall
I had the good fortune to kill a fine, full-grown male, which was an
acceptable addition to our larder. Before the carcass had time to cool,
twenty or thirty men were busy in tearing it to pieces. As usual on
such occasions, the Damaras dispensed with sleep, and devoted the night
entirely to the enjoyment of the banquet.

The next morning we witnessed a magnificent mirage. Lakes, forests,
hills, &c., burst on the eye and disappeared in rapid succession.

Later in the day we were gratified by the sight of a large number of
palm-trees. This harbinger of a better land was an agreeable surprise,
bringing an involuntary smile of satisfaction to every face. We
were astonished at the cheerful and refreshing effect a very slight
improvement in the landscape had on our spirits. In the distance these
palms seemed to us to form an extensive and compact wood, but on nearer
approach we found the trees grew at long intervals from each other. They
were very tall and graceful, each branch having the appearance of a
beautiful fan, and, when gently waved by the wind, the effect produced
was indescribably pleasing.

This species of palm is, I believe, new to science.[22] It produces fruit
about the size of an apple, of a deep brown color, with a kernel as hard
as a stone, and not unlike vegetable ivory. The fruit is said to have a
bitter taste, but farther north (where, as will be presently seen, we
found the tree very plentiful) it was very palatable. On account of the
great height and straightness of the trunk, the fruit was very difficult
of access. The story our guide told us previously to leaving Barmen about
a tree, the fruit of which was obtainable only by means of “knob-kieries
thrown up at it,” was now easily comprehended. But we experienced greater
difficulty in realizing his other tales, such as the existence of a
people who make trees their sole dwellings, while others were found
without joints to their limbs, who nevertheless were able to indulge in
the refined custom of feeding each other by means of their toes.

[Illustration: FAN-PALM.[23]]

In the afternoon of this day we reached a Damara village which had
already been visited by Mr. Galton, and camped near to it. Previously to
our arrival here our guide absconded, taking with him, besides the calf
my friend had given him as payment, a horse-rug which he had borrowed
from Timbo.

The next morning, just as I was returning to the village from a
successful hunt, I observed an unusual commotion among the natives,
accompanied by the most terrific yelling, passionate vociferations, and
brandishing of assegais. The cause of this uproar was at first thought to
be an attack by the Bushmen on one of the cattle-posts of the Damaras.
However, on investigating the matter more closely, we ascertained
that the apprehensions of the Damaras arose from the arrival of some
inhabitants of a neighboring kraal, who had come forcibly to recover a
flock of sheep which the chief had taken possession of under the pretext
of “hunger.”

The news of our arrival had by this time spread far and wide, and the
Damaras were flocking together from all parts to see the white strangers.
Some of them promised to conduct us to their great chief Tjopopa, who
resided at a place called Okamabuti, which was on our way to the Ovambo.

In the course of our journey to Tjopopa I learned the history of the
father of one of our visitors, who, it would appear, had been a thorough
rogue. He professed great friendship toward the Ovambo, whom he allowed
freely and peaceably to pass through his territory; but when, on one
occasion, they were returning home with a numerous herd of cattle
obtained by barter, he fell suddenly upon them, and deprived them of
all their hard-earned gains. When, however, his treacherous conduct
became known to Nangoro, he instantly dispatched a party in order to
punish him, and this was done so effectually that, since that day, no
one has ventured to molest the Ovambo in their peaceable and industrious
vocation. Indeed, this tribe now commanded a large share of the good-will
and respect of the Damaras.

Elephants were said to be numerous to the northward, and the Damaras
pointed to some wooded knolls, where they said these animals walked “as
thick as cattle.” At times they would suddenly make their appearance
in the night in the midst of a village, and drive the inhabitants
precipitately from their dwellings.

On the 15th of April we were again moving, and the very next day we
entirely lost sight of the palms, which we did not again see till nearly
a whole month’s travel had been accomplished.

On the 17th we reached Tjopopa’s werft. It was reported that through
the instrumentality of his friend Nangoro this man became a chief of
the first order. Be that as it may, he was now living in very great
abundance, though, like many who are well off with regard to worldly
possessions, he was avaricious in the extreme. A miser’s parsimony always
increases in proportion to the enlargement of his property.

Okamabuti may be said to be the northern limit of Damara-land. It is
situated at the foot of those wooded knolls already pointed out to us by
the natives as the resort of elephants; indeed, the ground round about
bore ample testimony to the destructive propensities of these animals.
The place was well supplied with water by a fountain springing from a
limestone bottom.

The morning after our arrival at Okamabuti, we started off on a shooting
excursion, in a northeast direction, in search of elephants; but, though
we discovered their fresh tracks, and followed these for a whole day,
we were unable to overtake the beasts. Notwithstanding our failure, we
enjoyed the trip extremely. The scenery was novel and highly interesting.
At times we crossed savannas where the grass reached above our heads as
we sat on the oxen, and at others we passed through magnificent forests
of straight-stemmed and dark-foliaged timber-trees,[24] fit abodes for
the most wonderful creatures of animated nature.

A day or two afterward a calamity befell us which we had long dreaded. In
order to be near the elephants, that we might hunt them at our leisure,
we had determined to move our camp to a fountain a few hours further to
the northeast, that was much frequented by these animals. On the morning
of our departure, however, before we had proceeded many hundred paces,
our largest wagon came in contact with a stump of a tree, which entirely
demolished the foremost axle-tree. Unfortunate as this circumstance could
not fail to be, we had, nevertheless, every reason to feel thankful
it occurred where it did. The natives hereabout had shown themselves
well disposed toward us. Water and pasturage were abundant; and even
suitable wood for repairing the damage was to be found in the immediate
neighborhood.

A few days would, perhaps, have sufficed to make a temporary repair;
but, as we had a journey of several months’ duration before us, it was
necessary to make the work as permanent as possible, and the seasoning
of the wood alone, in such a case, would occupy several weeks. None
of us had much experience in carpentry; but Hans was by far the most
practical hand, and he boldly undertook the task. To postpone our journey
to the Ovambo till our wagons were in order was now, indeed, out of the
question. The season being advanced, every day became of the greatest
importance; and therefore, to save time, it was resolved that we should
leave the vehicles behind, and that Galton and myself should prosecute
the journey without farther delay by means of pack-and-ride oxen.

Having come to this determination, our first care was to obtain accurate
information of the distance, number of watering-places, and so forth; but
the Damaras proved true to their nature; for, after having spent several
days in cross-questioning them, we were just as far from our object as
ever. Tjopopa himself was very reserved, and would neither provide us
with guides nor give us the least information. He said, however, that he
was just expecting a trading caravan from Ovambo-land, and that, if we
remained with him till its arrival, he doubted not that we should, by
the assistance of the individuals composing it, be enabled to reach that
country. But no reliance could be placed in a Damara.

While in this dilemma, a man unexpectedly came to offer his services as
guide. Without, perhaps, inquiring sufficiently as to whether he was well
acquainted with the road, we accepted with eagerness the proposal, and
did not lose a moment in making preparations for the journey. To shorten
a long story, suffice it to say that we set out; but our _guide_ almost
immediately lost _himself_; and after we had wandered about the hills for
several days, suffering the greatest anxiety of mind, to say nothing of
physical privations, we were about to retrace our steps to Okamabuti,
when we fortunately fell in with some Bushmen. We had left both our
Hottentot interpreters behind, but we managed to explain to them our
wants and wishes. With much persuasion, two of them agreed to accompany
us to a certain large water in advance, of which the Damaras had made
repeated mention. These men desired to spend the night at their own
werft; but we had been so often deceived, that, in order to secure their
services, we determined that only one of them should be allowed to absent
himself. The other was to sleep near us; and, as a further security,
Galton and myself agreed alternately to keep watch on the fellow through
the night.

During our wanderings in the mountains we stumbled upon a series of
wells which we christened “Baboon Fountain,” on account of the number of
baboons which frequented the place. Its real name was Otjikango.

It was from this point that on the morning of the 2d of May we took our
fresh departure under the guidance of our Bushmen friends. We had not,
however, been long on the road before we were overtaken by three or four
men whom our Damaras at once recognized as natives of Ovambo-land, coming
from the very quarter we had just left. They were part of the expected
caravan, and I need hardly say that we were delighted at this opportune
meeting. Contrary to custom, the men had made a short cut across the
hills, and thus we had missed each other. On the Ovambos reaching our
encampment, however, and finding strange tracks, and our bivouac fire
still burning, their curiosity was greatly aroused, and they had detached
the men whom we now encountered in order to bring us back. We did not
much like the idea; yet, in hope of obtaining from them a guide, we
acquiesced, intending presently to pursue our journey.

The caravan was composed of twenty-three individuals, of a very dark
complexion, tall and robust, but remarkably ugly, and scantily attired.
Their looks bespoke determination and independence. On acquainting
them with our object, and our wish to obtain a guide to conduct us to
their country, they not only refused, but became very reserved in their
manner. They promised, however, that if we would return with them to
Tjopopa’s werft, and there wait until they had disposed of their articles
of exchange, we were welcome to accompany them home. They assured us,
moreover, that any attempt on our part to accomplish the journey alone
would be attended with certain destruction; for, even supposing we should
find the waters—which were few and far between—their chief, unless
previously apprised of our approach, would never receive us. We thought
their language bold, and at first laughed at them; but they remained
inflexible. Remonstrances were of no avail, and we soon saw that they
were a very different style of natives from those with whom we had been
accustomed to deal. Moreover, on mature consideration, we thought it only
just that they should know something of our character before taking us
into the heart of the country. We accordingly made necessity a law, and
agreed to their proposal. No sooner had we done so than they threw off
their reserve, and in a very short time we became the best of friends.

Mr. Galton made them a present of some meat, which they greatly prized.
Their sole diet, on these occasions, was apparently a kind of grain
resembling Caffre-corn (_holcus Caffrorum_), which they carried in small
skin-bags. This grain was either half boiled, simply steeped in water,
or, more commonly, partially crushed, and then converted into a coarse
stir-about. They kindly gave us a liberal supply of their homely fare,
which we eagerly partook of, being quite tired with the everlasting
flesh-diet. Our Damaras were also treated with a dish of soaked corn;
but, before they were allowed to taste it, they were obliged to undergo
the ceremony (why or wherefore I know not) of having a quantity of water
spirted into their faces from the mouth of one of the Ovambo. These
people invariably made use of salt with their food, a thing never seen
among the Damaras. As soon as their plain meal was finished, pipes—of
their own manufacture—were produced, and, after a few whiffs, a song
was struck up. One man began to chant, and the whole party joined
occasionally in chorus. Though somewhat monotonous, the music was not
unpleasing.

[Illustration: PIPE.]

They were armed with bow and arrows, the assegai and the knob kierie; but
the two first-named weapons were of smaller dimensions than those used
by the Damaras. Their bows, moreover, were constructed from a kind of
wood called mohama, which, in its natural state, is flat on one side, and
thus, in a degree, of the required form.

The arrows are generally tipped with bone or iron; but they do not often
poison them. They carry their quivers under the left arm by means of a
strap across the right shoulder. In addition to the weapons mentioned,
they have a dagger, protected by a leather sheath tastefully ornamented
with thin copper wire.

[Illustration: DAGGER AND SHEATH.]

[Illustration: HATCHET.]

Carpenter’s work is not much practiced among the Ovambo. The rude hatchet
here represented is nearly the only mechanic’s tool I remember to have
seen in their possession.

Their articles of barter were spear-heads, knives, rings, copper and
iron beads, &c., but of exceedingly rude workmanship. Indeed, it was to
me a constant wonder how they could persuade their neighbors to buy such
trash. Yet _all_ these things were very dear; an unfinished assegai-blade
or a yard of beads being the regular price for an ox.

Their merchandise was packed in small square baskets made out of
palm-leaves: these were suspended to both ends of the long, smooth, and
elastic pole (of palm wood) that each man bore poised on his shoulder.
What with their merchandise, provisions, water, &c., the weight was often
very considerable, yet they traveled much faster than ourselves.

[Illustration: BASKET FOR MERCHANDISE.]

They have no idea of making use of oxen for draft, or, perhaps it would
be more correct to say, they value these animals too highly to make use
of them for such purposes.

On the 4th of May we returned to our encampment. Hans and Phillippus
had killed an elephant during our absence, which highly delighted the
Damaras, who had flocked to the neighborhood of Okamabuti in very great
numbers. We were sorry to find that our cattle, instead of improving in
condition by their rest, were fast losing flesh. This was attributed to
the grass hereabout, which was bitter tasted, and to change of pasturage
in general. The cattle of the natives were accustomed to every variety of
herbage, and did not suffer. Sheep, however, failed to thrive here.

While waiting for the return of the Ovambo traders, who, with the
exception of their head man, Chikor’onkombè, had now dispersed over the
neighborhood in small bands of two and three, I employed the time in
diligently exploring the surrounding country and ascertaining its natural
productions, and was fortunate enough to add many an interesting specimen
of insect and bird to my collection.

The natives were unable to comprehend why I thus collected birds and
other specimens of natural history, and on an evening, when I returned
home, were convulsed with laughter on seeing the contents of my game-bag.
This passion of mine (coupled with my name being unpronounceable) caused
them to rechristen me “Karabontera,” or the bird-killer, by which
designation I am now universally known throughout the country.

The vegetation at Okamabuti was very rank and luxuriant, but the
thorn-jungles still continued to haunt us. The hills were covered with
a profusion of creepers, low shrubs, and aromatic herbs. The _euphorbia
candelabrum_ was particularly abundant.

I discovered a peculiar plant growing on a very large succulent root,
protruding about a foot above the soil. It produced two or three immense
leaves, with a fruit so closely resembling grapes that, when I first
brought some bunches to our encampment, they were mistaken for such; but
they were not eatable—nay, the natives pronounced them to be poisonous.

There was also a tree, yielding an acid fruit somewhat like an apple, but
with a hard kernel similar to that of a plum. In hot weather this fruit
was very refreshing, and not unpalatable.

During our stay at Okamabuti, Tjopopa’s aged mother died. The women of
the place, according to custom, howled most dismally for a whole day.
Great numbers of cattle were killed or sacrificed on this occasion.

Tjopopa would spend whole days at our camp in the most absolute
idleness and apathy, teasing us with begging for every thing he saw.
Like all Damaras, he had a perfect mania for tobacco, and considered
no degradation too deep provided he could obtain a few inches of the
narcotic weed. He was of an easy and mild disposition, but excessively
stingy. We stood greatly in need of live-stock, and took every
opportunity to display our most tempting articles of barter in the hope
of inducing him to purchase. Brass or gilt ornaments he almost spurned,
but cast longing eyes on articles of iron or copper. At last he selected
goods to the value of four oxen, with which he quietly walked off. On
asking him for payment the following day, he smilingly replied, “Why,
between us there must be no talk of buying and selling. You are going to
stop here a long time, and you want plenty of food: this I will give you.”

Knowing the truth of the adage that “a bird in the hand is worth two in
the bush,” we should infinitely have preferred an immediate settlement
to any vague promises. And the end justified our apprehensions. The old
rogue took good care neither to pay his debt, nor make us any presents
of cattle, of which we stood so much in need. Nay, he even went further.
Under pretext of supplying our wants, he induced his people to contribute
oxen and sheep, which he was mean enough to keep for his own use.

Our friend Tjopopa was rather a sensual man: he was supposed to have no
less than twenty wives, two of whom I found, to my astonishment, were
mother and daughter! I have since ascertained that this is by no means
an unusual practice among this demoralized nation. Moreover, when a
chief dies, his surviving wives are transferred to his brother or to his
nearest relation.

It is in vain that poets and philanthropists endeavor to persuade us
that savage nations who have had no previous intercourse with Europeans
are living in a state of the most enviable happiness and purity, where
ignorance is virtuous simplicity; poverty, frugality and temperance; and
indolence, laudable contempt for wealth. One single day among such people
will be sufficient to repudiate these idle notions.




CHAPTER XV.

    Depart from Okamabuti.—Visit from a Lion.—Amulets.—Revisit
    Baboon Fountain.—Otjikoto; a wonderful Freak of Nature;
    Remarkable Cavern.—Natives unacquainted with the Art
    of Swimming.—Fish abundant in Otjikoto; frequented by
    immense Flocks of Doves.—Panic of the Ovambo on seeing
    Birds shot on the Wing.—Arrive at Omutjamatunda.—A greasy
    Welcome.—Ducks and Grouse numerous.—Author finds himself
    somewhat “overdone.”—“Salt-pans.”—All “look Blue.”—A second
    Paradise.—Hospitable Reception.—Vegetation.—People live in
    Patriarchal Style.—Population.—Enormous Hogs.—Arrive at the
    Residence of the redoubtable Nangoro.


In conversation with the Ovambo, we learned that Nangoro’s werft was
distant at least a fortnight’s steady travel. We therefore felt anxious
for the speedy return of the trading parties, in order that we might
prosecute or journey; but they tarried longer than we had expected. By
degrees, however, they reassembled at Tjopopa’s werft, having brought
about two hundred head of cattle, the result of their trade.

On the 22d of May Chikor’onkombè, their leader, announced that every
thing was in readiness for a start; and, as we ourselves had long been
prepared, the caravan set out that very afternoon.

We bivouacked at one of Tjopopa’s cattle-posts, only a few hours’ journey
from Okamabuti, and had just finished dinner, when all at once our people
rushed toward the fire with cries of “Ongeama! ongeama!”

And so it was. A lion had, it seems, been crouched in the bush within
twenty paces of our camp, in readiness to spring on the cattle that
were scattered about; but as one of the men who was in search of fuel
had fortunately discovered him, the beast retreated. He was evidently
much displeased at being thus foiled, and kept growling in the distance
during the remainder of the night. The following morning, on meeting one
of the Ovambo, I inquired whether they also had been troubled by the
lion, to which he only replied by pointing to a piece of wood—a charm of
some kind—hung round his neck, as much as to say, “Do you think that any
thing can hurt us or our cattle, with this in our possession?”

The Damaras have also great faith in amulets, consisting generally of
the teeth of lions and hyænas, entrails of animals, pieces of certain
kinds of wood, and so forth. Our native servants, indeed, before leaving
Okamabuti, had purchased, for a few iron beads, several charms from
Tjopopa’s favorite wife, and, thus provided, conceived themselves proof
against every danger and calamity.

On the 24th we again found ourselves at Otjikango (“Baboon Fountain”).
By this time our caravan was completed, as straggling parties of natives
had continued to join us; and we found to our astonishment that,
including ourselves, we mustered one hundred and seventy souls. Of this
number were no less than seventy or eighty Damara women, bent on various
speculations—some in hope of obtaining employment, some to get husbands,
and others with a view of disposing of their shell bodices, spoken of in
chapter four. The latter, as we afterward found, are taken to pieces by
the Ovambo women, and worn in strings round the waist. In exchange, the
Damaras receive beads, tobacco, corn, &c.

The country between Okamabuti and Otjikango we found well watered with
copious springs, and covered with a rank vegetation. Otjikango itself,
being situated in a valley between high and steep hills, was not
unpicturesque. It was well supplied with water, which in several places
oozed out of a kind of vley or marsh—in the rainy season undoubtedly a
little lake. We lost no time here, but were again on the move at an early
hour on the succeeding morning.

After a day and a half travel we suddenly found ourselves on the brink of
Otjikoto, the most extraordinary chasm it was ever my fortune to see. It
is scooped, so to say, out of the solid limestone rock, and, though on a
thousand times larger scale, not unlike the _Elv-gryta_ one so commonly
meets in Scandinavia. The form of Otjikoto is cylindrical; its diameter
upward of four hundred feet, and its depth, as we ascertained by the
lead-line, two hundred and fifteen—that is, at the sides, for we had no
means of plumbing the middle, but had reason to believe the depth to be
pretty uniform throughout. To about thirty feet of the brink it is filled
with water.[25]

[Illustration: OTJIKOTO FOUNTAIN.]

Otjikoto, “one of the most wonderful of Nature’s freaks,” is situated
at the northern extremity of those broken hills which take their rise
in the neighborhood of Okamabuti, and in the midst of a dense coppice.
So effectually is it hidden from view, that a person might pass within
fifty paces of it without being aware of its existence. Owing to its
steep and rugged sides, cattle have not access to the water; and even a
man can only approach this enormous well by means of a steep and slippery
footpath. No perceptible difference could be observed in the height of
the water; and the Ovambo informed us that, as long as they and their
fathers remembered, it had always been the same. It is difficult to
imagine how or whence Otjikoto receives its supplies. A spacious cavern,
only visible and accessible from the water, may possibly be the grand
reservoir.

After gratifying our curiosity, Galton and myself, standing in need of
a bath, plunged head foremost into the profound abyss. The natives were
utterly astounded. Before reaching Otjikoto, they had told us that if
a man or beast was so unfortunate as to fall into the pool, he would
inevitably perish. We attributed this to superstitious notions; but the
mystery was now explained. The art of swimming was totally unknown in
these regions. The water was very cold, and, from its great depth, the
temperature is likely to be the same throughout the year.

We swam into the cavern to which allusion has just been made. The
transparency of the water, which was of the deepest sea-green, was
remarkable; and the effect produced in the watery mirror by the
reflection of the crystallized walls and roof of the cavern appeared very
striking and beautiful. In this mysterious spot, two owls and a great
number of bats had taken up their abode. On approaching some of the
latter, which I saw clinging to the rocks, I found, to my surprise, that
they were dead, and had probably been so for many years; at least they
had all the appearance of mummies.

Otjikoto contained an abundance of fish somewhat resembling perch, but
those we caught were not much larger than one’s finger. One day we had
several scores of these little creatures for dinner, and very palatable
they proved.

In the morning and evening Otjikoto was visited by an incredible number
of doves, some of which were most delicately and beautifully marked. On
such occasions the wood resounded with their cooing; but when disturbed,
as they frequently were, by the invasion of a hawk, the noise caused by
their precipitate flight was like that of a sudden rush of wind.

Many Bushmen resided near Otjikoto, and, as every where else in these
regions, they lived on excellent terms with the Ovambo, to whom they
brought copper ore for sale, which they obtained from the neighboring
hills. Indeed, as our acquaintance with the Ovambo increased, we were
more and more favorably impressed with their character. They treated all
men equally well, and even the so much despised Hottentots ate out of the
same dish and smoked out of the same pipe as themselves.

We only staid a day at Otjikoto. The next morning, after a few hours’
travel, we lost sight of all landmarks, and were now making our way
through dense thorn coppices, which harassed and delayed us exceedingly.
To say nothing of tearing our clothes to rags, they now and then
extracted some article from the saddle-bags. Of the regular Ovambo
caravan route all traces had been obliterated, and we now first began
to understand and appreciate the difficulties that would have beset us
had we tried to prosecute the journey alone. Indeed, without the most
experienced guides, it would have been an utterly hopeless task. The
watering-places, moreover, were very few, and scattered over an immense
extent of country, which was dreary in the extreme.

Shortly after leaving Otjikoto, and when walking in advance of the
caravan, in company with several of the head men of the Ovambo, in the
hope of procuring some specimens of natural history, I suddenly flushed a
brace of sand-grouse, both of which I brought to the ground. The effect
produced on my companions was ludicrous in the extreme. They looked as if
they had received an electric shock, and stood aghast, with their mouths
wide open. On requesting them to pick up the dead birds, they absolutely
refused, and seemed petrified with fear. Their conduct was the more
singular, as, on our first meeting, they had given us to understand that,
through the Portuguese, with whom they had indirect intercourse, they
were well acquainted with fire-arms, but that they were not afraid of
them, as, by simply blowing in the muzzle, they lost all power.

In the afternoon of the 29th of May we reached Omutjamatunda, the
first cattle-post belonging to the Ovambo. On account of this being
harvest-time, our friend Chikor’onkombè did not expect to find many of
his countrymen here; but he was mistaken, for it swarmed with people as
well as cattle. The latter I estimated at no less than from three to four
thousand.

Immediately on our arrival we were surrounded by great numbers of
inquisitive people, who looked upon the European portion of our party
as some _raræ aves_. They appeared to be gratified at seeing their
countrymen safe home again, and expressed much admiration at the fine
herd of sleek cattle they had brought with them.

The way of welcoming friends among the Ovambo is somewhat singular. In
our case, after every one was seated an immense dish of fresh butter
was produced, when the head man of the post besmeared the face and
breast of each individual with an abundance of the unction. The ceremony
being satisfactorily performed on their own friends and kinsmen, it
became evident that they contemplated the same agreeable operation on
ourselves. On seeing what was coming, Galton held out both his hands, and
exclaimed, “Oh! for goodness’ sake, if the thing is necessary, be it at
least moderate!” His request was granted, for he escaped with a brush or
two across the face, but it created much jest and mirth among the company.

At Omutjamatunda there is a most copious fountain, situated on some
rising ground, and commanding a splendid prospect of the surrounding
country. It was a refreshing sight to stand on the borders of the
fountain, which was luxuriantly overgrown with towering reeds, and
sweep with the eye the extensive plain encircling the base of the hill,
frequented as it was not only by vast herds of domesticated cattle, but
with the lively springbok and troops of striped zebras. If the monotony
of our dreary wanderings had not thus occasionally been relieved, I do
not know how we should have borne up against our constant trials and
difficulties.

In order to ascertain the proficiency of the Ovambo in archery, we had
shooting-matches while at Omutjamatunda. The result proved that they were
inferior in this respect even to the Damaras, who, as already said, are
wretched marksmen. The poor despised Bushmen beat both tribes out and
out in the use of the bow, which, however, is to be expected, since they
subsist in a great measure by the chase.

During the two days we remained at Omutjamatunda we amused ourselves with
shooting ducks and birds of the grouse kind. Both were abundant, but
more especially the latter, which literally obscured the air with their
numbers every morning and evening, when they came to quench their thirst.
It is, however, only in the dry season, as in the present instance, that
they are observed in such astonishing multitudes. They usually go far in
search of food, and although a pair only may be seen at starting in quest
of water, yet, as they draw nearer to the pool, they describe wide and
continued circles over it, and thus, by giving time for others to arrive,
increase their numbers.

There is a great variety among the grouse. Thus, for instance, in the
course of a single morning, and in about half a dozen discharges, I have
bagged grouse of five different species, and I have procured altogether
eight or nine; but none of them are good eating. They chiefly live on
hard, indigestible seeds, often of an oily substance, which gives to the
meat a toughness and an unsavory flavor. They are best when made into
pies.

I have already mentioned that we had one morning been suddenly apprised
of the approach of winter by an intensely bleak wind. Since then the cold
had gradually increased, and we suffered much in the night-time. Hitherto
the abundance of fuel we had found every where enabled us to keep up a
roaring fire, which in some degree shielded us from the night air. At
Omutjamatunda, however, dry wood was scarce, because the place was the
permanent residence of a great number of natives, and, as a consequence,
the cold was painfully disagreeable.

The morning before leaving Omutjamatunda a curious accident occurred to
me. On lying down at night alongside a small fire, the air was quite
calm, but toward morning a strong and cutting wind arose. To protect
myself against the chilling blast, I was obliged to pull the blanket
over my head, and was thus slumbering in happy ignorance of every thing.
After a time an agreeable sensation of warmth and comfort stole over
me, and the most exquisite visions floated before my imagination. By
degrees, however, this pleasant feeling was converted into uneasiness,
and ultimately into absolute pain. I was writhing in agonies. By a
violent effort I roused myself out of the trance, and, starting to my
feet, discovered that the coverlet was ignited. A spark had fallen on it,
and, being composed of quilted cotton, it had for a long time been slowly
smouldering, which accounted for the agreeable feeling I had at first
experienced. On the fire coming into contact with my body-linen, however,
the lulling sensation was changed into one of torment. Hans had had a
similar accident at Schmelen’s Hope, on which occasion almost the whole
of the skins, &c., spread beneath him were consumed before he was aware
of what had happened. From that day forward, as may be supposed, I always
made my bed far away from the fire.

On the last day of May we were again on the move. Messengers were started
in advance to apprise _King_ Nangoro of our approach, and to convey to
him a few trifling presents. They would probably reach his capital in
about two days.

In the course of the first day’s journey we traversed an immense hollow,
called Etosha, covered with saline incrustations, and having wooded and
well-defined borders. Such places are in Africa designated “salt-pans.”
The surface consisted of a soft, greenish-yellow clay soil, strewed with
fragments of small sandstone of a purple tint. Strange to relate, we
had scarcely been ten minutes on this ground when the lower extremities
of ourselves and cattle became of the same purple color. In some rainy
seasons, the Ovambo informed us, the locality was flooded, and had all
the appearance of a lake; but now it was quite dry, and the soil strongly
impregnated with salt. Indeed, close in shore, this commodity was to be
had of a very pure quality.

At night we bivouacked on the southern extremity of a boundless savanna,
called Otjihako-tja-Muteya, totally destitute of trees, and even bushes.
The natives were unable to give us an idea of its real extent; but, as
far as we could learn, it reached to the sea on the west. Like Etosha, it
had distinct and wooded borders.

The second of June will ever be remembered by us. On the afternoon of
that day we first set eye on the beautiful and fertile plains of Ondonga,
the country of the Ovambo. Vain would be any attempt to describe the
sensations of delight and pleasure experienced by us on that memorable
occasion, or to give an idea of the enchanting panoramic scene that
all at once opened on our view. Suffice it to say that, instead of the
eternal jungles, where every moment we were in danger of being dragged
out of our saddles by the merciless thorns, the landscape now presented
an apparently boundless field of yellow corn, dotted with numerous
peaceful homesteads, and bathed in the soft light of a declining tropical
sun. Here and there, moreover, arose gigantic, wide-spreading, and
dark-foliaged timber and fruit trees, while innumerable fan-like palms,
either singly or in groups, completed the picture. To us it was a perfect
elysium, and well rewarded us for every former toil and disappointment.
My friend, who had traveled far and wide, confessed he had never seen any
thing that could be compared to it. Often since have I conjured up to my
imagination this scene, and have thought it might not inaptly be compared
to stepping out of a hot, white, and shadowless road into a park fresh
with verdure, and cool with the umbrage cast down by groups of reverend
trees.

The first dwelling that lay in our path was that of old Naitjo, one of
the chief men of our trading caravan, who, after having feasted us on
such fare as the country produced (among which was a dish of hot dough
steeped in melted butter), conducted us over his extensive establishment,
comprising his harem, his children, granaries, and so forth. Timbo was in
ecstasies with the country and its hospitable inhabitants, and declared
that it was as like as two peas to his own native land.

Another hour’s travel brought us to the residence of our guide
Chikor’onkombè, where we remained two nights and a day to rest our weary
animals. Poor creatures! they had had no water for two entire days, and
the consequence was that during the first night they broke out of the
inclosures and strayed far away in search of it.

On the 4th we again set forward. The aspect of the country was still
characterized by the greatest abundance, and the trees became even more
numerous.

Nearly all produced edible fruit, though some were not yet ripe. The
trees, moreover, were on a grander scale than heretofore. One kind in
particular—that mentioned as bearing a fruit somewhat resembling an
apple—attained to a most astonishing size. Indeed, the branches of one
that we measured spread over a space of ground one hundred and forty-four
feet in diameter, or four hundred and thirty-two in circumference!

The palms growing hereabout—the stems of which, before they began to
branch out, often rose to fifty and sixty feet—were, to all appearance,
of the same kind as that we had seen about two hundred miles to the
southward; but the fruit proved very good. When slightly soaked in
water—which, by-the-by, is the best way of eating it—it tasted precisely
like gingerbread.

There appeared to be no roads of any description. Fortunately, however,
the harvest had just been completed, or nearly so, and without damage
to the owners we were therefore enabled to cross the fields as the crow
flies.

Two different kinds of grain we found indigenous to this country, viz.,
the common Caffre-corn, said to resemble the Egyptian “doura,” and
another sort, very small grained, not unlike canary-seed, and akin, I
believe, to the “badjera” of India. This is the more nutritious of the
two, and, when well ground, produces excellent flour.

The stalk of both these kinds of grain is stout—the thickness of a
sugar-cane—some eight or nine feet high, and juicy and sweet to the
taste, which has no doubt given rise to a belief in the existence of the
sugar-cane in many of the interior parts of Africa. When the grain is
ripe the ear is cut off, and the remainder is left to the cattle, which
devour it greedily.

Besides grain, the Ovambo cultivate calabashes, watermelons, pumpkins,
beans, peas, &c. They also plant tobacco. When ripe, the leaves and
stalks are collected, and mashed together in a hollow piece of wood
by means of a heavy pole. The tobacco is, however, of a very inferior
quality; so much so, that our Damaras, who had a mania for the weed,
refused to smoke it.

There are no towns or villages in Ovambo-land, but the people, like
the patriarchs of old, live in separate families. Each homestead is
situated in the middle of a corn-field, and surrounded by high and stout
palisades. The natives were obliged to take this precaution in order to
guard against the sudden attacks of a neighboring hostile tribe, which
kept constantly harassing them. Once or twice the Ovambo attempted to
retaliate, but without success. The tribe just mentioned is the only one
with whom this naturally peaceable people are ever at variance. If not
previously provoked they interfere with no one.

We were anxious to form some sort of estimate of the density of the
population, but this was no easy matter. However, by counting the
houses in a certain extent of country, and taking the average number of
individuals to each, we came to the conclusion that there were about a
hundred persons to every square mile.

With the exception of a few cows and goats, no cattle were seen about the
dwellings of the natives, yet we knew them to be possessed of vast herds.
A general scarcity of water and pasturage in Ondonga compelled them to
send the oxen away to distant parts. They also breed hogs, which, from
their mischievous propensities, are always sent to a distance during the
time of harvest. These animals, they assured us, attain to an enormous
size. By all accounts, indeed, they must be perfect monsters. And there
can be little doubt of the fact, for captains of vessels, who are
accustomed to trade with the natives of the West Coast, also speak of a
gigantic race of swine.

In the afternoon of the second day after leaving Chikor’onkombè’s werft
we came in sight of the residence of the redoubtable Nangoro. We were
not, however, allowed to enter the royal inclosures, but a clump of trees
was pointed out to us as our encamping place.

While arranging our baggage, &c., Chikor’onkombè proceeded to inform his
royal master of our arrival, and to state the quantity and quality of
the intended presents. Before making his obeisance to his majesty, the
Eastern custom of taking off the sandals was carefully attended to. On
his return he brought a man carrying some fire, with orders to extinguish
ours, and to relight it with that from the king’s own hearth.




CHAPTER XVI.

    Visit from Nangoro.—His extreme Obesity.—One must be fat to
    wear a Crown.—His non-appreciation of Eloquence.—Singular
    Effects of Fireworks on the Natives.—Cure for making
    a wry Face.—Ball at the Palace.—The Ladies very
    attractive and very loving.—Their Dress, Ornaments,
    &c.—Honesty of the Ovambo.—Kindness to the Poor.—Love of
    Country.—Hospitality.—Delicate manner of Eating.—Loose
    Morals.—Law of Succession.—Religion.—Houses.—Domestic
    Animals.—Implements of Husbandry.—Manner of Tilling the
    Ground.—Articles of Barter.—Metallurgy.


We had been nearly three days at Nangoro’s capital before its royal
occupant honored our camp with his presence. This unaccountable delay
gave us some uneasiness; yet we could not but surmise that he had been
longing to see us during the whole time. I believe it, however, to be a
kind of rule with most native princes of note in this part of Africa,
to keep strangers waiting in order to impress them with a due sense of
dignity and importance.

If obesity is to be considered as a sign of royalty, Nangoro was “every
inch a king.” To our notions, however, he was the most ungainly and
unwieldy figure we had ever seen. His walk resembled rather the waddling
of a duck than the firm and easy gait which we are wont to associate with
royalty. Moreover, he was in a state of almost absolute nudity, which
showed him off to the greatest possible advantage. It appeared strange to
us that he should be the only really fat person in the whole of Ondonga.
This peculiarity no doubt is attributable to the custom that prevails in
other parts of Africa, viz., that of selecting for rulers such persons
only who have a natural tendency to corpulence, or, more commonly,
fattening them for the dignity as we fatten pigs.[26]

[Illustration: INTERVIEW WITH KING NANGORO.]

With the exception of a cow and an ox, Nangoro appeared to appreciate
few or none of the presents which Mr. Galton bestowed on him. And as
for my friend’s brilliant and energetic orations, they had no more
effect on the ear of royalty than if addressed to a stock or a stone.
It was in vain that he represented to his majesty the advantages of a
more immediate communication with Europeans. Nangoro spoke little or
nothing. He could not be eloquent because excessive fat had made him
short-winded. Like Falstaff, his “voice was broken.” Any attempt on his
part to utter a sentence of decent length would have put an end to him,
so he merely “grunted” whenever he desired to express either approbation
or dissatisfaction.

In common with his men, he was at first very incredulous as to the
effect produced by fire-arms; but when he witnessed the depth that our
steel-pointed conical balls penetrated into the trunk of a sound tree, he
soon changed his opinion, and evidently became favorably impressed with
their efficacy. As for the men of his tribe who had not yet seen guns,
and who had flocked to the camp to have a look at us, they became so
alarmed that, at the instant of each discharge, they fell flat on their
faces, and remained in their prostrate position for some little time
afterward. A few very indifferent fireworks which we displayed created
nearly equal surprise and consternation.

In another interview with Nangoro he requested us to shoot some
elephants, which were said to abound at no great distance, and which, at
times, committed great havoc among the corn-fields, trampling down what
they did not consume. However much we might have relished the proposal
under other circumstances, we now peremptorily refused to comply. We
reasoned thus: “Supposing we were successful, Nangoro would not only bag
all the ivory—an article he was known to covet and to sell largely to the
Portuguese—but he would keep us in Ondonga till all the elephants were
shot or scared away.” Neither of these results suited our purpose. The
cunning fellow soon had an opportunity of revenging himself on us for
this disregard of his royal wish.

On paying our respects to _his majesty_ one day, we were regaled with
a prodigious quantity of beer, brewed from grain, and served out of
a monster calabash with spoons (made from diminutive pumpkins), in
nicely-worked wooden goblets. Being unwell at the time, I was not in a
state properly to appreciate the tempting beverage. Nangoro, however,
who probably attributed the wry face that I made to the influence of the
liquor, suddenly thrust his sceptre, which, by the way, was simply a
pointed stick, with great force into the pit of my stomach. I was sitting
cross-legged on the ground at the time, but the blow was so violent as to
cause me to spring to my feet in an instant. Nangoro was evidently much
pleased with his practical joke. As for myself, I sincerely wished him at
the antipodes. However, for fear of offending royalty, I choked my rising
anger, and reseated myself with the best grace I could, but I tried in
vain to produce a smile.

[Illustration: BEER-CUP AND BEER-SPOON.]

[Illustration: GUITAR.]

On another occasion we attended a ball at the royal residence. An
entertainment of this kind was given every night soon after dark, but
it was the most stupid and uninteresting affair I ever witnessed. The
musical instruments were the well-known African tom-tom and a kind
of guitar. We did not join in the dance, but amused ourselves with
admiring the ladies. What with their charms, which were by no means
inconsiderable, and the wonderful regard they evinced for us, these
damsels all but ruined our peace of mind.

The features of the Ovambo women, though coarse, are not unpleasing.
When young they possess very good figures. As they grow older, however,
the symmetry gradually disappears, and they become exceedingly stout and
ungainly. One of the causes of this is probably to be found in the heavy
copper ornaments with which they load their wrists and ankles. Some of
the ankle-rings must weigh as much as two or three pounds, and they have
often a pair on each leg. Moreover, their necks, waists, and hips are
almost hidden from view by a profusion of shells, cowries, and beads of
every size and color, which sometimes are rather prettily arranged.[27]
Another cause of their losing their good looks in comparatively early
life is the constant and severe labor they are obliged to undergo. In
this land of industry no one is allowed to be idle, and this is more
especially the case with the females. Work begins at sunrise and ends at
sunset.

The hair of both men and women is short, crisp, and woolly. With the
exception of the crown, which is always left untouched, the men often
shave the head, which has the effect of magnifying the natural prominence
of the hinder parts of it. The women, on the other hand, not satisfied
with the gifts nature has bestowed upon them, resort, like the polished
ladies of Europe, to artificial exaggerations. They besmear and stiffen
the hair with cakes of grease and a vermilion-colored substance, which,
from being constantly added to and pressed upon it, gives to the upper
part of the head a broad and flat look. The persons of the women are also
profusely besmeared with grease and red ochre.

[Illustration: OVAMBO.]

Besides ear-rings of beads or shells, the men display but few ornaments.
With regard to clothing, both sexes are far more scantily attired than
the Damaras. When grown up, they chip the middle tooth in the under jaw.

The Ovambo, so far as came under my own observation, were strictly
honest. Indeed, they appeared to entertain great horror of theft,
and said that a man detected in pilfering would be brought to the
king’s residence and there speared to death. In various parts of the
country a kind of magistrate is appointed, whose duty is to report all
misdemeanors. Without permission, the natives would not even _touch_ any
thing, and we could leave our camp free from the least apprehension of
being plundered. As a proof of their honesty, I may mention that, when we
left the Ovambo country, the servants forgot some trifles, and such was
the integrity of the people that messengers actually came after us a very
considerable distance to restore the articles left behind. In Damara and
Namaqua-land, on the contrary, a traveler is in constant danger of being
robbed, and, when stopping at a place, it is always necessary to keep the
strictest watch on the movements of the inhabitants.

But honesty was not the only good quality of this fine race of men. There
was no pauperism in the country. Crippled and aged people, moreover,
seemed to be carefully tended and nursed. What a contrast to their
neighbors, the Damaras, who, when a man becomes old, and no longer able
to shift for himself, carry him into the desert or the forest, where he
soon falls a prey to wild beasts, or is left to perish on his own hearth!
Nay, he is often knocked on the head, or otherwise put to death.

The Ovambo are very national, and exceedingly proud of their native soil.
They are offended when questioned as to the number of chiefs by whom they
are ruled. “We acknowledge only one king. But a Damara,” they would
add, with a contemptuous smile, “when possessed of a few cows, considers
himself at once a chieftain.”

The people have also very strong local attachments. At an after period,
while Mr. Galton was waiting at St. Helena for a ship to convey him
to England, he was told “that slaves were not exported from south of
Benguela because they never thrived when taken away, but became home-sick
and died.” This, no doubt, refers in part to the Ovambo. Moreover, though
people of every class and tribe are permitted to intermarry with them,
they are, in such case, never allowed to leave the country.

The Ovambo are decidedly hospitable. We often had the good fortune to
partake of their liberality. Their staple food is a kind of coarse
stir-about, which is always served hot, either with melted butter or sour
milk.

[Illustration: MEAT-DISH.]

Being once on a shooting excursion, our guide took us to a friend’s
house, where we were regaled with the above fare. But, as no spoons
accompanied it, we felt at a loss how to set to work. On seeing the
dilemma we were in, our host quickly plunged his greasy fingers into the
middle of the steaming mess, and brought out a handful, which he dashed
into the milk. Having stirred it quickly round with all his might, he
next opened his spacious mouth, in which the agreeable mixture vanished
as if by magic. He finally licked his fingers and smacked his lips with
evident satisfaction, looking at us as much as to say, “That’s the trick,
my boys!” However unpleasant this initiation might have appeared to us,
it would have been ungrateful, if not offensive, to refuse; therefore
we commenced in earnest, according to example, emptying the dish, and
occasionally burning our fingers, to the great amusement of our swarthy
friends.

Although generally very rich in cattle, and fond of animal diet, their
beasts would seem to be kept rather for show than for food. When an ox is
killed, the greater portion of the animal is disposed of by the owner to
the neighbors, who give the produce of their ground in exchange.

The morality of the Ovambo is very low, and polygamy is practiced to a
great extent. A man may have as many wives as he can afford to keep;
but, as with the Damaras, there is always one who is the favorite and
the highest in rank. Woman is looked upon as a mere commodity—an article
of commerce. If the husband be poor, the price of a wife is two oxen and
one cow; but should his circumstances be tolerably flourishing, three
oxen and two cows will be expected. The chief, however, is an exception
to this rule. In his case, the honor of an alliance with him is supposed
to be a sufficient compensation. Our fat friend Nangoro had largely
benefited by this privilege; for, though certainly far behind the King of
Dahomey in regard to the number of wives, yet his harem boasted of one
hundred and six enchanting beauties!

In case of the death of the king, the son of his favorite wife succeeds
him; but if he has no male issue by this woman, her daughter then assumes
the sovereignty. The Princess Chipanga was the intended successor to
Nangoro. My friend thought that his bearded face had made an impression
on this amiable lady; but, though experience has since taught us that
he was by no means averse to matrimony, he preferred to settle his
affections on one of his own fair countrywomen rather than marry the
“greasy negress” Chipanga, heiress of Ondonga.

We read of nations who are supposed to be destitute of any religious
principles whatever. If we had placed reliance on what the natives
themselves told us, we should have set down the Ovambo as one of such
benighted races. But can there be so deplorable a condition of the human
mind? Does not all nature forbid it? Do not the sun, the moon, the
stars, the solemn night, and cheerful dawn, announce a Creator even to
the children of the wilderness? Is it not proclaimed in the awful voice
of thunder, and written on the sky by

        “the most terrible and nimble stroke
    Of quick, cross lightning?”

Is it possible that any reasoning creature can be so degraded as not to
have some notion, however faint and inadequate, of an Almighty Being?
Such a conception is necessarily included, more or less, in all forms of
idolatry, even the most absurd and bestial. The indefinable apprehensions
of a savage, and his dread of something which he can not describe, are
testimonies that at least he _suspects_ (however dimly and ignorantly)
that the visible is not the whole. This may be the germ of religion—the
first uncouth approaches of “faith” as the “evidence of things not
seen”—the distant and imperfectly-heard announcement of a God.

May not our incorrect ideas on this head, in reference to the Ovambo,
be attributed to want of time and insufficient knowledge of their
language, habits, and shyness in revealing such matters to strangers?
When interrogating our guide on the subject of religion, he would
abruptly stop us with a “Hush!” Does not this ejaculation express awe and
reverence, and a deep sense of his own utter insufficiency to enter on
so solemn a theme? The Ovambo always evinced much uneasiness whenever,
in alluding to the state of man after death, we mentioned Nangoro. “If
you speak in that manner,” they said in a whisper, “and it should come to
the hearing of the king, he will think that you may want to kill him.”
They, moreover, hinted that similar questions might materially hurt our
interest, which was too direct a hint to be misunderstood. To speak of
the death of a king or chief, or merely to allude to the heir-apparent,
many savage nations consider equivalent to high treason.

As already said, the Ovambo surround their dwellings with high
palisades, consisting of stout poles about eight or nine feet in
height, fixed firmly in the ground at short intervals from each other.
The interior arrangements of these inclosures were most intricate.
They comprised the dwelling-houses of masters and attendants, open
spaces devoted to amusement and consultation, granaries, pig-sties,
roosting-places for fowls, the cattle kraal, and so forth.

[Illustration: DWELLING-HOUSE AND CORN-STORES.]

Their houses are of a circular form. The lower part consists of slender
poles, about two feet six inches high, driven into the ground, and
farther secured by means of cord, &c., the whole being plastered over
with clay. The roof, which is formed of rushes, is not unlike that of a
bee-hive. The height of the whole house, from the ground to the top of
the “hive,” does not much exceed four feet, while in circumference it is
about sixteen.

They store the grain in gigantic baskets, generally manufactured from
palm-leaves, plastered with clay, and covered with nearly the same
material and in the same manner as the dwelling-houses. They are,
moreover, of every dimension, and by means of a frame-work of wood are
raised about a foot from the ground.

The domestic animals of the Ovambo are the ox, the sheep, the goat, the
pig, the dog, and the barn-door fowl. The latter was of a small breed, a
kind of bantam, very handsome, and, if properly fed and housed, the hens
would lay eggs daily.

[Illustration: VIEW IN ONDONGA.[28]]

The wet season in these latitudes commences about the same period as in
Damara-land, that is, in October and November. When the first heavy rains
are over, the Ovambo begin to sow grain, &c.; but they plant tobacco
in the dry time of the year. Both sexes assist in tilling the ground,
which, near the surface, consists of a flinty sand-soil. A short distance
beneath blue clay appears. The land must be rich and fertile, as manure
is seldom made use of. The only farm-implement we saw in use among the
Ovambo was a kind of hoe of very rude workmanship. Instead of cultivating
a whole piece of ground, as with us, they simply dig a hole here and
there, in which they deposit a handful of corn. When a little above
ground, those seedlings which are too thick are transplanted. The process
of reaping, cleaning, and grinding falls almost exclusively on the women.
The grain is reduced to flour by means of a stout pole in a kind of
mortar or hollow wooden tube. While the females are thus employed, some
of the men tend to the herding of the cattle, and the rest make trading
excursions to the neighboring tribes.

The chief article of export is ivory, which they procure from elephants
caught in pitfalls. In exchange for this they obtain beads, iron,
copper, shells, cowries, &c.; and such articles as they do not consume
themselves they sell to the Damaras. As far as we could learn, they make
four expeditions annually into Damara-land, two by the way of Okamabuti,
and two by that of Omaruru. The return for these several journeys, on an
average, would seem to be about eight hundred head of cattle. Since we
were in the country, however, it is probable that great changes may have
taken place.

Next to their cattle they prize beads; but, though they never refuse
whatever is offered to them, there are some sorts that they more
especially value, and it is of very great importance to the traveler and
the trader to be aware of this, as, in reality, beads constitute his only
money or means of exchange. Thus, throughout Ondonga, large red (oval
or cylindrically-shaped), large bluish white, small dark indigo, small
black (spotted with red), and red, in general, are more particularly in
request.

The Ovambo have some slight knowledge of metallurgy. Though no mineral
is indigenous to their own country, they procure copper and iron ore in
abundance from their neighbors, which they smelt in fire-proof crucibles.
The bellows employed in heating the iron are very indifferent, and stones
serve as substitutes for hammer and anvil. Yet, rude as these implements
are, they manage not only to manufacture their own ornaments and farming
tools, but almost all the iron-ware used in barter.

[Illustration: BLACKSMITHS AT WORK.]




CHAPTER XVII.

    The River Cunenè.—The Travelers are Prisoners at large.—Kingly
    Revenge.—Kingly Liberality.—Depart from Ondonga.—Sufferings and
    Consequences resulting from Cold.—Return to Okamabuti.—Damara
    Women murdered by Bushmen.—Preparations for Journey.—Obtain
    Guides.—Depart from Tjopopa’s Werft.—Game abundant.—Author
    and three Lions stalk Antelopes in Company.—Extraordinary
    Visitation.—The Rhinoceros’s Guardian Angel.—The Textor
    Erythrorhynchus.—The Amadina Squamifrons; singular Construction
    of its Nest.—Return to Barmen.


Many years previously to our visit to the Ovambo, a French frigate
discovered the embouchure of a magnificent river known as Cunenè, between
the seventeenth and eighteenth degrees of south latitude. Other vessels
were sent out to explore it, and to ascertain its course, &c., but,
strange to say, they searched for it in vain![29]

The discoverers could not, however, have been mistaken; and as we now
approached the latitudes in question, we made inquiries, and soon found
that only four days’ travel north of Ondonga there existed a river of
great size, which we doubted not was identical with Cunenè; and farther
inquiry fully corroborated this supposition. A runaway slave from
Benguela, who was living at the time among the Ovambo, informed us that
in its upper course (or rather another branch) this river is called
Mukuru Mukovanja, but that in its lower course it is designated Cunenè.
Moreover, that, though of very considerable size, and containing a large
volume of water, it does not always find its way directly into the sea.
He declared the cause of this to be the formation of sand-banks at its
mouth, which compels it to take a subterraneous course. Occasionally,
however, it breaks through these barriers. This was exceedingly
interesting, inasmuch as it explained the cause of its mysterious
disappearance.

The Ovambo themselves gave us to understand that they often extended
their trading excursions to the Cunenè, and even crossed it by means of
canoes. The people dwelling on its south bank were called Ovapangari (a
few of whom we saw in Ondonga) and Ovabundya. The latter were represented
as living among “many waters,” which we conjectured meant the confluence
of some of the branches.

Our curiosity to see the Cunenè was greatly aroused, though, in order
to accomplish this object, it would be necessary to overcome many
difficulties. Pleasant as our arrival and stay at Ondonga had generally
been, it was in some respects attended with much inconvenience. The
freedom we had enjoyed to such perfection among the Damaras ceased with
our entrance into Ovambo-land. We could hardly stir half a mile from our
camp without having first obtained the permission of our despotic friend,
and much less could we think of returning or proceeding. We had left
half our party behind us in a savage and inhospitable country without a
sufficiency of provisions. Our own stores were very deficient in animal
food. No pasturage was left in Ondonga but corn-stubble, or rather
corn-stalks; and of this, as well as of water, the inhabitants were
extremely tenacious. The consequence was that the poor cattle daily fell
off in condition. We were already two long weeks’ journey distant from
our camp at Okamabuti, and to undertake an excursion to the Cunenè, and
return, would occupy fully another fortnight, making thus, at the very
least, a whole month’s actual travel. This, we feared, was more than our
emaciated cattle were equal to. Yet, notwithstanding all these formidable
difficulties, the enterprise was of such great importance that we
determined not to give it up without a struggle. Unless we could obtain
the consent and assistance of Nangoro, we were aware that all our efforts
would be unavailing. Accordingly, we informed him of our plans, with a
request that he would provide us with guides. But he sulkily replied
that, as we did not choose to kill elephants for him, he could not oblige
us in this matter! Under any circumstances such ungenerous conduct would
have been highly vexatious; but, in our situation, we could only submit,
and hope it was all for the best, and that which his majesty intended an
act of revenge might in the end be the means of saving ourselves.

Thus frustrated in our plans, and having seen and ascertained every
thing we could in the country, we at once determined to retrace our
steps. However, after what had just fallen from the lips of the chief,
it was not without some misgivings that we waited to know his wishes
and intentions with regard to our departure. But there was no cause for
anxiety. Having squeezed every thing out of us that would have been of
any use to him, he was evidently but too well pleased to see us leave his
territory, which would relieve him from the necessity of making us any
presents. During our stay in Ondonga, all that this royal miser gave us
was a small basket of flour; though, on our finally leaving his dominion,
he ordered one of his “bread-eaters,” who accompanied us as guide to the
frontier, to levy a tribute of corn on his subjects for our behoof; but
this largess, at the expense of others, came too late, as we had already
laid in a sufficient stock of the staff of life, which we had obtained
from the natives by barter.

The 13th of June was fixed for our departure. We were not, however, able
to get away till two days later. On the 18th we were fairly out of sight
of the fertile plains of Ondonga. Nangoro had originally promised to send
our old friend Chikor’onkombè back with us; but the fellow abruptly and
treacherously deserted us. This proved of great inconvenience; and it
was only by exerting all our ingenuity that we ultimately succeeded in
finding our way home. As has been already said, there were no landmarks
by which we could steer.

The nights had now become bitterly cold. In crossing the
Otjihako-tja-Muteya we were obliged to bivouac on this bleak and exposed
plain without a particle of fuel. What with the piercing wind and low
temperature, it was one of the most trying nights I remember to have
spent in Africa. Indeed, I hardly ever felt the cold more during the
most severe Scandinavian winter. Even the cattle were so exceedingly
distressed that several of our best draft-oxen never thoroughly
recovered. Our poor Damaras suffered fearfully; and it was only by
huddling themselves together at the bottom of a dried-up well that they
were enabled to keep the least warmth in their bodies. Timbo, however,
appeared to be the greatest sufferer. One morning we were amazed at
finding his dark, shiny skin suddenly changed into a pale ashy gray.

Owing to the scarcity of water at this time of the year, game was rare.
Indeed, we only met with animals, such as the giraffe, the koodoo, the
gemsbok, the eland, &c., that either wholly or in great part can do
without water.

On the 1st of July, after about a fortnight’s steady travel, we reached
our encampment in safety. The two hundred miles of country we had crossed
presented, perhaps, as dreary and uninteresting a prospect as can well be
imagined.

In our absence, Tjopopa, with his people, left Okamabuti, and removed
a few miles farther to the westward. Our men followed his example.
On approaching the camp, we espied Hans perched in the top of a tree
anxiously looking out for our return. The whole party was almost wild
with delight at seeing us safe back, of which they began to despair. They
had passed a most dreary time. The natives, though friendly, teased and
annoyed them excessively with begging and even pilfering, the chief, as
not unfrequently happens, having been the most importunate of the whole
lot. Moreover, he had not paid his debt, nor would he sell Hans any more
cattle; and, as there was then very little game in the neighborhood,
they were so pressed for food that Hans was obliged to reduce the men’s
allowances very considerably. Our Damara servants lived for some time
solely on such birds and small animals as they could kill by means of the
dogs. Fortunately, Hans possessed some tobacco; and, while the natives
refused every thing else, he was able to obtain a few sheep for this
article, which proved a most opportune supply.

Not many days previous to our arrival eight Damara women had been
surprised by the Bushmen and unmercifully put to death. This, however,
was not to be wondered at, for the Damaras themselves are always waging
an exterminating war on the Bushmen. Indeed, they hunt them down,
wherever met with, like wild beasts.

Hans had succeeded in repairing the wagon most satisfactorily; and the
oxen, though rather lean, were in tolerably good working order. We now
determined to turn our faces homeward without a moment’s delay. A very
few days were sufficient to enable us to complete the final preparations.

By this time all the pools of rain-water which had befriended us on
our journey northward were dried up, and it would therefore have been
impossible to retrace our steps by the same route. The Damaras strongly
advised us to strike the Omuramba-k’Omatako at a certain point, and by
following its course they assured us we should find water and pasturage
in abundance. One man, in particular, who had always shown himself civil
and obliging, offered to act as guide the first part of the way; for
the remainder we secured the services of a lad professing to be well
acquainted with the country. Having on so many occasions been deceived by
the natives, we did not much relish the idea of again trusting ourselves
to their guidance. However, there was no alternative; and in this
instance, to do justice to the men, I must say they not only spoke the
truth, but performed their services most satisfactorily.

Without bidding farewell to Tjopopa, who throughout had treated us
inhospitably, we yoked our oxen on the 5th of July, and after about three
days’ travel arrived in the Omuramba. At this point the river (or rather
the river-bed) appeared to cease altogether; but the natives declared
that it continued to flow toward the Ovatjona or Matjo’na. I have since
ascertained that they alluded to the Bechuana country. Hence we traveled
steadily up toward its source. Its bed, which sometimes spread out into
a flat, and at others formed a narrow channel, afforded us always a good
and open road. The country on both sides was hemmed in by an apparently
endless thorn coppice. We usually found water daily, at first in pools,
but afterward exclusively in wells, varying in depth from a few feet to
as much as forty. These were generally choked up with sand, and it often
occupied us half a day to clean them out. I remember, on one occasion,
working hard, with a party consisting of about thirty men and women,
during upward of twenty hours, before we could obtain a sufficiency of
water. It was cold work; for about sunrise the ice was often half an inch
thick, and we had no waterproof boots to protect our feet.

Game now became abundant. We managed to kill sufficient for the table
without being obliged to have recourse to our few remaining live-stock. I
saw here for the first time that magnificent antelope, the eland.

Beasts of prey were likewise numerous. Indeed, they always follow the
larger game. During the nights we were constantly annoyed by the dismal
howlings of the hyænas; and we had some very exciting foot-chases after
these animals.

While out hunting early one morning I espied a small troop of gnoos
quietly grazing at a bend of the river. Cautiously approaching them under
shelter of the intervening ground, they suddenly tossed their heads,
switched their tails, scraped the earth impatiently with their hoofs, and
sniffed the air. I was puzzled how to account for this unusual agitation,
as, from my position, I was certain they could not have discovered me.
But I had not much time for conjecture, for the next instant I was
startled by the growl of some animal close to me. On looking in the
direction whence it proceeded, I discovered, to my utter astonishment,
two lions and a lioness on the rising ground just above me, and, as it
seemed, they also were on the look-out for the gnoos.[30] I instinctively
leveled my piece at the head of the nearest of the beasts; but a moment’s
reflection convinced me that the odds were too great, and I therefore
thought it best to reserve my fire, so as to be in readiness to receive
them should they charge. After having regarded me for a few seconds,
however, they growlingly disappeared behind a sand-hill.

By this time the gnoos had become aware of the lions, and were making
off at the top of their speed. Being anxious to obtain a shot at them,
I followed on their tracks, but soon found, to my dismay, that my three
royal friends, with jaws distended and uttering furious growls, were
following a course parallel to mine. Though I must confess I did not at
all like their looks, as only excessive hunger could have induced them,
in broad day, to seek for victims, I nevertheless continued to follow
the tracks of the antelopes until they led me into the bush, where I
presently lost them as well as myself.

[Illustration: UNWELCOME HUNTING COMPANIONS.]

On first seeing the gnoos, I left my henchman “Bill,” a Damara lad, who
carried my spare gun, at some distance behind, with directions to follow
on my track according to circumstances. Now that the gnoos were lost
to me, I shouted loudly to the youth, and also discharged my gun more
than once, but was unable to elicit a reply. Thinking, however, that he
might have returned to our encampment (which was at no great distance),
I also repaired there. But “Bill” had not been heard of. The harassing
suspicion at once crossed my mind that the lions had eaten him. Without
a moment’s delay, I hurried back to the spot where I had last seen the
beasts, but all my endeavors to find the poor fellow were unavailing.
What with anxiety on his account, and my exertions under a broiling sun
(for if the weather was frosty at night, it calcined one by day), I was
unable to proceed farther, and sat myself down on the ground to wait for
the arrival of the wagons, which were now moving forward. Just at this
moment, the Damara, to my inexpressible delight, emerged from the bush.
His story was soon told. He had, like myself, lost his way, and it was
long before he was able to recover the right track.

One morning, as we were about to yoke the oxen, we were amused to see
them suddenly start off in every direction in the wildest confusion, and
cutting the most ridiculous capers. The cause of this commotion was the
arrival of a large flock of the _buphaga Africana_, which alighted on the
backs of the cattle for the purpose of feeding on the ticks with which
their hides are covered. By means of their long claws and elastic tails,
these birds are enabled to cling to and search every part of the beast.
It was evident, however, that our oxen had never experienced a similar
visitation; no wonder, therefore, that they were taken somewhat aback at
being thus unceremoniously assailed.

The _buphaga Africana_ is also a frequent companion of the rhinoceros,
to which, besides being of service in ridding him of many of the insects
that infest his hide, it performs the important part of sentinel. On many
occasions has this watchful bird prevented me from getting a shot at that
beast. The moment it suspects danger, it flies almost perpendicularly up
into the air, uttering sharp, shrill notes, that never fail to attract
the attention of the rhinoceros, who, without waiting to ascertain the
cause, almost instantly seeks safety in a precipitate flight. According
to Mr. Cumming, these birds also attend upon the hippopotamus.

Another bird (_textor erythrorhynchus_) is also in the habit of feeding
upon parasitical insects, but is said to restrict its visits to the
buffalo. In the part of Damara-land of which I am now speaking, that
animal is unknown, yet the bird was in very great numbers. It appeared to
be very social in its habits, living in colonies, and building its nest,
which consists of dry sticks, on lofty trees.

We also made acquaintance with a small, sparrow-looking bird, the
_amadina squamifrons_, which deserves notice on account of its peculiar
and interesting nest. According to Dr. Andrew Smith, this is placed
on a small shrub, and is constructed of grass. But in Damara-land and
parts adjacent, the materials are of a beautifully soft texture, not
unlike sheep’s wool. I never could discover the plant from which it was
procured. The Hottentots use it as a substitute for gun-wadding, and it
is by no means a bad makeshift. The nest is so strongly put together that
one has difficulty in separating it. When the old bird absents itself, it
effectually conceals the opening of the nest from view. Even long after I
was acquainted with this peculiarity, I was puzzled to find it out. Just
above the entrance is a small hollow, which has no communication with the
interior of the nest, but which, by the uninitiated, is often mistaken
for it. In this tube the male bird sits at night.

We occasionally fell in with Damara villages. In our journey northward
the natives had shown themselves excessively timid and suspicious, but
now that they had so many evidences of our peaceful intentions, they
approached our camp without the least reserve or hesitation; but we could
not induce them to part with any cattle, of which we stood much in need.

On the 26th of July we came in sight of Omatako, and many other well
known hills. On the 3d of August we found ourselves at Schmelen’s Hope;
but how different an aspect did it present to that which lived in our
memory! When we left it about three months previously, the country was
covered with the most luxuriant vegetation. Since then, the Damaras had
been encamping there with their cattle, and we were now unable to obtain
sufficient pasturage for our animals. The water, moreover, was all but
exhausted.

On the following day, the 4th of August, we continued our journey to
Barmen, where we arrived on the afternoon of the same day safe and well.

Thus ended an expedition which, although it might not have been so
successful as we had anticipated, was not without its fruits.




CHAPTER XVIII.

    The Damaras.—Whence they came.—Their Conquests.—The
    Tide turns.—Damara-land only partially inhabited.—Climate.—
    Seasons.—Mythology.—Religion.—Superstitions.—Marriage.—
    Polygamy.—Children.—Circumcision.—Bury their Dead.—Way they
    mourn.—Children interred alive.—Burial of the Chief, and
    Superstitions consequent thereon.—Maladies.—Damaras do not
    live long; the Cause thereof.—Food.—Music and Dancing.—How
    they swear.—Power of the Chieftain limited.—Slothful
    People.—Numerals.—Astronomy.—Domestic Animals; their Diseases.


Frequent opportunities had by this time been afforded me of observing
and studying the physical features of the country, the character of the
natives, and their religious rites and customs. Having previously said
but little on these subjects, I propose now to give some account of
them. Though, from the lying habits of the Damaras, great difficulty has
arisen in arriving at the truth, I believe that my statements will not be
very wide of the mark. Besides the concurrent testimony of many of the
natives, I have had the satisfaction, on comparing my notes with those
of the missionaries, to find them agree in the main; and as it has been
my fate to witness the complete ruin and downfall of the Damaras—who,
probably, before another century has passed away will be forgotten—I
think that a connected and somewhat detailed description of their history
may not be unacceptable to the general reader.

That the Damaras have not resided for any length of time in the country
which they now occupy is quite certain, though whence they came is
doubtful. Some of these people point to the north as their original home;
others conjecture that they migrated from the northeast.[31] Be this
as it may, it would appear quite certain that about seventy years ago
not a Damara was to be found south of the Kaoko, but that, at some time
within this period, they invaded the country, then inhabited by Bushmen
and Hill-Damaras, the last being in all probability the aborigines. Not
having a warlike disposition, the Hill-Damaras were easily subdued,
and those who were not killed were made captives. The few that escaped
took refuge among the mountains, or other inhospitable and inaccessible
regions, where they are still found dragging on a most miserable and
degraded existence.

The Damaras were once, undoubtedly, a great nation; but, unlike others
which gradually become powerful by the union of a number of smaller
tribes under the head of a single chief or king, they have dwindled into
an endless number of petty tribes, ruled by as many chiefs.

After their conquest of the country, the Damaras continued to extend
themselves, without much opposition, to the east nearly as far as Lake
Ngami, and to about the twenty-fourth degree of latitude on the south. At
both these points, however, they were checked in their onward career. At
first they were attacked by the Matjo’nas, with whom, from time to time,
they had several desperate conflicts; and though they appear to have
fought well, they were ultimately obliged to retreat with considerable
loss. But it was from the Namaqua-Hottentots that they were destined to
experience the greatest reverse, by whom, as will by-and-by be shown,
they were finally destroyed or broken up.

About the period of the conquest alluded to a small tribe of
Namaqua-Hottentots had pitched their tents on the banks of the Orange
River, under the rule of Jonker Afrikaner,[32] who was then a chief of
only secondary importance; yet, as his people were possessed of horses
and fire-arms, he soon became formidable to his enemies. The territory
lying between him and the Damaras was occupied by various tribes of
Namaquas, who, on finding themselves hard pressed by the Damaras sent
to Jonker to demand his assistance. This he granted; and, like another
Cæsar, “came, saw, and conquered.” Indeed, that day sealed the fate of
Damara-land. The Namaquas, at first the oppressed, became in their turn
the oppressors. In proportion as they grew powerful and successful, the
prospect of booty, which the vast herds of sleek cattle so amply afforded
them, was the sole object of their inroads upon the Damaras. They
appeared to have adopted the motto of the old sea-kings,

    “That they should take who have the power,
    And they should keep who can.”

From my first arrival in the country to the time I left it—a period of
less than four years—the Namaquas had deprived the Damaras of fully one
half of their cattle, the other portion having already been taken from
them previously to my visit. With the loss of their property followed
that of their independence.

Although a large tract of country is marked on the maps as Damara-land,
a small portion only is inhabitable. This may also be affirmed of
Namaqua-land; and in both cases the disparity arises either from scarcity
of water or the frequency of inextricable jungles of thorn-wood.

Damara-land being situated in the tropic of Capricorn, the seasons are
naturally the reverse of those in Europe. In the month of August, when
our summer may be said to be at an end, hot westerly winds begin to blow,
which quickly parch up and destroy the vegetation. At the same time,
whirlwinds sweep over the country with tremendous velocity, driving
along vast columns of sand many feet in diameter and several hundred in
height. At times ten or fifteen of these columns may be seen chasing each
other. The Damaras designate them Orukumb’ombura, or rain-beggars, a most
appropriate name, as they usually occur just before the first rains fall.

Showers, accompanied by thunder and vivid lightning, are not unusual
in the months of September and October, but the regular rains do not
set in till December and January, when they continue with but slight
intermission till May. In this month and June strong easterly winds
prevail, which are not only disagreeable, but injurious to health. The
lips crack, and the skin feels dry and harsh. Occasionally, at this time,
tropical rains fall, but they do more harm than good, as a sudden cold
which annihilates vegetation is invariably the result. In July and August
the nights are the coldest, and it is then no unusual thing to find ice
half an inch thick. Snow is of rare occurrence.

The Damaras and the Bechuanas have nearly the same notion as to their
origin. Thus the latter believe that the founders of their nation and
the animals of the country emerged from a cave, while the former declare
that they sprung from a tree. When men and beasts first burst from the
parent tree—so runs the tradition—all was enveloped in profound darkness.
A Damara then lit a fire, which so frightened the zebra, the giraffe, the
gnoo, and every other beast now found wild in the country, that they all
fled from the presence of man, while the domestic animals, such as the
ox, the sheep,[33] and the dog, collected fearlessly round the blazing
brands.

The tree from which the Damaras are descended is to be seen, they say, at
a place called Omaruru. But somehow there must be more than one parent
tree, for both in going and coming we met with several Omumborombongas,
all of which the natives treated with filial affection. [34]

The chief deity of the Damaras is called Omukuru. His abode is said to
be in the far north; but it would be somewhat difficult to specify his
attributes. Each tribe is supposed to have its own Omukuru, to whom
it ascribes all its superstitious habits and customs, peculiarities,
&c. The tribe is divided into castes or “eandas.” Thus there are
Ovakueyuba, those of the sun, or related to the sun, and Ovakuenombura,
those related to the rain, &c., each of which has its peculiar rites
and superstitions. These, moreover, are derived from the mother, and
not from the father. If a man of the Ovakueyuba marries a woman of the
Ovakuenombura, their offspring adopt the notions, &c., peculiar to the
latter, and _vice-versâ_. They can not account for this division of
castes; they merely say it is derived from the “wind.” Some religious
notions, no doubt, lie at the bottom of this.

Though the Damaras do not profess absolutely to believe in a life
hereafter, they have a confused notion of a future state. Thus they
not unfrequently bring provisions to the grave of a deceased friend or
relation, requesting him to eat and make merry. In return, they invoke
his blessing, and pray for success against their enemies, an abundance of
cattle, numerous wives, and prosperity in their undertakings.

The spirits of deceased persons are believed to appear after death, but
are then seldom seen in their natural form. They usually assume on such
occasions the shape of a dog, having, not unfrequently, the foot of
an ostrich. Any individual to whom such an apparition (Otjruru) might
appear, especially if it should follow and accost him, is supposed to die
soon after.

The Damaras have great faith in witchcraft. Individuals versed in the
black art are called Omundu-Onganga, or Omundu-Ondyai, and are much
sought after. Any person falling sick is immediately attended by one of
these impostors, whose panacea is to besmear the mouth and the forehead
of the patient with the ordure of the hyæna, which is supposed to possess
particularly healing virtues. The sorcerer, moreover, makes signs and
conjurations.

Some very singular superstitions about meat exist among the Damaras.
Thus a man will perhaps not eat the flesh of an ox which may happen to
be marked with black, white, or red spots. Others refuse to partake of
a sheep should it have no horns; while some would not touch the meat of
draft-oxen, according to the rule of the “canda” to which he belongs.
If meat is offered a Damara, he will accept it; but, before he ventures
to eat it, he carefully inquires about the color of the animal, whether
it had horns, &c.; and should it prove forbidden food, he will in all
probability leave it untouched, even though he might be dying of hunger.
Some even carry their scruples so far as to avoid coming in contact with
vessels in which such food has been cooked; nay, even the smoke of the
fire by which it is prepared is considered injurious. Hence the religious
superstitions of these people often expose them to no small amount of
inconvenience and suffering.

The fat of particular animals is supposed to possess certain virtues, and
is carefully collected and kept in vessels of a peculiar kind. A small
portion of this is given in solution, with water, to persons who return
safely to their homes after a lengthened absence at the cattle-posts. The
chief also makes use of it as an unguent for his body.

When an ox accidentally dies at a chief’s werft, his daughter (the
offspring, probably, of his favorite or chief wife) ties a double knot on
her leather apron. Should this be neglected, a “curse” is believed to be
the consequence. She also places a piece of wood on the back of the dead
animal, praying at the same time for long life, plenty of cattle, &c.
This woman is called Ondangere, and is to the Damaras what the vestal was
among the ancient Romans; for, besides attending to the sacrifices, it is
her duty to keep up the “holy fire” (Omurangere).

Outside the chief’s hut, where he is accustomed to sit in the daytime,
a fire is always kept burning; but, in case of rain or bad weather, it
is transferred to the hut of the priestess, who, should it be deemed
advisable to change the site of the village, precedes the oxen with
a portion of this consecrated fire, every possible care being taken
to prevent it from being extinguished. Should, however, this calamity
happen, the whole tribe is immediately assembled, and large expiatory
offerings of cattle are made, after which the fire is relit in the
primitive way, namely, by friction. This again reminds us of the “holy
fire” of the Romans, which, under similar circumstances, could only be
relit by fire from heaven.

A portion of such fire is also given to the head man of a kraal when
about to remove from that of the chief. The duties of a vestal then
devolve on the daughter of the emigrant.

For every wild animal that a young man destroys, his father makes four
small oblong incisions on the front of the son’s body as marks of honor
and distinction. He is, moreover, presented with a sheep or cow. If
either of these should produce young ones, they are slaughtered and
eaten, but only males are allowed to partake of such food.

The chief of a kraal must always taste the provisions before they can be
eaten by the rest of the tribe. Though sweet milk, when boiled, may be
freely drunk by the women and children, it is more commonly swallowed in
an acid state.

Should a sportsman return from a successful hunt, he takes water in his
mouth, and ejects it three times over his feet, as also in the fire of
his own hearth.

When cattle are required merely for food, they are suffocated; but if
for sacrifices, they are speared to death. On the decease of one of the
tribe, they have also the cruel practice of destroying the poor beasts
with clubs, which I believe to be a kind of expiatory offering. The flesh
of such cattle as are killed on the death of a chief is principally
consumed by his servants.

The women marry at very much the same age as those in Europe, but few
ceremonies are connected with this important affair. A girl is sometimes
betrothed to a man when yet a child, though, under such circumstances,
she remains with her parents till of proper age. The woman, upon being
asked in marriage, puts on a helmet-shaped head-dress, kept in readiness
for such occasions, and for a certain time hides her face by means of a
piece of thin, soft skin attached to the front of the “casque,” which she
can raise or let fall in much the same manner as a curtain.

Polygamy is practiced to a great extent, and, as has been said elsewhere,
women are bargained for like merchandise, the price varying according
to the circumstances of the husband. Yet, though a man may have as many
wives as he likes, I never knew one to have more than twenty!—a pretty
good supply, however, it must be admitted.

The favorite wife always takes precedence of the rest, and, if she should
have a son, he succeeds to his father’s possessions and authority.

Each wife builds for herself a hut of a semicircular form, the walls of
which consist of boughs, sticks, &c., the whole being plastered over.

Twins are not uncommon with the Damaras. Children are, generally
speaking, easily reared. During infancy, sheep’s milk constitutes their
chief diet. Their heads are more or less deprived of hair; the boys
are shaved, but the crown of the head of the girls is left untouched.
Even grown-up females follow this custom. To the hair thus left they
attach—not very unlike the Ovambo—thin strings, made from some fibrous
substance.

All males are circumcised, but no particular period of life is prescribed
for this operation, which usually takes place when any event of national
interest occurs.

Children are named after great public incidents; but, as they grow
up, should any circumstance arise of still greater importance to
the community, they are renamed, retaining, however, the original
appellation; and, since there may be no limit to remarkable transactions,
it follows that an individual may have more names than any Spanish
hidalgo can boast.

Between the age of fifteen and twenty, both sexes chip a wedge-shaped
piece of the two centre teeth in the upper jaw, and at a later period
they extract entirely from the lower two or three teeth. The first
operation is usually performed by means of a piece of iron, a flint, or
simply a stone.

The Damaras bury their dead. Immediately after dissolution, the back bone
of the corpse is broken with a stone,[35] and it is then bent together
with the chin resting on the knees. Afterward it is wrapped in ox-hides,
and deposited in a hole in the ground dug for the purpose, care being
taken to place the face toward the north. This is done, they say, to
remind them (the natives) whence they originally came. The Bechuana mode
of disposing of the dead is very similar.

Upon the death of one of the tribe, the whole population of the place
assemble to deplore the event. The howlings and lamentations on such
occasions are most discordant and dreadful. Tears are considered
favorable signs, and the more plentifully they fall on the corpse the
better. Two months is the usual period for a son to mourn his father,
but the time is modified according to circumstances. The wealthier the
deceased, the greater the outward signs of sorrow—a kind of feeling
which, at any rate, bears some approximation to that of civilized life.
During the season of mourning, the mourner wears a dark-colored skin
cap, conically shaped on the top, with certain ornaments affixed to it.
Round the neck is suspended a “riem,” to the two extremities of which is
attached a small piece of ostrich egg-shell. In case of the death of a
valued friend, the adults will occasionally shave the head completely,
and keep it in that state for years.

When a woman in reduced circumstances dies and leaves a child, it is not
unfrequently buried alive with its mother. Mr. Rath was once fortunate
enough to be the means of saving a child that was about to be destroyed
in this barbarous manner.

[Illustration: DAMARA GRAVE.]

After having consigned the remains of a chief to his last resting-place,
they collect his arms, war-dress, &c., and suspend them to a pole or to a
tree at the head of the grave. The horns of such oxen as have been killed
in commemoration of the occasion are hung up in like manner—a custom
also found among the natives of Madagascar. The tomb consists of a large
heap of stones, surrounded by an inclosure of thorn bushes, no doubt to
prevent hyænas and other carnivorous animals from extracting the corpse.
Sometimes, however, the chief, should he have expressed a wish to that
effect, instead of being buried, is placed in a reclining position on a
slightly raised platform in the centre of his own hut, which, in such a
case, is surrounded by stout and strong palisadings.

When a chief feels his dissolution approaching, he calls his sons to the
bedside, and gives them his benediction, which consists solely in wishing
them an abundance of the good things of this world.

The eldest son of the chief’s favorite wife succeeds his father; and as
soon as the obsequies are over, he quits the desolate spot, remaining
absent for years. At last, however, he returns, and immediately proceeds
to his parent’s grave, where he kneels down, and, in a whispering voice,
tells the deceased that he is there with his family, and the cattle that
he gave him. He then prays for long life, also that his herds may thrive
and multiply; and, in short, that he may obtain all those things that are
dear to a savage. This duty being performed, he constructs a kraal on the
identical spot where once the ancestral camp stood; even the huts and the
fireplaces are placed as much as possible in their former position. The
chief’s own hut is always upon the east side of the inclosure.

The flesh of the first animal slaughtered here is cooked in a particular
vessel, and, when ready, the chief hands a portion of it to every one
present. An image, consisting of two pieces of wood,[36] supposed to
represent the household deity, or rather the deified parent, is then
produced, and moistened in the platter of each individual. The chief then
takes the image, and after affixing a piece of meat to the upper end of
it, he plants it in the ground on the identical spot where his parent was
accustomed to sacrifice. The first pail of milk produced from the cattle
is also taken to the grave, a small quantity is poured on the ground,
and a blessing asked on the remainder.

Fever and ophthalmia (eye-sickness) are the prevailing maladies. The
symptoms in fever are headache, pains in the neck and bowels, general
weakness, and ague. It makes its appearance about April and May, or when
the periodical rains have ceased. Ophthalmia, on the other hand, begins
to show itself in September and October, but reaches its maximum when the
cold season sets in. The first sensation experienced is as if the pupil
of the eye was too large. A gathering of water in the sides and under the
eyelids then ensues. In a short time this fluid becomes scaldingly hot,
and, if not quickly and carefully removed, the pain will be intense. The
sight is sometimes completely destroyed by this malady. Indeed, one not
unfrequently meets with people either totally blind or minus one eye.
Europeans are as liable to these inflictions as the natives. I speak
from experience, having myself been a severe sufferer from fever and
ophthalmia.

Comparatively few old people are to be met with in Damara-land, for which
several reasons may be assigned, such as their cruel civil broils, and
their want of compassion for aged and disabled individuals. At times,
indeed, they would seem to do all they can to hasten the death of such
sufferers. Some instances of this atrocity have come to my knowledge: one
of the most shocking occurred at Barmen.

Finding that a certain poor woman, being nearly blind, was unable to
provide for herself, Mr. Hahn took compassion on the helpless creature,
and gave her a small quantity of provision almost daily. The brother,
finding he could not obtain the same boon, grew jealous of the preference
shown to his sister, and secretly resolved to kill her. This he effected
by taking her to a spot destitute of water, under the pretext that they
were to dig roots, where she was left to her fate. A boy who accompanied
them asserted that, on the unnatural brother returning to the place some
days afterward, and finding his sister still lingering, he beat her
about the head with his knob-stick until life was extinct.

Milk is the staple food of the Damaras. They eat or drink it out of one
and the same dish without its being cleaned otherwise than occasionally
by the tongues of dogs. The people have a notion that if they wash their
“bamboos” (pails) the cows would cease to give milk.

With the exception of the spoils of the chase, they destroy but few
animals for food. Indeed, unless it be on the occasion of a marriage, a
birth, a death, or a circumcision, cattle are rarely killed.

The Damaras are very fond of music and dancing. The only musical
instrument known among them is the bow (a kind of temporary rude
Jews’-harp), from which they contrive to extract a sort of wild melody.
By this instrument the performer endeavors (and frequently with much
success) to imitate, musically, the motion peculiar to different animals;
for example, the awkward gallop of the giraffe, the quick trot of the
zebra, and the lively caperings of the beautiful springbok.

The dance consists mostly of mimic representations of the actions of
oxen and sheep. The dancers accompany their gesticulations by monotonous
tunes, and keep time by clapping their hands and striking the ground with
their feet.

As with the Ovambo, the Eastern custom of taking off the sandals before
entering a stranger’s house is observed.

The Damaras swear “by the tears of their mothers.” This is most touching
and beautiful: it elevates the oath to heaven.

Generally speaking, a chief has but nominal power over his subjects. On
an attempt to punish heavy offenses, the guilty individual often coolly
decamps with his cattle, and takes refuge with another tribe. In minor
matters, however, from superstitious customs and old habits, the chief is
more or less obeyed.

The Damaras are idle creatures. What is not done by the women is left to
the slaves, who are either descendants of impoverished members of their
own tribe (is not this another approach to _civilization_?) or captured
Bushmen. The former are seized upon when children, and mostly employed as
herdsmen.

The Damaras have numerals up to a hundred; notwithstanding which, they
are sorely puzzled should the sum exceed the number of fingers. They
count like bad poets, who settle their metre by their digits. It is a
most amusing sight to witness a group trying to reckon a dozen head of
cattle.

Though they give names to many of the heavenly bodies, they have a very
absurd conception of their character, rotatory motion, and so forth.
Thus many imagine that the sun which sets at night is different from
that which rises in the morning. Like the children who wondered what was
done with the old moons, perhaps these savages are equally perplexed to
ascertain what becomes of the _old suns_.

The domestic animals indigenous to the country are oxen, sheep, and
dogs. The latter greatly resemble those mentioned as existing among the
Namaquas, but, be it said to the honor of the Damaras, they take much
more care of these associates and companions of man than their southern
neighbors. Indeed, I have known them to pay as much as two fine oxen for
a dog.

Of the Damara cattle I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. The sheep
are (or rather were) plentiful, and the mutton is by no means bad. Though
somewhat spare-looking, they furnish good joints when cut up. Skin and
offal included, they not unfrequently weigh 100 pounds, and sometimes as
much as 110 to 120 pounds. They have large tails, like those of the Cape
Colony, but they do not arrive at such a formidable size. They have no
wool, but a kind of short, glossy hair, lying close to the skin, covers
the body. The greatest peculiarity of these animals is their color,
which is of every hue and tint.

Cattle are subject to several diseases. The most common and dangerous
is that which affects the throat, and which invariably proves fatal.
Cataracts on the eye, frequently followed by blindness and swelling of
the feet, are also very common ailments.

Sheep often die from the blood conglomerating in divers places under the
skin, which is called the “blood-sickness.” It is even asserted that
man is affected by this disease (sometimes from partaking of the flesh
of the infected animal), and that the only thing to save him under such
circumstances is instantly to cut away the parts affected.




CHAPTER XIX.

    Dispatch a Messenger to Cape-Town.—Depart from
    Barmen.—Eikhams.—Eyebrecht.—Depart from Eikhams.—Elephant
    Fountain.—Tunobis.—Enormous quantities of Game.—Shooting
    by Night at the “Skarm.”—The Author has several narrow
    Escapes.—Checked in attempt to reach the Ngami.—The Party
    set out on their Return.—Reach Elephant Fountain.—How to
    make Soap.—Pitfalls.—A night Adventure.—Game scarce.—Join
    Hans.—The Party nearly poisoned.—Arrival at Walfisch
    Bay.—A tub Adventure.—Extraordinary Mortality among the
    Fish.—Author narrowly escapes Drowning.—Arrival of the
    Missionary Vessel.—Letters from Home.—Mr. Galton returns to
    Europe.—Reflections.


The vessel which brought the missionary stores to Walfisch Bay every
second year was expected in December, and by this opportunity we hoped to
be able to return to Europe, or at least to the Cape. In order, however,
to insure a passage, Mr. Galton dispatched a messenger to his banker
in Cape-Town to make the needful arrangements. In the mean time, as we
had still several months on our hands, Galton resolved to employ the
interval in making an excursion to the eastward, partly with the view
of penetrating to the Lake Ngami, our original object, and partly to
become better acquainted with Great Namaqua-land and its semi-civilized
inhabitants. Moreover, the prospect of good sport with the larger game,
which every one said we were sure to meet with in abundance, was a
further inducement to undertake the journey.

It was arranged that Hans should proceed to Walfisch Bay with one of the
vehicles to fetch the remainder of the stores, &c., while Galton and
myself, with the other wagon, prosecuted our journey to the eastward.
A rendezvous having been appointed where Hans was to meet us, we left
Barmen in the afternoon of the 12th of August. In about three days we
reached Eikhams, the residence, as already said, of Jonker Afrikaner;
where my friend, before finally leaving the country, was anxious to
settle certain disputes between the native tribes.

Eikhams is very prettily situated on the slope of a hill, bare at the
summit, but at its base adorned with very fine groups of mimosas, among
which a tributary to the Swakop winds its course. It was the only spot
in South Africa where I ever saw any thing resembling a twilight. This
was produced from the reflection of the setting sun on the peaks of the
picturesque mountain ranges by which it is almost entirely surrounded.

Eikhams is abundantly supplied with water from three or four copious
springs, and the site of these springs being elevated, the land in the
lower ground is easily irrigated. The natives construct gardens, wherein
they grow many sorts of vegetables, some of which arrive at perfection.
The soil is exceedingly fertile, and seems well suited to the cultivation
of tobacco. Taking it as a whole, Eikhams is the prettiest place I ever
saw either in Damara-land or Namaqua-land.

About twenty minutes’ walk from Eikhams is a bountiful hot spring.
The water, just where it gushes out from the limestone rock, has a
temperature of 194 degrees of Fahrenheit. Mr. Hahn informed me that here,
on one occasion, he boiled a piece of meat, and that, though not quite so
good as when dressed in the ordinary manner, it was not unpalatable.

Eikhams, as already said, was formerly a Rhenish missionary station. It
was founded so far back as 1843 by the Rev. C. H. Hahn, resident at New
Barmen in Damara-land. After a time, however, it was given up to the
Wesleyan Society, which sent Mr. Haddy to reside there. This gentleman
erected an excellent dwelling-house and a most substantial church. For a
while the mission flourished, but was latterly abandoned, and the station
is now rapidly falling into decay. This, I am sorry to say, has been the
fate of many other institutions of a similar nature in Southern Africa.

Among other gifts, Mr. Galton presented Jonker with a splendid cocked hat
and richly-gilt uniform: a court dress, in fact, that had once probably
adorned the person of some great man when paying his respects to majesty,
and with which the African chief expressed himself highly gratified.

Being desirous of obtaining a likeness of so famous a personage as
Afrikaner, I requested him one day to put on this costume and allow me to
take his portrait. He good-naturedly consented to my solicitation, and on
the following morning appeared duly appareled. We rather expected to have
a laugh at him, since his gait and figure were somewhat unprepossessing;
but we were disappointed. He marched up to his seat with as much ease and
dignity as if he were familiar with the usage of courts.

During our stay at Eikhams we became acquainted with a Mr. Eyebrecht,
formerly in the missionary employ, but now Jonker’s right-hand man.
In addition to excellent English and Dutch, he spoke the Namaqua and
the Damara tongues rather fluently. As he was well acquainted with the
country, Mr. Galton secured his services for our tour to the eastward,
and he proved of the greatest assistance.

[Illustration: JONKER AFRIKANER.]

On arriving at Eikhams Mr. Galton imagined that his business with Jonker
would soon be arranged; but in this part of the world expedition is not
the order of the day, and we were therefore so long delayed as to prevent
our departure until the 30th of August.

In the course of our journey we encountered a great number and variety of
wild animals, and consequently our larder was well supplied. Indeed, in a
few hours, on a certain night, I bagged no less than three hartebeests,
two pallahs, and five zebras, and, had I felt inclined, might have shot
double this number. We also observed a few wild boars.

After a fortnight’s harassing travel we arrived at Elephant Fountain,
formerly a Wesleyan missionary station. It was founded in 1847 by the
Rev. Mr. Tindal, but had of late years been abandoned in consequence of
a destructive fever, which carried off many of the natives. Even the few
Europeans settled there suffered severely. It was situated within the
territory of the chief Amral, who was born and bred in the Cape Colony,
and, if I am not misinformed, was raised to his present dignity partly
through missionary influence.

[Illustration: WILD BOAR’S HEAD.]

Elephant Fountain is chiefly inhabited by Hill-Damaras, who cultivate
extensive gardens of tobacco, &c. Game was abundant thereabout, but we
had not then time to look after it.

From Elephant Fountain eastward the country was represented as very
sandy and bushy, and, as our oxen were in a very indifferent condition,
we determined to leave the wagon behind in charge of John Mortar, the
cook, and to prosecute our journey with pack-and-ride oxen. Amral, with a
great number of the tribe, expressed a wish to accompany us, chiefly for
the sake of the anticipated sport. As we traveled on we were joined by
Lambert, his son, and other Namaquas, with their attendants, till at last
our party amounted to several hundred individuals.

After no little inconvenience and misery, on account of the great heat,
the terrible drought, and scarcity of pasturage about the few and
widely-separated watering-places, we reached Tunobis, or Otjombindè, on
the 3d of October. According to Mr. Galton’s observations, this place is
situated in latitude 21° 55´ and 21° 55´ east longitude.

The Bushmen who inhabited these parts declared that the country between
here and the Ngami was then impassable, and that any attempt on our
part to reach it would be certain destruction to ourselves and cattle.
Though we did not altogether credit their story, we felt that, under the
circumstances, it would have been highly imprudent to proceed farther.

From a rough calculation, we concluded that we could not be above nine or
ten days’ journey from the lake, and it was, therefore, with no little
reluctance that we gave up the attempt. However, it was all for the best,
and we ought, indeed, to be grateful to the natives for their truthful
information. From after experience, I am quite confident that, had we
tried to push on that year, nothing could have saved us and our beasts
of burden from perishing from thirst. After leaving Tunobis, we should
not have met with water for at least three days and a half of actual
travel, besides the necessary delays. To perform this, even with fresh
animals, would perhaps have been a thing unheard-of in these regions, but
the difficulty was magnified by the state of our cattle, which were now
reduced to skeletons. Indeed, even before reaching Tunobis, some of them
had been left behind from sheer exhaustion.

I must confess that, on first reading my friend’s narrative, I was
somewhat startled on coming upon his pleasant assertion that he did not
much care about reaching Lake Ngami. It is true that, when landing at
Walfisch Bay, we had but little hope of arriving there; but, at least
for my own part, I had always conceived the great goal of our journey to
be precisely the Ngami. Moreover, with regard to his supposition that
the country hence toward the lake was comparatively open and free from
bushes, and that, consequently, a road to it could be traced without
the slightest difficulty, I can only say that shortly after leaving
Tunobis—not to mention the scarcity of water—the bush becomes so dense,
and the thorns so tormenting, that I found it necessary to make immense
_détours_, and even then all our clothes, pack-saddles, &c., were
literally torn to ribbons.

The few days that we remained at Tunobis were spent profitably and
pleasantly. Besides much interesting information of the country, derived
from the Bushmen, part of which has since been substantiated, we had
abundant shooting. From the absence of water within a distance of two
or three days’ journey of the place, the number of animals that nightly
congregated here to quench their thirst was truly astonishing.

To give the reader an idea of the immense quantity of game hereabouts, I
may mention that, in the course of the few days we remained at Tunobis,
our party shot, among other animals, upward of thirty rhinoceroses. One
night, indeed, when quite alone, I killed, in the space of five hours
(independently of other game), no less than eight of those beasts, among
which were three distinct species; and it is my belief that if I had
persevered I might have destroyed double the number.[37] But I never
took delight in useless slaughter. In our case, and I think I may say in
all cases where I have been concerned in killing a great number of wild
beasts, not a pound of flesh was ever wasted, for what we did not require
for our own use was devoured by the natives.

As another evidence of the enormous quantity of game in this region, I
may state that the fountain in question, which was a copious one—nay,
apparently inexhaustible—was almost nightly drunk dry.

On several occasions I had narrow escapes from being gored by the horns
of these ugly monsters. Thus one animal, on receiving a mortal wound,
charged me with such fury as to carry completely away the fore part of
my “skärm,” and I only saved my life by throwing myself with great force
against the opposite wall, which fortunately gave way.

At another time I was walking leisurely up to a huge female white
rhinoceros, that Mr. Galton had killed during the preceding night, when
all at once its calf, about the size of an ox, rushed upon me from behind
the carcass. Its movements were so rapid that I had neither time to
get out of its way nor to level my gun; but passing the barrel, like a
stick, against its chest, I fired, and, as luck would have it, the ball
caused the calf to swerve on one side and take itself off. A short time
afterward, and at no great distance from our encampment, it was found
dead.

Being tired of shooting, and having got all the information we could from
the Bushmen, we bent our steps homeward. Our failure in not reaching
the Lake Ngami deeply mortified me. Night and day I was haunted by
the thought. Taking every thing into consideration, I could not help
thinking that, under more favorable circumstances, success would crown my
endeavors, were I determined to renew the attempt. Accordingly, I made up
my mind first to see my friend safe from the African shore, and then to
return as soon as the rains had fallen.

I communicated my resolve to Mr. Galton, who at once fully entered into
my views; and as I had neither oxen nor wagons, he kindly promised to
supply me with both, as also with such articles of barter as his own
reduced stores afforded.

After nearly a month’s absence, we found ourselves safe at Elephant
Fountain. Notwithstanding we had been almost solely living on fresh meat
during this time, we had only used the one half of a small copper-cap
box[38] of salt! I mention the circumstance to show that salt is not
strictly necessary to man’s existence. Moreover, excepting once or twice
at the missionary table, we had not tasted bread for months. I had so
totally forgotten the use of it, that, after our return to Barmen,
on being entertained at Mr. Hahn’s house, I finished my meal without
noticing the piece of bread which was conspicuous enough alongside my
plate. Our men grumbled a little at first at being deprived of bread,
but they also soon got accustomed to do without it, nor did the least
inconvenience arise from its absence. I have always heard that the want
of bread and vegetables is the greatest hardship a man can experience.
Be that as it may, the human system—as the above facts demonstrate—is
capable of reconciling itself to nearly all conditions and circumstances.

The men left in charge of the wagon were well, but poor John Mortar,
the cook, looked pale and thin. On asking him the cause, he pointed
to the fire where our food was cooked, and, with something like an
oath, exclaimed, “Sir, look at that pot! I have been watching it these
seven-and-twenty days and nights, and, after all, I find that my labor is
thrown away!”

Shortly after leaving Elephant Fountain, John, it seems, had set about
making soap, of which our supply was exhausted. Through some mistake,
however, he used unslaked lime instead of the alkali obtained in the
country from the ash of the native soap-bush. This at once accounted
for his failure in regard to the article itself, and his own emaciated
appearance.

Game, as has been said, was very abundant near to Elephant Fountain, and,
by means of spacious pitfalls, great numbers of wild animals were almost
nightly captured. The whole ground in the neighborhood of Zwart Nosop,
which flowed past the place, was literally a succession of pitfalls, and
they were so cleverly arranged and well concealed that it required the
utmost caution in walking about. Even people thoroughly acquainted with
the locality ran great risk of being precipitated into these dangerous
traps.

Lions were numerous and very daring. From time to time, several of
Amral’s people, while lying in ambush for game at night, had been either
carried off or fearfully mangled by these beasts. Finding that I was
somewhat incautious, the chief expressed the greatest apprehensions for
my safety, more especially as I was usually quite alone.

On one of these occasions I must confess to having felt rather
uncomfortable. I had posted myself in a dense mimosa brake, commanding
the approach to the Zwart Nosop River at a point much frequented by wild
animals, and flanked by an immense pitfall. The darkness was deepened
by surrounding thick foliage and high river banks. Indeed, so black
was the night that I could not discern even the muzzle of my gun. The
gloominess of my solitude was increased by the occasional “Qua-qua!”
of the night-heron, which made the succeeding hush more dreary, during
which even the falling of leaves and rustling of insects among dry grass
was hailed as a relief to the oppressive dumbness. To a man in a savage
wilderness, and without a companion, silence, especially when combined
with utter privation of light, is inexpressibly solemn. It strikes the
mind not merely as a negation, but as a threatening presence. It seems
ominous. I shall never forget the loneliness and sense of desolation I
felt on this occasion. It was past midnight, and still no game appeared.

Suddenly I fancied I heard the purr and breathing of an animal close
behind me; but as no other indications of any living thing ensued, I
attributed the sounds to a heated imagination. All at once, however, the
dismal stillness was disturbed by the quick steps of a troop of pallahs
descending the stony slope leading direct to my ambush. Stooping as low
as possible, in order to catch their outline, I waited their arrival with
my gun on full cock. Nearer and nearer they came, till at last I fancied
the leader was on the verge of the pitfall; but just at that moment
there was a low, stifled growl, a rush, and then a faint cry, as of some
dying animal. All was again silent. Though the impenetrable darkness
prevented me from seeing any thing, I could no longer doubt that I was
in the immediate vicinity of a lion. I freely acknowledge that I felt
awed, well knowing that, were he to attack me, I should be completely
at his mercy. My situation was critical in the extreme. Straining eyes
and ears to discover the beast’s whereabout, I held my breath in fearful
suspense, while every nerve was strung to the highest pitch. Presently I
heard, to my astonishment, the report of a gun within fifty paces of my
hiding-place; then a second and a third shot. This made matters worse;
for I now became apprehensive that the men, not aware of my presence,
might direct their fire toward me. I therefore sprang to my feet, and
vociferated, “Who’s there?” “Sir! the lion—the lion!” replied Eyebrecht,
for it was no other. The next instant he stood trembling before me. He
had, it appeared, been sent by Amral to call me back, but had encountered
the beast in his path, and fired, in order to frighten him away.

Though I did not exactly comply with the wishes of the chief, I deemed it
advisable, after what had passed, to remove to a more open place, where I
was less likely to be taken by surprise. Early next morning a number of
Hottentots came to examine the ground, when, as I had expected, we found
the footprints of a lion at the very back of my “skärm,” and scarcely
distant the length of the gun-barrel from my own person, where he had
evidently been crouching previously to leaping on the pallah (whose cry
I had heard in the night), but which, though wounded, had effected its
escape. How far the beast intended me mischief is hard to say, but, in
any case, my position had not been an enviable one.

On our return journey to Barmen it rained heavily, and in some places
the landscape looked quite revived. Many migratory birds, such as the
swallow, the cuckoo, and others, had again made their appearance.

The animals, which during the dry season are compelled to gather round
the springs and other permanent waters, were enabled, by the late
rains, to scatter themselves over a large extent of country, and were
now difficult to find. There can be little doubt that the instinctive
power of animals—domesticated as well as wild—is capable of catching the
scent of humid winds and green herbage at a very great distance. Thus I
have often seen oxen turn their heads toward the quarter where distant
lightning indicated that rain had fallen, and sniff with evident pleasure
the breeze produced by colder air. Mr. Moffat, the missionary, mentions
an instance where a great number of cattle were entirely lost, solely, as
he supposes, from this cause.

“Many years previous to my sojourn in Namaqua-land,” says the reverend
gentleman, “Afrikaner thus lost the greater part of his cattle. One
evening a strong wind commenced blowing from the north; it smelt of
green grass, as the natives expressed it. The cattle, not being in
folds, started off after dark. The circumstance being unprecedented,
it was supposed they had merely wandered out to the common, where they
were accustomed to graze; but it was found, after much search, that some
thousands of cattle had directed their course to the north. A few were
recovered, but the majority escaped to the Damara country, after having
been pursued hundreds of miles.”

For my own part, I have frequently passed through localities abounding
with game, and, repassing them in a short time, I have found them
deserted without any apparent cause; as I proceeded, however, I have
discovered them in quite different quarters, and ascertained that the
attraction has been the young grass, which was either produced by the
moisture of the atmosphere, or from the natives having fired the old
grass. The rapidity with which parched and sunburnt pasturages in
tropical climes are converted by any of these causes into luxuriant
savannas is incredible, and can only be duly estimated by those who have
themselves witnessed such changes.

A stage on this side of Eikhams we encountered Hans, who had met with
a little adventure in the neighborhood of Scheppman’s Mountain, where
he had one day unyoked. He had been out in search of game, when on his
return he was astonished to observe a number of natives rushing toward
the wagon, no doubt with the intention of plundering it, and probably of
spearing the men who had it in charge. On seeing Hans approach with a
gun, however, they all took to their heels; but some were captured, and,
after they had undergone a sound drubbing, and been threatened with death
should they ever attempt a similar outrage, they were allowed to depart.
Not many hours elapsed before these very savages returned to beg for
tobacco!

We were sorry to find that our cattle looked thin and miserable. Indeed,
Hans had experienced the greatest difficulty in bringing on the wagon.
Restored tranquillity had given confidence to the Damaras, who were now
flocking in great numbers with their cattle to the banks of the Swakop,
the result of which was that every blade of grass was consumed for
miles around both sides of the river. This was indeed sad news, as our
route lay precisely through these parts, and our draft animals were by
this time in a distressingly exhausted and reduced state. It required
some efforts on our part to overcome these difficulties, and we lost no
time in retracing our steps. After Mr. Galton had disposed of some of
the superfluous goods to the natives, and exchanged the runaway mules
to Jonker for cattle, we bade farewell to the hospitable hearth of the
missionaries at Barmen and Richterfeldt, and proceeded quickly on our
road to Walfisch Bay.

On arriving at the confluence of the Swakop and the Tjobis Rivers, we had
a narrow escape from being poisoned, as the Hill-Damaras had mixed the
juice of the _euphorbia candelabrum_ with the stagnant pool-water for the
purpose of killing buffaloes, which were numerous hereabout. Fortunately,
by having gone in advance of our party, in the hope of obtaining a shot
at these animals, I discovered the poisoned water (easily detected by its
peculiar clay color) in time to prevent any serious mischief. Some of the
dogs partook of it, but, having previously taken their fill of clear,
pure water, they escaped with a heavy vomiting. At this identical place
Hans had a short time previously found several dead and dying buffaloes
that had been poisoned.

The symptoms with men, after imbibing the poison in question—not the
least of the many dangers to which the African traveler is almost
daily exposed—are generally a fullness of the system, quick pulsation,
giddiness, and a violent “flesh-quake.”

Though our cattle suffered dreadfully from want of pasturage, we reached
Walfisch Bay on the 5th of December without the loss of a single ox.

The missionary vessel had not yet arrived, but there were two others, a
brig and a bark. The master of the first was an Englishman, in search of
guano, as also of nitrate of soda, which was reported to exist on this
coast. He imagined that he had really found the latter valuable salt,
and whispered his discovery to us as a great secret. On examining the
specimens in his possession, however, it was found to be nothing more
nor less than pieces of common soap! part, probably, of the cargo of
some wrecked vessel. The action of the water had so altered the soap in
appearance that the mistake was really excusable. On learning from us the
real nature of his supposed prize, the poor captain, as may be imagined,
evinced no little chagrin and disappointment.

The second ship was an American, in search of the sperm whale, which is
not unfrequently found in these waters. Our shabby and tattered garments
and unshaved faces induced the captain to regard us at first with
suspicion, taking us not improbably for outlaws, unfit for other society
than savage men and beasts. By degrees, however, his mind, as to our
proper character, was set at rest, and we were hospitably entertained on
board his ship, which was scrupulously clean and orderly.

The crews of many of the whaling and guano ships who were in the habit
of frequenting Walfisch Bay had behaved very outrageously, either
by plundering, or wantonly destroying the contents of the temporary
store-house. On one occasion they had been amusingly baffled in their
dishonest and disreputable practices. At the time of which I am now
speaking, the store was tenanted by Mr. Dickson, the trader, who
possessed some very fine lion cubs. These a certain captain determined
to purloin, and, for that purpose, sent a number of his men in the
dead of the night to carry them away. The animals were usually kept in
a large tub or barrel; but it so happened that, on the very evening
the master had fixed on for the execution of his plan, they had been
removed elsewhere, and that Mr. Bassingweight, one of Mr. Dickson’s
_employés_, had taken up his abode in their old quarters. The sailors
entered the building unperceived, and began rapidly to roll the tub away.
Mr. Bassingweight at first imagined he was dreaming; but, as the motion
became more violent, the thumping of his head against the wooden walls
soon brought him to his senses, on which he roared out most lustily. The
unexpected and strange noise so terrified the sailors that they made a
precipitate retreat.

The next morning, the captain, having previously had the audacity to
possess himself of one of Mr. Dickson’s horses, came riding, very drunk,
to his house, and in an imperious and impudent tone demanded the cubs to
be given up to him. At the same time, he thrust an immense dagger through
a dish of pancakes which a servant was busy preparing. Mr. Dickson was
not at home; but his wife, who was a shrewd and determined woman, not
only refused compliance, but commanded the fellow instantly to dismount
and go about his business. On his hesitating, she unceremoniously
pulled him off the horse, and threatened to knock him down if he did
not immediately leave the house. Fearing, however, that he might return
with his crew during the night to revenge himself, and, perhaps, take
forcible possession of the young lions, she ordered Bassingweight and
another of her servants (having previously primed them with cordials to
raise their spirits and courage) to proceed at dusk toward the Bay to
watch the enemy’s movements. Mrs. Dickson’s surmise proved correct; for
the men had not gone far before they distinguished the clamorous voices
of a number of persons who were rapidly approaching them. Squatting
behind some sand-hillocks, they allowed the marauders to come within
range, when they fired a shot over their heads, which had the desired
effect. Without waiting for further hostility, Jack instantly bolted.
Elated by their easy success, Bassingweight and his companion instantly
gave chase, and on coming up with the fugitives, a terrible _pele-mêle_
fight ensued. Notwithstanding one of the men was almost a giant in
strength and stature, the odds were too great, and they were on the
point of being overpowered. At this critical moment Bassingweight called
loudly for assistance, hoping that some of the natives, who occasionally
slept on the beach, might come to the rescue. To their inexpressible
relief, up rose from among a number of empty barrels, which happened to
be ranged along the shore, a Bushman. His appearance acted like magic,
and instantly turned the cards in their favor; for the sailors, as it
was afterward ascertained, imagining the casks to be savages also, and
dreading probably their poisoned arrows, were seized with a panic, and
fled precipitately in every direction, some rushing up to their necks in
water, while others actually fell on their knees begging forgiveness!
Unless for the Bushman, Bassingweight assured me that himself and
companion must have been inevitably killed.

The bay presented at this time a most extraordinary spectacle, the whole
being covered with one mass of dead fish. We could only account for so
unusual a sight by supposing that an epidemic had occurred among them,
more especially as it did not appear to be confined to one or two species
of the finny tribe, but to all which are indigenous to the coast, the
gigantic shark not excepted. In some of the more sheltered spots the fish
lay so deep that I remember on one occasion to have had some difficulty
in forcing my way through in a small Mackintosh punt.

As may well be expected, the effluvium arising from such a mass of
decomposed matter was offensive and sickening. Whether all the fish
died, or the stench drove the survivors away, I am unable to decide;
but certain it is that hardly a fish was left in the Bay. On our first
arrival we captured large quantities by means of a small seine-net, but
now all our attempts proved futile.

An incident occurred to me one day which might have been attended with
fatal consequences. A cutter had lately arrived from the Cape, the object
of the captain being to harpoon the “humpback” whale, which at this
season of the year abounds in the vicinity of Walfisch Bay. I had paid a
visit to the craft in the punt mentioned. On my return it came on to blow
hard from the land. In calm weather the punt could be managed with great
ease; but, on account of her flat bottom and light construction, it was
impossible to make head against a stiff breeze. When within a stone’s
throw of the shore she became unmanageable, and for the space of fully
one hour all my efforts to propel her were unavailing. At last, finding
my strength failing, I made one more desperate effort, and, having
fortunately succeeded in getting her into shallow water, I leaped over
the side and ultimately brought her to a place of safety. My arms were
quite paralyzed, and for a while I was unable to lift them from my sides.
Had the struggle lasted another minute, nothing could have saved me from
being blown out into the open sea, and as there was a gale of wind at the
time, there can be no doubt as to the result.

On the 31st of December, being then at Scheppmansdorf, I received
intelligence that the long-expected missionary vessel had arrived, and
that she was to sail in a few days for St. Helena. On the following
morning, the first day of the year 1852, a parcel of European letters
was handed to me. It was now fully twenty months since I had heard any
news of my friends, and I hailed this token of their interest in my
behalf with rapture. But alas! although I had much to be thankful for,
the intelligence was damped by the unexpected tidings of the death of a
younger brother. Poor fellow! notwithstanding he and I could never agree
during life, I loved him dearly. His last words, uttered in delirium,
were said to have been addressed to me, imploring me to come to his
assistance. He died at Rio Janeiro of that scourge, the yellow fever.
Peace be to his memory! The cholera was also raging in Sweden, and I
trembled for the news that might next reach me.

I proceeded immediately to Walfisch Bay to bid farewell to Galton.
John Williams, John Mortar, and Timbo were to accompany him to St.
Helena, whence they were to be forwarded to Cape-Town. Hans—in himself a
host—John Allen, and John St. Helena, agreed to remain with me.

My specimens of natural history, which had been collected with much care
and trouble, and which had cost me many a sleepless night, I consigned to
Galton’s care. They consisted of about five hundred bird-skins, nearly
double that number of insects, and a few odds and ends. I also took this
opportunity to forward several letters to my European friends.

Galton appeared delighted with the prospect of soon returning to
civilized life. Though he had proved himself to be capable of enduring
hardships and fatigue as well as any of us, it was evident that he had
had enough of it.

The schooner was to have sailed on the 5th of January; but, in
consequence of the arrival of “The Grecian” man-of-war, then cruising
off the West Coast, it was postponed till the next day. As the schooner
gradually disappeared from view, I began to feel in full force the
loneliness of my situation, and the loss of my friend’s company. It would
seem that, the farther the object of our esteem and regard is separated
from us, the better we are able to appreciate its value. Galton’s
excellent disposition and even temper had enabled us to struggle through
all difficulties very happily together, and it was, therefore, with
sincere regret that I parted from him. I whispered a prayer for his safe
return to the bosom of his family. It was heard; for, though the passage
proved of long duration, he reached England in safety, after an absence
of two years.

Not long subsequently to his return, the Royal Geographical Society, I
was happy to learn, bestowed upon him their gold medal as a reward for
his services in the cause of science.




CHAPTER XX.

    Capture of young Ostriches.—Natural History of the Ostrich;
    where found; Description of; Size; Weight; Age; Voice;
    Strength; Speed; Food; Water; Breeding; Incubation; Cunning;
    Stones found in Eggs; Chicks; Flesh.—Brain in request among the
    Romans.—Eggs highly prized.—Uses of Egg-shells.—Feathers an
    article of Commerce.—Ostrich Parasols.—The Bird’s destructive
    Propensities.—Habits.—Resembles Quadrupeds.—Domestication.—The
    Chase.—Snares.—Ingenious Device.—Enemies of the Ostrich.


Ostriches are at all times more or less numerous on the Naarip Plain, but
more particularly so at this season, on account of the naras (of which
mention was made in the second chapter) being now ripe.

While waiting for the missionary vessel, previously to the departure of
Mr. Galton, I made several trips between the Bay and Scheppmansdorf, in
order to arrange matters for my intended journey to the Ngami. On one of
these occasions I was accompanied by my friend. When we had proceeded
little more than half the distance, and in a part of the plain entirely
destitute of vegetation, we discovered a male and female ostrich, with a
brood of young ones about the size of ordinary barn-door fowls. This was
a sight we had long been looking for, as Galton had been requested by
Professor Owen to procure a few craniums of the young of this bird, in
order to settle certain anatomical questions. Accordingly, we forthwith
dismounted from our oxen and gave chase, which proved of no ordinary
interest.

The moment the parent birds became aware of our intention, they set off
at full speed, the female leading the way, the young following in her
wake, and the cock, though at some little distance, bringing up the
rear of the family party. It was very touching to observe the anxiety
the old birds evinced for the safety of their progeny. Finding that we
were quickly gaining upon them, the male at once slackened his pace, and
diverged somewhat from his course; but, seeing that we were not to be
diverted from our purpose, he again increased his speed, and, with wings
drooping so as almost to touch the ground, he hovered round us, now in
wide circles, and then decreasing the circumference till he came almost
within pistol-shot, when he abruptly threw himself on the ground, and
struggled desperately to regain his legs, as it appeared, like a bird
that has been badly wounded. Having previously fired at him, I really
thought he was disabled, and made quickly toward him. But this was only a
_ruse_ on his part; for, on my nearer approach, he slowly rose and began
to run in an opposite direction to that of the female, who by this time
was considerably ahead with her charge.

[Illustration: COURSING YOUNG OSTRICHES.]

After about an hour’s severe chase, we secured nine of the brood; and,
though it consisted of about double that number, we found it necessary to
be contented with what we had bagged.[39]

On returning to the Bay, however, the next morning in a mule-cart, Mr.
Galton again encountered the same birds with the remainder of the family,
and, after a short race, captured six more of the chicks.

The ostrich (which, from possessing the rudiments of a gall-bladder, and
the absence of wings fit for flight, seems to form a kind of connecting
link between the two great families of _mammalia_ and _aves_) is an
inhabitant of a large portion of Africa, but rarely extends farther east
than the deserts of Arabia. Throughout the Indian Archipelago, the family
of birds (of which the ostrich is the leading type) is represented by
the cassowary; in Australia by the emeu; in the southern extremity of
the western hemisphere by the rhea; and even in Europe, though somewhat
departing from the type, it has its representative in the stately bustard.

Any thing like a scientific description of the ostrich would here be out
of place; but it may be proper to mention that the lower part of the
neck and the body of the mature male bird are of a deep glossy black,
intermingled with a few whitish feathers, only visible when the plumage
is ruffled. “In the female the general color of the feathers is of a
grayish or ashy brown, slightly fringed with white. In both sexes the
large plumes of the wings and tail are beautifully white.”

The ostrich, when full grown, stands no less than from seven to eight
feet, and instances are recorded where individual birds have attained
as much as nine. Its weight is proportionate. Judging from what I have
experienced in carrying the dead body, it is not less, perhaps, than two
or three hundred pounds. Indeed, there are persons who believe that the
mature bird, when in prime condition, as a butcher would say, will attain
a weight of thirty stone.

I could never obtain any data that would enable me to form a correct
estimate of the age of the ostrich, but it may fairly be concluded that
he lives between twenty and thirty years.

The cry of the ostrich so greatly resembles that of a lion as
occasionally to deceive even the natives. It is usually heard early in
the morning, and at times also at night.

The strength of the ostrich is enormous. A single blow from its gigantic
foot (it always strikes forward) is sufficient to prostrate, nay, to kill
many beasts of prey, such as the hyæna, the panther, the wild dog, the
jackal, and others.

The ostrich is exceedingly swift of foot, under ordinary circumstances
outrunning a fleet horse: “What time she lifteth up herself on high, she
scorneth the horse and its rider.” On special occasions and for a short
distance, its speed is truly marvelous, perhaps not much less than a
mile in half a minute. Its feet appear hardly to touch the ground, and
the length between each stride is not unfrequently twelve to fourteen
feet. Indeed, if we are to credit the testimony of Mr. Adanson, who says
he witnessed the fact in Senegal, such is the rapidity and muscular
power of the ostrich, that, even with two men mounted on his back, he
will outstrip an English horse in speed! The ostrich, moreover, is
long-winded, if I may use the expression, so that it is a work of time to
exhaust the bird.

The food of the ostrich, in its wild state, consists of the seeds,
tops, and buds of various shrubs and other plants.[40] But it is often
difficult to conceive how it can manage to live at all, for one not
unfrequently meets with it in regions apparently destitute of vegetation
of any kind:

    “A region of emptiness, howling and drear,
    Which man hath abandoned from famine and fear;
    Which the ostrich and lizard inhabit alone,
    With the twilight bat from the old hollow stone;
    Where grass, nor herb, nor shrub take root,
    Save poisonous thorns that pierce the foot;
    And the bitter-melon for food and drink,
    Is the pilgrim’s fare by the salt lake’s brink!”

Although the ostrich is undoubtedly capable of undergoing thirst for
a considerable period, yet water appears to be indispensable to its
existence. In the dry and hot season I have often observed the same flock
drinking almost daily. They swallow the water by a succession of gulps.
On such occasions, that is, when approaching a spring, they seem quite
stupefied. While staying at Elephant Fountain, where in a short time
I killed eight of these magnificent birds, they made their appearance
regularly every day about noon; and although the locality afforded but
indifferent shelter, they invariably allowed me to get within range, only
retreating step by step.

Like the capercali of Europe, the ostrich has a plurality of wives—from
two to six, it is said. The breeding season would seem to be somewhat
undefined, for I have met with nests in every month from June till
October. Each female is represented as laying from twelve to sixteen
eggs, and all in one and the same nest, which is simply a cavity scooped
out in the sand.

Both male and female assist in hatching the eggs, which are placed
upright, in order, it would seem, “that the greatest possible number may
be stowed within the space.” When about a dozen eggs are laid, the bird,
which squats astride over them, with its legs pointed forward, begins to
sit. I have observed that on perceiving a man, instead of running away
from the nest, it not unfrequently lowers its conspicuous neck till it
becomes in a line with the ground, evidently in the hope that it may be
passed unnoticed.

During the period of incubation, the ostrich, if an intruder approaches
its nest, resorts to various artifices to induce him to withdraw far off.

“One morning,” says Professor Thunberg, “as I rode past a place where
a hen-ostrich sat on her nest, the bird sprang up and pursued me, with
a view to prevent my noticing her young ones or her eggs. Every time I
turned my horse toward her she retreated ten or twelve paces, but as soon
as I rode on she pursued me again.”

The period of incubation seems to vary; but, on the average, it may be
about thirty-eight days. One or more of the females are said to lay
meanwhile; but the supernumerary eggs are placed outside the nest, and
are supposed to serve as nourishment for the callow brood. If such really
be the case, we in this again see a wonderful provision of nature,
inasmuch as the chicken would be unable to digest the indurated matter
furnished by their too-often sterile haunts.

The notion so generally entertained of the ostrich merely depositing her
eggs in the sand, and leaving them to be vivified by the sun, arises
probably from its habit of occasionally quitting the nest in search of
food, more especially as it generally does so during the hottest part of
the day.

Some travelers affirm that the ostrich not only never sits on her eggs
after having once been handled, or even if a man should have passed near
the nest, but that she actually destroys them! I, for my part, can not
speak to this point, having, whenever I found an ostrich’s nest, usually
plundered it at once, thus leaving the bird no opportunity of obeying so
strange an instinct.

It seems pretty certain, however, that the ostrich, as with many other
birds, is in the habit of deserting her eggs if they be handled. “The
slaves,” says Professor Thunberg, “always use the precaution not to take
away the eggs with their hands (in which case the birds, who perceive it
by scent, are apt to quit the spot), but by means of a long stick they
rake them out of the nest as fast as the birds lay them.”

A peculiarity in regard to the eggs of the ostrich, and, so far as I am
aware, confined to the eggs of this bird alone, is mentioned by several
African travelers. For example: “The farmer here likewise informed me,”
says the author just quoted, “that a stone or two is sometimes found in
the ostrich’s eggs, which is hard, white, rather flat and smooth, and
about the size of a bean. These stones are cut and made into buttons, but
I never had the good fortune to see any of them.”

Again: “In these eggs,” writes Barrow, “are frequently discovered a
number of small oval-shaped pebbles, about the size of a marrowfat pea,
of a pale yellow color, and exceedingly hard. In one egg we found nine,
and in another twelve of such stones.”

Notwithstanding the number of eggs laid, seldom more than thirty to
thirty-five are hatched. Almost as soon as the chicks (which are about
the size of pullets) have escaped from the shell, they are able to
walk about and to follow the mother, on whom they are dependent for a
considerable period. And Nature, with her usual care, has provided the
young with a color and a covering admirably suited to the localities they
frequent. The color is a kind of pepper-and-salt, harmonizing wonderfully
with the variegated sand and gravel of the plains which they are in the
habit of traversing. Indeed, when crouching under my very eyes, I have
had the greatest difficulty in discerning the chicks. The covering is
neither down nor feathers, but a kind of “prickly external,” which, no
doubt, is an excellent protection against injury from the coarse gravel
and the stunted vegetation among which they dwell.

The flesh of the young ostrich is not unpalatable, but that of the old
bird is any thing but good. To my notion, it tastes very much like that
of the zebra. According to the Mosaic law, the ostrich was denounced as
an unclean animal, and the Jews were, consequently, forbidden to eat it.
The Arabs of the present day still adhere to this prohibition. Some of
the native tribes of Southern Africa, however, are less fastidious, and
partake of the flesh with great relish, more especially when fat.

Though people at the present day place little or no value on the ostrich
as an article of food, the ancient Romans, who were great epicures, seem
to have been of a different opinion. We are told by Vobiscus that the
pseudo-Emperor Firmus, “equally celebrated for his feats at the anvil and
at the trencher, devoured, in his own imperial person, an entire ostrich
at one sitting.”[41] The brain of this bird was considered a superlative
delicacy; and, like every thing else with that luxurious nation, it was
provided on the most magnificent scale. Thus, according to an ancient
testimony, the Emperor Heliogabalus was served at a single feast with the
brains of six hundred of these birds.[42]

If the flesh of the ostrich be not much esteemed, its eggs, at all
events, are prized in the highest degree by natives and travelers. To say
nothing of their flavor, each contains as much as twenty-four of the eggs
of the barn-door fowl, and weighs about three pounds.

From the great size of the ostrich egg it might be supposed that one
would be a sufficient meal for any man; but I have known instances where
two eggs have been dispatched by a single individual, even when mixed
with a quantity of flour and fat. Indeed, Hans and his companion once
finished five ostrich eggs in the course of an afternoon!

Even the egg-shell is of considerable value, and is an excellent vessel
for holding liquids of any kind. The Bushmen have hardly any other. By
covering it with a light net-work, it may be carried slung across the
saddle. Grass, wood, &c., serve as substitutes for corks.

By the monks of Dayr Antonios, we are informed that the Copts (by whom
the eggs are looked upon as the emblem of watchfulness, and who suspend
them in their churches) pass the cords of their lamps through the shell
in order to prevent the rats from coming down and drinking the oil.

The shell of the egg is used medicinally. The Boers, after reducing it
to powder and mixing it with vinegar, give it to cattle afflicted with
strangury, for which disease it is considered a sovereign remedy. The
powder itself is said to be an excellent preservative against blindness.

The white wing-feathers[43] of the ostrich (the black ones are used
chiefly for mourning) are a considerable article of commerce. The market,
however, is very fluctuating. At the Cape the price varies from one or
two guineas sterling to as much as twelve for the pound, the latter
sum, however, being only paid for very prime feathers. The thinner the
quill, and the longer and more wavy the plume, the more it is prized.[44]
Seventy to ninety feathers go to the pound. But, although half this
number may be obtained from a single bird, only a small portion are
of any value. In the pairing season, and it may be at other times, the
ostrich, like the turkey-cock, the capercali, and many other birds, is
in the habit of drooping its wings, so that the outer feathers trail on
the ground, which soon destroys their beauty. The proper time to kill the
ostrich for its plumes is shortly after the moulting season, or in the
months of March and April.

The Damaras and the Bechuanas manufacture handsome parasols from the
black feathers of the ostrich, which serve as signs of mourning, or are
useful for the preservation of the complexion. “It is a beautiful sight,”
says Harris, “to behold a savage whose skin, somewhat coarser than the
hide of a rhinoceros, might vie in point of color with a boot, protecting
his complexion by the interposition of such an umbrella.”

Some of the tribes of Southern Africa are said to employ ostrich parasols
while hunting wild animals, with a similar purpose to that of a Spanish
bull-fighter who uses a red cloth. Thus, in case of a wounded beast
charging a man, the latter, just at the moment he is about to be seized,
suddenly thrusts the supports of the nodding plumes into the ground, and,
while the infuriated animal is venting its rage on its supposed victim,
the native slips unperceived on one side and transfixes his antagonist.

The skin of the ostrich is also said to be held in great request, and
forms no inconsiderable article of commerce. “The whole defensive armor
of the Nasamones, inhabitants of Libya, was manufactured of the birds’
thick skin, which, even at the present day, is used as a cuirass by some
of the Arab troops.”

The ostrich, though usually dwelling far from the haunts of men,
occasionally approaches the homestead, and at such times causes the Boer
considerable damage by trampling down and eating the grain.

The opinions of authors and sportsmen with regard to the ostrich vary
considerably. Some ascribe to it great stupidity, while others consider
it as possessed of vivacity and much intelligence. Without passing a
judgment, I will only mention that I have seen it exhibit these opposite
qualities in no small degree.

In a domesticated state, it is true, the ostrich appears to be a quiet,
dull, and heavy-looking bird; but when seen in its native haunts, it is
restless, wary, and difficult of approach. From its great stature, and
the prominent position of its eyes, its range of vision is naturally
considerable, which enables it to discover danger at a considerable
distance. This, together with the exposed localities frequented by it,
probably accounts for the comparatively few that even the mightiest
Nimrods of South Africa can boast of having killed.

What may be the case with the ostrich in a wild state is hard to say;
but when in confinement, no bird or other animal demonstrates so little
discrimination in the choice of its food, for it then swallows with
avidity stones, pieces of wood and iron, spoons, knives, and a variety
of other indigestible matters. This strange propensity and apparent
obtuseness of taste obtained for the bird at an early period the epithet
of “the iron-eating ostrich:”

    “The estridge that will eate
    An horshowe so great
    In the steade of meat;
    Such fervent heat
    His stomach doth freat.”[45]

Many amusing anecdotes are told of the strange habits of this bird.
Once—so runs the story—when the ostrich was still a rare sight in Europe,
a woman, on hearing of the arrival of a batch of these birds, and being
anxious to obtain a sight of them, hastily shut up her house, taking
the key of the door in her hand. No sooner, however, had she arrived on
the spot where the birds were kept, when one of them stalked gravely
up to the lady, and, snatching the iron instrument out of her hand,
deliberately, and to her great horror, swallowed it, _actually shutting
her out of her own house_!

“Nothing,” says Methuen, in his “Life in the Wilderness,” when speaking
of a female ostrich that came under his immediate notice, “disturbed
the ostrich’s digestion: dyspepsia was a thing ‘undreamt of in its
philosophy.’ One day, a Muscovy duck brought a promising brood of
ducklings into the world, and with maternal pride conducted them forth
into the yard. Up, with solemn and measured stride, walked the ostrich,
and, wearing the most mild, benignant cast of face, swallowed them all,
one after the other, like so many oysters, regarding the indignant
hissings and bristling plumage of the hapless mother with stoical
indifference.”

The ostrich is gregarious, and is met with in troops varying from a few
individuals to as many as fifty. Singularly enough, it is never known to
associate with other birds, but, preferring quadrupeds, is often found
in company with the zebra, the springbok, the gnoo, &c. Indeed, in many
respects it bears a striking resemblance to four-footed animals, such as
in its strong, jointed legs and cloven hoofs, its long, muscular neck,
its gruff voice, the absence of the elevated central ridge of the breast
bone, so generally characteristic of birds, besides other similarities
already mentioned. But, perhaps, when compared with the camel, the
affinity becomes still more striking. Both are “furnished with callous
protuberances on the chest and on the abdomen, on which they support
themselves when at rest, and they both lie down in the same manner.” In
both, the feet and stomach are somewhat similarly constructed; and if
we add to this their capabilities of subsisting on a scanty and stunted
vegetation, their endurance of thirst, and their formation in general,
which enables ostrich and camel to inhabit and traverse arid and desert
regions, the resemblance is by no means so imaginary as one might at
first suppose. Indeed, to many of the nations of the East,[46] as well as
to the Romans and the Greeks, the ostrich was known by the name of the
camel-bird.

The ostrich is easily domesticated, but is sometimes of a vicious
disposition. The Rev. Mr. Hahn, if I remember rightly, told me that some
of these birds, which he kept in confinement for a considerable period,
became so mischievous that, lest they might injure any of the people on
the station, he was obliged to kill them.

Several persons have tried to breed from the tame ostrich; but, to the
best of my belief, all attempts have hitherto proved abortive. Eggs,
however, have been frequently obtained, but the birds never showed any
inclination to sit upon them. At the Regent’s Park Gardens, moreover,
repeated trials have been made to hatch the eggs by artificial means, but
without success.

The expedients resorted to in South Africa to capture the ostrich are
various. Not unfrequently it is ridden down by men on horseback. Several
hunters take different sides of a large plain, thus hemming the bird in,
and chasing it backward and forward until its strength is exhausted.

The ostrich is also at times ridden down by a single horseman. Under
ordinary circumstances, fleet as the horse may be, this would be
impossible. Toward the approach of the rainy season, however, when the
days are intolerably hot and oppressive, the giant bird may be seen
standing motionless on the plain, with wings spread and beak wide open;
and at such times the capture may be accomplished. Indeed, cases have
come under my notice where Namaquas, after a short but spirited chase,
have brought the ostrich to a dead stand-still. A blow on the head with
a stick or a “shambok” is then sufficient to dispatch it. On similar
occasions, however, horses have been known to drop down dead from
over-exertion.

When an ostrich finds himself observed, he will often make for some given
point, more especially if he be hemmed in near a plain. He is so fully
aware that safety is only to be found in the open country, that he always
endeavors to gain it. Should the sportsman understand his business, he
may easily cut him off; but it requires a keen eye and a practiced hand
to bring the bird down; for on emergencies like these, its speed, as
before said, is truly wonderful.

The Arabs of North Africa are also accustomed to pursue the ostrich
on horseback; but, instead of trying to overtake the bird at once, it
is steadily followed, even for days, without putting it to its speed,
until it becomes gradually exhausted, when it falls an easy prey to the
persevering hunter.[47]

In parts of Southern Africa the ostrich is run down even on foot. I
myself have seen the Bushmen accomplish this exploit on the shores of
Lake Ngami. They usually surround a whole troop, and with shouts and
yells chase the terrified birds into the water, where they are, of
course, speedily killed. “We more than once,” says Harris, “fell in with
a large party of Corannas engaged in an attempt to tire out an ostrich on
foot, a feat which they are said sometimes to achieve, knocking him off
his legs by _squaling_ with a club of rhinoceros horn fashioned like a
hockey stick.”

The Bushman, however, frequently has recourse to a much simpler plan of
circumventing the ostrich. Having found its nest, he removes the eggs to
a place of safety, and, ensconcing himself in the empty cavity, awaits
the return of the bird, which he generally manages to dispatch with a
poisoned arrow.

At other times the natives lie in wait near pools frequented by
ostriches, and shoot them when they come there to quench their thirst.
If the gun be loaded with swan-shot instead of ball, and one aims at the
necks, several may be killed at a single discharge; but this plan will,
of course, never be adopted by the true sportsman.

Ostriches are also not unfrequently captured in snares (similar to those
made use of for entangling smaller species of antelopes), but I have
quite forgotten whether by the neck or the leg. A long cord, having at
one end a noose, is tied to a sapling, which is bent down, and the noose
pinned to the ground in such a manner that when a bird treads within
it the sapling springs back by its own natural elasticity, suspending
the bird or other animal in the air, and it is only released from its
sufferings by death. Strabo and Oppian make mention of snares being
employed by the ancients for the capture of ostriches, either alluring
them by stratagem into the toils, or driving them _en masse_ by a brisk
pursuit with horses and dogs.

But the most ingenious plan of beguiling the ostrich to its destruction
is that described by Mr. Moffat and others as practiced among the
Bushmen. The reverend gentleman says:

“A kind of flat double cushion is stuffed with straw and formed something
like a saddle. All except the under part of this is covered over with
feathers attached to small pegs and made so as to resemble the bird. The
head and neck of an ostrich are stuffed, and a small rod introduced. The
Bushman intending to attack game whitens his legs with any substance he
can procure. He places the feathered saddle on his shoulders, takes
the bottom part of the neck in his right hand, and his bow and poisoned
arrows in his left. Such as the writer has seen were most perfect mimics
of the ostrich, and at a few hundred yards’ distance it is not possible
for the eye to detect the fraud. This _human_ bird appears to pick away
at the verdure, turning the head as if keeping a sharp look-out, shakes
his feathers, now walks, and then trots till he gets within bow-shot; and
when the flock runs from one receiving an arrow, he runs too. The male
ostriches will, on some occasions, give chase to the strange bird, when
he tries to elude them in a way to prevent them catching his scent; for
when once they do, the spell is broken. Should one happen to get too near
in pursuit, he has only to run to windward or throw off his saddle to
avoid a stroke from a wing which would lay him prostrate.”

But the ostrich has other enemies besides man. Beasts as well as birds
are said to seek and devour their eggs with great avidity. According to
Sir James Alexander (given on the authority of the natives about the
Orange River), when the birds have left their nest in the middle of the
day in search of food, “a white Egyptian vulture may be seen soaring in
mid-air with a stone between his talons. Having carefully surveyed the
ground below him, he suddenly lets fall the stone, and then follows it in
rapid descent. Let the hunter run to the spot, and he will find a nest of
probably a score of eggs, some of them broken by the vulture.”

Again, “the jackal is said to roll the eggs together to break them, while
the hyæna pushes them off with its nose to break them at a distance.”

Nothing of this kind ever came under my notice, though, on the other
hand, I have not unfrequently found the bird itself destroyed by lions,
panthers, wild dogs, and other beasts.




CHAPTER XXI.

    Sudden Floods.—John Allen’s Sufferings.—Hans and the
    Author enter into Partnership.—Young Grass injurious
    to Cattle.—Depart from Walfisch Bay.—Attractive
    Scenery.—Troops of Lions.—Extraordinary Proceedings of
    Kites.—Flight of Butterflies.—Attachment of Animals to one
    another.—Arrival at Richterfeldt; at Barmen.—Hans’s narrow
    Escape.—Self-possession.—Heavy Rains.—Runaway Ox; he tosses
    the Author.—Depart from Barmen.—Difficulty of crossing
    Rivers.—Encounter great numbers of Oryxes.


We were now in the depth of the rainy season. Rain, as already said,
rarely falls in the neighborhood of Walfisch Bay; but the gathering of
heavy clouds in the eastern horizon every afternoon, and vivid flashes
of lightning accompanied by distant thunder, clearly indicated that
the interior of the country had been flooded. We had soon a proof of
this in the sudden appearance of the long-dormant Kuisip River, which,
now swollen to an unusual height, overflowed its banks, and threatened
destruction to every thing that opposed its course.

This overflow was equally great in the Swakop, in the lower course of
which our cattle were stationed under the charge of John Allen. One fine
morning, and without the least previous notice, down came the torrent,
and cut him off from the greater number of the animals, which were
grazing on the opposite bank. He was an expert swimmer, however, and,
boldly plunging into the swollen stream, with difficulty and danger
succeeded in crossing. But no sooner had he gained the bank than the
river rushed forward with tenfold velocity, and effectually separated
him from the camp. Two days and a night elapsed before the water had
sufficiently subsided to enable him to return. The sufferings of the
poor lad meanwhile must have been very trying, for he was in a state of
complete nudity; and, though he had abundance of fuel, he had no means of
lighting a fire. Lions and hyænas, moreover, were numerous, and, to add
to his misery, the oxen strayed during the night in different directions.
In recollecting them the following day, he had to cross the most rugged
and jagged rocks, and precipices, and scorching fields of sand, which
severely lacerated and blistered his unprotected feet. Most men, I
venture to say, under such circumstances, would have left the cattle to
their fate.

As soon as the swollen Kuisip had sufficiently subsided, and the
emaciated state of the oxen permitted, I returned from the Bay to
Scheppmansdorf. Hans had not been idle during my absence. He had put the
wagon in complete order, having replaced the axle-tree (which, in our
journey from Barmen, had received a serious fracture) with a new one, and
shortened the tires of the wheels. He had also made a new covering for
the vehicle. I, too, had made considerable progress with regard to the
arrangements and preparations for my intended journey. However, on taking
a more close survey of my little property, I found that, notwithstanding
Mr. Galton had furnished me with a variety of things, I was very
deficient in the most important, such as articles for barter, presents
for chiefs, instruments for taking observations, provisions, &c. As none
of these were procurable by purchase from the vessel then in Walfisch
Bay, I was placed in an awkward position. To proceed without ample
supplies of all kinds was not advisable, nor did I much relish the idea
of returning to the Cape—the nearest point for a refit—since this could
only be accomplished by an overland journey of many months’ duration, and
the consequent loss of an entire season. Yet, after duly weighing the
matter, I determined, though with no small regret, to adopt the latter
course.

I now entered into partnership with Hans, who, on his side, threw into
the general stock goods, &c., to the amount of about one hundred and
fifty pounds sterling.

It was agreed between us that we should barter our wagons, as also
every article we could possibly dispense with, for cattle, with which
we should proceed to the Cape Colony, where we understood live-stock
always commanded a ready market. When we should have turned the cattle
into cash, and provided ourselves with every thing needful, we purposed
forthwith returning to Walfisch Bay; I with a view of penetrating to the
Lake Ngami, while Hans, in my absence, was to trade with the natives.
Should he be successful, my share of the profits would materially aid me
in following up my geographical explorations, which, I was aware, would
be attended with considerable expense.

Though our stay at Scheppmansdorf and Walfisch Bay had been of some
duration, it was not sufficiently long to enable the oxen to recover
their strength. They had not suffered actual want, but the change of
pasturage, more especially as the grass was then young and green, instead
of benefiting them, had rather tended to deteriorate their condition.
Indeed, more than half of our best draft-oxen died.

The country being at length in tolerable order for traveling, we once
more, on the afternoon of the 26th of January, took our departure from
Scheppmansdorf, keeping the same course as on previous occasions. Besides
myself and Hans, our party consisted of John Allen, John St. Helena,
Phillippus, Onesimus, and a few Damaras.

The effect of the late rains began soon to show itself, for even the
barren Naarip was in places richly carpeted with grass and flowers, and
at every step the vegetation became more luxuriant. As evening, with
its lengthened shadows, began to close upon us, the air was filled with
balmy and aromatic scents. One little flower, of a milk-white color, was
particularly sweet and attractive. I could scarcely realize the wonderful
change in the landscape, where, less than a month previously, I might
have exclaimed,

    “Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!
    The hot air quivers; and the sultry mist
    Floats o’er the desert with a show
    Of distant waters.”

The presence of herds of the beautiful oryx, the lively quagga, and the
grotesque gnoo, which looked like

    “Beasts of mixed and monstrous birth,
    Creations of some fabled earth,”

served further to enhance the interest of the scene.

These were glorious times for the lions, who were exceedingly numerous.
On passing Tincas and Onanis, both famous strongholds for this animal, we
started troops of them among the broken ground, but they invariably ran
away, and all my efforts to get a shot at them were unavailing.

One day, while refreshing ourselves and cattle in the midst of a scene
like that just described, the men being busy cutting up, or “dressing,”
as butchers would say, two fine oryxes, the produce of the morning
hunt, we were suddenly surrounded by a cloud of kites. The actions of
these birds were most strange. Hovering within a few feet of our heads,
they eyed us steadily for a while, and then took themselves off as if
satisfied. Another batch would now approach so near that, in order to
avoid coming in contact with us, they threw themselves on their backs,
spreading out their wings and talons, and opening their beaks, while one
or two actually, with a swoop, snatched the food out of the hands of the
natives. It was only after having brought down several with the rifle
that the rest thought best to keep at a more respectful distance.[48]

This day, and during the whole of the following, we encountered myriads
of lemon-colored butterflies. Their numbers were so great that the
sound caused by their wings resembled the distant murmuring of waves
on the sea-shore. They always passed in the same direction as the wind
blew, and, as numbers were constantly alighting on the flowers, their
appearance at such times was not unlike the falling of leaves before a
gentle autumnal breeze.

Every day, at the halting-place, we were in the habit of training some
oxen to the “pack” or the saddle. One of the animals particularly
captivated my fancy, and I was desirous of having him well broken-in.
After a little time, however, I learned that no person dared any longer
to approach the beast. On inquiring the cause, I found that a large ox
had taken it under his protection, so to speak, and would allow no one
to go near it. Whenever the servants attempted to catch the _protégé_,
his protector would rush at them furiously; and my favorite was so well
aware of this, that as soon as he saw any one approaching, he would run
directly to his “father,” as the natives not inaptly styled the big ox.
After having personally convinced myself of this singular attachment, and
dreading that some serious mischief might ensue, I deemed it prudent to
kill my poor pet. For many days the “father” appeared inconsolable at his
loss. Running wildly about the herd, and smelling first at one and then
at the other, he would moan and bellow most piteously. This is another
proof of the strong attachment of which the lower animals are capable. I
may add that I have frequently seen a sheep, when the butcher has been in
the act of killing its comrade, run up to the man and butt at him most
viciously.

On the 5th of February we found ourselves again at Richterfeldt. Mrs.
Rath, I was sorry to find, was suffering grievously from eye-sickness,
so much so that she was unable to bear the least light. Indeed, not long
after, the sight of one of her eyes was permanently injured, if not
destroyed.

Here I and Hans separated. While he went into Damara-land to trade with
the natives, I myself proceeded along the Swakop with the wagon. We had
only one, the other having already been disposed of at Eikhams. The river
was still running breast high, and we experienced much difficulty in
crossing and recrossing it. One evening, just as we were descending the
bank, from which the flood had only lately receded, the vehicle suddenly
sank so deep in the mud as almost to hide the fore wheels. Before we
could extricate ourselves, which was a work of many hours, we were
obliged to dig a deep trench and pave it with stones.

In the afternoon of the 11th of February I reached Barmen, where on the
following day I was joined by Hans. He had not been very successful,
and, moreover, nearly got into a scrape with the natives. Having one day
gone some distance in advance of his small party, he suddenly, at the
turn of a hill, came upon some women and children, who, notwithstanding
his friendly assurances, ran off in great fright to the werft, which was
not far distant, screaming vociferously. The men, thinking that they
were about to be attacked by the Namaquas, instantly rushed to arms; and
Hans, on coming in view of the village, unexpectedly found himself in
the presence of several hundred Damaras, each armed with a huge assegai.
Placing his gun against a tree, he walked quietly in the midst of them.
His coolness so surprised and amazed them, that the forest of bristling
spears, poised in the air ready to strike, were instantaneously lowered.
The men, however, continued their yells and shouts for some time, and it
was not until his interpreter had arrived that he was able to set their
minds at rest as to his peaceable intentions.

The effect often produced on savages by the self-possession of a single
European is truly wonderful. If Hans had evinced the smallest sign of
fear or hesitation, his fate probably would have been sealed.

I remember, not long after this took place, to have been journeying
with fifty or sixty Damaras, accompanied only by my native interpreter,
when the chief of the party next to whom I was walking turned sharply
round and abruptly accosted me in the following manner: “How is it that
you venture to go thus alone among us? We might easily kill you at any
time.” Without a moment’s hesitation I replied, “I neither fear you
nor any other people, and simply because I never injured you. You, on
the other hand, are perpetually robbing and killing your neighbors,
and, consequently, you have to dread the revenge of their friends and
relations. Besides,” I jokingly added, “it is not quite so easy as you
may imagine to pull ‘three hairs out of a lion’s tail.’” This was exactly
hitting the nail on the head; for, if they had previously thought my
argument good, they were now amazingly pleased with the jest.

We were delayed some little time at Barmen in consequence of heavy rains
that now almost daily deluged the country. It was during this stay
that the remarkable thunder-storm occurred—mentioned in a preceding
chapter—which caused such havoc among the native gardens.

One day, while endeavoring to secure properly a young ox, he broke loose,
and, though almost the whole village turned out to assist us, we were
unable to recapture the animal. When an ox thus made off, we usually
caused three or four of the steadiest of his comrades to be driven after
him, or we put some good runners on his track. By the cattle or the men
keeping up a steady pace, they would soon exhaust the refractory animal,
and quietly bring him back to the camp. In this instance, Karnarute,
perhaps the fleetest man in Damara-land, was sent in pursuit.

While abiding his return I indulged in a warm bath, and, just as I had
finished my ablutions, I observed him coming back with the runaway.
As the animal, however, was not proceeding in exactly the required
direction, I placed myself in his path for the purpose of turning him.
But as he heeded not my presence, and kept his own course, the result
was that he caught me with his horns near the ribs, and pitched me bodily
over his back! With the exception of being a good deal shaken, however, I
singularly enough escaped unhurt. But one of our native servants was less
fortunate; for on trying, like myself, to stay the ox in his headlong
career, the poor fellow was thrown to the ground by the exasperated
brute, who actually knelt on his body, and in all probability would have
killed him had not the rest of the people come to his assistance. This
accident taught us to be more careful in our future proceedings with an
over-driven ox.

On leaving Barmen, we were obliged to make a considerable _détour_ in
order to avoid the “Great” Swakop, which continued to send down immense
torrents of discolored water. In crossing one of its branches, known as
the “Little” Swakop, our cattle were more than once swept away by the
violence of the current, and our wagon had a very narrow escape from
being capsized. When half way across the stream it stuck fast, and for
upward of four hours all our efforts to extricate it proved ineffectual.
During the whole of this time we were immersed up to our necks in
water, which hourly increased. What with the velocity of the current,
the depth of the river, and the looseness of the soil beneath, we were
unable to obtain a firm footing, and men, oxen, and dogs were frequently
jumbled together in the most awkward confusion. After almost superhuman
exertions, having previously been obliged to remove all the heavy things
from the vehicle, we succeeded in reaching the shore in safety. Here
again, to our dismay, we found our path barred by immense blocks of
stone and the roughness of the ground in general along the bank. We had
no alternative but to retrace our steps and recross the river at a more
convenient point, which we successfully accomplished on the following
morning, when the water had somewhat subsided.

Hence we traveled about northeast, alternately in the bed and on
the banks of a tributary to the Swakop. On reaching the foot of that
picturesque chain of mountains extending in a northerly direction from
Eikhams toward Schmelen’s Hope, where it terminates rather abruptly, we
encountered great numbers of the oryx, which afforded us excellent sport.




CHAPTER XXII.

    The Oryx; more than one Species.—Where found.—Probably
    known in Europe previous to the discovery of the
    Passage round the Cape of Good Hope.—Description of the
    Oryx.—Gregarious.—Speed.—Food.—Water not necessary to its
    existence.—Will face the Lion.—Formidable Horns.—Their
    Use.—Flesh.—The Chase of this Animal.


Three distinct species of oryxes[49] are recognized by naturalists,
ranging over a great extent of the more desert and thinly-peopled
districts of Africa. In the northern part of the continent the type is
represented by the leucoryx,[50] which strikingly resembles the oryx
or gemsbok (_oryx capensis_), of which the accompanying drawing is an
excellent representation.

The gemsbok (so called by the Dutch from a supposed resemblance to the
chamois of Europe) seems restricted to the central and western parts of
Southern Africa, few or none being found in its eastern portion. It was
once common within the colony, but what with its shy habits, the constant
persecution it suffers, and the advance of civilization, its numbers are
now rapidly decreasing, and few at the present day are to be found within
the boundaries of the British territory.

[Illustration: ORYX OR GEMSBOK.]

Judging from some ancient coats of arms, it would really seem that the
gemsbok was known to Europeans even before the Portuguese discovered
the passage round the Cape of Good Hope.[51] We are told that John of
Lancaster, the great Duke of Bedford, bore his arms supported by this
animal, which is still on the sinister side of the heraldic shield of
the present ducal house of Bedford. Among various embellishments, which
are painted in the Bruges style of the period, in a Prayer-book once the
property of John of Lancaster, are found his armorial devices, with the
antelope black, whose straight spiral horns, although placed almost at
right angles with the head, are evidently intended for those of the oryx.
The animal is adorned with gilded tusks, but in other respects is not ill
drawn. It is conjectured that this book was illuminated on the marriage
of the Duke of Bedford with Anne, Princess of Burgundy. Be this as it
may, it can not well be later than the period of his death in the year
1435.

The gemsbok is a very remarkable animal, and, though possessed of many
of those beautiful peculiarities which characterize antelopes, there is
something anomalous about him. He has the mane and tail of the horse, the
head and coloring of the ass, and the legs and feet of the antelope. The
horns are about three feet in length, slightly curved backward, ringed at
the base, and of a shining black color. Those of the female are somewhat
longer than the male’s, but of more slender proportions. About one third
of their entire length is hollow, resting on a bony protuberance. When
both horns are perfect, and one has a side view of the animal, they
appear as one and the same, from which circumstance many believe the
gemsbok to be the unicorn[52] of Scripture.

The gemsbok is a truly noble beast. The adult male (about the size of an
ass) not unfrequently attains nearly four feet in height at the shoulder,
and about ten in extreme length. The general color of the coat is a
“vinous buff.” The female is very similar in appearance, but slighter in
form. The calves are of a reddish cream-color, which, as they grow up,
becomes paler or whitish. They are easily tamed, but sometimes exhibit
a vicious and treacherous disposition. Hans more than once domesticated
them, and I myself have had the young alive.

The gemsbok may be said to be gregarious in its habits; for, though
rarely seen together in any great number, it is not often met singly.

Of all the larger quadrupeds of South Africa with which I can claim
acquaintance, the gemsbok is undoubtedly the swiftest. Its speed is
nearly equal to that of the horse. Unless a man be a “light weight” and
very well mounted, he has little chance of coming up with it.

The food of the gemsbok consists of grass, succulent plants (often of a
very acrid taste), shrubs, &c.

As with several other animals indigenous to Southern Africa, water is not
supposed to be essential to the existence of the gemsbok. Gordon Cumming,
indeed, tells us “that it never by any chance tastes water.” But this, I
apprehend, is a mistake; for I have not only seen it on several occasions
while in the very act of drinking, but perfectly well authenticated
instances have come to my knowledge where whole troops of these animals
have been discovered either dead or in a dying state near pools purposely
poisoned by the natives for the capture of wild animals. The gemsbok, it
is true, is found in the most dreary and desolate districts far distant
from water:

    “A region of drought, where no river glides,
    Nor rippling brook with osier’d sides—
    With no reedy pool, nor mossy fountain,
    Nor shady tree, nor cloud-capp’d mountain.”

Nevertheless (more especially at early morn), it occasionally frequents
the banks of periodical rivers, flanked or bordered by broken ground or
hills; and it is to such localities, when pursued, that it flies for
refuge.

Though the gemsbok has rarely, if ever, been known to attack man, it
is quite capable of defending itself. With its formidable horns it can
strike an object (that is, inflict wounds) in front as well as behind,
which, from their pointing backward, was hardly to be expected. When
driven to bay by dogs, it has been seen to place its head between its
legs (the tips of its horns, in the while, almost resting on the ground),
and to rip open, or toss into the air, such of its assailants as have
had the boldness to confront it. In this manner Hans told me he lost, at
different times, the best dogs in his pack.

In open ground, the gemsbok, it is said, will stand on the defensive even
against the lion himself. Hans, indeed, knew an instance where a lion and
a gemsbok were found lying dead in each other’s grasp, the latter having,
with his horns, transfixed his assailant! The carcasses of the two were
discovered before decomposition had taken place. The lion seems to have a
great dread of the horns of the gemsbok; for, by all accounts, he rarely
ventures to attack except by stealth.

The horns of this animal are used by the natives for a variety of
purposes. When polished, they form strong and handsome walking-sticks.
The flesh, which is well tasted, is highly prized.

“Owing to the uneven nature of the ground which the oryx frequents,” says
Gordon Gumming, “its shy and suspicious disposition, and the extreme
distances from water to which it must be followed, it is never stalked
or driven to an ambush like other antelopes, but is hunted on horseback,
and ridden down by a long, severe, tail-on-end chase.” This is not
exactly correct, for when on foot I have killed great numbers of these
animals. Moreover, were the option left me, I would rather “stalk” them
than pursue them on horseback. Such was also Hans’s experience, who,
during his seven years’ nomade life in Damara-land, has probably killed
more gemsboks than any hunter in Southern Africa. I have also known this
animal to be driven into pitfalls.

The gemsbok, as a rule, runs, like the eland, against the wind when
pursued.




CHAPTER XXIII.

    Arrival at Eikhams.—Native Dogs; cruelly treated.—Jonker
    Afrikaner.—The Author visits the Red Nation; the bad Repute
    of these People.—The Author attacked by Ophthalmia.—The
    embryo Locust.—The “flying” Locust; its Devastations.—The
    Locust-bird.—Arrival at Rehoboth; the Place described.


In the afternoon of the 20th of February we drove in to Eikhams during a
terrific thunder-storm, drenched to the skin. The deluging rain continued
to descend the whole of the ensuing night, and the place on the following
morning looked like a foaming torrent. In consequence of this inundation,
our ox-gear, and, in short, every thing untanned, was completely
saturated, and greatly resembled a heap of moist wash-leather.

The starved native dogs had taken advantage of this circumstance, and
devoured rather more than two feet of our “trek-touw.” The curs are
of the greatest annoyance to the traveler in Namaqua-land, for, since
the owners rarely feed them, they greedily devour almost every thing
they come across. I have had my powder-flask, “veld” shoes, and even
rifle (the stock of which may have happened to be covered with hide, in
order to keep it from cracking) abstracted by them from my side during
the night. A person’s first impulse on making the discovery is to vow
vengeance on the head of the thieves; but, on seeing the emaciated state
of the poor creatures, in which every rib might be counted, anger is
turned into pity, and the uplifted arm, ready to strike the blow, falls
to its place.

It has been said with much truth by a missionary that “the Namaquas
feed their dogs with stripes.” From being constantly kicked and knocked
about in the most brutal manner, they gradually become so accustomed to
ill-treatment that flogging produces little or no effect. When struck,
they merely shrug up their backs, open their jaws, grin in a ghastly
manner, and, if the chastisement be continued, howl most piteously. This,
and their skeleton appearance, are enough to sicken a person.

It would be somewhat difficult to determine to what species of the canine
race these dogs belong, or from what breed they originally descended.
They bear some slight resemblance to those I have seen at the homesteads
of the Swedish peasants.[53]

Jonker had removed his werft to some little distance from Eikhams. He
invariably did this every year after the rains, in order to save the
pasturage for the dry season. I rode over to the village, where I found
nearly the whole tribe—women and children, at least—congregated. This
was an opportunity I had long desired, since it would enable me to form a
rough estimate of their number. Jonker and most of the men were absent;
but by counting the huts, and taking the average number of individuals
to each, I came to the conclusion that the aggregate of Namaquas capable
of carrying arms did not exceed five hundred. The servants, or rather
slaves, on the other hand, consisting of Bushmen, Hill-Damaras, and
impoverished Damaras, were probably three or four times as numerous. By
supposing each man to be possessed of one gun, which is perhaps below the
mark, Jonker’s tribe possess in round numbers two thousand firelocks. If
their courage corresponded to their numerical strength, they might prove
a formidable body even to Europeans, but this is fortunately far from
being the case.

Jonker was indebted to us several head of cattle, and we were accordingly
anxious for his return, but no person could or would inform us when
this was likely to happen. With regard to other inquiries, such
as the object and motive of his present journey, the answers were
equally unsatisfactory. Nevertheless, the shyness of the natives, when
interrogated on these points, coupled with our knowledge that Jonker was
accompanied by almost all his warriors, made us suspect that he had gone
on a plundering expedition against the Damaras.

After a few days’ stay at Eikhams we directed our steps to a powerful
tribe of Namaquas, known as the “Roode-Natie,” or Red Nation. I had two
objects in view for visiting these people, namely, to trade, and to learn
something about them and their country. Every one I met, including the
missionaries, represented them as the most barbarous and brutal of all
the Hottentots in Great Namaqua-land. Only one trader had visited them,
and him they treated so shamefully as to discourage others from making a
like attempt. I was determined, however, if possible, to ascertain the
cause of their evil reputation, and to endeavor to establish friendly
relations with them.

My reception was such as to corroborate the ill reports that had reached
my ears. At the first weft we came to they stole a large quantity of
clothing belonging to our servants, but, after some trouble, we succeeded
in recovering the property. At the next village they threatened to shoot
us on the spot if we did not sell our things at their own terms! Three
different times their chief sent to say that if we attempted to stir
without his orders he would fire upon us. To this insolent message we
quietly replied that he would have been at liberty to prevent our coming
to his werft, but, with regard to our departure, we should consult our
own convenience. Finding us determined, and that we were preparing to
start, he soon came to terms, and in the most humble manner offered
an explanation and apology for his rude conduct, which, under the
circumstances, we thought it best to accept.

We were just about to turn our backs upon the Red Nation when a messenger
arrived from Cornelius, the chief, with a civil and pressing invitation
to visit him at his kraal. After some little hesitation, we consented,
and speedily followed the envoy. On arriving at the werft, prettily
situated at the foot of a hill near the banks of the Kubakop River, which
here forced its passage through a very remarkable range of mountains, I
immediately called the tribe together and reproached them for their bad
behavior toward strangers. I moreover explained to them the impolicy
of such conduct, and how very injurious it would prove to their own
interest, since they were entirely dependent on the Cape Colony for their
supplies of arms and ammunition, clothing, and other commodities.

My efforts in bringing about a thorough good understanding were
successful. A short time afterward, indeed, a number of traders,
encouraged by my favorable reception, visited these people, and supplied
their wants at the same rate as paid by the other Hottentot tribes
residing in Great Namaqua-land. Moreover, they have lately admitted a
missionary among them, and it is to be hoped that through good examples
they may ultimately be civilized.

The chief stronghold of the Red Nation is about the Kubakop, but a part
of the tribe is settled on the Fish River. Taken as a whole, they possess
probably the worst portion of the northern part of Great Namaqua-land.
They call themselves _Kaikhous_, a word signifying large ridges of
hills, in contradistinction to Zwartbooi’s tribe, the name of which is
_Kharikhous_, or small ridges. They look upon Jonker and his people, who
are known as “Oerlam,” not only with jealousy, but with something akin to
contempt.

I found but few Damara slaves among the Red Nation, which at first struck
me as singular, for their outrage on the Damaras was, at least, of equal
extent to that perpetrated by the rest of the northern Namaquas. I
could only explain this by supposing that they killed their prisoners.
I afterward learned that my conjecture was correct, and that, having
surrounded a werft, they coolly shot down every soul, women and children
not excepted. However, having lately discovered that the Damaras
make useful drudges, they have, from interested motives, become less
bloody-minded.

While staying with Cornelius I was attacked by ophthalmia, and for a few
days suffered great agonies, but, fortunately, before the disease had
arrived at its maximum, it took a favorable turn.

Having succeeded in disposing of the greater part of our goods, we took
leave of our host, and bent our steps toward Rehoboth, which was on our
road to the Cape. The day after our departure we met with vast numbers of
the larvæ of the locust (_gryllus devastator_, Lich.), commonly called
by the Boers “voet-gangers,” literally, foot-goers. In some places they
might be seen packed in layers several inches in thickness, and myriads
were crushed and maimed by our wagon and cattle. Toward nightfall they
crawled on to the bushes and the shrubs, many of which, owing to their
weight and numbers, were either bowed down to the ground or broken short
off. They were of a reddish color, with dark markings, and, as they hung
thus suspended, they looked like clusters of rich fruit. As they hopped
along the path and among the grass, their appearance was no less curious
and striking.

These “voet-gangers” are justly dreaded by the colonists, as no obstacle
seems capable of staying their progress. They are said to cross stagnant
pools—ay, even the Orange River—by the leading multitudes throwing
themselves heedlessly into the water, where they are drowned, thus
affording the survivors a temporary bridge. Fires, which are lighted in
their path in the hope of staying their course, are extinguished by their
myriads. “All human endeavors to diminish their numbers,” says a recent
author, “would appear like attempting to drain the ocean by a pump.”

As we traveled on next morning we encountered the locust itself, and in
such masses as literally to darken the air.

    “Onward they came, a dark continuous cloud
    Of congregated myriads numberless,
    The rushing of whose wings was as the sound
    Of a broad river, headlong in its course
    Plunged from a mountain summit, or the roar
    Of a wild ocean in the autumn storm,
    Shattering its billows on a shore of rocks.”

Our wagon, or any other equally conspicuous object, could positively not
be distinguished at the distance of one hundred paces. In a particular
spot, within the circumference of a mile they had not left a particle
of any green thing. The several columns that crossed our path in the
course of the day must each have been many miles in length and breadth.
The noise of their wings was very great, not unlike that caused by a
gale of wind whistling through the shrouds of a ship at anchor. It was
interesting to witness at a distance the various shapes and forms that
these columns assumed, more especially when crossing mountain ranges. At
one time they would rise abruptly in a compact body, as if propelled by
a strong gust of wind; then, suddenly sinking, they would disperse into
smaller battalions, not unlike vapors floating about a hill side at early
morn, and when slightly agitated by the breeze; or they would resemble
huge columns of sand or smoke, changing every minute their shape and
evolutions.

During their flight numbers were constantly alighting, an action which
has not inaptly been compared to the falling of large snow-flakes. It is,
however, not until the approach of night that they encamp. Woe to the
spot they select as a resting-place! When the rising sun again speeds
their departure, localities which, on the preceding evening, were rich in
vegetation, are bare and naked as the Sahara. “When a swarm alights on
a garden,” says Mr. Moffat, “or even fields, the crop for one season is
destroyed, I have observed a field of young maize devoured in the space
of two hours. They eat not only tobacco and every other vegetable, but
also flannel and linen.”

From what has been said, it is evident that the husbandman has just
reason to be appalled at the approach of this destructive insect. To the
poor Bushmen, “the children of the desert,” on the other hand, who have
neither herds to lose by famine nor corn-fields to be destroyed by their
devastations, their arrival is a cause of rejoicing. Pringle, in his song
of the wild Bushman, has the following lines:

    “Yea, even the wasting locust-swarm,
      Which mighty nations dread,
    To me nor terror brings nor harm;
      I make of them my bread.”

On the present occasion we found a great number of Hottentots, as also
Hill-Damaras, busy collecting the locusts, which was done in a very
simple and ingenious manner. Having gathered together large quantities
of dry fuel, fires were lighted directly in their path, and as the
insects passed over the flames, their wings were scorched, and they fell
helplessly to the ground.

They are also collected by cart-loads at night when they have retired
to rest; but this plan is occasionally attended with danger. “It has
happened that in gathering them people have been bitten by venomous
reptiles. On one occasion a woman had been traveling several miles with a
large bundle of locusts on her head, when a serpent, which had been put
into the sack with them, found its way out. The woman, supposing it to
be a thong dangling about her shoulders, laid hold of it with her hand,
and feeling that it was alive, instantly precipitated the bundle to the
ground and fled.”

The locusts, after being partially roasted, are eaten fresh, or they are
dried in the hot ashes, and then stored away for future emergences. The
natives reduce them also to powder or meal by means of two stones or a
wooden mortar, which powder, when mixed with water, produces a kind of
soup or stir-about. I have tasted locusts prepared in various ways, but I
can not say that I have found them very palatable. But they must contain
a vast deal of nourishment, since the poor people thrive wonderfully on
them.

Birds of almost every description, more especially storks and kites, are
seen devouring them greedily.

The great enemy of the locust, however, is the locust-bird, or the
“spring-haan vogel,” as it is termed by the colonists. This is described
as a species of thrush, about the size of a swallow, and is a constant
attendant on the insect. It is even said to build its nest and rear its
young in the midst of locusts, which, moreover, occasionally prey on
each other; for when a locust becomes maimed or crippled, its companions
instantly pounce upon and devour it.

The locust which causes such havoc to vegetation in Africa is said to be
a different species to that common to Asia, where also, though perhaps
not to the same extent, it commits great ravages.

The Cape Colony has been particularly subject to this dreadful scourge,
which is invariably followed by famine. The inroads of the locusts are
periodical; according to Pringle, about once every fifteen years. In
1808, after having laid waste a considerable portion of the country,[54]
they disappeared, and did not return till 1824. They then remained for
several years, but in 1830 took their departure.

The proper home of the locust is yet a mystery. Experience only tells us
that they come southward from the north. They rarely appear in any number
except in years of abundance.

Almost every day during several months we encountered innumerable swarms
of these insects, and it was not till we had crossed the Orange River
that we fairly lost sight of them.

On the 15th of March we reached Rehoboth, where, as already said, there
is a missionary station pertaining to the Rhenish Society. Here I had the
pleasure of making the acquaintance of the Rev. Messrs. Kleinschmidt and
Vollmer. They resided in substantial clay houses thatched with reeds. The
church, in the erection of which Mr. Kleinschmidt had taken a very active
part, is a handsome and roomy structure, capable of holding several
hundred people. From the disproportionate breadth of the building,
however, the roof could not sustain its own weight, and some time
previously to my visit the greater part had fallen down. Divine service,
nevertheless, continued to be performed in that portion of the building
which remained uninjured.

At this period the station was in a most flourishing condition. But,
alas! circumstances have since changed, and it is now a question whether
the mission can continue to exist. Should it be abandoned, ten years of
unremitted labor and exertion will be entirely lost, and I sadly fear it
will break the heart of its founder—the worthy and venerable Kleinschmidt.

Rehoboth is well supplied with good and clear water from a fountain hard
by. There is also a copious warm spring flowing from a limestone rock;
but the water is looked upon as unwholesome, and only made use of for
cattle, washing of clothes, and the seasoning of timber.

The warm spring in question is situated on rising ground, and
consequently affords facilities for irrigation, though, unfortunately,
the soil is scanty and unfavorable for gardening. The missionaries
and a few natives have by perseverance succeeded in fertilizing
patches of ground which are tolerably productive. Indeed, I have known
a fig-tree—certainly not above five or six feet in height—in Mr.
Kleinschmidt’s garden to produce a dish of fruit every day for a space
of more than three months. The garden vegetables which thrive best are
pumpkins, calabashes, watermelons, &c. The wild gourd, or melon, is
also found in great abundance about Rehoboth. When ripe, this fruit is
collected by the natives, dried, and stored away for seasons of scarcity.




CHAPTER XXIV.

    Return to Eikhams.—Ugly Fall.—Splendid Landscape.—Jonker’s
    Delinquencies.—How to manage the Natives.—The Ondara.—It
    kills a Man.—How his Comrade revenges him.—Medical Properties
    of the Ondara.—The Cockatrice.—The Cobra di Capella.—The
    Puff-adder.—The Spitting Snake.—The Black Snake.—Few Deaths
    caused by Snakes.—Antidotes for Snake-bites.—Return to Rehoboth.


Leaving Hans in charge of the men and cattle, I posted back to Eikhams,
a distance of about sixty miles, in the hope of recovering our debt
from Jonker; but he had not yet returned. By this time, however, I
received positive information that he and his people were engaged in
a cattle-lifting foray. To enable me to acquire full details of their
proceedings, I set off for Barmen, the head-quarter for information as
respects Damara-land. Here fugitives arrived daily, bringing tidings of
plunder and bloodshed. I felt grieved and angry at Jonker’s outrageous
behavior. Only a year before he had most solemnly promised Mr. Galton
never again to molest the Damaras.

Hearing that Kachamaha, the most powerful chief in the country since the
death of Kahichenè, resided not far from Barmen, and that he had been
a severe sufferer by the depredations of the Namaquas, I determined to
visit him, with a view of ascertaining the extent of his own and his
countrymen’s losses.

I found Kachamaha’s kraal on the steep banks of a periodical stream,
one of the largest tributaries of the Swakop. The situation was most
picturesque. The wonderful luxuriance of the vegetation, and extreme
beauty of the landscape at this season, the thousands of cattle crowding
the verdant slopes, the purling stream, which made a music strange to
these regions—

    “A noise like of a hidden brook
      In the leafy month of June,
    That to the sleeping woods all night
      Singeth a quiet tune”—

the mimosa (now in full blossom), the numerous fires on an evening,
around which bustling and merry groups of savages were busily preparing
their plain “veld-kost” of wild roots and bulbs—these, and many other
signs of abundance, cheerfulness, and content, infused a sensation of
tranquil happiness which I had not experienced since my arrival in this
sunburnt and unhappy land.

The result of my own and Mr. Hahn’s inquiries was a conviction that
Jonker, with his murderous horde, had destroyed in his recent foray
upward of forty werfts or villages, and that the aggregate number of
cattle carried off could not have been much short often or eleven
thousand. One powerful tribe of Damaras had been completely broken up.
With regard to the number of people killed, we were unable to ascertain
any thing with certainty, but we had reason to think that on this
occasion it was not considerable.

Having collected all the facts which I thought necessary to convict
Jonker of his guilt, I retraced my steps to Eikhams.

Almost immediately after leaving Barmen I had a very ugly fall from my
ox. He was plunging and kicking most viciously, but I succeeded for a
time in keeping my seat. Unfortunately, however, all at once both girths
gave way, and, after performing a summersault in the air, I came with a
violent thump to the ground. I alighted in a sitting position, but, as
ill luck would have it, my left leg came in contact with the stump of a
tree, which inflicted a wound fully two inches in depth, and nearly the
same in length. In this state I was obliged to ride upward of one hundred
miles, and the consequence was, that by the time I reached Rehoboth,
what with the heat of the sun and the jolting of the ox, my limb was
alarmingly inflamed. A week’s rest, however, restored me, in a degree, to
health.

On arriving near Eikhams, I observed almost every hill and dale covered
with numerous herds of cattle, the spoils of the last excursion. On my
arrival, I requested an immediate interview with the chief. In a day or
two, accompanied by twenty of his principal men, he made his appearance.
The meeting took place in the old church, where I had established myself,
which gave a certain solemnity to the occasion. Eyebrecht and Onesimus
acted as interpreters.

Every one being duly seated and silence obtained, I thus addressed the
chieftain:

“Captain Jonker! when I last saw you, I shook hands with you: it grieves
me that I can not do so to-day; the cause you must be aware of.” I then
proceeded boldly to accuse him of his late depredations in Damara-land,
to which both he and the rest of the audience listened in the most
profound silence.

Having finished my harangue, the cunning chief requested to be allowed
to speak a few words in his defense, which, of course, was granted. He
then entered into a very long and cleverly concocted story of the great
losses he had sustained at the hands of the Damaras, and that what he
had now done was solely in self-defense, or as indemnification for
robberies committed on himself. Whatever truth there might have been
in his assertion as to preceding outrages, his story on the present
occasion was one chain of falsehood, and this I clearly proved to him.
At last, finding no further excuse, and perceiving that I knew all about
his proceedings, he confessed that, in passing through the country, his
men had certainly “taken a few head of cattle, but,” added he, “we left
plenty after us.” The manner in which he thus attempted to get out of the
scrape was so ridiculous that I could not help smiling. After a little
more parley, the conference broke up.

The Namaquas, however much they may be averse to hear the truth, respect
the man who speaks his mind boldly. For this very reason, I was never
denied a favor or request, if in their power to grant it. The case was
similar with Mr. Hahn, who acted on the same principle as myself.

In my dealings with the natives, and more especially with the Namaquas, I
made it a rule to treat them civilly, and even deferentially, but I never
mixed very freely with them. The moment a person becomes too familiar,
they lose all respect for him. The only check he has on their avarice,
and safeguard against their treachery, is to exert, as far as possible,
a certain moral influence over their minds. This he effects to a certain
extent by showing himself superior to their faults and vices. It might be
convenient enough to imitate them in some respects, but, on the whole, it
will prove injurious and detrimental to the traveler’s interest.

After a short stay at Eikhams, I bade adieu to Jonker, and set off on my
return to Rehoboth.

One morning, when crossing a periodical stream, I observed in its sandy
bed the tracks of an immense serpent, in size, as it would seem, not
much inferior to the boa constrictor. I had previously heard that such
monsters inhabited this part of Africa,[55] but the natives declared
they were poisonous (not characteristic of this family of reptiles),
and, consequently, feared them greatly. The Damaras call the serpent in
question the Ondara, and said that its chief food was the rock-rabbit
(_hyrax capensis_). Mr. Hahn had an opportunity of seeing one of these
huge creatures, which had been accidentally killed by the people at
Rehoboth. It measured eighteen feet in length.[56]

I was told a very striking story of the Ondara, but I am not at all
prepared to vouch for its truth.

Two Hill-Damaras had, it seems, gone in search of honey, and having found
a bees’ nest in the cleft of a rock, one of them made his way through
the confined aperture that led to it for the purpose of possessing
himself of the honey-comb. But he had not long been thus engaged when he
discovered a narrow circular passage leading apparently right through
the nest. He told this to his comrade on the outside who suggested that
it was probably caused by a serpent. However, seeing nothing to indicate
the reptile’s presence, he resumed his labor, and, having secured the
honey-comb, was about to withdraw from the aperture, when, to his horror,
he saw a huge ondara making toward him. The reptile passed the poor
fellow in the first instance, but, suddenly turning round, it plunged
its murderous fangs into the man’s body. The poison was of so virulent a
nature as to cause almost instantaneous death. The survivor, witnessing
the fate of his friend, fled precipitately. On his way home, however,
and when his agitation had subsided, he determined to revenge himself on
the reptile, and early the following day he returned to put his plan into
execution.

Having seen the serpent leave the aperture in question, he slipped
unperceived into it, and quietly awaited the reptile’s return. As soon
as he observed it approaching, he coolly placed his open hand across the
narrowest part of the passage, and, just as the monster’s eyes glared
within, he grasped it by the throat, and, by striking its head to and fro
against the rocks on either side, soon succeeded in destroying it.

Many Namaquas believe that the ondara possesses certain medicinal
virtues; therefore, when they succeed in killing the reptile, its flesh
is carefully preserved. If a person falls sick, a portion is either
applied externally in the form of an unction, or given to the patient in
a decoction.

The natives mention a very singular little snake, about seven or eight
inches long, possessing four distinct legs, each provided with toes and
nails like a lizard. It is difficult to conceive for what purpose these
limbs (which are placed somewhat apart, and rather to the side, as in the
seal) have been destined by nature, since they are apparently never used.
The motion of this curious creature, which is of a dark slate color,
is said to be that of a perfect snake. Three specimens were brought at
different times to Mr. Hahn when at Barmen.

The story of the cockatrice, so common in many parts of the world,
is also found among the Damaras; but instead of crowing, or, rather,
chuckling like a fowl when going to roost, they say it bleats like a
lamb. It attacks man as well as beast, and its bite is considered fatal.
They point to the distant north as its proper home. In Timbo’s country
it is termed “hangara,” and is said to attain to twelve feet, or even
more, in length, with a beautifully variegated skin. On its head, like
the Guinea-fowl, it has a horny protuberance of a reddish color. It
dwells chiefly in trees. Its chuckle is heard at nightfall; and people,
imagining that the noise proceeds from one of their own domestic fowls
that has strayed, hasten to drive it home. But this frequently causes
their destruction; for, as soon as the cockatrice perceives its victim
within reach, it darts at it with the speed of lightning; and if its
fangs enter the flesh, death invariably ensues. Timbo informed me that
he once saw a dog belonging to his father thus killed. Moreover, the
cockatrice, like the wild dog, wantonly destroys more at a time than it
can consume.

Notwithstanding the dryness of the soil and the atmosphere between the
Orange River and the seventeenth or eighteenth degrees of south latitude,
reptiles are rather numerous. Indeed, some parts of Damara-land are so
infested by them as to be almost uninhabitable. For my own part, however,
I have encountered comparatively few. I never saw the cobra di capella,
though it does exist in these regions. It is common enough in the colony,
and is even met with in the neighborhood of the Table Mountain.

An acquaintance of mine had a remarkable escape from this reptile. Being
passionately fond of botany, he was one day studying the flora of the
so-called “Cape Flats.” Having discovered a rare plant, he was stooping
down to gather it, when up started a cobra immediately beneath his hand.
My friend had no time to turn round, but retreated backward as quickly as
his legs would carry him. The serpent, however, was fast gaining ground,
and, had the chase lasted a few seconds longer, must inevitably have
caught him; but just at this critical moment my friend stumbled over an
ant-hill and fell to the ground on his back, and while in this position
he saw, to his inexpressible relief, the enraged cobra dash furiously
past him.

Pringle says that this snake has been known to dart at a man on
horseback, and “with such force as to overshoot its aim.” The average
length of a full-grown specimen I believe to be about five feet.

The puff-adder (_vipera inflata_) was not uncommon in Namaqua-land and
Damara-land. My saddle-ox had an exceedingly narrow escape from being
bitten by one. The reptile was lying at length across the path, and I did
not discover it until the ox almost trod on it. Any serpent less slow in
its movements must have fixed its fangs in the animal. Another time a
woman, the wife of a native servant of mine, found one of these horrid
creatures comfortably sleeping in the folds of her skin apron.

Notwithstanding its venomous character, the puff-adder, from its inert,
heavy, and sluggish habits, is comparatively harmless. The only real
danger arises from treading on it. This, however, is not always easy to
avoid, since its color so much resembles the ground.

When about to seize its prey or attack the enemy, the puff-adder is said
to be unable to dart forward, but, on the other hand, to possess the
faculty of throwing itself backward with unerring certainty.

Different species of what the Dutch term “schaap-steker,” or
sheep-stinger;[57] “boom-slang,” or tree-snake; “ringel-hals,” or
ring-throat; “the spuig-slang,” or spitting-snake;[58] the “zwart-slang,”
or black-snake,[59] &c., are also occasionally met with, but none of
these are very poisonous. The spuig-slang, however, is much dreaded by
the colonist, less for its bite—which, though venomous, is not fatal—but
from its peculiar habit of projecting a jet of poison to a distance of
several feet toward the eyes of any person who may happen to approach its
haunts, the result of which is usually loss of sight.

The common people at the Cape have some very singular notions and
superstitions about the different reptiles indigenous to the Cape Colony,
but more especially with regard to the zwart-slang. Our wagon-driver
told us that this snake is very fond of women’s milk, and solemnly
declared that he had known several instances where it has entered
people’s dwellings at night, and if it met with a sleeping mother, has
dexterously abstracted her milk. I remember a somewhat similar story
having been told me by the peasantry of some parts of Sweden, who state
that to kill a snake was not alone a duty, but an expiatory sacrifice,
since “seven sins” would be forgiven an individual for each serpent
slain by him. Accordingly, in the credulity of my childish days, I was a
perfect Thalaba!

Incorrect ideas of the power of the reptile family, coupled with
superstitious dread, have no doubt served considerably to exaggerate
the fear of snakes. Many, we know, are of the most venomous character;
but, as we become better acquainted with the different species, we
shall find that by far the greater portion are harmless, or nearly so.
The remarkably few cases of death occurring from their bites are a
corroboration of this. Moreover, like the rest of lower animals, the most
deadly reptile will generally fly at the sight of man. It only exerts
its formidable powers of destruction when about to be trampled upon or
assailed. Were it otherwise, many of the more humid parts of our globe,
where snakes literally swarm, would be uninhabitable. Before setting
foot on African soil, my head was full of the dangers to which I should
be exposed from them, either when “treading the maze of the jungle,” or
when traversing the endless sand-plains. Habit and experience have since
taught me to regard snakes with something akin to indifference.

Some of the antidotes in Southern Africa for the bites of snakes and the
stings of poisonous insects are simple, singular, and striking.

The first point to be attended to is (if it be practicable) to tie a
string or ligature tight above the wounded part, so as to prevent the
venom spreading.

Cutting away, or applying caustic to the wounded part, if promptly and
unhesitatingly done, is also likely to prevent fatal consequences.

Europeans have usually recourse to _eau de luce_, five drops of which is
administered to the patient in a glass of water every ten minutes until
the poison is counteracted. _Eau de luce_ is also applied externally.
Another very good plan is to scarify with a knife the wound, and then
boldly to suck it. Care, however, must be taken that one has no sore
about the lips or mouth. Sweet milk, oil, or spirits of hartshorn must
then be applied to the wound. The patient should also be made to drink
freely of sweet milk.

In the Cape Colony, the Dutch farmers resort to a cruel but apparently
effective plan to counteract the bad effects of a serpent’s bite. An
incision having been made in the breast of a living fowl, the bitten
part is applied to the wound. If the poison be very deadly, the bird
soon evinces symptoms of distress, “becomes drowsy, droops its head, and
dies.” It is replaced by a second, a third, and more if requisite. When,
however, the bird no longer exhibits any of the signs just mentioned, the
patient is considered out of danger. A frog similarly applied is supposed
to be equally efficacious.

A certain white bean found in some parts of the colony (designated,
somewhat singularly, the gentleman bean) has also been known to cure the
bites of serpents and other poisonous creatures. Thus a Damara woman who
had been stung by a scorpion was once brought to Mr. Hahn with her whole
body very much swollen and inflamed. She was already in such a state as
to be unable to walk. He instantly divided one of the beans in question,
and applied it to the wound, to which it adhered with such tenacity as
only to be removed by force. When the virus was extracted, the bean
dropped off of its own accord, and the woman, after a time, thoroughly
recovered.

“As an antidote against the bite of serpents,” says Thunberg, in his
Travels in South Africa, “the blood of the turtle was much cried up,
which, on account of this extraordinary virtue, the inhabitants dry in
the form of small scales or membranes, and carry about them when they
travel in this country, which swarms with this most noxious vermin.
Whenever any one is wounded by a serpent, he takes a couple of pinches of
the dried blood internally, and applies a little of it to the wound.”[60]

And Kolben, when speaking of the cobras (called by the first colonists
the hair-serpent), says:

“Some affirm that there is in the head of the hair-serpent a stone, which
is a never failing antidote both against the poison of this and every
other sort of serpent. I killed a great many hair-serpents at the Cape,
and searched very narrowly the heads of all I killed in order to find
this stone, but I could never discover any such thing. Perhaps it is only
to be found at one season of the year, as are the stones in the heads of
crawfish.

“There are in the hands of the Cape Europeans,” Kolben goes on to say,
“a great many stones called serpent-stones, but they are artificial
ones. They are brought from the East Indies, where they are prepared by
the Brachmans, who are alone, it seems, possessed of the secret of the
composition, and will not let it go out of their own body at any price.
I am heartily sorry the secret is not in the Christian world, and that
the Brachmans are inflexible in this particular, because those stones are
of admirable virtues. I saw one of them tried upon a child at the Cape,
who had receiv’d a poisonous bite in one of the arms, but it could not be
discover’d from what creature. When the stone was brought, the arm was
prodigiously swell’d and inflam’d. The stone, being applied to the wound,
stuck to it very closely, without any manner of bandage or support,
drinking in the poison till it could receive no more, and then it dropt
off. The stone was then laid in milk, that it might purge itself of the
poison; and it did so presently, the poison turning the milk yellow. The
stone, as soon as it was purg’d, was again applied to the wound; and
when it had drank in its dose, it was again laid in milk. And this was
reiterated till such time as the stone had exhausted all the poison,
after which the arm was quickly heal’d.”

Mr. Thunberg also tells us that the farmers in the Cape Colony cure
the bites of serpents and of other venomous reptiles by means of the
“slange-steen,” or snake-stone. “It is imported,” he says, “from the
Indies, especially from Malabar, and costs several rix dollars. It is
convex on one side, of a black color, with a pale ash-gray speck in the
middle, and tubulated with very minute pores. When thrown into water it
causes bubbles to rise, which is a proof of its being genuine, as it is,
also, that if put into the mouth it adheres to the palate. When it is
applied to any part that has been bitten by a serpent, it sticks fast to
the wound and extracts the poison; as soon as it is saturated, it falls
off of itself. If it be then put into milk, it is supposed to be purified
from the poison it had absorbed, and the milk is said to be turned
blue by it. Frequently, however, the wound is scarified with a razor
previously to the application of the stone.”

“This antidote,” says Barrow, when speaking of the snake-stone, “appears
to be, in fact, nothing more than a piece of firm bone of some animal
made into an oval shape, and burnt round the edges so as to leave a
whitish spot in the middle. The country-people, who purchase this remedy
under the idea of its being a stone taken out of the head of a certain
species of serpent, were very much astonished on being told that it was
only a piece of bone, and the more so on finding that this substance
stood their test of the goodness of the _slange-steen_, which was that
of throwing out bubbles on the surface when immersed in water. To
the porosity of the bone may be ascribed its healing qualities, if it
actually possesses any; for which reason, any other substance made up of
capillary tubes, as common sponge, for instance, might perhaps be equally
efficacious.”

To resume: Our journey to Rehoboth was unattended with any very
remarkable incident, and we reached that place in safety after an absence
of twenty-three days.




CHAPTER XXV.

    The Author’s Tent takes Fire.—He loses every thing but his
    Papers.—He is laid on a bed of Sickness.—Want of Medicine,
    &c.—Reflections.—Whole Villages infected with Fever.—Abundance
    of Game.—Extraordinary Shot at an Ostrich.—A Lion breakfasts
    on his Wife.—Wonderful shooting Star.—Remarkable Mirage.—Game
    and Lions plentiful.—The Ebony-tree.—Arrival at Bethany, a
    Missionary Station.—The Trouble of a large Herd of Cattle.—A
    thirsty Man’s Cogitation.—Curious Superstition.—The Damara
    Cattle described.—People who live entirely without Water.—Cross
    the Orange River.—Sterile Country.


The old adage, “Misfortunes never come singly,” was exemplified in my
case. The wound in my leg being now nearly healed, we were preparing to
leave Rehoboth, when one evening my hut accidentally caught fire, and,
being entirely constructed of dry grass and sticks, it was burnt to the
ground before any thing of moment could be saved. By rushing through the
flames, however, I fortunately succeeded in preserving the greater part
of my papers and memoranda, which to me were invaluable. I also rescued
my saddle; but, in so doing, my clothes took fire, and I had a very
narrow escape from being burnt to death. A shirt, a pair of trowsers, a
cap, and a pair of _under-done_ shoes, which had not been long enough
at the fire to be thoroughly roasted, were all that was left me. My
situation, consequently, was not very enviable. Through the kindness
of Messrs. Kleinschmidt and Vollmer, however, I was once more able to
appear decently appareled.

But I was soon destined to experience a greater calamity. A few stages
south of Rehoboth, which we left on the 22d of April, _en route_ to
the Cape, and while camped on the banks of the Hountop, I was attacked
by intermittent fever, which quickly carried me to the verge of the
grave. My sufferings and privations during this period were indeed
severe. Regularly every morning at eleven o’clock I was seized with a
violent shivering fit, which lasted three hours. Then came the fever,
of almost as long duration, accompanied by racking headache and profuse
perspiration. After this my head was tolerably free from pain, but I was
so completely exhausted that to turn in my bed was a laborious effort.
The climate, moreover, at this season was very trying; for, while the
days were moderately warm (the thermometer averaging 65° at noon), the
nights were piercingly cold and frosty. At sunrise the ice was from an
eighth part of an inch to one inch thick. I became very sensitive to
these changes, inasmuch as during the greater part of the illness I was
compelled to sleep in the open air, having previously disposed of our
wagons to the natives. What little medicine I once possessed was consumed
in the recent conflagration, and the missionaries—owing to the fever
having broken out most alarmingly among themselves and the natives—were
unable to spare me any. To add to my misfortunes, no suitable food was
procurable. Milk and meat were my only diet. The latter I could not
digest, and the former soon became insipid to my taste. The men, it is
true, had once the good fortune to surprise an ostrich in its nest, but
the eggs were too rich and heavy for my weak stomach.

Up to this period my busy and roving life had left me but little time
for serious reflection. Now, however, that the cares of the world
no longer occupied my thoughts, I felt the full force of my lonely
situation. During the long and sleepless nights I was often seized with
an indescribable sensation of sadness and melancholy. Death itself I did
not fear; but to perish in a foreign land, in the midst of strangers,
far away from all I loved, was an idea to which I could hardly reconcile
myself. What hand would close my eyes? what mourner would follow my
coffin? or what friend would shed a tear on my lonely and distant grave?

I was _alone_! Oh, may the reader never experience the full meaning of
that melancholy word!

After upward of two months of no ordinary sufferings, my strong
constitution prevailed, and I was convalescent; but several weeks elapsed
before I recovered my usual health and vigor.

John Allen was also seriously ill from the same malady, which had the
character of an epidemic, for in a very short time it spread like
wildfire throughout the length and breadth of Great Namaqua-land, and
vast numbers of people succumbed under it. The disease, indeed, was of
so destructive a nature that it swept off whole villages. In one kraal
in particular, all the inhabitants perished, and the cattle were left to
take care of themselves.

Fever (the cause of which is unknown) is not common in these parts, and
makes its appearance only occasionally.

We had pitched our tent, as already said, near the Hountop River. The
country thereabout was a succession of vleys or gulleys, then filled with
excellent clear water, teeming with water-fowl. Quails, birds of the
grouse tribe, and wood-pigeons, were also numerous. Of the larger animals
we had the zebra, the springbok, the ostrich, and an occasional oryx
and hartebeest; but, from their being much persecuted by the natives,
combined with nakedness of the country, they were extremely wary and
difficult of approach.

Game of many kinds being thus abundant, it may well be supposed that,
as soon as my strength permitted me to carry a gun, I at once took the
field, as well for amusement as for the purpose of replenishing our
larder, which was but very ill supplied.

One day I made a capital shot at an ostrich, which, when running at full
speed, I brought down at the long distance of two hundred and thirty
paces. On a previous occasion I killed one of these splendid birds when
upward of three hundred paces from me.

Another day I had the good fortune to shoot a rhinoceros. He was probably
a straggler, for these animals have long since disappeared from the part
of the country where we were then encamped, and, indeed, are now very
rarely to be met with south of the Kuisip River.

Early one morning one of our herdsmen came running up to us in great
fright, and announced that a lion was devouring a lioness! We thought
at first that the man must be mistaken; but his story was perfectly
true, and only her skull, the larger bones, and the skin were left. On
examining the ground more closely, the fresh remains of a young springbok
were also discovered. We therefore conjectured that the lion and lioness
being very hungry, and the antelope not proving a sufficient meal for
both, they had quarreled; and he, after killing his wife, had coolly
eaten her also. A most substantial breakfast it must have been!

On only one other occasion have I known lions to prey on each other. This
was when on my way to Lake Ngami. On a certain night we had badly wounded
a lion. He retreated growlingly into the bush, and immediately afterward
a whole troop of lions rushed upon their disabled brother and tore him to
pieces.

A singular and interesting atmospheric phenomenon occurred at Hountop.
Between seven and eight o’clock in the evening of the 24th of June, when
reading by the side of my bivouac fire, I was suddenly startled by the
whole atmosphere becoming brilliantly, nay, almost painfully illuminated.
On turning to the quarter of the heavens whence this radiance proceeded,
I discovered a most magnificent shooting star, passing _slowly_ in an
oblique direction through space, with an immense tail attached to it,
and emitting sparks of dazzling light. The fire by which I sat was
exceedingly bright, and the moon clear and brilliant, yet they were both
totally eclipsed by this immense body of light. Its great beauty and
brilliancy might perhaps be best realized by saying that it was like a
star of the second or third order when compared to the moon at full.

After a time, the pasturage being nearly exhausted in the neighborhood
of the Hountop, we removed our camp a few miles southward to another
periodical river called the Aamhoup. During our stay here we observed
some very striking and singular horizontal refractions of the air. Once
I saw an ostrich walking on the horizon line, while its double—clear and
well defined—appeared immediately above it. Both the ostrich and its
double, moreover, were divided into three different portions by as many
different strata of air.

Again: regularly every morning, for _nearly a month_, the projecting
ledge of a rock was converted into the semblance of a splendid and
embattled castle. As the atmosphere became uniformly heated, the mirage
melted away into a soft, watery haze.

In usual refractions the inverted image of an object generally appears
above the object itself, but occasionally the effect is reversed. Captain
Scoresby, the well-known Arctic navigator, once by these means discovered
his father’s vessel the day before it actually came in sight.

It has long puzzled the learned to account for the mirage. I believe,
however, it is now pretty well known to arise from the unequal density
and temperature of the lower strata of air.

The abundance of good water and pasturage had enabled our cattle to get
into excellent condition; and as the season was now far advanced, and I
was sufficiently well to travel, we deemed it necessary to move slowly
on toward the Cape Colony. Accordingly, on the 9th of July we left our
camp on the Aamhoup, a place where we had experienced both misery and
happiness.

Our course lay along and at the foot of a very picturesque range of table
hills, averaging about one thousand feet in height. To the westward were
also mountains of a similar nature, but less regular. They were of the
trap formation, and consisted chiefly of limestone.

Water continued for a time to be tolerably abundant, but pasturage began
soon to fail us. Two causes were to be assigned for this, namely, the
devastation of the locusts, and the inferior quality of the soil, which
became stony, interspersed here and there with ridges of sand.

Among the latter we encountered herds of gemsboks, and troops of lions
following on their scent. The mere sight of the tracks of the latter
frightened a friend with whom I was traveling almost out of his wits.
We were riding in advance of our cattle at the time, and it was with
difficulty that I could prevent him from returning with precipitation.

On the 4th of August we arrived in the neighborhood of another Rhenish
missionary station, called Bethany. Here we met with the ebony-tree, of
which I had only before seen a few stragglers in the Swakop River, near
the Usab gorge. Hence on to the Orange River this tree became more or
less abundant, but it was stunted and gnarled. Our bivouac fires usually
consisted of its wood.

While Hans and the men were busy preparing our food and camp for the
night, I strolled on to the station, which I found deserted by every
living creature. Only a short time previously the Rev. Mr. Knudsen
officiated here, but had been obliged to leave on account of some
disagreement with the native tribe and its chief, David Christian. It
had always been considered as inferior to most of the other missionary
stations in this part of Africa; but, what with the absence of the
inhabitants, the devastation of the locust—which had destroyed every
particle of vegetation—and the black and parched appearance of the soil,
it now looked wild and dreary in the extreme. The lengthened shadows of
evening threw an additional gloom over this once busy scene of cheerful
industry. Oh, changes, mysterious and incomprehensible! Surely God, in
his infinite wisdom, will not permit the handiwork of his servants,
raised only by years of perseverance, toil, and privations, to perish
without some recompense!

Bethany, if I am not mistaken, became a scene of missionary labor
as early as 1820. The enterprising and venerable Mr. Schmelen then
officiated here, but he found it necessary, after a time, to abandon the
place. Subsequently to his departure it remained deserted for upward of
twenty years, when, in 1843, it was once more tenanted, and this time by
Mr. Knudsen, who, in his turn, as seen above, was obliged to move off
elsewhere.

After leaving Bethany, water and pasturage became every day more scarce.
All the vleys and pools of rain-water were dried up. The Koanquip River,
however, long befriended us, as in its bed we generally managed to obtain
a supply of grass and water for our cattle, which now amounted to several
hundred head.

But the labor and fatigue of watering the latter was immense. No person
who has not been circumstanced as we were can form the least conception
of the trouble, care, and anxiety that a large drove of cattle occasions.
Perhaps, after having dug for _twenty consecutive hours_—and this I have
done more than once—the water is found insufficient in quantity, or
(which is almost as bad) the ground falls in, or the cattle themselves
spoil it by their wallowing and excrement.

These native cattle are the most troublesome and disgusting brutes
possible; for, after having spoiled the water by their own wildness and
wantonness, they rush furiously about, bellowing and moaning. It is
enough to discourage the stoutest heart.

When arriving at a place where we supposed water was to be found, the
plan usually adopted, in order to guard against the cattle destroying our
work, was to send them away to pasture. In the mean time, every available
man went speedily to work with such implements as were procurable:
spades, wooden troughs, pieces of wood or of bark, were indifferently put
in requisition; and even our hands were used with great effect, though
not without sustaining injury. Having worked the aperture of sufficient
depth and width, it was fenced in by thorn-bushes, leaving only a single
entrance. The oxen were then sent for, and allowed to approach singly
or in greater number, according to the extent of the water. Sometimes,
however, if the nature of the ground did not permit the cattle to have
access to the water, a hollow was scooped in the earth near the edge of
the pit, into which (or into a piece of sail-cloth, if at hand) the water
was poured by means of small wooden pails, usually denominated “bamboos.”

Owing to this tedious process, coupled with the slowness with which water
filters through sand, and the immense quantity (usually five or six
bucketsful) that a thirsty ox will drink, and the quarrelsome disposition
of the animals themselves, watering four hundred head of cattle will
often occupy a whole day or night; and, since a person is in a great
degree dependent on his cattle, whether for food, draft, &c., he himself
must never think of refreshment or rest until their wants have been
provided for.

The scarcity of water, and the uncertainty of finding it in these
parched regions is so great, that when, after a long day’s journey,
the anxiously-looked-for pool is found to be dry, it is almost enough
to drive a man mad, especially if he be a stranger to the country, and
unaccustomed to traversing the African wilds. One’s cogitations at such
times are apt to be something to the following effect. “If I advance
and do not find water within a certain period, it will be inevitable
destruction. To retrace my steps to the last watering-place is not to be
thought of, as, from the distance and the exhausted state of the cattle,
it would never be reached. What remains for me but to lie down and die?”

The common people at the Cape entertain a notion that cattle refrain from
feeding only once within the year, namely, on Christmas eve. Then, it is
affirmed, they fall on their knees, and with closed mouths and half-shut
eyes (a sign of placidity), silently thank the Giver of all good things
for the grass and water they have enjoyed during the past twelve months.
They say, moreover, that a person may witness this act of devotion by
keeping well to leeward and out of sight of the animals.[61]

Our cattle consisted chiefly of the Damara breed, which, so far as I am
aware, differs widely from any found in Europe. They are big-boned, but
not particularly weighty; their legs are slender, and they have small,
hard, and durable feet. The hair on the body is short, smooth, and
glossy, and the extremity of the tail is adorned with a tuft of long,
bushy hair, nearly touching the ground. This tuft constitutes the chief
ornament of the Damara assegai.

But the horns are the most remarkable feature of the Damara cattle. They
are usually placed on the head at an angle of from forty-five to ninety
degrees, and are at times beautifully arched and twisted, but rarely bent
inward. They are of an incredible length, and one often meets with oxen
the tips of whose horns are from seven to eight feet apart.

[Illustration: SKULL OF A BECHUANA OX.]

The Bechuana cattle (of greater bulk and stouter proportions) seem to
surpass the Damara cattle in this respect. Among many other curious and
interesting objects, there is now in the collection of Colonel Thomas
Steel, of Upper Brook Street, a perfect cranium of a young Bechuana
ox,[62] of which the wood-cut is a fair representation. The following are
its dimensions:

    Entire length of horns from tip to tip along the curve  13 ft. 5 in.
    Distance (straight) between the tips of the horns        8     8¼
    Circumference of horns at the root                       1     6½
    Breadth of cranium between the eyes                      0     9¼
    Length        ”       ”       ”                          2     2

But I have been told on good authority that in some parts of Africa
horns of cattle are found greatly to exceed the above dimensions. The
horns, indeed, are of so enormous a size as seriously to inconvenience
the animal. Their length and weight have been known to be so great as
to twist the head to one side, one of the horns dragging on the ground,
while the other pointed upward.

The Damaras prize their oxen in proportion to the size of their horns.
Some African tribes take much pains in forming them of a certain shape.
This is effected either by sawing off the tips, splitting them, bending
them forcibly when yet tender, and so forth.

The Damara cow is of slender proportions and very wild. Before she can be
milked, it is always needful to lash her head to a tree, in like manner
as the Laplanders treat their reindeer, or to tie her hind legs together.
The best cow rarely gives more than two or three pints of milk daily,
and, should her calf die or be taken from her, she absolutely refuses to
give any at all, in which case it is necessary to resort to artificial
means. One plan is to stuff a calf-skin with hay or grass, and afterward
to place it on the ground for the cow to slobber over. Sometimes the
adoption of the latter expedient gives rise to ludicrous scenes; for the
cow, when tenderly caressing her supposed offspring, has all at once got
scent of the hay or grass, when, thrusting her snout into the skin, she
has greedily devoured its contents!

The Damaras, as well as other nations, take great delight in having whole
droves of cattle of the same color. The Namaquas have a perfect mania for
a uniform team. Bright brown is the favorite color; and I myself have
always found beasts of this hue to be the strongest and most generally
serviceable. Dark brown oxen with a yellowish streak along the back—by
the Dutch designated “geel-bak”—are also usually stout and enduring.
Yellow, and more especially white, oxen are considered weak, and unable
to bear much fatigue or hardship.

The Damaras, as with almost every other people of Southern Africa,
value their cattle next to their women, and take a pride in possessing
animals that look high bred. The ox, in fact, forms the chief theme of
the songs of the Damaras. They, moreover, rarely or never make use of a
handsome animal as a beast of burden, but employ quiet, ugly bulls for
such purposes. These have a buffalo look about them, and their horns,
moreover, rarely attain to any size.

From their quick step, good feet, and enduring powers, the Damara cattle
are much prized by the farmers of the Cape Colony. The only drawback is
their wildness and immense size of their horns, which they sometimes use
with fatal effect.

The day before we reached the Orange River we fell in with a kraal of
Hottentots, whom, to our great surprise, we found living in a locality
altogether destitute of water! The milk of their cows and goats supplied
its place. Their cattle, moreover, never obtained water, but found a
substitute in a kind of ice-plant (_mesembryanthemum_), of an exceedingly
succulent nature, which abounds in these regions. But our own oxen, not
accustomed to such diet, would rarely or never touch it. Until I had
actually convinced myself—as I had often the opportunity of doing at an
after period—that men and beasts could live entirely without water, I
should, perhaps, have had some difficulty in realizing this singular fact.

On the 21st of August we effected the passage of the Orange River in
safety at what is called the Zendlings Drift, or the missionary ford. We
had no boat, and those of the men who could not swim were obliged to lay
hold of the tails of the cattle, to which they pertinaciously clung. On
gaining the opposite bank, which was very steep, the oxen, in climbing
it, entirely submerged their charge, to the great delight and amusement
of such of their companions as had landed at a more convenient point.

The Orange River was at this season almost at its lowest, yet it was a
noble and highly picturesque stream. Looking eastward, its aspect was
particularly imposing. Its breadth at this point might have been from two
to three hundred yards. The banks were on both sides lined with evergreen
thorns, drooping willows, ebony-trees, &c.; and the water forced its
passage through a bold and striking gorge, overhung by precipices from
two to three thousand feet high. But the country all round was desolate.
The hills, which at some distant period had evidently been subject to
volcanic eruptions, had a sunburnt and crumbling appearance, and were
almost wholly destitute of vegetation. The soil in the neighborhood
of the mountains consisted of pure sand, and was covered with low and
succulent shrubs, from which our cattle, hitherto accustomed to revel in
the almost boundless savannas of Damara-land, turned with disgust. The
country for several weeks’ journey in advance of us was represented as of
a similar nature.

We began now seriously to tremble for the poor beasts, which had already
lost flesh. Upward of two months’ traveling had to be performed before we
could reach our destination.

With the exception of that portion of Namaqua-land and Damara-land
bordering on the coast, the part of the country I speak of has the most
inauspicious appearance I ever saw. Its sterility arises probably from
being situated near the limit, not only of the “thunder-rains,” but of
the regular rains (“mist-rains,” as they are called in the colony), and
the consequent frequency of great droughts. Indeed, scarcely any rain
falls here in some years.




CHAPTER XXVI.

    Great Namaqua-land.—Its Boundaries and Extent.—Its
    Rivers.—Nature of the Country.—Vegetation and
    Climate.—Geological Structure.—Minerals.—“Topnaars” and
    “Oerlams.”—Houses.—Mythology and Religion.—Tumuli.—Wonderful
    Rock.—Curious Legend of the Hare.—Coming of Age.—The
    Witch-doctor.—Amulets.—Superstitions.—A Namaqua’s notion
    of the Sun.—Marriage.—Polygamy.—Children.—Barbarous
    Practice.—Longevity.—Singular
    Customs.—Ornaments.—Tattooing.—Arms.—Idle Habits.—Fond of
    Amusements.—Music and Dancing.—Spirits.—Mead.—Domestic Animals.


Having now brought my narrative to a period when I am about to leave
Great Namaqua-land, it may be well to say a few words of this country,
its inhabitants, their manners and customs, &c.

The portion of Africa known as Namaqua-land is divided into two distinct
parts, viz., Little and Great Namaqua-land. By the former is understood
the territory (now British) between the Orange River and about the 31st
degree of latitude on the south; by the latter, the country between the
last-named river and Damara-land, its eastern boundary being the Kalahari
desert, while on the west it is washed by the billows of the Atlantic
Ocean.

Great Namaqua-land covers a surface of no less than one hundred and
twelve thousand geographical square miles,[63] with probably a population
of scarcely thirty thousand souls, or less than four persons to the
square mile. Excepting the great Sahara itself, there is, perhaps, not a
country in the world, of equal extent, so scantily peopled, so destitute
of water, so dismal, and so generally barren and useless. It is truly a
“region of curses.”

The coast-line of Great Namaqua-land, like that of Damara-land, consists
of a dreary sandy waste, extending in places from thirty to forty miles
into the interior—in others to a hundred or more—and is, with very few
exceptions, uninhabitable.

Some of the rivers, such as the Kuisip, and others of little importance,
empty themselves into the Atlantic; but the larger portion run in an
easterly direction, and are chiefly tributaries to the Fish River. This
remarkable water-course, which takes its rise in the most northerly limit
of Great Namaqua-land, finally joins the Orange River about three or four
days’ journey from where the latter finds an outlet into the sea, thus
intersecting the country throughout its entire length.

Great Namaqua-land is characterized by immense sandy plains, traversed
by hill and rock, and thickly strewn with quartz, which reflects a
dazzling and perplexing light. Two to three days’ journey south of
Rehoboth, the dense thorny bush, so peculiar to Damara-land, ceases,
and with the exception of a few mimosas along the water-courses, and
occasional ebony-trees, the arboreous vegetation is scanty and stunted.
For more than six months of the year it is scorched by an almost vertical
sun. The rains, which are always accompanied by heavy thunder, are
periodical and very partial. In its northern portion, the wet season sets
in at the same time as in Damara-land; but in a southerly direction, the
rains are later and more uncertain; and, as has been said in the last
chapter, little or none falls about the lower course of the Orange River
and the neighborhood. The springs (which are often either hot or salt)
are indifferent and scantily distributed. The periodical water-courses,
therefore, afford the chief supply.

The Namaquas, as well as the Damaras, are loud in their complaints that
less rain falls now than half a century back. Indeed, the numerous
ancient beds of rivers in the vast sandy plains, and the deeply-scored
slopes and sides of the now “sunburnt” and crumbling hills, clearly
indicate that almost the whole country north of the Orange River, as
far as Europeans have penetrated from the Cape side, has at some former
period been much more abundantly watered. In some parts, the destruction
of forests, which are well known to retain and condense vapory particles,
may partly account for such atmospheric changes; but in this region we
must look for other causes.

In a geological point of view, Great Namaqua-land presents many
interesting features. Between the Orange River and Walfisch Bay,
beginning at the sea-side, three distinct terrace-like risings of the
country are recognized. Besides the granite, which is the prevailing
rock, great masses of quartz are met with either, as aforesaid, scattered
over its surface, or filling up the large gaps and fissures occasioned
by ancient eruptions. Iron and sandstone, and slate formations, are also
not uncommon.

At some remote period this land must have been subjected to volcanic
agencies; and though not one of these has taken place in the memory of
the present generation, rumbling noises underground and tremors of the
earth are of frequent occurrence. The existence of hot water springs;
the confusion of the fantastically and curiously-shaped hills—“the
strata bending and dipping from the perpendicular to the horizontal, and
in others extending in a straight line from one hill to another”—bear
ample testimony to its volcanic nature. The presence, moreover, of vast
quantities of minerals is a further evidence of its igneous character.
Tin, lead, iron, and copper ore is often met with. I have had specimens
of the latter mineral in my possession containing from forty to ninety
per cent. of pure metal. At eight to ten days’ journey with “ox wagon,”
east of the missionary station, Bethany, meteoric iron is found in
apparently inexhaustible quantities. I have seen lumps, of several
hundred weights, brought from thence, so pure and malleable that the
natives converted it into balls for their guns, &c., without any previous
application of fire. As Great Namaqua-land becomes better known, it is
more than probable that it will be found equally prolific in minerals—if
not more so—as Little Namaqua-land, where, of late, extensive and
valuable mines have been brought to light.

The term Hottentot and Namaqua have probably originated with Europeans,
since neither is found in the native language. The Hottentots of these
regions may be divided into two great branches, viz., the “Topnaars” and
the “Oerlams.” With the latter is generally understood the newcomers
and the semi-civilized; but the real signification of the term is
doubtful. Some conjecture the “Oerlam” to be a corruption of the Dutch
word “o’erland,” or overland—that is, people who have come over land.
Be this as it may, the Namaqua-Hottentots consider it as a compliment to
be addressed as “Oerlam.” “Topnaar,” on the other hand, signifies the
First, the Highest, the Great, or those who originally inhabited Great
Namaqua-land, and they view with considerable jealousy the progress and
superiority of the “Oerlams,” whom they justly consider as intruders.

The northern Namaquas are divided into numerous tribes, each under petty
chiefs. The principal of these are Jonker Afrikaner, Cornelius, Amral,
Zwartbooi, Jan Boois, William Fransman, Paul Goliath, David Christian,
and Bondel Zwartz.

The Namaquas dwell in small round huts, made on the same principle as
those of the Damaras, and covered with mats composed of rushes, which
are prepared in the following manner: A quantity of the inner bark of
the mimosa is collected and dried. When wanted for immediate use, the
required portion is put into hot water and softened. Each member of
the family then fills his mouth with as much of the fibre as it can
hold, and chews it until it becomes quite pliable, when it is at once
converted into strings by the rude process of twisting it on the naked
leg. A large quantity is in this manner manufactured in an incredibly
short time. The rushes are then cut to the desired length, and laid out
on the ground singly, and in a row, when holes are made, at intervals of
about two inches, through each rush, and the string in question passed
through them by means of a bone or thorn needle. The ends of the rushes,
however, are secured more strongly by back-stitches. These mats serve a
double purpose. In warm weather they are open and airy, while, being of a
porous texture, a shower closes them, and after a while they become proof
against the most deluging rains.

When they remove their habitations, these mattings and the frame-work
of the hut, which consists of semicircular boughs, are packed on oxen.
Their household utensils, such as calabashes, milk-pails, pots, &c., are
suspended to the boughs, and in the midst of all this confusion is often
seated the good dame of the house, surrounded by her promising offspring.

It has been asserted by travelers and others that the Namaquas have
not the slightest idea of a Superior Being, or of a life hereafter.
Yet they believe in Heitjeebib, or Heitjekobib, whom they consider to
have the power to grant or withhold them success and prosperity. But
whether Heitjeebib is a deity, a goblin, or merely a deified ancestor,
I shall not presume to say. At all events, they affirm he exists in
the graves of all deceased people; and whenever a Hottentot passes a
burial-place, he invariably throws a stone, a bush, or other token of
offering and affection on the tomb, pronouncing the name of Heitjeebib,
and invoking his blessing and protection in his undertakings. From being
thus constantly added to, these heaps often attain a great size. They are
found throughout the country (I have observed them even in Damara-land),
and frequently in situations perfectly “stoneless,” from which may be
inferred that the natives carry the materials a long distance. Captain
Harris mentions having seen similar heaps among the Matabili, but was
unable to account for their presence. The Hottentots have an indistinct
notion that they came from an easterly direction, and it is possible that
the stone tumuli found by the traveler may have something to do with this
tradition.

The natives in these parts have a strange tale of a rock in which the
tracks of all the different animals indigenous to the country are
distinctly visible; moreover, that man and beast lived here together in
great amity; but one day, from some unknown cause, their Deity appeared
unexpectedly and dispersed them. I never had the good fortune to obtain a
sight of this marvelous rock. Mr. Moffat, who makes mention of a similar
story prevailing among the Bechuanas, was equally unsuccessful. “Once
I heard a man of influence,” says the reverend gentleman, “telling his
story on the subject. I, of course, could not say that I believed the
wondrous tale, but very mildly hinted that he might be misinformed, on
which he swore, by his ancestors and his king, that he had visited the
spot, and paid a tax to see the wonder; and that, consequently, his
testimony was indubitable.”

The Namaquas have the following singular superstition with regard to the
hare, which no adult is allowed to eat. The legend involves the sublime
Christian doctrine of immortality.

Once upon a time the moon called the hare, and commanded him to convey
to man the following message: “As I die and am born again,[64] so you
shall die and be again alive.” The hare hastened to obey; but instead of
saying, “As I die and am born again,” he said, “As I die and am _not_
born again.” On his return, the moon inquired what words he had conveyed
to mankind; and on being informed, the luminary exclaimed, “What! have
you said to man, ‘As I die and am _not_ born again, so you shall die and
not be again alive!’” And with this he hurled a stick at the hare with
such force as to split open his lips, which is the cause of the peculiar
formation of this animal’s mouth. The hare quickly betook himself to
flight, and is said to be flying to the present day. The old Namaquas
used to say, “We are still enraged with the hare, because he has brought
such a bad message, and we will not eat him.”

On the occasion of a youth coming of age, or, rather, when becoming a
“man,” there is great rejoicing. From that day forward he is forbidden
to eat the hare, or even to come in contact with the fire where this
animal has been prepared. Should he transgress this command, he is not
unfrequently banished from his werft, though, on paying a fine, he may
again be admitted to the community. He is, moreover, no longer permitted
to “suck the goats.”[65]

The Namaquas, like almost all nations who are sunk in barbarism, have
great faith in sorcery, and male and female witch-doctors equally play
conspicuous parts. These impostors are supposed to have the power to
procure rain, to restore the sick to health, to discover the cause of a
person’s death, and to perform other miracles. They are crafty creatures,
and know how to take advantage of the popular ignorance. Even civilized
men have been deceived by their wiles. Their principal stipulation before
they exercise any of their arts is to have some animal slaughtered,
which they prescribe according to their fancy and to the wealth of their
patients. Mr. Moffat tells us that a stout ox might be a cure for a
slight cold in a chieftain, while a kid would be a remedy for a fever
among the poor, from whom there could be no chance of obtaining any thing
greater.

The Namaqua witch-doctor is called _kaiaob_, or _kaiaobs_ if a woman.
On being called to the sick-bed, after having examined the patient, he
or she generally declares that the ailment is caused by a great snake
(toros) having fired an arrow into the stomach. The sorcerer operates by
feeling this part of the body, and by a good squeezing endeavors to coax
the illness away. Another approved plan is to make a small incision on
the body about the place where the cause of the disease is supposed to
lurk, and to suck it out. The production of a snake, a frog, an insect,
or the like, is frequently the result. Eyebrecht solemnly declared that
he once was an eye-witness to such an operation on a woman at Jonker’s
place. When the witch-doctor arrived, a sheep was killed, and the sinews
of the back were cut out and rolled up into a small ball, which the
patient was made to swallow, the remainder of the animal, of course,
being appropriated to the sorcerer’s own stomach. A few days afterward
the wizard returned, and cut some small holes in the abdomen of the
patient, on which a small snake escaped, then a lizard, numerous other
animals following.

To become a witch-doctor of any importance, a person is required to be
instructed by one previously well versed in the mysteries of the black
art. He must begin his lessons by swallowing animal poison, be bitten
by venomous reptiles, or have poison inoculated into his body. A cap, a
handkerchief, or any sort of clothing worn by such a person until it has
become perfectly saturated with filth is considered the most infallible
cure for all kinds of diseases, poisonous bites, &c. On emergences a
corner of this treasure is washed, and the dirty water thus produced is
given to the patient, beast or man, to drink. The chief Amral assured
me that he possessed a cap of this kind with which he had effected
innumerable cures. “It is sure,” he said, “to cause relief when nothing
else is of any avail.” The witch-doctors have also other disgusting
methods of effecting cures.

Like most of the tribes in Southern Africa, the Namaquas have great faith
in amulets, which consist, as usual, of the teeth and claws of lions,
hyænas, and other wild beasts, pieces of wood, bone, dried flesh and fat,
roots of plants, &c.

When a chief died, it was formerly customary to call the whole tribe
together, and to give a grand feast in honor of the occasion. The fat,
and all the choice parts of the slaughtered animals, were preserved
for the son of the deceased, who was to succeed his father in the
chieftainship.[66] The raw fat was placed on his head, and worn until
it became dry, when it was transferred to some crone, who carefully
preserved it as a much-prized amulet.

During his journeyings in Great Namaqua-land, Sir James Alexander was
told by the natives that the Bushwomen have it in their power to change
their forms into lions, hyænas, and other beasts of prey. The following
legend illustrates this superstition:

“Once on a time, a certain Namaqua was traveling in company with a
Bushwoman carrying a child on her back. They had proceeded some distance
on their journey, when a troop of wild horses (zebras) appeared, and the
man said to the woman, ‘I am hungry; and as I know you can turn yourself
into a lion, do so now, and catch us a wild horse, that we may eat.’

“The woman answered, ‘You’ll be afraid.’

“‘No, no,’ said the man. ‘I am afraid of dying of hunger, but not of you.’

“While he was speaking, hair began to appear at the back of the woman’s
neck, her nails assumed the appearance of claws, and her features
altered. She set down the child.

“The man, alarmed at the change, climbed a tree close by, while the woman
glared at him fearfully; and, going to one side, she threw off her skin
petticoat, when a perfect lion rushed out into the plain. It bounded and
crept among the bushes toward the wild horses; and, springing on one of
them, it fell, and the lion lapped its blood. The lion then came back to
where the child was crying, and the man called from the tree, ‘Enough!
enough! Don’t hurt me. Put off your lion’s shape. I’ll never ask to see
this again.’

“The lion looked at him and growled. ‘I’ll remain here till I die,’
exclaimed the man, ‘if you don’t become a woman again.’ The mane and
tail began to disappear, the lion went toward the bush where the skin
petticoat lay: it was slipped on, and the woman, in her proper shape,
took up the child. The man descended, partook of the horse’s flesh, but
never again asked the woman to catch game for him.”

On the death of a person, some of his cattle (the richer the deceased,
the more numerous the animals) are killed, and a banquet is given to his
relations and friends. On these occasions the poor beasts are suffocated.
Ordinarily, and when intended for food alone, animals are dispatched by
some sharp-cutting instrument. The flesh, never eaten raw, and not often
when roasted, is usually served up when boiled.

The ideas of a Namaqua as to the formation and rotary motion of the
heavenly bodies, if not very profound, are unquestionably very original.
“The sun, by some of the people of this benighted land,” says an
enterprising traveler, “is considered to be a mass of fat, which descends
nightly to the sea, where it is laid hold of by the chief of a white
man’s ship, who cuts away a portion of tallow, and, giving the rest a
kick, it bounds away, sinks under the wave, goes round below, and then
comes up again in the east.”

When a man feels a desire to enter the matrimonial state, he goes to the
father of the woman on whom he has settled his affection, and demands her
in marriage. If the parent be favorable to the match, the affair may be
considered as settled. An ox or a cow is then killed outside the door of
the bride’s home, and the ceremony is over.

Polygamy is practiced without limitation. If a man become tired of his
wife, he unceremoniously returns her to the parental roof, and however
much she (or the parents) may object to so summary a proceeding, there is
no remedy.

Widows are left to shift for themselves.

They neither cradle nor circumcise their children, which they are said
to name in the following singular manner. No man nor woman has more than
one name, which is retained even after marriage. If a daughter be born,
she assumes the name of her father, while a boy would be called after his
mother, with very little alteration. I never could understand the reason
of this.

Within the memory of the present generation, a barbarous practice
prevailed of leaving old and disabled people to perish far away from the
dwellings of men. A slight fence was raised round the “living-dead,” and
a small supply of water was placed at his side, when he was abandoned to
his fate. Mr. Moffat, during his wanderings in Namaqua-land, saw one of
these wretches (a woman), and on inquiring the cause of her being thus
deserted, she replied, “I am old, you see, and no longer able to serve
them (referring to her grown-up children). When they kill game, I am too
feeble to help in carrying home the flesh; I am incapable of gathering
wood to make fire; and I can not carry their children on my back, as I
used to do.”

The Namaquas may be said to be long-lived, for individuals have been
known to reach the advanced age of ninety, and even one hundred years.
This is the more remarkable, when the very wretched life they lead is
taken into consideration.

The Namaquas have a singular custom both among themselves and with
regard to strangers, which consists in the _adoption_ of a “father”
and a “mother.” This practice is so widely observed, that few who come
in contact with the several tribes are able to avoid it. Almost every
European trader, indeed, possesses in each village which he is in the
habit of frequenting either a so-called “father” or “mother.” But the
custom is a most inconvenient one, to the traveler at least, for he may
be pretty sure that, as soon as this near degree of consanguinity is
established between himself and a Namaqua, he will be asked for a horse
or an ox, or it may be for the very coat upon his back, which, as in duty
bound, he is expected to hand over to “papa” or “mamma,” as the case
may be. The poor son, it is true, has also the privilege of demanding
any thing that may captivate his fancy; but since a native is usually
more forward and importunate than a European, the bargain, as a rule, is
generally a losing one to the latter.

When two Namaquas are talking together, and one is relating a story, the
listener repeats the last words of the speaker, even if he should know
as much of the matter as his informant. For instance: if a man begin his
recital by saying, “As I walked along the river, a very large rhinoceros
rushed suddenly upon me.” “Rushed suddenly upon me,” echoes the auditor.
“He was very fat.” “Very fat,” the other ejaculates, and so forth.

The Namaquas are fond of ornamenting their persons profusely with brass,
iron, and copper, but more especially with small beads of various colors.
A kind of black, dull bead, manufactured by themselves, is particularly
esteemed. A quantity of resin is procured, which they melt and mix with
powdered charcoal, and, during the process of cooling, it is diligently
kneaded, until, being converted to the consistency of gum, it is drawn
out into long, narrow bars. Again it is gently heated over a slow fire,
when small bits are detached and worked between the fingers till they
assume the desired shape. Their patterns of bead-work are by no means
devoid of taste.

These people tattoo themselves, and also anoint and besprinkle their
bodies with a profusion of grease and powders. The latter are of several
kinds, and are chiefly obtained from the leaves of plants of the _croton_
and _diosma_ families. These powders are called “buku” by the Namaquas,
and are much esteemed, more especially the kind procured south of the
Orange River, which has a very agreeable and aromatic scent.

The sole arms of the Namaquas of the present day are guns. Their original
weapons, which consisted of the bow and arrow, the assegai, and an
immense shield (made out of an entire, single-folded ox-hide), are now
rarely seen.

The Namaquas are an excessively idle race. They may be seen basking in
the sun for days together in listless inactivity, frequently almost
perishing from thirst or hunger, when, with very little exertion, they
may have it in their power to satisfy the cravings of nature. If urged
to work, they have been heard to say, “Why should we resemble the worms
of the ground?” A few may occasionally be seen employing themselves in
making neat little camp-stools and in repairing guns, for which they have
a certain aptitude. Jonker Afrikaner—be it said to his honor—is by far
the most industrious Hottentot that I have yet seen.

They are excessively fond of diversions, more especially music and
dancing. They do not, however, distinguish themselves by grace in their
movements, nor do they even possess that dexterity and flexibility of
limb that the Ovambo ladies—at the expense of our peace of mind—exhibited
at King Nangoro’s _court ball_.

They understand and practice the art of distilling spirits. When a
certain kind of berry, of a sweet and agreeable taste, is ripe, large
quantities are collected and put into a skin bag to ferment. On being
sufficiently advanced, they are deposited in a large pot and boiled,
and the steam drawn off into another vessel joined to it by an old
gun-barrel. The liquor is then allowed to settle for a few days,
and becomes so strong and intoxicating that a small glass or two is
sufficient to upset any man’s reason not previously accustomed to it. I
have seen the natives become perfectly maddened by its effect.

They also make a kind of mead (a favorite drink with the ancient
Northmen), which is a pleasant and refreshing beverage, and, unless
partaken of to excess, is comparatively harmless.

The domestic animals of the country are the cow, the sheep, the goat,
and the dog. The sheep is highly prized by them, so much so that at one
time (before the introduction of tobacco) it was more thought of than
any thing else—even than women! The original breed of Namaqua cattle is
nearly extinct. The southern tribes still possess it, though more or less
mixed with that of the colony and Damara-land. In shape and size the
Namaqua cattle approach nearer the European breed than to that indigenous
to the countries north of them. They are of moderate size, very compact,
and have short but stout horns (usually curved inward), with rather large
hoofs.




CHAPTER XXVII.

    Leave the Orange River.—Arrival at Komaggas.—Gardening and
    Agriculture.—The Author starts alone for the Cape.—Colony
    Horses.—Enmity of the Boers to “Britishers.”—Dutch
    Salutation.—The Author must have been at Timbuctoo, whether or
    no.—He arrives at Cape-Town.—Cuts a sorry figure.—Is run away
    with.—A Feast of Oranges.—Ghost Stories.—Cattle Auction.—Hans
    and John Allen proceed to Australia.—Preparations for Journey
    to the Ngami.—Departure from the Cape.


On the 25th of August we left the inhospitable banks of the Orange
River. After rather more than a week’s slow travel through dreary and
uninteresting tracts of land, covered by a deep, yielding sandy soil,
bearing a dwarfish vegetation, we arrived at Komaggas, also a Rhenish
missionary station. The Rev. Mr. Weich now officiated here.[67] The
congregation consists of a promiscuous collection of Hottentots and the
offspring of other dark-colored natives.

Komaggas is picturesquely situated, and well supplied with water.
Gardening is brought almost to perfection; and, notwithstanding the
dryness of the atmosphere, corn is cultivated with success in the
neighborhood. Indeed, the best wheat in the west part of the colony, I
am informed, is grown here; but its cultivation is attended with much
labor, since it can only be raised on the summit of hills (which retain
moisture longer than the lowlands) rising not unfrequently several
thousand feet above the sea.

Except at the station and one or two other spots, the extensive grounds
are scantily watered and ill adapted for grazing. During our visit,
numbers of cattle were dying from starvation. The region is, moreover,
in some seasons infected by diseases fatal to beasts of pasture, and
these maladies, of late years, have been of so destructive a character
as nearly to exterminate the cattle. Indeed, many of the Bastards and
Hottentots, who chiefly inhabit these parts, and who were formerly living
in great abundance, are reduced to beggary from this cause.

I now determined to leave Hans, and proceed in advance to Cape-Town,
with a view of making arrangements about the sale of the cattle and the
intended expedition to the Ngami. As we were now in a locality where
horses might be obtained, I procured three or four of these animals
without delay, partly for cash and partly for cattle. The rate of
exchange was from five to ten oxen, according to the qualities of the
horse; or, if money, 100 rix doll. (£7.10). A first-rate hack might
be purchased for £10, though, of course, high-bred horses were more
expensive.

The Cape Colony horse is a wonderful beast. He is supposed to be of
Spanish descent, but of late years has been much crossed by various
breeds. Without any pretension to beauty, he is, perhaps, unrivaled in
docility, hardiness, and endurance. In eight days (one of which was
devoted to rest) I rode, accompanied by a Hottentot servant, from near
Komaggas to Cape-Town, a distance of upward of four hundred miles by
road, thus averaging fifty miles per day. On an after occasion I remember
to have performed upward of ninety miles at a very great pace, only once
or twice removing the saddle for a few minutes. And be it borne in mind
that the animals were young, indifferently broken-in, unshod, and had
never been stall-fed.

A most striking instance of the extraordinary endurance of Colony horses
occurred a few years ago in Great Namaqua-land. The animal in question
belonged to a son of the Hottentot chief Zwartbooi, who one day, while
hunting in an open tract of country, fell in with a troop of eleven
giraffes, to which he immediately gave chase, and the whole of which he
rode down and shot in succession. But the immense exertion was too much
for the gallant creature, whose life was thus sacrificed.

This remarkable horse was well known throughout Great Namaqua-land, and
is said to have been quite mad with excitement when he observed a wild
animal. He only ceased to pursue when the game was either killed or no
longer in sight.

The Colony horses, with a little training, answer admirably for either
hunting or shooting. They may be taught to remain stationary for hours
together by merely turning the bridle over their heads, resting the
extremities of the reins on the ground. They seldom trot; the usual pace
is a canter, and occasionally an amble.

So much has already been said and written on the Cape Colony, its
sturdy Boers, its soil, its productions, and so forth, that it would be
superfluous to add any thing farther. Suffice it to mention a few of the
most remarkable incidents of my journey.

Soon after leaving Komaggas, my horse—a young half-trained stallion which
had only been ridden thrice—shied, and, rearing on his hind legs, came to
the ground on his back with sudden violence. Providentially, the soil was
soft and yielding, and although I sustained his whole weight for a few
seconds, I escaped with no worse consequence than a tight squeezing.

After leaving Komaggas the homesteads of the Boer became daily more
numerous. Riding up one morning to a house, with a view of obtaining
some bread and flour, I was greeted with the following civil address:
“Daar komt weder die verdoomde Engelsman;” that is, “There comes again
the cursed Englishman.” Though I had heard much of the aversion these men
entertain for all that is British, and their coarse language in general,
I certainly had not expected that they would have carried their animosity
so far. Walking straight up to the individual that had thus accosted
me, I said, in as good Dutch as I could muster, “My good friend, in my
country, when a stranger does us the honor to pay us a visit, before even
asking his errand or his name, much less abusing him, we invite him to
our table; and, when he has quenched his thirst and satisfied his hunger,
we may probably inquire whence he comes or where he goes;” and with this
I leaped into the saddle. The fellow clearly felt the rebuke, for, on
turning my horse’s head away, he endeavored to persuade me to stop; but
his rude salutation had quite spoiled my appetite.

As a rule, however, though frequently coarse and abrupt in their language
and conversation, they are undeniably hospitable; and when a person
can converse with them in their own language, and accommodate himself
to their manners and peculiarities, they are excellent fellows, as I
have often experienced. To several of their customs, nevertheless, the
stranger will find some difficulty in reconciling himself.

In these localities, on meeting a wayfaring man, the Dutch Boer
invariably thus accosts him: “Good-day! Where do you come from? Where are
you going? Are you married? How many children have you?” and so forth.
If you should be so unfortunate as not to have entered into the marriage
state, he is astonished beyond measure, and looks upon you with something
like contempt.

Like most people who are novices in a foreign language, I committed at
first sad mistakes, and many a joke and laugh originated at my expense.
Once, indeed, my awkwardness cost me the loss of a supper, of which I
stood greatly in need, having ridden some fifty miles in the course of
the day without tasting food of any description. In the Dutch language,
“danken” signifies a direct refusal; but, not being aware of this, I
interpreted it in the very reverse sense, as meaning, “If you please.”
As often, therefore, as I repeated the ominous word, so often had I the
mortification of seeing the smoking dishes pass by me!

Refreshing myself one afternoon at a comfortable farmhouse, the worthy
host inquired whence and how far I had journeyed. Having made a rough
calculation in my own mind, I told him the approximate distance. No
sooner had I done so than he clasped his hands together, and, turning
to his wife, exclaimed, in the utmost amazement, “Gracious heavens! the
man has been in Timbuctoo!” “No, my good friend, not quite so far,”
I remarked. But he became too much absorbed in the novel idea, and,
without attending to me, he went on to say, “Yes, indeed, the man has
been at Timbuctoo.” I again took the liberty to remonstrate, when his
brother, who was also present, ejaculated, “Yes, brother, you are right.
Timbuctoo! ah! eh? yes! Let me see, Timbuctoo. Ah! I remember to have
read that it is situated at the end of Africa, in a place where you
can see nothing but sand.” Once more I attempted to explain, but to no
purpose. Right or wrong, I must have been at Timbuctoo. I secretly wished
I had been there.

Finding they apparently knew more about my travels than I did, I left
them to themselves to discuss the merit of the journey, and, diving into
the eatables which had been liberally spread before me, I did ample
justice to their hospitality.

On the 22d of September I reached Cape-Town, where my appearance afforded
no little delight and amusement to the mob, who shouted merrily after
me, “Look at the jockey! ha! ha! ha!” My dress was certainly highly
picturesque. An old English hunting-cap—a present from a friend—adorned
my head. The striped jacket that I wore, now well bleached with sun and
rain, had shrunk to such a degree as to reach only a few inches down my
back; and as for sleeves, they just covered the elbows, the rest having
been left on the “Wacht-een-bigte” bushes. My nether garments, consisting
of a pair of moleskin trowsers, were on a par with my jacket, for they
hardly reached to the calf of my leg; and, to complete the “turn-out,”
my “veld” shoes were of untanned leather, and so sunburnt as to resemble
bricks. And as Cape-Town at that time could boast of no “Moses and Son,”
or “Silver and Co.,” it was only by degrees, and exploring the different
shops, that I was able to remodel my dress.

I lost no time in advertising our cattle; and, having secured a good
auctioneer and made some other arrangements, I again set off to join my
party.

Just as I left Cape-Town, my horse, which was excessively shy, took
fright, and started off at a rate which would have “taken the shine” out
of even John Gilpin’s runaway steed. In the attempt to stop him, the bit
(a very substantial one) broke, and in an instant I was at the animal’s
mercy. Finding myself in an awkward predicament, and being desirous to
shorten the race as much as possible, I unhesitatingly gave him both
spur and whip, and, as a consequence, ditches, walls, and fences were
leaped and passed at a fearful rate, to the great danger of myself and
those I encountered. I do not profess to be skilled in horsemanship, my
experience as an equestrian being very small. It was, therefore, as much
as I could do to keep my seat. Nevertheless, I had the good fortune to
escape unhurt, for after a while my steed became exhausted, and pulled up
of his own accord.

I found Hans in good health. The Dutch Boers had once or twice behaved
rudely, but the Dane’s herculean appearance and independent manner
quickly cooled their ire, and he was allowed to pass unmolested. He told
his adventures with graphic effect and racy humor.

Oranges, which are very abundant in these parts, were beginning to ripen.
One day some of our Damaras expressed a wish to taste the enticing fruit,
and, being supplied with a shilling, they started off. In a short time
they brought back no less than two hundred oranges. They had scarcely
finished a dozen or two, however, before the effect became irresistible.
The acidity of the fruit at this time of the year was so great that it
acted with the force of gun-cotton; and, after having a “good blow-out,”
they were so disordered as to be unable to taste food for several
successive days. Indeed, they were effectually cured of their orange
mania.

At the bivouac fire I was often entertained with ghost-stories. John, our
wagon-driver, who seemed fully to believe in apparitions, was the chief
narrator.

“Ghosts,” said he, “abound in and about the neighborhood of the Cape.
At times they appear in the shape of dogs; at others, in that of human
beings. Once, late at night, I was coming from Simon’s Bay, when the oxen
all of a sudden stopped short, and would have darted right into the bush
had I not been quick to turn them. Just then, nothing could be seen; but
presently a large white dog, with a chain round the neck, appeared. He
passed us slowly without injuring us in any way, and shaped his course
over a cross-road, when we continued our journey. At another time I met
the “spook” (ghost) in the form of a very tall black man, accompanied by
a large dog of the same color.

“Frequently, when returning late at night to my master’s place, while yet
at a distance, I have seen the whole yard and dwelling-house splendidly
illuminated, but on coming to the spot all was gone.

“As a protection to the garden, my master had erected a hut, where men
slept at night. After a while, however, the place became so haunted
that the watchmen fled, and slept any where they could in the bush.
The ‘spooks’ were seen continually to promenade up and down the walks
arm-in-arm, taking an occasional peep into the house.

“In dark nights a ghost would sometimes appear at the head of the team,
and, laying hold of the thong attached to the leading ox, would conduct
the cattle out of their proper course, I being totally unconscious of the
proceedings at the time.

“Again, I would hear wagons and carriages coming along the road at a
brisk pace, and, while making way for them to pass, I found, to my
astonishment, that the vehicles were already far ahead of us.”

On the 18th of October, and when within a day’s ride of Cape-Town, we
disposed of our cattle by public auction.

Owing to the great distance we had brought them, and the scarcity of
pasturage during the latter part of the journey, our cattle had become
very lean, and, although they were in themselves an exceedingly fine
lot, their want of condition neither suited the butcher nor the grazier.
In their emaciated state, indeed, it would require fully a year before
they would become acclimatized and refattened, in which interval, and
before getting accustomed to their new pasturage, many would probably
die. They scarcely averaged £2 per head. The cows sold almost the best;
not on account of the milk they yielded, for that was little or nothing,
but simply because, strange to say, they were exempted from a peculiar
disease (_strangury_) which kills the oxen in these parts. The Boers are
in consequence obliged to make use of cows for agricultural purposes.

It is customary on these occasions to give a banquet to the purchasers,
who chiefly consist of Dutch farmers; and if the cattle are known to be
fit for slaughter, the butchers of the metropolis also come in for a
share. A large quantity of wine is supposed to be necessary to facilitate
the sale. Fortunately, this kind of liquor is very cheap; and though a
person may have to entertain from fifty to one hundred people for two
days together, the expense of such festivities rarely exceeds seven or
eight pounds sterling.

Our hands being now free, the first object to which we turned our
attention was to secure a vessel to carry us back to Walfisch Bay. There
happened just then to be none at the Cape but we were promised one within
a certain period. In the mean time, we occupied ourselves in making the
needful purchases, &c.

I also made excursions into the neighborhood. Among other interesting
places, I visited, in company with Mr. Bain (the distinguished South
African geologist), the famous pass, called after my kind host, Bain’s
Kloof, through which the road leads across the Drakenstein mountains from
the village of Wellington to the district of Worcestershire. The vignette
below is a view of a certain part of the pass designated Dacre’s pulpit,
and has been selected from the portfolio of an accomplished friend in
Cape-Town.

[Illustration: DACRE’S PULPIT.]

We had nearly finished our arrangements when the news arrived at the Cape
of the extraordinary successes met with at the Australian gold-diggings,
and the same mania, though not quite to the same extent, which had turned
the people’s heads all over the world, took possession of the inhabitants
of this colony. Every available vessel was bought up or chartered for the
“diggings.” I began seriously to apprehend that this would deprive us of
the craft we had engaged. Indeed, the owner did actually sell her, but,
fortunately, placed another at our disposal, the alteration, however,
causing us very great delay.

Though the loss, at this period, of the assistance of Hans would have
been grievous and irreparable, I thought it my duty to explain to him the
respective advantages of remaining with me and going to Australia. By
adhering to the trading, he would be pretty sure to secure a fair income
annually, while by adopting the other plan he might have the chance of
realizing a fortune in the course of a year or two. I urged that if he
felt at all inclined to try his luck at the “diggings,” he should not
hesitate; for, in that case, I would take charge of his goods and dispose
of them as if they were my own. Hans evidently appreciated my well-meant
intentions, but generously refused to do any thing that was not in strict
accordance with my own wishes. However, I could not take advantage of
such an offer in his position, but told him to think the matter well over
by himself, and to be entirely guided by his own inclination.

After much hesitation, Hans finally came to the determination to migrate
to Australia, and John Allen having also expressed a wish to accompany
him, I drew up an agreement between them of such a nature that they might
dissolve partnership if they wished, without detriment to either. With
regard to myself and Hans, we agreed to share each other’s fortunes,
though far apart, bad or good.

Matters having been thus far settled, I immediately arranged about the
passage of the two adventurers; provided them with a supply of every
article necessary for such an expedition, and nearly one hundred pounds
sterling in ready money. This change in our original plans proved
of great inconvenience to me, inasmuch as we had already sunk every
available shilling of our small capital in the intended expedition to
Walfisch Bay. However, it was all successfully arranged, and in the early
part of January, 1853, they took their departure.

Thus once more I was alone. I could not help reflecting on the
difficulties of my position. Two of the best men that, perhaps, ever set
foot on African soil, with whom I had shared hardships and privations
of no trifling character, had left me to seek their fortunes in remote
climes. On me alone, then, devolved the task of watching over and
improving the united interest of myself and Hans. Another duty, not
less urgent, claimed my attention, namely, that of solving the grand
geographical problem—the discovery of a route from the west coast to the
Lake Ngami.

On mentioning my trying position to some Cape friends, they coolly
advised me to dispose of my goods and return to Europe. I turned in
disgust from the proposal, which only served to urge me to renewed
exertions. My spirits rose in proportion to the difficulties.

Immediately on the departure of Hans and John Allen, I hastened to attend
to my own affairs. I was tolerably well supplied with every thing but
servants and instruments for taking astronomical observations. After much
search and many bargains, I succeeded in getting together a very fair set
of the latter, consisting of a large, good-working sextant, a box-sextant
for taking angular bearings, two artificial horizons (one of colored
plate-glass mounted in brass, with leveling screws, and another for
mercury), an excellent azimuth compass, one or two good pocket-compasses,
three boiling-point thermometers for ascertaining heights of places above
the level of the sea, two telescopes, one for common field-work, and
the other large enough for occultations, a chronometer watch, and two
ordinary watches. Mr. Maclear, the royal astronomer at the Cape, kindly
assisted me in selecting most of the above instruments. He, moreover,
took a great deal of pains in adjusting them, and showing me their use,
though I fear I almost wore out his patience, for I was excessively
stupid in this respect. But I trust the result has proved that his labor
was not altogether thrown away.

Shortly after our arrival at the Cape I had been fortunate enough in
securing the services of an old acquaintance, Timbo, who had safely
returned from St. Helena, where he left Mr. Galton. He proved invaluable
to me. To his charge my dogs and native servants were confided, and they
throve wonderfully under his management.

I had intended to send two or three Damaras with Hans to Australia; but
one day, previous to his departure, they came to me in great tribulation,
and said they did not want to go any farther, but wished to return with
me to their own land. If such was really their intention, it became my
duty to gratify them; but I could not help feeling a little vexed, for,
since no one but Timbo could speak their language, I strongly suspected
that he had influenced their decision. With a view of ascertaining the
fact, I called him, and told him my opinion; but he stoutly denied the
charge, adding, “Suppose, master, me was to take a horse from the stable
in the Kaap to Wynberg, or to any other strange place, and then leave him
to himself, surely he would return whence he came; and so it is with the
natives.” I was struck with the sagacity of the remark, and said no more
about the matter.

Timbo had procured a passage from St. Helena in the _Birkenhead_
man-of-war, and on the voyage he got acquainted with an English lad,
George Bonfield, aged sixteen. A mutual attachment sprung up between
the shrewd Ethiopian and the youthful Saxon, and in a short time the
former was the means of indirectly saving the life of the latter. On the
arrival of the vessel at the Cape, the boy requested permission to land,
in order to enjoy the society of his swarthy friend. This was granted, on
condition that he should rejoin the vessel at Simon’s Bay.

While doubling the southern extremity of Africa, the unfortunate
_Birkenhead_ struck, and, as is well known, was totally lost, with almost
all hands on board.

Timbo took every care of the boy, whose life had thus been saved. He
put him to school, and afterward secured him a berth with a tradesman
in Cape-Town. Finding that the youth was anxious to see something more
of the world, and to add to his store of knowledge, I took him into my
employ. He accompanied me to the Great Lake, and when, in the course
of the journey, I became ill, and crippled by wounds inflicted by wild
animals, his presence and tender care greatly relieved and soothed my
sufferings.

On Timbo’s recommendation, and from possessing a smattering of
Portuguese, I engaged a Mozambique liberated slave of the name of Louis;
but he turned out the filthiest, laziest, most sensual, and most useless
man I ever came across. Just as I was about to engage him, he said, “Of
course, master give me my washing and ironing.” “My good fellow,” I
replied, “has Timbo not explained to you the sort of country we are going
to? You must thank your stars if you get water enough to wash your face,
much less your clothes. And, if you happen to get a sufficiency for the
latter purpose, you will certainly have to cleanse your own garments.
In the wilderness, according to an old saying, ‘every man is his own
washerwoman.’”

A young Hottentot, whom I engaged as wagon-driver for the journey, ran
into debt, and shuffled his cards so cleverly that I did not become
aware of the circumstance until the day fixed for our departure, when
there was, of course, no time to look for another driver, and I had no
alternative left but to pay his liabilities.

The last of my servants, also a Hottentot and a wagon-driver, known as
“old Piet,” was, however, a most excellent and well-behaved man. He had
been, it is true, in the habit of getting drunk, but, once out of the
Cape, he proved himself a hard-working, honest, and faithful fellow, and
has never since left my service.

Finding that a Mr. Reid, whose acquaintance I had made in Great
Namaqua-land, and who had been very kind and attentive to me when I was
laid up by fever, was about to undertake a trading excursion to Walfisch
Bay, I gladly availed myself of the opportunity thus afforded of dividing
between us the expenses of a vessel; a considerable sum was accordingly
saved to me.

[Illustration: NEGRO-BOY.[68]]

At last, after many difficulties and delays, we were ready; and on the
sixteenth of January, having embarked in the schooner _Flying Fish_, we
unfurled our sails and bade farewell to Cape-Town, where, during a second
stay, I enjoyed much kindness and hospitality.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

    Arrival at Walfisch Bay.—Atrocities of the Namaquas.—Mr.
    Hahn.—His Philanthropy.—Author departs for Richterfeldt.—Shoots
    a Lion.—Lions unusually numerous.—Piet’s Performances with
    Lions.—The Lion a Church-goer.—Barmen.—Eikhams.—Kamapyu’s
    mad Doings and Consequences thereof.—Kamapyu is wounded by
    other Shafts than Cupid’s.—Author visits Cornelius; here he
    meets Amral and a party of Griqua Elephant-hunters.—Reach
    Rehoboth.—Tan’s Mountain.—Copper Ore.—Jonathan Afrika.—A Lion
    sups on a Goat.—A Lion besieges the Cattle.


We had an excellent run to Walfisch Bay, and reached it on the 23d of the
month in which we left the Cape. In the afternoon I landed the horses,
but very nearly lost the best. The halter having slipped off his head, he
was making straight for the sea, and was well-nigh exhausted before we
could again secure him. The same night I rode over to Scheppmansdorf, but
the darkness was so profound that I was unable to see the track or hold
any course. It was by the merest accident that I stumbled upon the house,
to the great surprise of my old friends, the Bam family, whom I found
well, but not so comfortably lodged as when I saw them last, the Kuisip
having swept away their dwelling-house and out-buildings.

From the worthy missionary I learned much both to please and grieve
me. The Namaquas had, as usual, been pillaging the Damaras, and were
dealing death and desolation around them. It was no longer considered
safe even for white men to remain. Indeed, the Namaquas had already
attacked Richterfeldt. Early one morning a horde of these marauders
suddenly appeared, and carried off all the cattle belonging to the people
of the station. Not satisfied with this, they fired several shots into
the dwelling-house, though, fortunately, without effect. Mrs. Rath and
children were laid up by “eye-sickness,” and Mr. Schöneberg, who had
arrived the day previously, and who was in a very weak state from the
effects of a recent severe illness, was almost frightened out of his
senses by the sudden and unexpected onset.

On Mr. Rath walking up to the barbarians to remonstrate with them on
their brutal conduct, they seized and flogged him most severely. A Damara
who was at his side they shot dead. In consequence of this attack,
Messrs. Rath and Schöneberg were daily expected to leave their stations,
and to remove to Mr. Bam’s place.

On the other hand, I heard that a party of Bechuanas had been visiting
Jonker Afrikaner, and it was supposed they had crossed the Kalahari
desert. This was gratifying intelligence, because, if these natives had
been able to pass through such dreaded regions, I might also humbly hope
to do the same.

On my return to the Bay I found almost all my goods, and those of my
friend, Mr. Reid, safely landed, and, with the assistance of Mr. Barn’s
oxen, every thing was quickly transferred to the station. This was
scarcely effected when the Rev. Messrs. Kleinschmidt and Hahn arrived
from the Cape. The latter had been on his road to Europe to pay a visit
to his family, and make some arrangements respecting the education of his
children. But his heart bled for the wretched condition of this benighted
land, and, at immense sacrifice, he returned with a view of endeavoring
once more to bring about a reconciliation between the Namaquas and the
Damaras.

Next to the love and worship which we owe to our Creator must be ranked
the love of our own species. This Divine doctrine recalls those beautiful
lines by Leigh Hunt:

    “ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)
    Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
    And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
    Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
    An angel writing in a book of gold:
    Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
    And to the presence in the room he said,
    ‘What writest thou?’ The vision raised its head,
    And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
    Answered, ‘The names of those who love the Lord.’
    ‘And is mine one?’ said Abou. ‘Nay, not so,’
    Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
    But cheerly still; and said, ‘I pray thee, then,
    Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.’

    The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
    It came again with a great wakening light,
    And showed the names whom love of God had bless’d,
    And lo! BEN ADHEM’s name led all the rest.”

All Mr. Halm’s exertions and painstakings, however, were in vain.
Jonker was inexorable. He flatly told him there was no occasion for
missionaries, since they themselves were quite capable of managing the
affairs of the country. This proved the death-blow to the Damara mission;
for, though Messrs. Schöneberg and Rath continued their labors for some
time afterward, they were finally compelled to desist.

On leaving Great Namaqua-land the preceding year, I placed two teams of
wagon-oxen under the charge of my friend, William Zwartbooi, to be kept
ready for emergences. I now lost no time in sending people to fetch them
down; but the distance was great, and I could not expect them for several
weeks to come. Through my interference, Mr. Bam kindly furnished Mr.
Reid with a sufficiency of trained oxen for his own conveyance at a very
moderate cost, which enabled him to start for the interior with scarcely
any delay.

While waiting for my own cattle, I busied myself with arranging my
baggage, sketching plans for the future, eating naras, and now and then
mounting my steed to chase the ostrich.

On the 9th of February Mr. Rath arrived, and, seeing my dilemma, kindly
proposed to place some of his oxen at my disposal as far as Barmen. I
gratefully accepted the disinterested offer, and having obtained a few
more oxen from the Namaqua chief Jacob, at Scheppmansdorf, I prepared to
commence my journey with one of the wagons, leaving the other to follow
as soon as my cattle arrived. Rehoboth having been appointed as the place
of _rendezvous_, I started.

My course, as on former occasions, lay by Tineas, Onanis, and Tjobis,
places well known to the reader. I saw a good deal of game, but was too
much pressed for time to stop and shoot. Until we reached Richterfeldt,
little or nothing of interest occurred. William and Bonfield, in rambling
about the hills one day, stumbled upon a lion, and it being the first
time they had ever seen the dreaded beast in his native state, they
became almost petrified with fear.

I also had an opportunity of shooting one of these animals. While one
day pursuing some gemsboks, a lion unexpectedly sprang out of a bush
within forty or fifty paces of me. The brute’s sudden appearance somewhat
startled me, but I had so often been balked in my attempts to get a shot
at lions that I only hesitated for a moment. Accordingly, the lion having
turned round to look at me, I took a deliberate aim at his forehead and
fired, and, as good luck would have it, with deadly effect. Indeed, so
accurate was my aim that it almost split his skull in two, and, as a
matter of course, killed him on the spot.

My prize proved a full-grown male, but his hide was so much worn and torn
that I did not deem it worth the trouble of preservation.

Lions had been unusually numerous and daring during the year. Mr. Rath’s
wagon-driver, Piet, a mighty Nimrod, and his two foster-sons, had killed
upward of twenty in the course of a few months. And many and wonderful
were their escapes from these animals.

One night the old man was awakened by a peculiar noise outside his door,
which was constructed so as to shut in two parts. The lower division was
closed, but the upper was left open on account of the oppressive state
of the atmosphere. Quietly taking up his gun, Piet stole softly to the
door, expecting to meet with a hyæna, as he knew that one of these beasts
was in the habit of harassing the goat-kids, which, for better security,
he had kraaled against the wall of the house. His amazement, however,
was great when, instead of a hyæna, a lion stood before him. Without
losing his presence of mind, he poked the muzzle of his piece against the
animal’s head and blew out its brains.

Again: Riding along one morning in a very weak state, having just
recovered from a severe fever, a lion suddenly rushed at him. The ox
became frightened, and threw the old man. One of his feet was caught in
the stirrup; but, fortunately, the “veld” shoe slipped off. “I know,”
said the veteran hunter, “I was thrown, and that I got on my legs again,
but in what manner is quite a mystery to me this day. I called, as loud
as my feeble voice permitted, to my people to bring a gun, the lion
always getting nearer and nearer, until he stood within arm’s length. I
once or twice tried to pull out my pistol or my sword-knife, which, as
you know, I usually carry about with me, but in my anxiety I missed them.
My jacket was lying just in front of me on the ground, but the brute
had one of his paws on it. I felt desperate, however, and, pulling it
forcibly away, struck the lion on the head, when he grinned and growled
terribly, and I expected every moment he would tear me to pieces. At this
juncture, my Damara, who fortunately had heard my cries of distress, came
running up with my gun. Taking the piece from the man, I fired at the
lion, who had retreated a few paces, where he sat quietly looking at me.
I don’t know whether I hit him, for what with the sudden fright, and my
weak constitution, I felt very unsteady. Be that as it may, it had, at
all events, the effect of scaring him away, for at the report of the gun
he instantly betook himself to cover.”

On another occasion, when the missionary wagon was on its road to
Walfisch Bay, a lion sprang unexpectedly into the midst of the sleeping
party, which was bivouacking, at the time, on the banks of the Kubakop
River. One of Piet’s sons, who was present, picked up his gun from the
ground; but, in order to prevent the dew from injuring it, he had wrapped
his waistcoat round the lock, and in the hurry he was unable to disengage
the garment. Finding, however, that the lion was just about to lay hold
of him, he held out the piece and fired at random, but fortunately with
deadly effect.

Once a lion found his way into the church at Richterfeldt! The alarm
being given, the Damaras, assegai in hand, rushed to the spot, and,
seizing him by the tail and ears, dragged him bodily out of the sacred
edifice. The poor brute was actually dying from starvation, and offered
but a very feeble resistance. I saw his skin.

At Barmen I was obliged to leave Mr. Rath’s cattle; but, by the
assistance of Mr. Hahn’s wagon-driver, who, on reasonable terms, lent
me half a dozen first-rate oxen, I was able to prosecute my journey. On
arriving at Eikhams I met my friend Reid, who had been very successful
in the disposal of his stock in trade. I saw Jonker; but, though he was
civil and obliging, the constant forfeiture of his word had disgusted me,
and I felt compelled to treat him with great coolness and reserve.

Before leaving Eikhams, an accident occurred that might have ended
seriously. A half-cast native lad, whom Eyebrecht had placed at my
disposal, was the occasion of it. Though a shrewd youth, he was cursed
with a passionate temper. The Namaquas had been teasing him for some
time, when, suddenly unfolding his clasp-knife, he threatened to stab
the nearest man, but was quickly deprived of the deadly instrument. His
blood was up, however, and, seeing my rifle standing against the wall of
the old church, he made a rush for it, and was about to discharge the
contents into one of his tormentors, when, throwing myself hurriedly
between the contending parties, I fortunately prevented the catastrophe.
Being now convinced that a storm was brewing, I quickly pushed the boy
through the door of the building, and placed myself resolutely at the
entrance.

Notwithstanding the Namaquas would not hesitate to shoot any of their
slaves for the smallest offense, they consider such an act on the part
of one of the subjected race against his master to be of so atrocious
a character that they would undoubtedly have torn the lad to pieces
had I not been present. As it was, they rose to a man, and swore they
would have his life. The boy, on his part, instead of betraying any
symptoms of fear, was foaming with rage, and, had I permitted it, would
unhesitatingly have attacked the whole party.

Finding that I was determined to foil them of their victim, they turned
their ire on me. I quietly told, them that the lad was in my employ, and
that, if they left him alone, I would duly investigate the matter, and,
should I find him guilty, would punish him severely; but, if they chose
to take the law into their own hands, they must look to the consequences,
for they should only pass to the youth over my body. This somewhat
cooled their rage, and, after much parleying, the matter was finally and
peaceably settled.

Many a time since has the same boy, by the violence of his temper, placed
me and himself in the most critical positions, and I often marveled that
he was not killed. At last he received a severe lesson. Having one day
coquetted with some Kalahari women, the indignant husband or parent sent
him off with two poisoned arrows, one of which pierced his nose, and
the other transfixed his arm. For a short time he suffered agonies, but
escaped with his life.

Excepting his passionate temper, he was an excellent fellow—honest,
willing, obliging, industrious, enduring, but, above all, an inimitable
“tracker.” Indeed, in this respect he surpassed the Bushmen. Many a weary
mile have I trodden under his able guidance, and many a wild beast have I
laid low by his assistance. His sight was also remarkable. I rather pride
myself on my experience as a woodsman, and usually proved a match for the
natives; but this youth beat me hollow. My men called him Kamapyu—a most
appropriate name, since it signified _hot water_. I was at last compelled
to part with him, which I did with considerable reluctance. I rewarded
his services, which had proved invaluable to me, by a variety of things,
besides sufficient cattle to buy him half a dozen wives, an acquisition
which, next to carnivorous food, is the greatest bliss of a savage.

After my departure from Jonker’s I directed my steps toward Cornelius.
On taking leave of this chief the previous year, I promised forthwith
to return with a supply of goods, provided he and his people behaved
themselves satisfactorily. In order to save time, I dispatched a
messenger to acquaint him with my approach, as also to request him to
call his tribe together, and urge them to bring such cattle as they
desired to dispose of. My wish was attended to; for, on arriving at the
werft, I found about two hundred head of cattle waiting for me, which,
after some little bargaining, I secured in the course of two days. I had
the misfortune, however, to lose a small portion of this number, which
broke through the kraal in the night, and were never again heard of. I
strongly suspect they were stolen by the original owners. I had also the
mishap to get my telescope spoiled. Being probably smitten by the lustre
of the metal, the mischievous Namaqua lads extracted the object-glass,
which could be of no earthly use to them except as an ornament.

About this time two of my horses died of the “horse-sickness.” One still
remained, and, though a remarkably fleet animal, was so shy as to be
useless as a hunter. He was the same that ran away with me at Cape-Town.
The natives offered to buy him at a great price, but I had made up my
mind that, rather than go without him, I would run the risk of losing him
by the fearful distemper in question. However, he lived to see the Lake,
where I finally disposed of him.

Some days after my arrival at Cornelius’s werft, my old friend Amral made
his appearance. He was accompanied by a party of Griquas,[69] from whom I
learned much to interest me.

In the hope of meeting with elephants, they had crossed the Kalahari
direct from their own country, but had suffered great privations; for,
though from all appearances water must have been abundant in the rainy
season, the desert was fearfully dry when they passed through it. They
had occasionally been as much as nine consecutive days without a drop of
water, but sustained their own lives and those of their quadrupeds by
sucking and eating the wild gourd, which fortunately covered the waste in
great abundance. To lessen the bitterness of the juice, they first cooked
or roasted the fruit.

The party, which consisted of no less than forty-seven wagons, had
penetrated to within a few days of the Lake Ngami, but not finding
elephants, they retraced their steps. A certain portion of the country
they had visited was infested by the “tsetse,” by whose poisonous bites
they had lost some of the cattle and horses. The “horse-sickness” also
prevailed.

I engaged as Bechuana interpreter one of the Griquas, who had visited the
lake by the ordinary route (_viâ_ Kuruman). He spoke of the inhabitants
as civil and hospitable, but warned me against the Dutch farmers, should
I fall in with any. I was well aware of their troublesome disposition,
but, of course, made due allowance for the exaggerations of an individual
belonging to a nation who are sworn enemies to the Boers. The Griquas
supposed that Ngami might be reached in nine days from Tunobis (the
farthest point to the eastward reached by Mr. Galton about a year and a
half ago), and said that two or three fountains existed on the road.

On the 17th of March I found myself at Rehoboth, having, in little
more than a month, with borrowed oxen, passed over several hundred
miles of country, and obtained by barter about three hundred head of
cattle. I felt rather proud of the performance. My other wagons, which
I had ordered to take the Kuisip route, had not yet arrived. I felt
disappointed, and was unable to account for the delay, since want of
oxen could not have been the cause, the missionaries having kindly and
promptly sent me more than one team. Indeed, Onesimus had started with
upward of forty well-trained beasts several weeks previously to my
reaching the station, and I began to fear that some evil had befallen
them.

While abiding their forthcoming, I busied myself in mapping the
country and exploring the neighborhood. Close to the station rose some
conspicuous masses of granite (on Mr. Galton’s map erroneously termed
limestone), interspersed with large quantities of glittering quartz. From
the highest peak I obtained a fine and extensive view of the surrounding
country. The beautiful table-mountain of Tans, visible from many points,
stood out in bold relief against the western horizon. In a clear
atmosphere it may be distinguished at an immense distance. Thus it can be
discerned at Onanis, from the top of “Wit-water” range, at Rehoboth, and
even considerably to the south on the Fish River.

Sir James Alexander, in his journey to Walfisch Bay from the Orange
River, climbed Tans Mountain, and considered its elevation to be about
4000 feet, but he does not say whether above the plain or the level of
the sea. Be that as it may, however, I do not think either estimation
correct. Mr. Vollmer, who once, with great labor, crossed the table of
Tans in his own wagon, informed me that its western aspect, or the side
facing the Kuisip, is very steep and high, but the eastern slope is
gradual, and not a great deal elevated above the plain.

The rocks all about Rehoboth are strongly impregnated with copper, and
specimens of the ore of a very productive quality (forty to ninety per
cent.) are occasionally found. I presented Mr. Reid with several pieces,
giving him permission to use them as he thought fit. I advised him,
however, to get them analyzed by Mr. Schmieterleuv, whom I knew to be a
straightforward man; but he preferred to subject them to his own friend,
Dr. G⸺. After about a year’s absence I met Mr. Reid again, and on asking
him what advantage he had derived from the copper I gave to him, he
replied, “None whatever. Dr. G⸺ declared the specimens were worthless.”
Yet not long afterward he went into partnership with a certain merchant
on the strength of these identical specimens. So much for friendship!

Captain Zwartbooi’s people had started off to Damara-land under pretext
of looking out for fountains, but the sequel proved it was solely with a
view of stealing cattle. The example set them by Jonker, Cornelius, and
others, was too strong to be longer withstood.

One evening Jonathan Afrika presented himself at the station. I had
already, at Barmen, seen this man, who was of Bechuana extraction, but
had been brought up among civilized people. A shrewder fellow I never
came across. He bore an excellent character throughout the country. When
he first arrived he accompanied Mr. M⸺, the trader, in whose service he
suffered much privation.

Jonathan, who soon afterward entered into my service, was a man of great
courage and an excellent marksman. He had shared many a hunting exploit
with his friend Hans, and had made numerous lions bite the dust.

On one occasion, Jonathan was riding leisurely along, when suddenly, a
short distance in advance of him, a fine lion rushed out of the bushes.
Throwing himself quickly off the ox, he gave chase to the beast, calling
out loudly, “Nay, stop a little. To-day we must, indeed, talk with
each other.” Whether the lion thought he could not escape, or that he
considered his dignity concerned, I shall not presume to say; but, at all
events, he stopped to look at his pursuer. No sooner, however, had he
turned his head, than a well-directed ball entered one of his eyes, and
laid him low in an instant.

After waiting at Rehoboth for about a week, I had the satisfaction to see
my men and wagon arrive in safety. The cause of the delay had been the
nature of the road, the greater part of which consisted of a succession
of sand-ridges, as bad as those at Scheppmansdorf. The oxen were good,
and more than sufficient to do the work; but, from want of yokes, they
could only make use of twelve at a time.

The men had also been much plagued by lions. One fine moonlight night,
just as they had unyoked at the base of a small sand-hill, one of these
animals appeared immediately above. After having eyed them for a moment,
he dashed in among the goats, and, before the men could get their guns in
order, he was out of harm’s way with one of the quadrupeds.

At another time, a lion made a rush at the cattle when at pasture, who
fled precipitately into a defile, where, not finding an outlet, they
faced about and confronted their fierce antagonist. The beast evidently
dreaded the forest of bristling horns; for, after having paced to and fro
at the entrance of the pass the best part of the night, keeping cattle
and men in great tribulation by his savage growls, he slunk off toward
morning.




CHAPTER XXIX.

    Dispatch Cattle to the Cape.—Terrible Thunder-storm.—Trees
    struck by Lightning.—The Nosop River.—A Comet.—The Author
    nearly poisoned.—Some of the Men abscond; they return
    to their Duty.—Babel-like confusion of Tongues.—Game
    abundant.—Author shoots a Giraffe.—Meet Bushmen.—Unsuccessful
    Elephant-hunt.—Sufferings from Hunger.—Tunobis.—Game
    scarce.—Author and Steed entrapped.—Pitfalls.—The Men turn
    sulky.—Preparations for departure from Tunobis.—Vicious
    Pack-oxen.—Consequences of excessive Fatigue.—The Jackal’s
    handiwork.—Tracks of Elephants.—More Pitfalls.—Loss of the
    Anglo-Saxon Lion and the Swedish Cross.—Reach Ghanzé.


On the 1st of April I dispatched my cattle (three hundred and sixty in
number) to the Cape, in charge of old Piet and Thomas Gibbons, William,
and two or three Damaras. The first-mentioned was well accustomed to a
large drove of oxen, and was the only one of the party in whom I had
any confidence. Under such circumstances, it was perhaps natural that
I should feel some misgivings about their safe arrival. But I placed
my trust in that same Providence who had hitherto watched over the
lonely stranger, firm in the conviction that whatever befell me or my
property (both of which I was about to risk in the cause of humanity and
civilization) would be for the best.

Fearing from experience that wagons would be only an incumbrance, and
impede the dispatch, if not defeat the success of my expedition to the
Ngami, I parted with them. As I knew, however, that the road as far as
Tunobis was practicable for wheel carriages, I borrowed an old battered
vehicle for the occasion, intending to send it back with Eyebrecht.
Thence I purposed pursuing the journey with pack-and-ride oxen. This,
though the most eligible plan, subjects the traveler to much hardship
and inconvenience, from exposure to the inclemency of the weather, and
the very small stock of provisions, &c., that can be conveyed.

Up to this period the men had worked well and willingly; but the day on
which I bade farewell to the hospitable missionary roof (5th of April)
Timbo became sulky, and expressed a wish to return to the Cape, from
which I had some difficulty in persuading him. It was the first time I
had real cause for being dissatisfied with the man, but not the last.

Four days after this little difficulty was got over, it came on to rain
so tremendously that it seemed as if we were going to have another
deluge. For three days and as many nights it continued to pour down with
scarcely any intermission. The scriptural expression, “The windows of
heaven were opened,” might indeed have been here realized. During the
last twelve hours the thunder and lightning were truly appalling, and
perfectly stunned and blinded us. Peal after peal, flash after flash,
followed in rapid succession, reechoed and reflected from a hundred
peaks. Trees were broken short off or torn up by the roots by the
violence of the wind.

                              “The clouds,
    From many a horrid rift, abortive pour’d
    Fierce rain with lightning mix’d, water with fire
    In ruin reconciled; nor slept the winds
    Within their stony caves, but rush’d abroad
    From the four hinges of the world, and fell
    On the vexed wilderness, whose tallest pines
    (Though rooted deep as high) and sturdiest oaks
    Bow’d their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blast
    Or torn up sheer.”

The men’s tent, which was secured with numerous strong straps to the
side of the wagon, was earned bodily away, and men and quadrupeds were
literally swimming in the torrent, which, rushing down with irresistible
fury from the slopes of the hills, swept over our camping-ground. The
poor dogs howled from fear and suffering. Every moment I expected to see
the wagon capsized by the blast, or, what was worse, struck by lightning,
as we had somewhat incautiously encamped under a kameel-doorn boom, which
is one of the most certain of conductors. Indeed, nearly two thirds of
the full-grown trees of this kind are found splintered by the electric
fluid.

So completely did this deluge saturate and swamp the locality, that for
two days after the rains had ceased we were unable to move; yet such is
the partial operation even of such thunder-storms as we had just endured,
that, after traveling a day or two farther to the eastward, we all but
perished from thirst, and the vegetation was parched and sunburnt!

Our route lay through a country similar in character to that traveled
over by Mr. Galton and myself about a year and a half previously in our
journey to the eastward, namely, large sandy plains, richly covered with
fine grass and brushwood, with occasional clusters of kameel-thorn-trees.
Water was very scarce.

From the number of bleached bones of rhinoceroses, giraffes, and other
wild beasts scattered about, it was evident that game had at one time
been abundant in these parts; but the introduction of fire-arms among the
Namaquas had either put an end to the animals, or scared them away to
less peopled haunts. With the exception of hyænas and jackals, beasts of
any size were scarce.

In about a fortnight we reached the Nosop River, near to its junction
with the Black Nosop. The two streams, when united, flow under the common
name of Nosop; and, though nothing is known of the course of this river
three days south of Wesley Vale, it is believed ultimately to make its
way to the Orange River. Indeed, the fact of fish having been found in
the pools at Elephant Fountain of similar kind to those inhabiting the
Garieb (the Orange) River strengthens the supposition.

I had ordered Eyebrecht to meet me on the Nosop, and I found him in
company with a handsome Griqua girl, whom he had married according to
the fashion of the Namaquas. The union bade fair to be a fruitful one,
for the happy couple were already blessed with an infant. The face of
the tawny-complexioned husband was beaming with paternal pride and
satisfaction. He was living with his father-in-law (Jan Zaal), a great
hunter, with whom I also took up my quarters for a short time. The people
were exceedingly kind to me, and remarkably clean and neat in all their
household arrangements. Besides, I enjoyed an unlimited supply of sweet
and sour milk, both of which I greatly relished.

During my stay on the Nosop I observed for several nights a remarkable
comet. On the last of April, about eight o’clock in the evening, when
about to set, the latitude being 23° S., it bore 296° by compass.

Having engaged my host’s son, Klaas Zaal, to accompany me as a
wagon-driver as far as Tunobis, whence he and Eyebrecht were to return,
I was again on the move on the afternoon of the 4th of May. For a day or
two we followed the right bank of the White Nosop, and then crossed over
to the other branch, where, in order to explore the road before us, we
rested a couple of days.

Having proceeded one morning in search of game, I became very hungry,
and, observing an inviting bean-looking fruit, I ate greedily of it, but
it nearly cost me my life. I was seized with giddiness, vomiting, and
racking pains, and arrived in a staggering and bewildered state at our
camp, completely exhausted. I then learned that the pulse I had eaten
was, in a raw state, highly deleterious, but if cooked, could not alone
be eaten with impunity, but was really beneficial.

Almost from my first entrance into the country, thinking that I might
one day be obliged to live on Bushman diet, I partook eagerly of every
root, bulb, berry, &c., that grew wild about the country, but always
(with the exception of the above instance) took the precaution first to
ascertain from the natives its properties. I derived benefit from this
plan; for, when ordinary food failed me, I could at all events contrive
to exist for a time on this rude fare.

On returning one day to the camp from a fatiguing hunt, I found that all
my Damaras had absconded. I was astonished and vexed beyond measure, for
the greater part had been long in my employ, and had proved themselves
very faithful. One of them had, only the day previously, been telling me
that, unless I drove him forcibly away, he would never abandon me, but
would share my fortune, whether good or bad. I soon discovered that Timbo
had caused the defection. I had appointed him head man of the servants;
but he being dark-complexioned, the Damaras did not like to be ruled by
one so much resembling themselves.

In the first burst of anger I declared I would do without them, and
that I would punish them severely on my return. A moment’s reflection,
however, convinced me that, both for my own sake, and by way of example
for the remainder of the men, it was necessary, if possible, to bring
them back to their duty. Eyebrecht was accordingly dispatched on this
errand. After several days’ absence he returned with the runaways, and as
they looked penitent, I thought it best to pass the offense quietly over,
and say nothing.

At Twass, the head-quarters of Lambert, Amral’s eldest son—a chief of
even greater importance than his father—I was joined by Piet, the Griqua,
who was to accompany me to the Lake in the capacity of interpreter. He
knew the Bechuana language tolerably well, and, as a matter of course,
spoke Dutch fluently. Onesimus also knew a smattering of this last
tongue, and was perfect in the Damara and Namaqua. Louis was pretty
well versed in Portuguese and the different dialects of the countries
bordering upon the settlements about the Mozambique Channel. Personally,
I could make myself understood in more than one European language; and
this Babel-like confusion was completed by Timbo’s _patois_.

The preceding year, when our steps were pointed in the same direction as
at present, we traveled on the summit of the low range of hills which
take their rise near to Twass, extending eastward. We were then on
saddle-oxen; but, from what we saw of the country, we deemed it nearly
impracticable for wagons. I therefore determined to strike through
the woods at the base of the hills in question, or along the valley
intervening between them and another mountain range running in the same
direction. The soil proved exceedingly soft and yielding, and the bushes
harassing; yet this new route was preferable to the other.

We saw a good deal of game, chiefly of the larger kinds; but the animals
were wary, and I shot badly. My horse was so unsteady as to be of little
or no use. His speed was great; he was a match for the swiftest antelope;
but when I fired from his back, he was very apt to start on one side. If
his rider, at such times, was not on his guard, the chances were in favor
of his being dismounted. One day Eyebrecht begged eagerly to be allowed
to try his hand on the giraffes, which abounded in this locality. His
request was granted, and I lent him my horse, though we well knew what
would be the result. After nearly a whole day’s absence, he returned,
when the men hailed him with shouts of laughter, as his appearance too
plainly indicated his misfortunes. But, notwithstanding his flushed face
and torn and soiled dress, he stoutly denied having been thrown. It so
happened, however, that the very next day we passed a spot where he had
been chasing a herd of giraffes, and where we could distinctly see the
marks of how the scared horse had been dragging Eyebrecht along the
ground for a considerable distance.

On arriving at Elephant Kloof we had better success. My first prize
consisted of a magnificent giraffe, which dropped dead to the first
shot—the only instance I recollected of killing this animal outright
with a single bullet. I never before or since (excepting, perhaps, a
cow-elephant) saw so fat an animal. The flesh was delicious, and I
thought my men would kill themselves by gorging. Indeed, Bonfield became
seriously ill, and for a whole week was unable to take nourishment of
any description, not even coffee. Every thing he tried to swallow was
instantly rejected. At one time I became apprehensive for his safety. My
Griqua guide also got indisposed from feeding too heartily on an oily
ostrich.

From the midst of abundance we were, or rather I was, soon reduced to the
other extreme. When half way to Otjombindè we encountered some Bushmen,
who persuaded me to go in search of elephants, which they said abounded
at no great distance. A person might visit the place they frequented, and
come back the same day. Having hastily made a few arrangements, I set
out, but, foolishly relying on their statements, provided myself with
only one small slice of raw flesh, which, after a while, in the full
anticipation of a quick and successful return, I gave to the half-starved
“children of the desert.” I was sadly out of reckoning, however, for,
instead of it being merely a few hours to the water in question, we
traveled a whole day at a brisk pace before reaching our destination.

We were now at the beginning of the cold season, and the nights had
already attained a very low temperature. The day had been oppressively
hot, we had journeyed rapidly, and, in the hurry, I had come away without
my coat. As evening set in I felt a deadly chill stealing over me,
and though we found fuel, I deemed it necessary to do with as little
fire as possible, for fear of alarming the elephants, should they make
their appearance. Thrusting my head into a bush, and bundling the rest
of my body in as small a compass as was possible, I spent a long and
comfortless night.

At break of day we were stirring. On arriving at the water, which was
not far distant from our bivouac, we had the satisfaction to discover
the fresh tracks of elephants, but out of the troop that had visited the
place there was only one bull. His tracks were of course selected in
preference to the rest, but, though we followed them perseveringly till
near sunset, all our endeavors to come up with the animal proved vain.

Hungry, disheartened, and exhausted, we retraced our steps to the
bivouac, where we spent another still more cheerless night. Two days had
now elapsed without my having tasted a morsel of food, nor did I obtain
any until I reached my own people at the expiration of the third day.[70]

During the last twelve hours, I am free to confess, I was almost ravenous
enough to eat my shoe-soles, and probably might have done so had time and
opportunity permitted to boil them down to a jelly. Contrary to custom,
the field we had traversed was destitute of eatables of any sort. Once,
indeed, I observed a small antelope, but the animal only seemed to mock
our sufferings, for, before I could level my piece, he vanished. Seeing
the Bushmen try to appease their hunger with a bitter woody substance,
I could not resist the temptation to taste it, though warned of the
consequences; but scarcely had I masticated the first mouthful before I
was seized with tormenting nausea and sickness.

From our great success on a former occasion at Tunobis, I expected to
find full employment for my rifle on my arrival there. But, alas! now
that we stood so much in need of animal food, not a wild beast was to
be seen. At first, one might almost be led to imagine that the amazing
number of animals congregated here less than two years before must be
either killed or driven altogether away from the locality; but this was
not the case. Water was still to be found in the vleys and pools at some
distance, and, until these were exhausted, wild animals were little
likely to visit a spot where they were subject to constant persecution.

One or two rhinoceroses, however, occasionally visited the fountains, as
appeared by their tracks. These I determined to watch, while I dispersed
my men over the adjoining country in search of game. One night a huge
animal came waddling along, but, though I lodged a ball in its body, it
was to no purpose. The men were equally unsuccessful, and returned, after
several days’ absence, half starved, and, consequently, as ravenous as
wolves. They had encountered several rhinoceroses, zebras, &c., but they
only wounded or mangled the poor beasts. It seemed as if every gun, mine
included, had been bewitched.

Tunobis, as often stated in the preceding pages, was the farthest
easterly point which Galton and myself had attained in our journey toward
the Ngami. Every inch of the ground ahead was now unknown to Europeans at
least. The Bushmen, it is true, had furnished us with some information,
but it was either too vague to be relied upon, or not applicable to the
course I intended to pursue. Knowing nearly the position of the Lake, I
was anxious to take as straight a line as possible; but, on consulting
the few natives hereabout, they declared that, were I to do so, it would
be certain destruction to myself and cattle, inasmuch as the “field” in
that direction was one howling wilderness, totally destitute of water. By
traveling southward, however, for a few stages along the sandy and dry
water-course of Otjombindè, I should, they said, run no risk. I was quite
at a loss to know how far I could depend on their information; but Piet,
the interpreter, who had crossed the Kalahari in the beginning of the
rainy season, having corroborated their story, I no longer hesitated to
follow their advice.

Before finally quitting Tunobis, an incident occurred which bade fair to
finish my career in this world. Cantering along one day in the bed of the
River Otjombindè, with a view of ascertaining its course, I all at once
found myself on the very verge of a pitfall! but it was too late, for at
the moment I was about to rein in my horse, down we both went together,
with a fearful crash, through the light net-work of sticks and grass that
covered it, to the bottom of the gulf, which could not have been less
than ten feet in depth, though happily without either of us breaking our
necks.

This pitfall was specially intended for the giraffe, which abounded
hereabout, and was very different in construction from those in use for
elephants, rhinoceroses, and other large animals; for, instead of a
single cavity, it was divided into two compartments, separated from each
other by a wall of earth. Though I never before knew the meaning of this
peculiar arrangement, it was soon explained. My horse, having recovered
somewhat from his surprise and the stunning effects of the fall, plunged
violently forward, and endeavored to leap the wall in question; but he
only got his fore quarters over it, and the depth of the hole preventing
him from touching the ground either with his fore or hind feet, his whole
weight rested on his belly, and thus suspended between earth and heaven,
he became totally helpless.

Seeing that the poor animal could not possibly live long in this
position, and that I was too far from camp to return for assistance, I
unhesitatingly sprang back into the pit from which I had just extricated
myself, and placing my shoulders under his chest (my feet resting against
the side of the pit to give me a better leverage), I exerted all my
strength, and succeeded in pushing him back into the compartment in which
he had been originally deposited. Finding that he was about to renew the
plunge, I seized the bridle with my left hand and held his head forcibly
down, while with my right hand, and by the aid of a stick that I picked
up, I scraped away the soil on one side of the pit so that it became
in a degree an inclined plane; with my feet I also so far leveled the
wall that it formed a kind of platform. This matter being arranged, I
laid myself on my back on the edge of the pit and pulled stoutly at the
bridle. The horse understood me, for with a violent jerk of his body he
sprang on to the platform, and next to the inclined plane, where for a
moment he nearly lost his equilibrium, but at last successfully cleared
the abyss.

[Illustration: PITFALLS.]

The poor brute was so sensible of the danger he had escaped that, on
finding himself on firm ground, he uttered a wild, half-suppressed
neighing, or rather scream, and continued to tremble violently for
several minutes. On examining him, I found he had sustained no farther
injury than the loss of a few inches of skin and a quantity of hair.
As for myself, I escaped with a violent twist of the neck, which
inconvenienced me slightly for a few days.

Almost all the tribes of Southern Africa avail themselves of pitfalls
(often on a most gigantic scale) for the capture of game. These traps,
or rather these lines of pitfalls, are either constructed in the shape
of very obtuse triangles, open at the base and gradually tapering to a
point, where a single, double, or treble row of pits are dug, into which
the game is driven by shouts or yells, or they are formed in the shape of
a crescent—often miles in extent—usually shutting out a valley or defile,
with pits at every fifty or a hundred paces apart, artfully concealed
with grass, sand, &c., the intervening spaces being planted and filled
up with stout palisades, closely interwoven with boughs and branches of
thorn-trees.

The Hill-Damaras are remarkable for the perseverance and industry they
exhibit in the construction of game-pits. From want of proper tools, the
trees have first to be burnt down and then carried on men’s shoulders to
their destination, and when we add to this that the task is frequently
executed in the most arid districts—the haunts of the gemsbok, the eland,
the koodoo, and other tenants of the wilds, who are capable of existing
more or less without water for long periods—it is easy to imagine the
labor and fatigue of the process.

On counting over the different articles of my baggage, I found that at
least nine or ten oxen would be required to carry them, in addition to
those necessary for myself and men to ride upon. Almost all my cattle
were young, and only half broken-in, and there was scarcely time for
further training. To save all trouble, I felt inclined to push on with
the old wagon; but, for more than one reason, the idea was quickly
abandoned. I worked night and day, but was much harassed. Through
carelessness, the hyænas were allowed to devour the skins intended for
pack “riems” and divers minor articles. The men were lazy, stubborn,
and ill-humored, and I was kept constantly on the rack by their
annoyances. One day I was obliged to resort to the very unusual measure
of flogging Onesimus, who by this time thought himself too civilized to
need correction. Indeed, they were all more or less of this opinion, and
wanted their dismissal. Having always been kind and considerate toward
my men—too much so, perhaps—I felt disgusted at their ingratitude, and
exclaimed, rather passionately, “Yes; go, cowards! go and tell your
friends that you have left your master in the desert to the mercy of wild
beasts and savage men; go and exult. Your conduct shall not prevent me
from persevering in my plans.” On more mature consideration, however,
they thought better of it, and again returned to their duty with a good
will.

After many delays and the most strenuous exertions, every thing was at
length in readiness for a start. Before setting off, I wrote to some of
my friends at the Cape, and also a letter or two to Europe, intrusting
them to Eyebrecht, who returned forthwith to Walfisch Bay.

At noon of the 14th of June we assembled our oxen and began to pack;
but, though we labored till our heads turned giddy and our arms were
paralyzed, we made but slow progress. No sooner had we finished arranging
the burden of one ox than another threw off his pack. It is utterly
impossible for those who have never had ocular demonstration of this kind
of work with half-wild cattle to understand the difficulty, and imagine
the ludicrous scenes that take place. I have already given a faint sketch
of the process of training oxen, from which the reader may glean some
notion of the obstacles to be surmounted, bearing in mind, at the same
time, that instead of a single ox we had ten to load, besides those on
which we were mounted, and which were not the most manageable.

At last we were off; but the day was then so far advanced that we were
unable to accomplish more than seven or eight miles before we found it
necessary to make a halt and bivouac for the night. We were so thoroughly
knocked up with the severe labor of the day, that after having hastily
removed the packs from the vicious beasts, we literally dropped to sleep
where we stood, not one of the party giving a thought as to food, fire,
water, or covering, of each and all of which we stood greatly in need.

On returning to consciousness the following morning, the first object
that met my half-sleepy gaze was a jackal, busily engaged examining
our baggage. Having no gun within reach, I threw a handful of sand at
the impudent fellow, on which he saluted me with a mocking laugh, and
slowly retreated. But had I then been aware of the full extent of his
mischievous propensities, he should certainly not have escaped so easy.
The brute had, indeed, devoured one of the “riems” with which we secured
the packs on the oxen. Nothing could possibly have been more unfortunate;
the thong was, at that time, worth its weight in gold. We had ten oxen to
pack, and only nine “riems!” Here, then, was a fine opportunity for a man
to exert his ingenuity. It was totally out of the question to divide any
of the remaining straps, for they were short and narrow enough already,
and they must be of a certain length and solidity in order to serve
the purpose effectually. At length, however, and after much searching,
patching, and splicing, a very indifferent substitute was produced, and
we were again _en route_, though not before I had, for the fiftieth time,
vowed dire vengeance against the whole race of jackals.

This day (May 15th) we proceeded alternately in the bed and on the
borders of the Otjombindè River. The soil consisted of fine white
sand, reflecting a light dazzling and painful to the eyes, while it
was soft and yielding to the feet. The grass was still green and
very plentiful, and the vegetation, in general, was rank. We passed
several vleys containing small quantities of muddy water, alive with
loathsome reptiles; and, in some places, the wallowing of elephants
and rhinoceroses had converted it into a substance not unlike a mass of
well-kneaded dough, heaving with insect life, and tinted and variegated
by the stains of larger animals. Yet we drank, or rather gulped it with
avidity!

We encountered also a vast number of “sand-wells,” varying from one to
three fathoms in depth, with an average diameter at the top of twenty
feet. The construction of these pits indicated great perseverance and
skill, and had evidently been formed by a pastoral people possessed of
large herds of cattle. No European would have ever dreamed of looking
for water in such localities, since it usually lay ten feet below
the surface of the ground, which gave no indication whatever of its
presence. Not having been used or kept in repair for many a long year,
several were partially filled with sand, but the greater portions were
still in tolerable order. They contained no standing water, but plenty
of moisture; and, by inserting a reed—the plan adopted by the Bushmen
when the liquid will not flow—enough to quench a person’s thirst was
generally obtained. Elephants had been at work in many, but were clearly
disappointed.

About sunset we came to a large vley where a troop of elephants had
evidently only a short time previously been enjoying themselves. This
circumstance put my men on the _qui vive_; and my Griqua interpreter,
who was one of the most chicken-hearted of beings, took good care to
magnify the danger of encountering these animals at night. He declared
that it was absolutely necessary to come to a halt; but this did not suit
my purpose at all. I assured my men that elephants, if left unmolested,
were very timid and civil beasts, and that, no doubt, if we met them and
only gave them room to pass, they would in all probability treat us with
equal courtesy. This having in some degree quieted their apprehensions,
we proceeded till about nine o’clock, when we unloaded the tired oxen and
camped for the night. As for ourselves, though much fatigued, we took
the precaution to provide security from all skulking night-prowlers. By
a roaring fire, and over a hearty supper, we forgot the miseries of the
day, and, in the firm anticipation of success, cheerfully resigned our
weary limbs to sleep.

At an early hour the next morning we were on the move. The air being
cool, we proceeded briskly. About noon some Bushmen were observed digging
roots; but they only allowed us to approach within shouting distance. We
managed, however, to hold some little conversation with them, and learned
that water was not far off. They warned us to proceed with caution, as
the whole river-bed in advance was undermined with pitfalls. And true
enough; for, before being aware of it, we found ourselves entrapped
in a maze of yawning chasms, down some of which bipeds and quadrupeds
went together in the most amicable confusion. However, being partially
prepared for the event, and traveling at a slow pace, we escaped with
a few bruises. To prevent a recurrence of the mischief, a man or two
proceeded in advance, and unmasked the remainder. They were constructed
on the same principle as the one into which I had a short time previously
been so unceremoniously precipitated.

At two o’clock P.M. we came to a halt by a well of clear, good water.
Within gun-shot of this place was a “salt-lick,” much frequented by wild
animals, such as rhinoceroses, giraffes, gemsboks, koodoos, elands,
gnoos, &c.; but I preferred to devote the ensuing night to rest and
astronomical observations rather than lying in ambush for game.

At an after period I had some good sport in this locality, as also some
spirited chases after elands. But space prevents me from entering into
details.

The Otjombindè, without materially taking us out of our direct route,
had thus far befriended us; but, if I wished to reach the Lake, it was
now out of the question any longer to follow this river, as hence it
pursued too southerly a course. According to the advice of the Bushmen,
therefore, we now left it to the right, and struck out in a northerly
direction through an intensely dense “Wacht-een-bigte” (thorn-jungle).
After a few hours’ travel, “we packed-off” to the eastward of some
dilapidated limestone pits; but, though they contained water, from the
depth of the cavities, and the difficulty of access to them, it occupied
the men several hours to supply the wants of our small herd of cattle.
The next stage—a short one—we slept without water.

In the course of the following day’s march we had traversed dense brakes
which annoyed us excessively, for the thorns not only tore our flesh and
clothes, but subtracted several articles of value from the pack-saddles.
Among other losses, I had to bewail that of two magnificent flags—the
British and the Swedish—which had been expressly made for and presented
to me by my friend, Mr. Letterstedt, the Swedish consul-general at the
Cape, and which I hoped to have unfurled on the shores of the far-famed
Ngami. All my efforts to recover these valued standards proved fruitless,
some hyænas having probably swallowed the Anglo-Saxon Lion and the
Swedish Cross.

At dusk, after having been ten hours in the saddle, we reached a famous
place called Ghanzé, where we pitched our camp.




CHAPTER XXX.

    Ghanzé.—Spotted Hyæna.—The Rhinoceros.—Where
    found.—Several Species.—Description of Rhinoceros.—Size.—
    Appearance.—Age.—Strength.—Speed.—Food.—Water.—The
    Young.—Affection.—Senses.—Disposition.—Gregarious.—
    Indolence.—Domestication.—Flesh.—Horns.—The Chase.—Mr. Oswell’s
    Adventures with Rhinoceroses.—A Crotchet.—Where to aim at the
    Rhinoceros.—Does not bleed externally when wounded.—Great
    numbers slain annually.


Ghanzé, according to the interpretation of my Griqua, signifies very
large, and yet very small. Absurd as this explanation may appear, there
is, nevertheless, some aptness in it. The “very large” means that from
the moisture of the ground there is an indication of much water, while
the real quantity is trifling. Ghanzé is a peculiar and dreary-looking
place, consisting of an extensive hollow with innumerable small stones
scattered over its surface, and one side fenced by a natural limestone
wall three to five feet in height. The whole is hemmed in with thorn
coppices intersected by numerous footpaths, the work of those huge
creatures, the elephant and the rhinoceros, who have probably wandered
here for ages in undisputed sway. Here and there an “iron-tree,” the
mythological progenitor of the Damaras, stands majestically forth,
shooting its wide-spreading branches high into space.

Ghanzé, it would appear, has been long known to the Bechuanas and the
Griquas. A party of the latter, I was told, reached it many years
previously to my arrival in a despairing state, having been obliged
to abandon their wagons in the Kalahari. The body of men from whom I
obtained my interpreter had also visited it. It had even been frequented
by Europeans. An English traveler, Moyle, crossed the desert in safety,
and arrived at Ghanzé in 1852, on a trading and hunting expedition. From
this place he was guided by Bushmen to Great Namaqua-land, whence he
retraced his steps home. The year after this he again crossed the desert,
though under unfavorable circumstances, having, with the exception of two
horses, lost all his beasts of burden, as also his servants, some of whom
died from want.

Almost the first animal I saw at this place was a gigantic “tiger-wolf,”
or spotted hyæna, which, to my surprise, instead of seeking safety in
flight, remained stationary, grinning in the most ghastly manner. Having
approached within twenty paces, I perceived, to my horror, that his fore
paws, and the skin and flesh of his front legs, had been gnawed away,
and that he could scarcely move from the spot. To shorten the sufferings
of the poor beast, I seized my opportunity and knocked him on the head
with a stone, and, catching him by the tail, drove my hunting knife deep
into his side; but I had to repeat the operation more than once before
I could put an end to his existence. I am at a loss how to account for
his mangled condition. It certainly could not have been from age, for
his teeth were good. Could it be possible that, from want of food, he
had become too weak for further exertions, and that, as a last resource,
he had attacked his own body? or was he an example of that extraordinary
species of cruelty said to be practiced by the lion on the hyæna when the
latter has the insolence to interfere with the monarch’s prey?[71]

Fortune once again favored us; for, in the course of the few days
we remained at Ghanzé, several rhinoceroses were shot, affording an
abundance of provisions. These animals were very numerous, but rather
shy. One night I counted twenty defiling past me, though beyond reach.
The cause of so unusual a number being seen together was as follows: In
the early part of the night, one or two were approaching the water, but,
having winded me, they kept walking restlessly round the place, grunting
and snorting most viciously. This had the effect of putting those who
arrived later on guard, and they soon joined company.

Of all the South African animals, not the least curious, perhaps, is the
rhinoceros. He inhabits a large portion of the African continent—such
localities, at least, as are suitable to his habits. Formerly, as before
mentioned, he was common even in the immediate vicinity of Cape-Town;
but, owing to constant persecution, is now rarely met farther to the
southward (I speak of the West Coast) than about the twenty-third degree
of latitude. In the interior, however, the tribe is still very numerous.
“On one occasion,” says Captain Harris, in a private letter, “while
walking from the wagons to bring the head of a koodoo that I had killed
about a mile off, I encountered twenty-two rhinoceroses, and had to shoot
four of them to clear the way.”

The rhinoceros is, moreover, an inhabitant of Bengal, Siam, China, and
other countries of Asia; also of Java, Sumatra, and Ceylon. But the
three species[72] indigenous to this quarter of the globe would seem to
be quite different from any yet found in Africa. Almost all the Asiatic
species have an exceedingly coarse hide, covered with large folds, not
unlike a coat of mail, while that of the African species is comparatively
smooth. Two of the Indian rhinoceroses have only one horn, whereas all
the African are provided with two.[73] The third Asiatic species, which
is found in the island of Sumatra, resembles the African in having two
horns, but in other respects differs considerably.

Though the rhinoceros is abundant in the interior of Africa, it is
described as far more numerous in Asia, and as less generally distributed
than the elephant.

[Illustration: HEADS OF RHINOCEROSES.[74]]

Four distinct species of rhinoceroses are known to exist in South Africa,
two of which are of a dark color, and two of a whitish hue. Hence they
are usually designated the “black” and the “white” rhinoceros.

One of the two species of “black”—the Borele, as it is called by the
Bechuanas—is the common small black rhinoceros (_rhinoceros bicornis_);
the other, the Keitloa (_rhinoceros Keitloa_), or the two-horned black
rhinoceros, as it is also termed by naturalists. The latter differs from
the Borele in being somewhat larger, with a longer neck; in having the
horns of nearly equal length, with a lesser number of wrinkles about the
head; and it is of a more wild and morose disposition. The upper lip of
both (more especially in the Keitloa) is pointed, overlaps the lower, and
is capable of extension. It is pliable, and the animal can move it from
side to side, twist it round a stick, collect its food, or seize with it
any thing it would carry to its mouth. Both species are extremely fierce,
and, excepting the buffalo, are perhaps the most dangerous of all the
beasts in Southern Africa.

[Illustration: HORNS OF RHINOCEROS OSWELLII.]

Of the white species, we have the common white rhinoceros (_rhinoceros
simus_, Burch.), called Monoohoo by the Bechuanas, and the Kobaaba
(_rhinoceros Oswellii_, Gray), or long-horned white rhinoceros.[75] It
is with regard to their horns that the two species chiefly differ from
each other; for while the anterior horn of the Monoohoo has an average
length of two or three feet, curving backward, that of the Kobaaba
not unfrequently exceeds four feet, and is slightly pointed forward,
inclining from the snout at about an angle of forty-five degrees. This
rhinoceros is also the rarer of the two, and is only found in the more
interior parts of South Africa.

The chief distinguishing characteristics of the white rhinoceros are its
superior size, the extraordinary prolongation of its head, which is not
far from one third of the whole length of the animal’s body, its square
nose (hence also designated “square-nosed rhinoceros”), and the greater
length of the anterior horns.

The “black” and the “white” rhinoceros, though so nearly allied to each
other, differ widely in their mode of living, habits, &c. The chief
sustenance of the former animal consists of the roots of certain bushes,
which it plows up with its strong horn, and the shoots and tender boughs
of the “wait-a-bit” thorn; while the “white” rhinoceros, on the contrary,
feeds solely on grasses.

In disposition, also, there is a marked distinction between them; for
while the “black” is of a very savage nature, the “white,” on the other
hand, is of a comparatively mild disposition, and, unless in defense of
its young, or when hotly pursued, or wounded, will rarely attack a man.

The body of the rhinoceros is long and thick; its belly is large, and
hangs near the ground; its legs are short, round, and very strong; and
its hoofs are divided into three parts, each pointing forward. The head,
which is remarkably formed, is large; the ears are long and erect; its
eyes small and sunk. The horns, which are composed of a mass of fine
longitudinal threads or laminæ, forming a beautifully hard and solid
substance, are not affixed to the skull, but merely attached to the
skin, resting, however, in some degree, on a bony protuberance above the
nostrils. It is believed by many that, when the animal is at rest, the
horns are soft and pliable, but that, when on the move, they at once
become hard and solid. Moreover, that it can, at will, turn the posterior
horn, the other horn meanwhile remaining firm and erect; but there can
scarcely be sufficient foundation for such notions.

In size the African rhinoceros—the white species, at least—is only
exceeded by the elephant. A full-grown male (_R. simus_) measures from
the snout to the extremity of the tail (which is about two feet) between
fourteen and sixteen feet, with a circumference of ten or twelve. To
judge from these data, and the general bulkiness of the body, it can not
weigh less than from four to five thousand pounds. In our “bush-cuisine”
we reckoned one of these animals equal to three good-sized oxen.

The general appearance of the African rhinoceros is not unlike that of
an immense hog shorn of his hair, or, rather, bristles, for, with the
exception of a tuft at the extremity of the ears and the tail, it has
no hair whatever; and, as if in mockery of its giant form, its eyes are
ludicrously small—so small, indeed, that at a short distance they are
imperceptible. Altogether, what with its huge body, misshapen head,
ungainly legs and feet, and diminutive organs of vision, the rhinoceros
is the very image of ugliness.

I have no data that would enable me to determine the age of this animal,
but if we are to judge from the length of time that the horns require to
be perfected, and supposing the animal to continue to grow in the mean
while, it may be safely conjectured that he is one of the most long-lived
of beasts. Indeed, it is probable he attains the age of one hundred years.

In strength the rhinoceros is scarcely inferior to the elephant. Of its
prodigious power sufficient evidence was shown in the manner in which it
charged the missionary wagon, as mentioned at page 50 of this volume.
It is on record, moreover, that the rhinoceros which Emanuel, King of
Portugal, sent to the Pope in the year 1513, destroyed, in a paroxysm of
fury, the vessel in which he was transported.

Ungainly and heavy as the rhinoceros looks, it is, nevertheless, so
exceedingly swift of foot—at least as regards the black species—“that a
horse with a rider,” to quote the words of Gordon Cumming, “can rarely
manage to overtake it.” The testimony of Captain Harris is to the like
effect; for, when speaking of the chase of this animal, and after
telling us that it is most difficult to kill, he says, “From its clumsy
appearance, one would never suppose it could dart about as it does, like
lightning.”

The food of the rhinoceros consists entirely, as mentioned, of
vegetables, shoots of trees, grasses, &c. It is fond of the sugar-cane,
and eats all kinds of grain;[76] but it does not seem to be a voracious
feeder. Indeed, it would appear to be somewhat fastidious in the
selection of its food, in search of which it wanders far and wide.

Water is indispensable to the rhinoceros, and, even if his usual haunts
be distant from the fountain, he seeks it at least once in the course of
the twenty-four hours, as well to quench his thirst as to wallow in the
mud, with which his body is frequently incrusted, leaving to the thirsty
traveler nothing but a mass of well-kneaded dough.

[Illustration: FŒTUS OF RHINOCEROS KEITLOA.]

Little seems to be known of the breeding habits of this animal: whether
it lives in monogamy, or has a plurality of wives, and so forth. It
appears certain, however, that the female only produces one young at a
birth, and that, too, at considerable intervals. During the first month,
the young rhinoceros exceeds not the size of a large dog, with the merest
indication of horns. A complete and full-grown fœtus of _R. Keitloa_ that
I once obtained measured thus:

                                                           Ft. In.
    Length of body (from tip of nose, over the head, and
      along the back) to insertion of tail                  3   6
    Length of tail                                          0  10
    Circumference of body behind shoulder                   2   4
          ”          neck                                   1   6
          ”          head (across the eyes)                 1   8
    Height at the shoulder                                  2   1
    Length of head between ears and eyes                    0   4½
    Breadth    ”      ”      ”                              0   4
      ”        ”      ”    eyes (corner nearest nostrils)   0   7

At the age of two years the horn is said to be not more than an inch
long; at six years old it is nine or ten inches long, and grows, as seen
in the white species, to the length of three or four feet.

The rhinoceros is a very affectionate mother, and guards her offspring
with the tenderest care. The young, in its turn, clings dotingly to its
dam, and, even for a day or two after the latter has been killed, the
calf is frequently found alongside the carcass. Several instances of the
kind have come under my personal notice, and many others are to be found
in the records of African travelers and hunters.

The sense of hearing and smell of this animal is most acute. I have
had numerous opportunities of testing both these qualities. Even when
feeding, lying down, or obeying any passing demand of nature, he will
listen with a deep and continued attention until the noise that has
attracted his attention ceases. He “winds” an enemy from a very great
distance; but if one be to leeward of him, it is not difficult to
approach within a few paces.

His sight, on the other hand, is not good. From the peculiar position of
his eyes, which are deep set in the head, and his unwieldy horns, he can
only see what is immediately before him.

The “black” species, as before said, are of a very sullen and morose
disposition. They are, moreover, subject to sudden paroxysms of
unprovoked fury, rushing and charging with inconceivable fierceness
animals, stones, bushes—in short, any object that comes in their way.

Seen in his native wilds, either when browsing at his leisure, or
listlessly sauntering about, a person would take the rhinoceros to be the
most stupid and inoffensive of creatures; yet, when his ire is roused, he
becomes the reverse, and is then the most agile and terrible of animals.

Colonel Williamson speaks of a rhinoceros in India whose ferocity was
such as to render the roads impassable by attacking travelers, or those
who passed near his haunts; and he relates an attack upon a sporting
company by the same animal, in the close of the year 1788, as generally
known to the army and residents of the district. “Two officers belonging
to the troops cantoned at Dunapore, near Patna, went down the river
toward Monghyr to shoot and hunt. They had encamped in the vicinity of
Derrzapore, and had heard some reports of a rhinoceros having attacked
some travelers many miles off. One morning, just as they were rising,
about daybreak, to go in quest of game, they heard a violent uproar;
and, on looking out, found that a rhinoceros was goring their horses,
both of which, being fastened by their head and heel with ropes, were
consequently unable either to escape or resist. Their servants took to
their heels, and concealed themselves in the neighboring jungle; and the
gentlemen had just time to climb up into a small tree not far distant,
before the furious beast, having completed the destruction of the
horses, turned his attention to their masters. They were barely out of
his reach, and by no means exempt from danger, especially as he assumed
a threatening appearance, and seemed intent on their downfall. After
keeping them in dreadful suspense for some time, and using some efforts
to dislodge them, seeing the sun rise, he retreated to his haunt; not,
however, without occasionally casting an eye back, as with regret, at
leaving what he wanted the power to destroy.”

But the rhinoceros is not dangerous to man alone: all the beasts of
the forest dread him, and none venture to attack this truly formidable
animal. The lion, if they chance to meet, slinks out of his way. Even the
elephant, should they encounter, retreats, if possible, without hazarding
an engagement. Major Lally stated to the author of “Oriental Sports” that
he once witnessed, from a distant hill, a most desperate battle between a
large male elephant and a rhinoceros, in which the former was worsted and
fled. Amral told me that one day, while himself and party were engaged in
pursuit of an elephant, a black rhinoceros suddenly appeared among them,
charging madly both beasts and men, several of whom had narrow escapes
from being gored by the animal.

The rhinoceros will also fight his own species. One night, when at the
“skärm,” I saw four huge beasts engage each other at the same time,
and so furious was the strife, and their gruntings so horrible, that
it caused the greatest consternation among my party, who were encamped
some little way off. I succeeded after a while in killing two of them,
one of which was actually unfit for food, being quite rotten from
wounds received on previous occasions, and, probably, under similar
circumstances.

The rhinoceros, though it can not strictly be called a gregarious animal,
and though most commonly met with singly or in pairs, would seem to be of
a somewhat social disposition. Indeed, as many as a dozen have been seen
pasturing and browsing together.

The rhinoceros is nocturnal in his habits. At the approach of dusk he
commences his rambles, and, if not disturbed, generally visits the pool
at an early hour of the evening; afterward he not unfrequently wanders
over a great extent of country. Soon after sunrise he seeks repose and
shelter against the heat under some friendly mimosa, or the projecting
ledge of a rock, where he spends the day in sleep, either stretched at
full length or in a standing position. Thus seen from a distance, he may
easily be mistaken for the fragment of a rock.

The Asiatic species is frequently kept in confinement, but, though
generally tractable, his morose and savage nature makes him rather
dangerous. The least provocation often puts him into a tempest of
passion, when he will not hesitate to destroy his best friend. In his
rage he will jump about, and leap to a great height, driving his head
furiously, and with incredible swiftness, against the partitions of his
place of confinement. Three or four specimens are at the present day
alive in England.

The flesh of the rhinoceros varies greatly in quality. That of the
“black” species, from its leanness, and the animal feeding on the
“wait-a-bit” thorn bushes, which gives it an acrid and bitter flavor, is
not over-esteemed. That of the white, on the other hand, whose sustenance
consists of grass, which imparts to it an agreeable taste, coupled with
its usual fatness, is greatly sought after by natives and colonists.
Indeed, the flesh of this animal seems always to have been in repute
in the Cape Colony. Kolben, when speaking of it, says, “The flesh of a
rhinoceros, which I have often eaten with a great deal of satisfaction,
is not so sinewy as some writers have represented.”

The horns of the rhinoceros, which are capable of a high polish, are
a valuable article of commerce. At the Cape this commodity fetches
half as much as ordinary elephant ivory. It is extensively used in the
manufacture of sword-handles, drinking-cups, ramrods for rifles, and
a variety of other purposes. In Turkey the rhinoceros horn is much
esteemed, more especially such as have a reddish tint about the grain.
These, when made into cups, the Turks believe to have the virtue of
detecting poison.

“The horns of the rhinoceros,” says Thunberg, “were kept by some people,
both in town and country, not only as rarities, but also as useful in
diseases, and for the purpose of detecting poison. As to the former of
these intentions, the fine shavings of the horns taken internally were
supposed to cure convulsions and spasms in children. With respect to the
latter, it was generally believed that goblets made of these horns in a
turner’s lathe would discover a poisonous draft that was put into them by
making the liquor ferment till it ran quite out of the goblet. Such horns
as were taken from a rhinoceros calf were said to be the best, and the
most to be depended upon.”

“The horn of the rhinoceros,” Kolben tells us, “will not endure the touch
of poison. I have often been a witness to this. Many people of fashion at
the Cape have cups turn’d out of the rhinoceros horn. Some have them set
in silver, and some in gold. If wine is pour’d into one of these cups, it
immediately rises and bubbles up as if it were boiling; and if there be
poison in it, the cup immediately splits. If poison be put by itself into
one of those cups, the cup, in an instant, flies to pieces. Tho’ this
matter is known to thousands of persons, yet some writers have affirm’d
that the rhinoceros horn has no such virtue. The chips made in turning
one of those cups are ever carefully sav’d, and return’d to the owner of
the cup, being esteem’d of great benefit in convulsions, faintings, and
many other illnesses.”

The chase of the rhinoceros is variously conducted in Southern Africa.
One of the most approved plans is to stalk the animal either when feeding
or reposing. If the sportsman keep well under the wind, and there be the
least cover, he has no difficulty in approaching the beast within easy
range, when, if the ball be well directed, the prey is usually killed on
the spot. With a little precaution, this kind of sport may be conducted
without greatly endangering a person’s safety.

But by far the most convenient way of destroying this animal is to shoot
him from the “skärm” as he comes to the pool to quench his thirst. In
this manner I have myself killed several scores of rhinoceroses.

Occasionally he is also taken in pitfalls, which are constructed in
pretty much the same manner as those for the capture of elephants and
other large game.

He is not often pursued on horseback, and chiefly because his speed and
endurance are such that it is very difficult to come up with and follow
him, to say nothing of the danger attendant on such a course. Many a
hunter, indeed, has thereby endangered his life.

“Once, as I was returning from an elephant chase,” said Mr. Oswell to
me, one day in conversation, “I observed a huge white rhinoceros a
short distance ahead. I was riding a most excellent hunter, the best
and fleetest steed that I ever possessed during my shooting excursions
in Africa, at the time; but it was a rule with me never to pursue a
rhinoceros on horseback, and simply because this animal is so much more
easily approached and killed on foot. On this occasion, however, it
seemed as if fate had interfered. Turning to my after-rider, I called
out, ‘By Heaven! that fellow has got a fine horn. I will have a shot
at him.’ With that I clapped spurs to my horse, who soon brought me
alongside the huge beast, and the next instant I lodged a ball in his
body, but, as it turned out, not with deadly effect. On receiving my
shot, the rhinoceros, to my great surprise, instead of seeking safety in
flight, as is the habit of this generally inoffensive animal, suddenly
stopped short, then turned sharply round, and, having eyed me most
curiously for a second or two, walked slowly toward me. I never dreamed
of danger. Nevertheless, I instinctively turned my horse’s head away;
but, strange to say, this creature, usually so docile and gentle—which
the slightest touch of the reins would be sufficient to guide—now
absolutely refused to give me his head. When at last he did so, it was
too late; for, notwithstanding the rhinoceros had only been walking, the
distance between us was so inconsiderable that by this time I clearly
saw contact was unavoidable. Indeed, in another moment I observed the
brute bend low his head, and, with a thrust upward, struck his horn into
the ribs of the horse with such force as to penetrate to the very saddle
on the opposite side, where I felt its sharp point against my leg. The
violence of the blow was so tremendous as to cause the horse to make a
complete somersault in the air, coming heavily down on his back. With
regard to myself, I was, as a matter of course, violently precipitated
to the ground. While thus prostrated, I actually saw the horn of the
infuriated brute alongside of me; but, seemingly satisfied with his
revenge, without attempting to do further mischief, he started off at a
canter from the scene of action. My after-rider having by this time come
up, I rushed upon him, and, almost pulling him off the horse, leaped
into the saddle, and, without a hat, and my face streaming with blood,
was quickly in pursuit of the retreating beast, which I soon had the
satisfaction to see stretched lifeless at my feet.

“My friend Captain Vardon, by whom I was accompanied on this journey,
soon after joined me, and, seeing my head and face covered with blood,
at first imagined me to be mortally hurt or dying. However, with the
exception of a blow on the skull, occasioned by the stirrup-iron, which
laid my head open a few inches, I received no further injury; but the
horse was killed on the spot.”

Again: “On another occasion, as I was bending my steps toward my camp on
foot, I espied, at no great distance, two rhinoceroses of the species
Keitloa. They were feeding, and slowly approaching me. I immediately
couched and quietly waited their arrival; but, though they soon came
within range, from their constantly facing me, I was unable to fire, well
knowing the uselessness of a shot at the head. In a short time they had
approached so close that, on account of the exposed nature of the ground,
I could neither retreat nor advance, and my position became highly
critical. I was afraid to fire; for, even had I succeeded in killing one,
the other would, in all likelihood, have run over and trampled me to
death. In this dilemma the thought struck me that, on account of their
bad sight, I might possibly save myself by trying to run past them. No
time was to be lost; and accordingly, just as the leading animal almost
touched me, I stood up and dashed past it. The brute, however, was much
too quick for me, and before I had made good many paces, I heard a
violent snorting at my heels, and had only time to fire my gun at random
into his head, when I felt myself impaled on his horn.

“The shock stunned me completely. The first return to consciousness was,
I recollect, finding myself seated on one of my ponies, and a Caffre
leading it. I had an indistinct notion of having been hunting, and, on
observing the man, I asked quickly why he was not following the track of
the animal, when he mumbled something to the effect that it was gone.

“By accident I touched my right hip with my hand, and on withdrawing it,
was astonished to find it clotted with blood. Yet my senses were still
so confused, and the side so benumbed, that I actually kept feeling and
working the wound with my fingers. While trying to account for my strange
position, I observed some of my men coming toward me with a cartel, and
on asking them what they were about, they cried out that they had come
to fetch my body, having been told that I was killed by some animal. The
truth now for the first time broke upon me, and I was quickly made aware
of my crippled condition. The wound I had received was of a very serious
character, and, though it ultimately healed, it left scars behind which
no doubt will remain to the day of my death.”

We are fond of the marvelous. It is generally received as a fact that
the hide of the rhinoceros is impenetrable to a bullet, or even to an
“iron ingot,” as a certain writer quaintly expresses it. But this is
just as idle a notion, as regards the African species at least, as that
entertained respecting the softness and pliability of the animal’s horns,
for a common leaden ball will find its way through the hide with the
greatest facility. It is true, one should be near the brute; for, though
I have known a rhinoceros killed at the distance of a hundred yards, it
is an exception to the rule. Indeed, beyond thirty or forty paces one can
not make sure of the shot. Under all circumstances, a double charge of
powder is desirable.

Though a common leaden ball may do the work well enough, I would not
recommend it. The best metal is spelter, which has almost the hardness of
iron, with all the weight of lead; but it is often difficult to procure.
For want of a better, two thirds lead and one third solder answers the
purpose very well.

The most deadly part to aim at is just behind the shoulder; a ball
through the centre of the lobes of the lungs is certain to cause almost
instantaneous death. From the very solid structure of the head, the
great thickness of the hide on that part, the position of the horns, the
smallness of the brain,[77] a shot in the head rarely or never proves
fatal. The same may be said of the breast.

However severely wounded the rhinoceros may be, he seldom bleeds
externally. This is attributable in part, no doubt, to the great
thickness of the hide, and its elasticity, which occasions the hole
caused by the bullet nearly to close up, as also from the hide not being
firmly attached to the body, but constantly moving. If the animal bleed
at all, it is from the mouth and nostrils, which is a pretty sure sign
that it is mortally stricken, and the chances are it will be found dead
within a short distance.

The number of rhinoceroses destroyed annually in South Africa is very
considerable. Of this some idea may be formed when I mention that Messrs.
Oswell and Vardon killed in one year no less than eighty-nine of these
animals; in my present journey, I myself shot, single-handed, nearly two
thirds of this amount.




CHAPTER XXXI.

    Departure from Ghanzé.—Nectar in the Desert.—Difficulty in
    finding Water.—Arrive at Abeghan.—Unsuccessful Chase.—A
    “Charm.”—How to make the undrinkable drinkable.—An Elephant
    wounded and killed.—Bold and courageous Dog.—Kobis.—Author
    seized with a singular Malady.—Messengers dispatched to the
    Chief of the Lake Ngami.—A large troop of Elephants.—Author
    kills a huge Male.—Lions and Giraffe.—Author’s hair-breadth
    Escapes: from a black Rhinoceros; from a white Rhinoceros;
    from two troops of Elephants; he shoots a couple of his
    Adversaries.—Where to aim at an Elephant.


Having enjoyed a good deal of shooting, and feasted ourselves and Bushmen
on rhinoceros flesh to our hearts’ content, we left Ghanzé on the 23d of
June. The first portion of the country through which our road led was
very thorny; but the bush gradually opened, and we journeyed with more
ease.

In the early part of the day after our departure I caused my horse to be
saddled, and rode off to look for water. About noon I reached a hollow,
of a similar nature as Ghanzé, but on a smaller scale. I thought I
perceived indications of the existence of water; and having “hoppled” the
steed, went in search of it. The elephants, however, had so trampled the
place, that, though I could not doubt of water being there, I soon found
that it was only to be had by a vast deal of labor.

While reflecting on what was best to do, whether to remain and clear
out the pit, or to push on in hopes of finding another watering-place,
I observed several small birds flying in and out at a small crevice in
the limestone rock. Running to the spot, I discovered a narrow circular
aperture, about two feet broad, and perhaps twice as much in depth,
with something at the bottom reflecting light. Taking for granted that
it was water which thus shone, and being tormented with thirst, I leaped
into the hole and greedily swallowed a large quantity. I was too eager
to be able to distinguish its taste, but, having somewhat slaked my
burning thirst, my palate resumed its function, and I thought I had never
experienced so abominable a flavor. Imagine my horror when, taking a
small portion in the hollow of my hand and holding it up to the light,
I found I had been drinking _blood_, mixed with the refuse of some
wild animal! I shall never forget the loathing I felt on making this
discovery, and, though my stomach was presently relieved of its nauseous
contents, I long retained a qualmish sensation. The mystery was, however,
cleared up. On a more close examination of the aperture in question, it
was found that a herd of zebras had, like myself, been looking for water,
and, in so doing, one of them had fallen in, and been found and killed by
the Bushmen. Hence the blood and offal of the unfortunate animal.

As soon as the men arrived with the cattle, every person who could be
spared was employed in cleaning out the hole where I had at first seen
indications of water. Large fragments of rock, which the bulky forms
of elephants and other gigantic animals had pushed into the cavity,
were removed after immense exertions. Occasionally, in displacing a
firmly-imbedded stone or piece of wood, the pure liquid would gush forth
with great vigor, and we flattered ourselves that we had found the “eye”
of a spring, but the next instant all our hopes vanished. After eight or
nine hours’ hard work, our best endeavors to discover any steady supply
of water proved abortive. The little we _did_ obtain—sufficient for the
horse and dogs—was of such questionable quality that, thirsty as we
were, it was with the utmost repugnance we could prevail on ourselves to
swallow a few mouthfuls.

At break of day the next morning we renewed our labors, but with no
better success. I now became anxious for the safety of the cattle, which
began to show symptoms of distress. Mounting my horse, and guided by
two active Bushmen, I rode briskly in the direction of the Lake, giving
orders to my men to continue their exertions during the remainder of the
day; but, should they not succeed in obtaining a sufficiency of drink for
the cattle by the next morning, they were to follow on my tracks.

I had ridden long. The sun had already sunk below the tree-tops, and
yet no water. The Bushmen, however, gave me to understand by signs that
it was not far off, and the number of wild-beast-tracks gave weight to
their assertion. At last the noisy chattering of Guinea-fowls, the cooing
of doves, and the screams of paroquets broke on my ear, and indicated a
more favorable vicinity. Putting spurs to my horse, I struck into a large
“game-path,” and just as the sun was sinking below the horizon I came
alongside a large sheet of clear water. I felt truly thankful, and only
wanted my own people and cattle to complete my happiness. This place,
according to my interpreter, was called Abeghan.

At dark I tied up my horse some little distance from the water, cut him
an ample supply of grass with my hunting-knife, and, having struck a
light for the Bushmen, and given them, as a reward for their services,
the piece of flesh we carried with us, I shouldered my rifle, and
proceeded to the fountain with a view of procuring something for the
larder. It was a glorious night. The sky was dark, but studded with
innumerable twinkling stars reflected in the watery mirror below. For
some fifty paces the locality was tolerably free from bushes, and on one
side the prospect extended nearly a quarter of a mile through an avenue
lined on either side with noble Damara “parent trees.” Elsewhere the
darkness was impenetrable. Silence, like that of the sepulchre, reigned
in this remote solitude, relieved at long intervals by the hyæna and the
jackal lapping the water, and the distant grunting of the rhinoceros.
The latter, however, took care not to come within range of the rifle.

At the return of daylight, having then been already twenty-four hours
without food, I felt very hungry, and hastened back to the Bushmen to
see whether they had left any of the flesh I had given them; but I might
as well have searched the dens of ravenous wolves as the lair of these
starved “children of the desert.” Indeed, they looked very crestfallen
when I announced my bad luck.

Fearing my men might possibly delay in following me, I wrote a few
hurried lines in my note-book, and tearing out the leaf, handed it to
one of the guides with the intimation that he must hasten back whence
he came; but, having never seen a piece of paper before, he received it
at first with caution, and, taking it between two of his fingers, began
blowing on it, thinking probably it was a kind of “charm” for better
luck. Seeing me smile, he took courage and blew still harder. This was
too much, and I burst into a roar of laughter, in which I was heartily
joined by my tawny friend. However, after numerous signs and gestures, I
made him comprehend my wishes, and off he started to meet the caravan.

After another twelve hours’ fasting and waiting, and just as it was
getting dark, I had the satisfaction to see the whole party arrive
safely. They had succeeded in procuring enough water for almost all the
oxen.

To guard against thirst by the way, the men had brought two wooden kegs
of water from the last halting-place. Seeing Timbo about to take his
fill from one of the vessels in question, I observed to him that there
was surely no longer any necessity to partake of such villainous stuff.
He nevertheless drank, exclaiming, “Master, the water is capital!”
“Nonsense,” I ejaculated, skeptically, “you don’t mean to say that
that abominable fluid is good?” “Well,” he rejoined, “if master won’t
believe me, he better try it himself.” Less from any faith in what he
said than from curiosity, I did taste it, and, truly enough, it was
“capital.” Even the smell had vanished. Every body agreed in praising
its excellence. I could not account for so great a marvel, but supposed
that under the influence of the sun the water had undergone some chemical
change. In the course of twelve hours, four gallons of turbid water had,
without any apparent cause, been converted into a fluid as bright and
sweet as was ever drawn from fresh spring.

On leaving the pestiferous fountain, I intrusted young Bonfield with my
watch, in order that he might ascertain the number of hours they were on
the road. On again meeting the lad, he told me in a flurried manner that
he thought there was something the matter with the “piece,” as it would
not go properly. The truth at once flashed across me. In winding it up,
he had forcibly pushed it the wrong way, and thus made it useless. I can
not describe my feelings on ascertaining this fact. My chronometer and
another watch had some time previously ceased to act. This was my last
time-piece. I had no longer the means of going on with my observations.
Latitudes I could still manage, but as for longitudes, the most important
part, it was out of the question—at least I thought so at the time. I had
indulged in the hope of being able to settle the position of the Lake.

I was totally unacquainted with the mechanism of a watch; but necessity
has no law, and, as a last chance, I determined to pull it to pieces, in
order to ascertain the cause of its stopping. Twice I did so, and twice I
successfully put it together, but it would not go properly. I dissected
it a third time, but was even less fortunate than before, for the chain
snapped in two places. Nothing daunted, however, I procured a very fine,
well-dried gut, with which I tried to splice it; but it is easy to
imagine the result. I believe at that moment I would have freely given
the best half of what I possessed in this world—and that, perhaps, after
all, was not much—for a good strong watch.

The second night after my arrival at Abeghan, and when lying in wait near
the water for wild animals, I was surprised by three huge bull-elephants,
whose approach had been so silent that, before I was aware of their
presence, they were within ten paces of me. I was ambushed in a very
exposed place, but nevertheless stoutly held my ground, and, taking n
steady aim at the fore leg of the leader, fired. As he wheeled about
I saluted him with the contents of the second barrel. He gave a loud
shriek, and, curling up his trunk, trotted quickly away. The next day we
followed many a weary mile on his track. He had separated from the rest;
but we were unable to overtake him. Some time afterward, however, I heard
of his death. The Bushmen brought the tusks.

The same evening I shot a couple of rhinoceroses. One of them, on
receiving my ball, made a headlong charge, and was so close upon me that,
to avoid actual contact, I threw myself backward and fell to the ground.
He then ran a few hundred yards, when he came to a stand. At break of day
my men went on his trail. He had still strength enough to make a dash at
them, and would probably have laid hold of some of them, had not a small
bitch (half terrier and half bull dog), called “Venus” (in derision of
her ugliness), caught the enraged animal by the lower lip, where she
stuck with such tenacity that the rhinoceros, with all his fury, was
unable to shake her off. She only relinquished her hold when her huge
antagonist was fairly laid prostrate by a ball.

But the sagacity of this favorite dog was as great as her courage.
Being now in a game country, all sorts of beasts of prey abounded, more
especially jackals, which might be seen running about by dozens. In
order not to frighten the elephants and other large animals, we were in
the habit of encamping some little way from the water, to which Miss
“Venus” regularly resorted to bathe and drink. On perceiving a jackal,
she instantly crouched, looking very timid. “Reynard,” mistaking her
posture as an indication of fear, and probably thinking that, from her
diminutive size, she would prove an easy conquest, boldly approached his
supposed victim. But he had reckoned without mine host; for the instant
the cunning dog found her antagonist sufficiently near, she leaped
like a cat at his throat, and once there, the beast had no chance. She
then returned to camp, where her contented looks and bloody jaws soon
attracted the attention of the men, who immediately went on her track and
brought the jackal, who was valued on account of his fur.

Having dried some of the flesh of the rhinoceroses, and given the rest to
the hungry Bushmen, who had already begun to flock round us, we set out
for Kobis, which we reached after less than two hours’ journeying. This
place, owing probably to heavy rains at no very distant period, was a
magnificent sheet of water (a glorious sight to our thirsty imagination),
swarming with geese and ducks. From the number of well and freshly
trodden paths, we conjectured it to be the great stronghold of game; nor
were we disappointed. I therefore determined to devote a few days here
to shooting, and selected my camp with caution and to the best of my
judgment.

I had not been long settled in my new quarters when some Bushmen made
their appearance, carrying bundles of reeds (intended as shafts for their
arrows), which they had brought from the Lake Ngami, or “Tlannis,” as
they called it in their language. They had been five days on the road,
but said it might be reached in two. This was cheerful news. But I was
nearly foiled in my plans on the threshold of the object of my ambition.

Having late one night, with much danger and difficulty, succeeded in
dispatching an enormously large white rhinoceros, I fell asleep toward
morning, overpowered by the exertion and fatigue of several previous
nights’ watching. I was awakened by a smarting sensation a little
below the left knee: and when I reached my people the pain had become
intolerable. I was compelled to go to bed immediately. The next day the
affected part was much inflamed. The skin became so tender that I could
not bear even the touch of my linen; and when little George applied
(though with the tenderest care) the lotion I had prescribed, I screamed
with anguish. No position suited me. If I was compelled to change, which
could only be effected by another person’s assistance, the movement was
agonizing.

Apprehending that my illness might be of some duration, and knowing but
too well the character of savages, I deemed it advisable to dispatch
one or two of my men with a few trifling presents to Lecholètébè, the
chief of the Bechuanas and the other people who inhabited the borders of
the Lake Ngami, to inform him of my arrival in his neighborhood and the
motive of my journey. Timbo, and Piet the Griqua, were selected to carry
out my wishes.

While anxiously awaiting their return, we once more ran short of flesh.
I possessed a few sheep, it is true, but I was afraid to kill them, not
knowing what the future had in store for me.

I therefore dispersed my men over the surrounding country; but, though
they met with game in abundance, from mismanagement and bad shooting they
were unable to bag a single animal.

One evening I desperately resolved to go to the water myself, in the hope
of succeeding better. Accordingly, I ordered my servants to prepare a
“skärm,” and to carry me there, taking the chance of being run over or
gored by elephants or rhinoceroses; for, in my disabled state, it was
impossible, should any animal charge, to get out of its way. Seeing my
helpless condition, the men remonstrated, but I was resolved to go, and
fortune favored me.

I had patiently waited till nigh morning without seeing any thing but
hyænas and jackals. I believe these creatures knew I would not hurt them,
for they approached within a very few paces, staring and laughing at me
in the most impudent manner. I threw gravel pebbles at them, but this
only served to increase their mockery. I could stand it no longer, but
hurled my camp-chair at their heads, when they quickly betook themselves
to flight.

Scarcely had they made their exit than I heard the heavy tramp of
elephants. At this sound my heart beat violently, but it was only
momentarily. The next instant I recovered my self-possession. Pushing
my gun gently over the “skärm,” I quietly waited (without daring to
think of my poor leg) the approach of the giants. Nearer and nearer
they came; their steps were more distinct and measured; confused forms
were seen advancing among the trees. Gradually they assumed shape;
and, lo! suddenly a huge elephant stood out in bold relief against the
sky line; then another, and another, till the ground became alive with
their numbers. There must have been at least fifty. They hesitated for
a moment, but then came swiftly on by a broad path at right angles to
and within a dozen feet of my place of concealment. I scarcely dared to
breathe. The leader stood conspicuously forth from the rest, and, as a
matter of course, I selected him for a mark. Having allowed the huge
creature to pass a few paces beyond me, so as to have an opportunity of a
second shot, I gave a low whistle, which instantly arrested the attention
of the brutes, who, partially raising their huge ears, and describing
with their trunks eccentric circles through the air, seemed anxiously to
inquire the cause of the strange noise. This was my opportunity; and, in
an instant, the forest resounded with the report of the gun. Curling up
his trunk, the stricken animal uttered a faint cry, and, turning sharply
round, staggered back whence he came. It was clear the wound he had
received was mortal; but, to make more sure, I gave him the contents of
my second barrel, though apparently without effect. Having reached the
skirts of the wood, he tottered, and, plunging violently forward, came
heavily to the ground.

I had eagerly watched the scene; and now, strange to relate, that the
danger and excitement was over, I was seized with a violent tremor. After
a time, however, when my nerves had become somewhat composed, I pushed
down part of the inclosure, and, though crippled, crawled on all fours up
to the carcass. Having ascertained that life was extinct, I scrambled on
to the back of the defunct elephant, where, like a schoolboy, I seated
myself in triumph.

By this time the day began to dawn. Being within hearing of the camp, and
feeling chilly, I shouted to my people to bring some fire. But, though I
received no answer, I could distinctly hear them in earnest conversation,
as if discussing some weighty matter. I shouted again and again, but with
no better success. Being convinced they must have heard me, I was puzzled
and vexed at not receiving a reply. At last, after having waited fully a
quarter of an hour, I observed a number of flickering lights, resembling
so many will-o’-the-wisps, and soon afterward I was joined by my men. The
mystery of their unaccountable silence to me was presently explained. It
appeared that on first hearing my shouts, which they took to be cries of
distress, they were struck with fear and astonishment; and, as the shouts
proceeded from a rather different quarter to that where they had left
me on the previous evening, they were led to suppose that some savage
beast had carried me away. Their own loud talking, it seemed, had arisen
in debating in what manner they could best assist me. I could not help
saying to myself, “How brave and considerate!”

There was now no want of flesh, and the result was great rejoicings. The
report of my success spread like wildfire, and the animal was scarcely
cold before scores of hungry Bushmen—like so many vultures—had assembled
to participate in the feast. Before noon, with the exception of the
sternum, the head, and some of the larger bones, every vestige of the
giant beast had disappeared. The way in which the Bushmen gorge on the
carcass of elephants is very disgusting; and the process of cutting it
up, in which they show no little method and dexterity, is nearly equally
so.

Elephants, rhinoceroses, gnoos, zebras, &c., were now shot almost
nightly. Giraffes were not very numerous in this neighborhood, but
occasionally they made their appearance at the pool, when I managed to
get a shot.[78]

Late one evening, in another part of the country, I had badly wounded
a lion, and at an early hour on the succeeding morning was following
the bloody tracks of the beast, in the hope of putting an end to his
career. Presently we came upon the “spoor” of a whole troop of lions,
as also that of a solitary giraffe. So many tracks confused us; and
while endeavoring to pick out from the rest those of the wounded lion, I
observed my native attendants suddenly rush forward, and the next instant
the jungle reechoed with shouts of triumph. Thinking they had discovered
the lion we were in pursuit of, I also hurried forward; but imagine my
surprise when, emerging into an opening in the jungle, I saw, not a dead
lion, as I expected, but five living lions (two males and three females),
two of whom were in the act of pulling down a splendid giraffe, the other
three watching, close at hand, and with devouring looks, the deadly
strife. The beautiful illustration facing the title-page of this volume
is an exact representation of this most interesting incident.

The scene was of so imposing a nature that, for the moment, I forgot
I carried a gun. The natives, however, in anticipation of a “glorious
gorge,” dashed madly forward, and, with the most piercing shrieks and
yells, compelled the lions to beat a hasty retreat.

When I reached the giraffe, now stretched at full length on the sand, it
made a few ineffectual attempts to raise its neck; its body heaved and
quivered for a moment, and the next instant the poor animal was dead.
It had received several deep gashes about the flanks and chest, caused
by the claws and teeth of its fierce assailants. The strong and tough
muscles of the neck were also bitten through.

All thought of pursuing the wounded lion was now out of the question. The
natives remained gorging on the carcass of the camelopard until it was
devoured. A day or two afterward, however, I had the good fortune to fall
in with my royal antagonist, and finished him without much difficulty.

At Kobis and the neighborhood I enjoyed shooting to perfection.[79] But I
had many hair-breadth escapes from elephants and rhinoceroses.

[Illustration: THE APPROACH OF ELEPHANTS.]

One fine moonlight night, when snugly ensconced in my “skärm,” and
contemplating the strange but picturesque scene before me, my reverie
was interrupted by the inharmonious grunting of a black rhinoceros. He
was evidently in bad humor, for, as he emerged from among the trees into
more open ground, I observed him madly charging any thing and every thing
that he encountered, such as bushes, stones, &c. Even the whitened skulls
and skeletons of his own species, lying scattered about on the ground,
were attacked with inconceivable fury. I was much amused at his eccentric
pastime; but, owing to the openness of the ground, and the quantity of
the limestone thereabout, which made objects more distinct, he was not
easy of approach. However, after divesting myself of my shoes, and all
the more conspicuous parts of my dress, I managed to crawl—pushing my gun
before me—to within a short distance of the snorting beast. As he was
advancing in a direct line toward me, I did not like to fire, because one
has little chance of killing the rhinoceros when in that position. Having
approached to within a few feet of me, his attention was attracted, and
suddenly uttering one of those strange “blowing” noises so peculiar to
the beast when alarmed or enraged, he prepared to treat me in a similar
manner to the stones and skulls he had just so unceremoniously tossed
about. Not a moment was to be lost; and, in self-defense, I fired at
his head. I shall never forget the confusion of the animal on receiving
the contents of my gun. Springing nearly perpendicularly into the air,
and to the height of many feet, he came down again with a thump that
seemed to make the earth tremble; then plunging violently forward (in
doing which he all but trampled on me), he ran round and round the spot
for fully five minutes, enveloping every object in a cloud of dust.
At last he dashed into the wood and was hidden from view. Not finding
blood on his tracks, I had no reason to suppose he was much hurt. My
notion is, the bullet struck his horn, partially stunning him with its
jarring violence. Had my gun missed fire when he charged, it is more than
probable I should have been impaled.

Again: having on a certain night stalked to within a few paces of a huge
white rhinoceros (a female as it proved), I put a ball in her shoulder,
but it nearly cost me dear; for, guided by the flash of the gun, she
rushed upon me with such fury that I had only time to throw myself on my
back, in which position I remained motionless. This saved my life; for,
not observing me, she came to a sudden halt just as her feet were about
to crush my body. She was so near to me that I felt the saliva from her
mouth trickle on my face! I was in an agony of suspense, though, happily,
only for a moment; for, having impatiently sniffed the air, she wheeled
about, and made off at her utmost speed. I then saw, for the first time,
that her calf was in company, and at once recognized the pair as old
acquaintances, and as specially vicious animals.

On another occasion, when the night was very dark, I crept to within
a short distance of seven bull elephants, and was endeavoring to pick
out the largest, when I was startled by a peculiar rumbling noise close
behind me. Springing to my feet, I perceived, to my surprise and alarm,
a semicircle of female elephants, with their calves, bearing down upon
me. My position was critical, being between two fires, so to say, and I
had no other choice than either to plunge into the pool, which could only
be crossed by swimming, in the face of the male elephants, or to break
through the ranks of the females. I adopted the latter alternative, but
first fired at the nearest of the seven bulls; and then, and without a
moment’s delay, I rushed on the more open rank of the female phalanx,
uttering, at the time, loud shouts. My cries caused a momentary panic
among the animals, of which I took advantage and slipped out between
them, discharging my second barrel into the shoulder of the nearest as
I passed her. No sooner, however, had I effected my escape, than the
whole herd made a simultaneous rush at me, and trumpeted so shrilly as to
cause every man at the camp, as I learned afterward, to start out of his
sleep. Fortunately, the darkness prevented the beasts from following me;
and, the jungle being close by, I was soon in safety. In my precipitate
flight, however, I severely lacerated my feet; for, when stalking the
elephants, I had taken off my shoes, that I might the better steal upon
them.

When, after a while, I ventured out of my place of concealment, I found
every thing quiet; only one solitary elephant remained. Having approached
within a short distance, I could distinctly see him laving water on to
his sides with his trunk. I immediately suspected he belonged to the
troop of seven bulls, and was the one that I had fired at. Seating myself
right across his path, I quietly watched his proceedings. After a time
I saw him, as I thought, moving off in an opposite direction; but I was
mistaken, for in another instant his towering form loomed above me. It
was too late to get out of his way; so, quickly raising myself on one
knee, I took a steady aim at his fore leg. On receiving the ball he
uttered the most plaintive cries, and, rushing past me, soon disappeared
in the neighboring forest. The next afternoon he was discovered dead
within rifle-shot of the water. It had been a very successful night, for
a fine female elephant had also fallen to my other shot.[80]




CHAPTER XXXII.

    Timbo’s Return from the Lake; his Logic; he takes the Law
    in his own Hands.—Calf of Author’s Leg goes astray.—A
    troop of Elephants.—Author is charged by one of them, and
    narrowly escapes Death.—He shoots a white Rhinoceros.—He
    disables a black Rhinoceros.—He is charged and desperately
    bruised and wounded by the latter.—He saves the Life of his
    Attendant, Kamapyu.—Author again charged by the Rhinoceros,
    and escapes Destruction only by the opportune Death of his
    Antagonist.—Reflections.—He starts for the Ngami.


After about a week’s absence Timbo returned. I learned from him that,
previously to his arrival at the Ngami, Lecholètébè, the chief, had
not, contrary to my expectations, been made aware of my approach, and
the sudden appearance of strangers, therefore, created no small degree
of surprise and consternation both to him and his people, who fled
precipitately with their flocks.

Many years before, when my friends, the Damaras, extended their migration
to the neighborhood of the lake in question, the Bechuanas were in
the habit of robbing them of their cattle. “How does it happen,” said
Lecholètébè to Timbo, “that the Damaras are your servants? They are a
mighty nation, rich in cattle, which I know well, because my father
fought many a bloody battle with them. We invariably came off victorious,
though often at the cost of numbers of our warriors, who were slain by
the broad assegai of the Damaras. All is not right! Is your master richer
than they?”

To this query Timbo logically replied, “No, my master no rich; master
very poor; but master has something, and Damaras nothing; therefore
master more rich than Damaras.”

Timbo then explained the way in which that tribe had been impoverished
and nearly exterminated, as also the motives of our journey. On hearing
all this, the apprehensions of the chief gradually subsided, and he
became more communicative and friendly, urging Timbo to return to me
without delay and hurry on my departure, being anxious, as he said,
for my arrival; he moreover hinted that he would forthwith send men to
meet and assist us in our progress. But here ended his courtesy; for
subsequently he allowed our party, while at his town, all but to starve.
It seems a characteristic of black chieftains to be avaricious.

Previously to reaching Lecholètébè’s residence it was necessary to cross
the Zouga, his town having been removed to the north side of the river,
from fear, as it is said, of Sekomo, another Bechuana chieftain. When
Timbo and his party were on their return to me, the natives refused to
ferry them over the river without payment. “Me have no money,” said
Timbo; “but me soon make Caffres do it for nothing: me say, ‘So you will
not row me across!’ And with that me lay hold of big stick, and me pitch
into the rascals. Oh, master, such fun! me now get plenty of boats.” “But
were you not afraid of resorting to such severe measures?” I inquired.
“Me frightened!” he exclaimed; “no, me flog natives very well; it do them
plenty good; the fellows too lazy to do work.”

I now resolved to lose no more time, but to push on at once to the Lake.
My leg had in some degree recovered its strength, but, unobserved by
me, it had received a somewhat ugly twist. Little George first drew my
attention to the fact: “Sir,” said he, “your leg has grown crooked.”

“Crooked!” echoed I, somewhat angrily. “What do you mean?”

“Only,” he wickedly replied, “the calf is nearly where the shin ought to
be.”

The boy’s remark was not without foundation; but in time the leg assumed
its proper shape.

Notwithstanding my anxious desire to reach the Ngami—the goal of my
wishes—I determined, before finally leaving Kobis, to devote one more
day, or rather night, to the destruction of the denizens of the forest.
But the adventure nearly terminated fatally; and the night of the 15th of
July will ever be remembered by me as one of the most eventful epochs of
my life; for, in the course of it, I was three several times in the very
jaws of death, and only escaped destruction by a miracle.

From the constant persecution to which the larger game had of late been
subjected at Kobis, it had become not only scarce, but wary; and hearing
that elephants and rhinoceroses still continued to resort to Abeghan, I
forthwith proceeded there on the night in question. Somewhat incautiously
I took up my position—alone, as usual—on a narrow neck of land dividing
two small pools, the space on either side of my “skärm” being only
sufficient for a large animal to stand between me and the water. I was
provided with a blanket and two or three spare guns.

It was one of those magnificent tropical moonlight nights when an
indescribable soft and enchanting light is shed over the slumbering
landscape; the moon was so bright and clear that I could discern even a
small animal at a considerable distance.

I had just completed my arrangements, when a noise that I can liken only
to the passage of a train of artillery broke the stillness of the air; it
evidently came from the direction of one of the numerous stony paths, or
rather tracks, leading to the water, and I imagined it was caused by some
wagons that might have crossed the Kalahari. Raising myself partially
from my recumbent posture, I fixed my eyes steadily on the part of the
bush whence the strange sounds proceeded, but for some time I was unable
to make out the cause. All at once, however, the mystery was explained by
the appearance of an immense elephant, immediately followed by others,
amounting to eighteen. Their towering forms told me at a glance that they
were all males. It was a splendid sight to behold so many huge creatures
approaching with a free, sweeping, unsuspecting, and stately step. The
somewhat elevated ground whence they emerged, and which gradually sloped
toward the water, together with the misty night air, gave an increased
appearance of bulk and mightiness to their naturally giant structures.

Crouching down as low as possible in the “skärm,” I waited with beating
heart and ready rifle the approach of the leading male, who, unconscious
of peril, was making straight for my hiding-place. The position of his
body, however, was unfavorable for a shot; and, knowing from experience
that I had little chance of obtaining more than a single good one, I
waited for an opportunity to fire at his shoulder, which, as before said,
is preferable to any other part when shooting at night. But this chance,
unfortunately, was not afforded till his enormous bulk towered above my
head. The consequence was, that, while in the act of raising the muzzle
of my rifle over the “skärm,” my body caught his eye, and, before I
could place the piece to my shoulder, he swung himself round, and with
trunk elevated and ears spread, desperately charged me. It was now too
late to think of flight, much less of slaying the savage beast. My own
life was in imminent jeopardy; and seeing that, if I remained partially
erect, he would inevitably seize me with his proboscis, I threw myself on
my back with some violence, in which position, and without shouldering
the rifle, I fired upward at random toward his chest, uttering at the
same time the most piercing shouts and cries. The change of position,
in all human probability, saved my life; for, at the same instant, the
trunk of the enraged animal descended precisely on the spot where I had
been previously couched, sweeping away the stones (many of a large size)
that formed the fore part of my “skärm” like so many pebbles. In another
moment his broad fore feet passed directly over my face.

[Illustration: MORE CLOSE THAN AGREEABLE.]

I now expected nothing short of being crushed to death. But imagine my
relief when, instead of renewing the charge, he swerved to the left, and
moved off with considerable rapidity, most happily without my having
received other injuries than a few bruises, occasioned by the falling of
the stones. Under Providence, I attribute my extraordinary escape to the
confusion of the animal, caused by the wound I had inflicted on him, and
to the cries elicited from me when in my utmost need.

Immediately after the elephant had left me I was on my legs, and,
snatching up a spare rifle lying at hand, I pointed at him as he was
retreating, and pulled the trigger; but, to my intense mortification, the
piece missed fire. It was matter of thankfulness to me, however, that
a similar mishap had not occurred when the animal charged; for, had my
gun not then exploded, nothing, as I conceive, could have saved me from
destruction.

During this incident the rest of the elephants retreated into the bush;
but by the time I had repaired my “skärm,” they reappeared with stealthy
and cautious steps on the opposite side of the pool, though so distant
that I could not fire with any prospect of success. As they did not
approach nearer, I attempted to stalk them, but they would not allow me
to come to close quarters, and after a while moved off altogether.

While pondering over my late wonderful escape, I observed, at a little
distance, a huge white rhinoceros protrude his ponderous and misshapen
head through the bushes, and presently afterward he approached to within
a dozen paces of my ambuscade. His broadside was then fully exposed to
view, and notwithstanding I still felt a little nervous from my conflict
with the elephant, I lost no time in firing. The beast did not at once
fall to the ground, but from appearances I had every reason to believe he
would not live long.

Scarcely had I reloaded when a black rhinoceros of the species Keitloa
(a female, as it proved) stood drinking at the water; but her position,
as with the elephant in the first instance, was unfavorable for a good
shot. As, however, she was very near me, I thought I was pretty sure of
breaking her leg and thereby disabling her, and in this I succeeded. My
fire seemed to madden her: she rushed wildly forward on three legs, when
I gave her a second shot, though apparently with little or no effect. I
felt sorry at not being able to end her sufferings at once; but, as I
was too well acquainted with the habits of the rhinoceros to venture on
pursuing her under the circumstances, I determined to wait patiently for
daylight, and then destroy her with the aid of my dogs. But it was not to
be.

As no more elephants or other large game appeared, I thought, after
a time, it might be as well to go in search of the white rhinoceros
previously wounded; and I was not long in finding his carcass; for my
ball, as I supposed, had caused his almost immediate death.

In heading back to my “skärm,” I accidentally took a turn in the
direction pursued by the black rhinoceros, and by ill luck, as the event
proved, at once encountered her. She was still on her legs, but her
position, as before, was unfavorable. Hoping, however, to make her change
it for a better, and thus enable me to destroy her at once, I took up a
stone, and hurled it at her with all my force; when, snorting horribly,
erecting her tail, keeping her head close to the ground, and raising
clouds of dust by her feet, she rushed at me with fearful fury. I had
only just time to level my rifle and fire before she was upon me; and
the next instant, while instinctively turning round for the purpose of
retreating, she laid me prostrate. The shock was so violent as to send
my rifle, powder-flask, and ball-pouch, as also my cap, spinning in the
air; the gun, indeed, as afterward ascertained, to a distance of fully
ten feet. On the beast charging me, it crossed my mind that, unless gored
at once by her horn, her impetus would be such (after knocking me down,
which I took for granted would be the case) as to carry her beyond me,
and I might thus be afforded a chance of escape. So, indeed, it happened;
for, having tumbled me over (in doing which her head, and the fore part
of her body, owing to the violence of the charge, was half buried in the
sand), and trampled on me with great violence, her fore quarter passed
over my body. Struggling for life, I seized my opportunity, and, as she
was recovering herself for a renewal of the charge, I scrambled out from
between her hind legs.

[Illustration: DESPERATE SITUATION.]

But the enraged beast had not yet done with me. Scarcely had I regained
my feet before she struck me down a second time, and with her horn ripped
up my right thigh (though not very deeply) from near the knee to the hip;
with her fore feet, moreover, she hit me a terrific blow on the left
shoulder, near the back of the neck. My ribs bent under the enormous
weight and pressure, and for a moment I must, as I believe, have lost
consciousness—I have, at least, very indistinct notions of what afterward
took place. All I remember is, that when I raised my head I heard a
furious snorting and plunging among the neighboring bushes. I now arose,
though with great difficulty, and made my way, in the best manner I was
able, toward a large tree near at hand for shelter; but this precaution
was needless; the beast, for the time at least, showed no inclination
further to molest me. Either in the _mêlée_, or owing to the confusion
caused by her wounds, she had lost sight of me, or she felt satisfied
with the revenge she had taken. Be that as it may, I escaped with life,
though sadly wounded and severely bruised, in which disabled state I had
great difficulty in getting back to my “skärm.”

During the greater part of the conflict I preserved my presence of mind;
but after the danger was over, and when I had leisure to collect my
scattered and confused senses, I was seized with a nervous affection,
causing a violent trembling. I have since killed many rhinoceroses, as
well for sport as food, but several weeks elapsed before I could again
attack those animals with any coolness.

About sunrise, Kamapyu, my half-caste boy, whom I had left on the
preceding evening about half a mile away, came to the “skärm” to convey
my guns and other things to our encampment. In few words I related to him
the mishap that had befallen me. He listened with seeming incredulity,
but the sight of my gashed thigh soon convinced him I was not in joke.

I afterward directed him to take one of the guns and proceed in search of
the wounded rhinoceros, cautioning him to be careful in approaching the
beast, which I had reason to believe was not yet dead. He had only been
absent a few minutes when I heard a cry of distress. Striking my hand
against my forehead, I exclaimed, “Good God! the brute has attacked the
lad also!”

Seizing hold of my rifle, I scrambled through the bushes as fast as my
crippled condition would permit, and, when I had proceeded two or three
hundred yards, a scene suddenly presented itself that I shall vividly
remember to the last days of my existence. Among some bushes, and within
a couple of yards of each other, stood the rhinoceros and the young
savage, the former supporting herself on three legs, covered with blood
and froth, and snorting in the most furious manner; the latter petrified
with fear—spell-bound, as it were—and riveted to the spot. Creeping,
therefore, to the side of the rhinoceros opposite to that on which the
boy was standing, so as to draw her attention from him, I leveled and
fired, on which the beast charged wildly to and fro without any distinct
object. While she was thus occupied I poured in shot after shot, but
thought she would never fall. At length, however, she sank slowly to the
ground, and, imagining that she was in her death agonies, and that all
danger was over. I walked unhesitatingly close up to her, and was on the
point of placing the muzzle of my gun to her ear to give her the _coup
de grace_, when, to my horror, she once more rose on her legs. Taking
a hurried aim, I pulled the trigger, and instantly retreated, with the
beast in full pursuit. The race, however, was a short one, for, just as
I threw myself into a bush for safety, she fell dead at my feet, so near
me, indeed, that I could have touched her with the muzzle of my rifle!
Another moment, and I should probably have been impaled on her murderous
horn, which, though short, was sharp as a razor.[81]

When reflecting on the wonderful and providential escapes I recently
experienced, I could not help thinking that I had been spared for
some good purpose, and my heart was lifted in humble gratitude to the
Almighty, who had thus extended over me His protecting hand.

The second day after the scenes described my bruises began to show
themselves, and on the third day they were fully developed, giving my
body a black and yellow hue. So far as I was aware, none of my bones were
broken; but burning and agonizing pains in the region of the chest were
clearly symptomatic of severe internal injury. Indeed, at first, serious
apprehensions were entertained for my life. After great suffering,
however, I recovered; and, as my shooting mania had by this time somewhat
cooled down, my whole thoughts were bent on seeing the Ngami. Though my
frame was quite unequal to bear fatigue, my spirit would not brook longer
delay.

With the assistance of my men, I therefore mounted my steed on the 23d
of July, and was off for the Lake, leaving my hunting spoils and other
effects under the care of the Bushman-chief at Kobis.




CHAPTER XXXIII.

    Start from Kobis.—Meet Bechuanas.—False Report.—Wonderful
    Race of Men.—The Baobob-tree.—The Ngami.—First Impressions of
    the Lake.—Reflections.—Experience sonic Disappointment.—Reach
    the Zouga River and encamp near it.—Interview with Chief
    Lecholètébè.—Information refused.—Immoderate Laughter.—Presents
    to the Chief.—His Covetousness.—His Cruelty.—Formidable
    Difficulties.—Author permitted to proceed northward.


Our first day’s march from Kobis lay through an exceedingly dense
“wait-a-bit” thorn coppice, crossed in every direction by numerous paths
of rhinoceroses and elephants. The soil consisted of soft and yielding
sand, which made traveling very fatiguing. The second day, at an early
hour, we arrived at a fine vley of water, where I was met by a number of
Bechuanas (among whom were some of the leading men of the tribe) waiting
to conduct me to Lecholètébè, who had given them orders to render me any
assistance I might require. Whether this was from courtesy, or to serve
his own purposes, I am uncertain; though, from what I afterward saw of
the chief, I am inclined to think it was entirely from selfish motives.

The men in question belonged to a tribe called Batoana, residing on the
shores of the Lake Ngami. They were remarkably fine-looking fellows,
stout and well built, with Caffre features and longish hair. Their
appearance, indeed, was not unlike that of the Damaras. One and all
were armed with a shield (oblong in form, and made of a single fold of
ox-hide), and a bundle of assegais of various descriptions, each provided
with several barbs. What with these formidable weapons and their martial
bearing, the aspect of these savages was imposing and warlike. They wore
few or no ornaments.

By a liberal supply of tobacco and flesh, we soon became excellent
friends; but all my endeavors to elicit information about the country
were fruitless. They merely shrugged their shoulders, urging as an excuse
their ignorance of such matters; they said, however, that their chief
would, no doubt, satisfy my curiosity on these points.

We bivouacked at the vley, where a great number of Bushmen—friends and
relatives of those at Kobis—also happened to be encamped. Just as I had
retired to rest, and while watching with interest the animated features
and gestures of our new friends, the Bechuanas, who, by a glorious fire,
were regaling themselves with the pipe and the “fleshpots,” Bonfield
came running up to me in great haste, saying, “Please, sir, the Bushmen
tell us that Sebetoane, having heard of our coming, had sent a message
to Lecholètébè with orders to dispatch people to waylay and kill us, and
that these were the very individuals to whom the task was intrusted!”

Being myself by this time pretty well used to similarly absurd and
unfounded stories, and knowing that I had nothing to fear, I took no
notice of the communication, but again retired with as much unconcern as
if I had been in a civilized country. This, however, was far from the
case with my men, for the following morning I learned that their anxiety
had kept them awake during the greater part of the night, and that some
had actually packed up their things, intending to steal away secretly.

The next morning proved the groundlessness of the report. The Bushmen, we
found, had fabricated the story as a means of prolonging my stay among
them, in the anticipation of obtaining an occasional gorge from the
spoils of the chase. The low cunning of this people is only equaled by
their credulity. To them, no tales can be too ridiculous and absurd for
belief. For instance, my Bushmen guides amused me by relating one evening
that a tribe of black people had just taken up their abode a little in
advance of us, “whose stomachs rested on their knees, and whose whole
aspect was of the most unnatural and ferocious character.”

About noon on the same day we were again _en route_. Instead of feeling
our way by the zigzag tracks made by rhinoceroses and other wild beasts,
our guides now took us a straight cut across the country, which was
densely wooded.

The “wait-a-bit” thorns were extremely harassing, tearing to ribbons our
clothes, carosses, and even pack-saddle bags, made of strong ox-hide.
Notwithstanding the wooded character of the country, it affords excellent
pasturage; and the numerous old wells and pits found between Tunobis and
the Ngami clearly indicate that these regions have, at no very remote
period, been largely resorted to by some pastoral people.

I hoped to reach the Lake by the evening, but sunset found us still at
a distance from the object of our enterprise. We encamped in a dense
brake, near to which were several gigantic baobob[82]-trees, the first we
had seen; the stems of some we judged to be from forty to sixty feet in
circumference. Finding abundance of fuel, the wood was soon illuminated
by numerous watch-fires, around which, besides my own party, were grouped
many a merry and laughing savage, each with his shield planted as a guard
behind him. Altogether, the scene was striking and picturesque.

The return of daylight found us again on the move. The morning being cool
and pleasant, and our goal near, the whole party was in high spirits,
and we proceeded cheerily on our road. I myself kept well ahead, in
hope of obtaining the first glimpse of Ngami. The country hereabout
was finely undulated, and in every distant vale with a defined border
I thought I saw a lake. At last a blue line of great extent appeared
in the distance, and I made sure it was the long-sought object; but I
was still doomed to disappointment. It turned out to be merely a large
hollow, in the rainy season filled with water, but now dry and covered
by saline incrustations. Several valleys, separated from each other by
ridges of sand, bearing a rank vegetation, were afterward crossed. On
reaching the top of one of these ridges, the natives, who were in advance
of our party, suddenly came to a halt, and, pointing straight before
them, exclaimed, “Ngami! Ngami!” In an instant I was with the men. There,
indeed, at no very great distance, lay spread before me an immense sheet
of water, only bounded by the horizon—the object of my ambition for
years, and for which I had abandoned home and friends, and risked my life.

The first sensation occasioned by this sight was very curious. Long as
I had been prepared for that event, it now almost overwhelmed me. It
was a mixture of pleasure and pain. My temples throbbed, and my heart
beat so violently that I was obliged to dismount and lean against a
tree for support until the excitement had subsided. The reader will
no doubt think that thus giving way to my feelings was very childish;
but “those who know that the first glimpse of some great object which
we have read or dreamed of from earliest recollection is ever a moment
of interest enjoyment, will forgive the transport.” I felt unfeignedly
thankful for the unbounded goodness and gracious assistance which I had
experienced from Providence throughout the whole of this prolonged and
perilous journey. My trials had been many; but, my dearest aspirations
being attained, the difficulties were all forgotten. And here I could
not avoid passing my previous life in review. I had penetrated into
deserts almost unknown to civilized man; had suffered the extremity of
hunger and thirst, cold and heat; and had undergone desperate toil,
sometimes nearly in solitude, and often without shelter during dreary
nights in vast wildernesses haunted by beasts of prey. My companions
were mostly savages. I was exposed to numerous perils by land and by
water, and endured torments from wounds inflicted by wild animals. But
I was mercifully preserved by the Creator through the manifold dangers
that hovered round my path. To Him are due all homage, thanksgiving, and
adoration.

After feasting my eyes for a while on the interesting scene before me,
we descended from the higher ground toward the Lake, which we reached in
about an hour and a half. But, though we breathed a fresher atmosphere,
no perfumed or balmy scents, as might have been anticipated on the
borders of a tropical lake, were wafted on the breeze.

Whether my expectations had been raised to too high a pitch, or that
the grandeur of this inland sea and the luxuriance of the surrounding
vegetation had been somewhat exaggerated by travelers, I must confess
that, on a closer inspection, I felt rather disappointed. In saying
this, I must admit having visited it at a season of the year little
favorable to the display of its grandeur. But, if I am not mistaken,
its discoverers, Messrs. Oswell, Livingstone, and Murray, saw it under
no more auspicious circumstances. The eastern extremity, however, the
only portion ever seen by the gentlemen in question, certainly possesses
superior attractions to the western, or where I first struck upon the
Ngami.

The Lake was now very low, and, at the point first seen by us,
exceedingly shallow. The water, which had a very bitter and disagreeable
taste, was only approachable in a few places, partly on account of the
mud, and partly because of the thick coating of reeds and rushes that
lined the shore, and which were a favorite resort of a great variety of
water-fowl. Many species new to us were among them; but we had no time
to spare for approaching the birds.

We twice bivouacked on the south border of Ngami before coming in sight
of Lecholètébè’s residence, situated on the north bank of the River
Zouga, and at a short distance from where its waters separate themselves
from the Lake.

I had accomplished the journey from Kobis in five days. With unencumbered
oxen, it might, with some exertion, be made in half this time.

Lecholètébè requested me to pitch my tent in his immediate vicinity;
but, feeling fatigued, and well knowing the inconvenience of being in
too close proximity to the natives, we encamped on the south side of the
Zouga.

I determined to pay my respects to the chief at an early hour on the
following morning. To make a favorable impression on the mind of savages
at the first interview is of great importance, as much of their future
good-will toward one depends on this, and scarcely any thing propitiates
them more than outward show.

Accordingly, at the contemplated hour, I donned my best apparel, which
consisted of jacket and trowsers of fine white duck, a handsome red
velvet sash, lined with silk of the same color, and a gold-embroidered
skull-cap.

The two last articles of dress were a memento of a dear female friend,
and I had pledged myself to wear them on the first _grand_ occasion.

Having crossed the Zouga River, a few minutes’ walk brought me to Batoana
town, the capital and residence of Lecholètébè. I found the chief seated
on a wooden stool, in the midst of forty or fifty of his followers,
drinking coffee within a stout semicircular palisading. He was attired in
a half-European and half-barbarous costume; his lower extremities were
immersed in a pair of wide moleskin trowsers; he had incased his feet in
socks and “veld” shoes, while from his shoulders depended gracefully a
very handsome jackal caross. This latter, however, he almost immediately
exchanged for waistcoat and jacket.

Piet the Griqua, and a Bechuana man, whom a trader (then at the Lake)
had kindly placed at my disposal, were my interpreters. After the first
salutations were over, I explained to the chief the motives of my visit,
the friendly wishes of the British government at the Cape, and so forth.
He listened to my story with apparent attention and in profound silence,
eyeing me the whole time suspiciously. But he asked no question, nor did
he venture any remark.

Having conveyed to him all I had to say, I prepared to depart.
Previously, however, to taking leave, I requested him to have the
goodness to give me some information about his country, to which he
abruptly replied,

“I know nothing at all!”

“Is there, then,” I said, “none of your people who can furnish me with
some account of it?”

“No,” was his immediate answer.

I was annoyed, but felt the necessity of concealing my vexation; and,
soon after rising, I said, “Well, Lecholètébè, perhaps, when we become
better acquainted, you will be more communicative. In the mean time, when
it suits you, come over to my encampment and have a chat, and maybe you
will find something there to captivate your fancy.”

I had no occasion to say this twice, as I too soon found to my cost.
Unlike our fat friend, King Nangoro, who had the _courtesy_ to make us
wait about three days before he condescended to see us, the Bechuana
chief could scarcely restrain his curiosity for as many hours.

When he arrived I was busy preparing some skins of birds and snakes,
which caused no small amount of jesting among his followers. One fellow,
more inquisitive and impertinent than the rest, approached close to
me, and, seizing one of the reptiles by the tail, held it up before
the multitude, which were now thronging my tent to inconvenience, and,
addressing to it some unintelligible words, the whole assembly burst out
into a deafening roar of laughter. Indeed, the mirth became so outrageous
as to throw the party into convulsions, many casting themselves at full
length on the ground, with their hands tightly clasped across their
stomachs, as if in fear of bursting, while their greasy cheeks became
furrowed with tears trickling down in streams. Fancy, reader, a _royal
cortége_ prostrated in the dust by laughter! Although this merriment was,
no doubt, at my expense, the sight more amused than annoyed me.

As soon as the noise had subsided, I brought forward my presents for the
chief, consisting of beads, knives, tobacco, snuff, steel chains, rings,
blue calico, red woolen caps, and trinkets of various kinds. Without
deigning even a look of satisfaction, Lecholètébè silently distributed
the goods among the principal of his men who were grouped around him,
reserving, apparently, nothing to himself. This being done, he looked
anxiously round, from which I inferred that some ungratified desire was
still on his heart. Nor was I deceived; for all at once he inquired
whether I had not brought him some powder and lead, which he might barter
for ivory. I told him that I had some; but, firstly, it was not more
than I myself wanted; and, secondly, I was prohibited by the British
government at the Cape from disposing of either arms or ammunition, and
that I could not think of disobeying these orders.

At this declaration his countenance fell, and I saw clearly that he
was very much annoyed. But I was prepared for his displeasure; and, by
opportunely placing in his hand a double-barreled pistol, which I had
previously been informed he coveted excessively, and which I begged him
to accept as a memento of my visit, his visage soon beamed with delight
and satisfaction, and we became excellent friends.

When Europeans first visited the Lake, they were, I am told, liberally
entertained by Lecholètébè; but, whatever civility he might have shown
to strangers in former times, much can not be said in favor of his
hospitality at the present day. During my whole stay at the Lake, I never
received from him so much as a handful of corn or a cup of milk. On the
contrary, _he_, while we ourselves were almost starving, was in the habit
of begging food daily from _me_.

If any thing takes his fancy—no matter what, it may be the shirt you
wear—he has no scruple in asking you for it at once. Upon your refusal,
he will, perhaps, leave you for a time, but is sure to return and
renew his request with the greatest pertinacity, never ceasing his
solicitations till, by his vexatious importunity, he has succeeded in
getting the object of his desire—a line of policy the success of which he
seems fully to understand.

The arrival of several wagons at the Lake at the same time puts him in
the highest glee. On these occasions he never fails to make his rounds,
craving bread from one, sugar from another, coffee from a third, meat
from a fourth, and so on.

The traders, however, know how to take advantage of this weakness in
his character, and often make him pay dearly for such articles as may
captivate his fancy; for instance, I have known a man to get a good-sized
bull-elephant tusk for three common copper drinking-cups![83]

Lecholètébè possesses great power over his people, when he chooses to
exercise it; but I am inclined to think their subjection is attributable
more to superstition and the force of custom than to any real regard
for his person. Generally speaking, he is not of a cruel disposition;
but that he holds human life in very light estimation, the following
incident, which came under my own immediate notice, serves to show.

Having lately bought some horses, two Bushmen were ordered to take charge
of them; but, unfortunately, by their neglect, one of the animals fell
into a quagmire, and was suffocated. Being afraid to tell the truth, they
reported to the chief that the horse had died from the effects of the
bite of a snake. On hearing this, Lecholètébè questioned the men as to
the part of the body wounded by the reptile, and being told that it was
in the head, he ordered the men to lead him to the place, that he might
see for himself. On arriving at the spot, he at once saw how the case
stood, and told the Bushmen that the animal had not died from the bite of
a snake, but was evidently choked in the mud, to which they confessed, as
there was no longer any chance of concealing the truth. Without further
question or remark, the chief ordered the halter of the dead horse to
be loosened, and the hands and feet of the Bushmen to be secured with
it. This being done, they were thrown into the mud alongside the dead
quadruped, where, of course, they soon miserably perished, Lecholètébè
coolly exclaiming, “There, now mind the horse!”

Another instance of the little value he sets on human (rather _Bushman_)
life I have upon good authority. A Bushman lad, who had long been
successfully engaged in sheep-stealing, was at length detected, and, as
a punishment for his crimes, was tied to a tree, and practiced upon with
guns at the long distance of two hundred paces.

The object I had now chiefly in view was to visit a place called Libèbé,
situated considerably to the north of the Lake, not so much to see the
country as to collect information in regard to the mighty waters (part
of which are tributaries to the Ngami) lately brought to light in that
remote region, as also to ascertain if any water communication existed
with the sea. But many difficulties were in the way. My people refused
almost to a man to accompany me; and as our agreement only bound them
as far as the Ngami, I could not compel them to go on. The parts that
I should have to pass through are infected with fevers fatal to human
life; and then, again, the tsetse fly abounds, which, from the ravages it
causes among cattle, renders traveling by land almost impossible.

The only way left was to penetrate northward by water, if practicable;
but here again I found serious impediments. I had no boat of my own, and
Lecholètébè (like all native chiefs) was known to be particularly hostile
to any attempt to pass beyond his territory. Not the most alluring
promises of presents and rewards had yet succeeded in inducing him to
assist any one in this matter. Consequently, I could not expect that he
would treat me differently, the rather as I was really not in a position
to offer him a bribe of any value. It being a darling scheme of mine,
however, to penetrate to Libèbé, I was determined on carrying it out, if
possible.

Accordingly, I seized the first favorable opportunity of broaching the
subject to the chief, and requested he would furnish me with men and
canoes. To my great astonishment, but no less delight, and without the
slightest objection, he agreed to my proposal. As, however, I could not
flatter myself that I had produced a more favorable impression than any
other traveler, I suspected deceit of some kind, and the sequel proved I
was not mistaken in my conjecture.




CHAPTER XXXIV.

    The Ngami.—When discovered.—Its various Names.—Its Size and
    Form.—Great Changes in its Waters.—Singular Phenomenon.—The
    Teoge River.—The Zouga River.—The Mukuru-Mukovanja
    River.—Animals.—Birds.—Crocodiles.—Serpents.—Fish.


At an early period of the present century rumors had reached Europeans of
a vast lake in the interior of South Africa, but for a very long time its
existence continued to be involved in mystery, and travelers and hunters
were unavailingly expending their resources and energies to solve the
grand problem.

The cause of all these failures was chiefly to be found in the desert and
inhospitable regions which lie between the explorers and the supposed
lake, commonly known as the Kalahari desert. Toward the close of 1849,
however, and when the hope of our being able to overcome this apparently
insurmountable barrier was almost extinguished, the great object was
accomplished by the persevering exertions of Messrs. Oswell, Livingstone,
and Murray, and the existence was made known of a fine fresh-water lake
in the centre of South Africa.

This important and highly interesting discovery at once opened a new and
extensive field for the inquiries of the geographer and the naturalist,
and gave a fresh impulse, to the enterprising and speculating spirit of
the colonists of Southern Africa. The lake was described as a magnificent
sheet of water, abounding in fish and hippopotami, and the country around
as well stocked with elephants and other large game, while the vegetation
was said to be on the most luxuriant scale. The discovery excited very
considerable interest.

The Lake goes with the natives by different names—all of which are more
or less appropriate—such as _Inghàbé_ (the giraffe); _Noka ea Botlètle_
(lake of the Botletle); _Noka ea Mokoròn_ (lake of boats); and _Ngami_,
or The Waters. As the last designation is the one by which the Lake is
best known to Europeans, I will retain it throughout the remainder of
this narrative.

As before said, on taking a nearer survey of the Lake, I experienced
some disappointment as to its attractions. It is, however, indisputably
a fine sheet of water, but in size is somewhat overrated, the estimation
of its length alone being at one time considered no less than one hundred
miles, and the width about fifteen or sixteen. The misconception may
thus, perhaps, be accounted for. In the first instance, no person, to
the best of my belief, has ever yet been quite round it; secondly, the
shores—with the exception of the south and west sides—are low and sandy,
and in hazy weather can not easily be distinguished; and, lastly, I
am inclined to think that the discoverers mistook its length for its
breadth, for, according to Cooly, “The travelers beheld with delight the
fine river, and the Lake extending out of sight to the north and west.”
Again, my friend Mr. Frederick Green, who visited the Lake shortly after
its discovery, thus states, in his manuscript journal, the impression he
experienced on first viewing it.

“The day after reaching the town of Batoani, we took a ride to view the
Lake. From the southern side, we could trace the opposite shore some ten
or twelve miles, but beyond that distance, and to the westward, we could
not, even with the aid of a telescope, discern any sign of land—only
a blue horizon of water. In a subsequent journey, however, and when
traveling along its southern shores, I found that the opposite strand
could always be seen. When first viewing it, we were not, as we then
thought, looking across, but _lengthwise_.”

The whole circumference is probably about sixty or seventy geographical
miles; its average breadth is seven miles, and not exceeding nine at its
widest parts. Its shape, moreover, is narrow in the middle and bulging
out at the two ends; and I may add, that the first reports received
many years ago from the natives about the Lake, and which concurred in
representing it of the shape of a pair of spectacles, are correct.

The northern shore of Ngami is low and sandy, without a tree or bush,
or any other kind of vegetation within half a mile, and more commonly a
mile. Beyond this distance (almost all round the lake) the country is
very thickly wooded with various sorts of acacia indigenous to Southern
Africa, the Damara “parent tree,” a few species of wild fruit-trees, and
here and there an occasional baobob, which raises its enormous head high
above the highest giant of the forest. The southern coast of the Lake is
considerably elevated, and the water is so closely fringed by extensive
belts of reeds and rushes that it is only accessible in a few places, or
where the native cattle have broken through these natural defenses. The
west shore of the Lake is also somewhat raised, though the water is very
shallow; but it deepens considerably toward its eastern extremity.

The Ngami must have undergone very considerable changes at different
periods. The natives have frequently pointed out to me places, now
covered with vegetation, where they used to spear the hippopotamus.
Again, there are unmistakable proofs of its having been at one time of
smaller dimensions than at present, for submerged stumps of trees are
constantly met with. This is not, I believe, to be attributed to the
upheaving or to the sinking of the land, but that, in all probability,
the Lake was originally of its present size, or nearly so, when a sudden
and unusually large flood poured into it from the interior, which, on
account of the flatness of the country, could not be drained off as
quickly as it flowed in, but caused the water to rise above its usual
height, which, remaining in that state some time, soon destroyed the
vegetation.

Before the Lake was known, and when only rumors had reached us of its
existence, the natives spoke of its waters as retiring daily to “feed.”
But I am rather inclined to think they pointed to a singular phenomenon
that I observed when navigating its broad waters, which I then attributed
to the wind, though, on consideration, I suspect it was more likely to
have arisen from the effects of the moon’s attraction.

When navigating the Lake, we were in the habit of landing every night
to bivouac, always taking the precaution to unload the most important
articles of our baggage. The canoes were then pushed in shore as far
as the shallowness of the water would permit, and left to themselves,
perhaps, as far as two hundred yards from _terra firma_. On remonstrating
with the boatmen for not better securing our little flotilla, they
replied that any further precautions were unnecessary, inasmuch as the
water (which had already begun to ebb) would shortly recede and leave the
canoes dry on the beach. I felt skeptical, but, nevertheless, allowed
them to have their own way. In the course of the night it fell calm (a
fresh breeze had been blowing during the day), and next morning we found
that what the boatmen had predicted was fulfilled; the canoes were as far
from the water as, on the preceding evening, they had been from the shore.

From the time that the wind fell the water began slowly to return, and
about nine o’clock in the morning it was at its usual height, and the
canoes floated once more without any effort on our side.

The Lake is fed by the Teoge at its northwest extremity. The river
never, perhaps, much exceeds forty yards; but it is deep, and, when
at its greatest height, contains a large volume of water. Its annual
overflow takes place in June, July, and August, and sometimes even later.
The source of the Teoge is as yet unknown, but is supposed to be very
distant. It may probably have its rise on the same high table-land as the
Quanza, and other streams of importance. The main course of the Teoge is
northwest, but it is so serpentine that, in thirteen days when I ascended
it, traveling on an average five miles per day, and reckoning two and a
quarter miles to the hour, I only made about one degree of latitude due
north of the Lake. As far as I proceeded, however, it was navigable with
smaller craft; for only in three places that I can remember did I find
less than five feet of water, and, generally speaking, the depth was
considerable. It must be recollected, however, that it was then at its
greatest height.

Though that portion of the Teoge ascended by me is narrow, I am told
that, on approaching its source, it widens considerably (one of the many
curious points in African geography); and the country on both sides is
often inundated to a very great extent, frequently having the appearance
of an endless lake, thickly overgrown with reeds and rushes, and dotted
with islets covered with beautiful trees and shrubs.

At its eastern extremity the Ngami finds an outlet (the only one) in
the fine and stately Zouga. This river, near to Batoana-town, where
it escapes from the Lake, is about two hundred yards wide, and, from
its gentle flow, appears at rest, the motion of the stream being
imperceptible to the eye. Indeed, it is asserted by some—and should it
be found correct, it certainly would be a most extraordinary fact—that
the waters of the Zouga are, at one time of the year, forced back into
the Lake by a branch of the Teoge, which river thus not only feeds the
Lake at its northwest extremity, as has been already stated, but at the
east as well. From the very imperfect development of the water-courses in
these parts, I do not think this impossible.

The Zouga continues to run in an easterly direction from the Lake for
nearly a month’s journey, or a distance of about three hundred miles,
taking all the windings into account, when it is lost in an immense marsh
or sand-flat,[84] called, by some, Great Reed Vley. It is a perfect sea
of reeds (with occasional openings), and affords a favorite resort to
innumerable herds of buffaloes.

About twenty miles before the Zouga ceases to flow it expands into a lake
from two to four miles broad, and about twelve or fifteen in extent.
During the dry season this river presents “a series of pools with dry
spaces between.”

The vegetation all along its course is varied and luxuriant, and in
some places the scenery is quite charming, the banks of the river being
often, to the very water’s edge, covered with majestic trees of beautiful
and dense foliage. The baobob is particularly conspicuous, attaining,
not unfrequently, round its stem, a girth of from sixty to seventy-five
feet. “The banks,” says Mr. Livingstone, in a letter to a friend, “are
beautiful beyond any we had ever seen, except, perhaps, some parts of the
Clyde.... The higher we ascended the river the broader it became, until
we often saw more than one hundred yards of clear deep water between the
broad belt of reed which grows in the shallower parts.... One remarkable
feature in this river is its periodical rise and fall. It has risen
nearly three feet since our arrival; and this is the dry season. That the
rise is not caused by rains is evident from the water being so pure. Its
purity and softness increased as we ascended toward its junction with the
Tamanakle, from which, although connected with the lake, it derives its
present increased supply. The people could give no reason for the rise of
the water further than that a chief, who lives in a part of the country
to the north, called Mazzekiva, kills a man annually and throws his body
into the stream, after which the water begins to flow.”

Before closing my remarks on the rivers of the Lake, I must beg to draw
the attention of the reader to a circumstance which may prove of the most
vital interest to the civilization and commerce of these regions. It is
as follows:

About two days west of the Teoge, two rivers are reported to exist. The
one is a small branch of the Teoge, and is supposed, after meandering
through a desert for a couple of days, to lose itself in a marsh. The
second (and to which I particularly desire to draw notice) is of larger
dimensions, though, near to its source, only periodical. In its course,
however, it is fed by fountains—not an uncommon thing in Africa—and it
soon increases to a constantly running stream. In due time it becomes
a mighty river, flowing slowly through the country of several black
nations, and ultimately discharging itself into the sea. This is the
statement of a party of Griquas who traveled in this direction in search
of elephants. I should, perhaps, have hesitated to give credit to their
account had it not, on more than one occasion, been corroborated. While
on our visit to the Ovambo, we inquired, as mentioned, if they were not
aware of any permanently running river in their neighborhood, to which
they immediately and unhesitatingly replied in the affirmative. “The
Cunenè,” they said, “was only four or five days’ foot-journey distant
from them,” but added “that it was not to be compared with a river called
Mukuru-Mukovanja, that comes out of Ovatjona-land (clearly the Bechuana
country), of which the Cunenè is only a branch.” This valuable and
interesting information was confirmed by the Hill-Damaras.

Again, when Mr. Galton and myself, distant only some eight or ten days’
journey from the Lake, were obliged to retrace our steps on account of
excessive drought, we were informed by the Bushmen of the existence
of a large river to the north, coming from Bechuana-land, and running
westward. They further added that another small river comes from the same
direction, but is soon lost in the sand, or terminates in a marsh. Now,
excepting that the latter is a branch of the Teoge (instead of having its
source in the Lake, in common with the large river, as they asserted),
their account may be said to have been substantiated.

From these statements, the existence of a river, in all probability of
great magnitude, and perhaps navigable to its very source, or nearly so,
is so far authenticated that I have had no hesitation in laying it down
on my map. Assuming that the Teoge and the Mukuru-Mukovanja run parallel,
though in contrary directions, at the distance from each other of two or
three days’ journey, as I was informed by the Griquas above mentioned,
there exists an almost uninterrupted navigation of several hundred miles,
affording a comparatively easy transport to the sea-coast of the produce
of a rich and fertile interior.

A great variety of animals are found in the Lake regions, more especially
in the vicinity of the rivers,[85] such as elephants, rhinoceroses,
buffaloes, giraffes, koodoos, pallahs, &c., as also two new species of
antelopes, the nakong and the leché, both of which are well represented
on the following plate.

The leché bears some resemblance to the pallah, but is altogether
a larger animal. In size, indeed, it almost equals the water-buck
(_aigocerus ellipsiprymnus_), and the horns are very similar to those of
the male of that beast. The general color of the skin is a pale brown;
chest, belly, and orbits, white; and front of legs dark brown. The fur
(which in the young animal is long, soft, and often curly) of the adult
is short and “adpressed.” The upper part of the nape and withers are
provided with a small whorl of hair. The tip of the tail (slender at the
base) is adorned with a tuft of black hair.

The leché is a species of water-buck; for, though not actually living in
water, he is never found any distance from it. When pursued, the leché
unhesitatingly plunges into the water, however deep. Great numbers are
annually destroyed by the Bayeye, who convert their hides into a kind of
rug for sleeping on, carosses, and other articles of wearing apparel.

[Illustration: NAKONG AND LECHÉ.]

To the best of my belief, the nakong has never been described by
naturalists.[86] Unfortunately, the materials I possessed, and which
would, in some degree, have enabled me to supply this deficiency, were
left behind in Africa. Through the kindness of Colonel Steele, an
opportunity has been afforded me of inspecting one or two heads of the
nakong, as also a caross (brought from the Lake Ngami by Mr. Oswell)
made out of pieces of the skins of this animal. But they are all so
imperfect that to attempt any thing like a scientific description would
be ineffectual; the more so, perhaps, as I only once had an opportunity
of viewing a pair of nakongs, and that was at a distance. Suffice it,
therefore, to say, that the general color of the animal is a subdued
brown, darkest on the back, and on the front of head and legs. Beneath
it is of a lighter hue—almost ash-colored. On each side of the rump, as
also on the inside of the legs, if I remember rightly, there is a whitish
line or patch. The hair of the skin, which is much used by the natives
for carosses, is long and coarse. The horns are black, very like those of
the koodoo, and, in the adult animal, would appear to attain to an equal,
if not larger size. Before they are much developed there is scarcely any
indication of spiral turns, and they are then not unlike the horns of
goats.

The nakong is a water-buck. By means of its peculiarly long hoofs (which
are black), not unfrequently attaining a length of six to seven inches,
it is able to traverse with facility the reedy bogs and quagmires with
which the lake country abounds—localities only fit for the feathery
tribe. When at the Ngami I offered very tempting rewards to the natives
if they would bring me this animal either dead or alive; but they
protested that, though they frequently kill the nakong by pitfalls and
spears, it was not then possible to gratify my wishes, as, at that
season, the beast dwelt almost entirely in muddy and watery localities,
where any attempt to follow it would be certain destruction to a man.

Hippopotami abound on the northern side of the Ngami, and more especially
toward its northwest extremity, or to the right of where the Teoge River
enters the lake.

Otters are not uncommon in the rivers and the Lake. They appear to be of
the same species as with us, but present great variety of color. The fur
is good, and much sought after.

If the quadrupeds of the Lake Fauna are numerous and varied, the
_aves_ class is no less rich and abundant. In our first journey
through Damara-land I had made such a complete collection of its birds
and insects that I almost despaired of obtaining any thing new and
interesting; but here I found at once an unexplored and almost unlimited
field for the naturalist. Unfortunately, I was not in a state to be able
to benefit, to any extent, by its abundance and variety, which I regret
exceedingly.

The aquatic birds were particularly numerous and varied. A friend who
visited the Lake assured me that here and on the Zouga he had, at one
time and another, killed specimens of no less than nineteen species
of ducks and geese. One of the latter varieties is not larger than a
common teal, but clothed in the most brilliant plumage. The herons and
water-hens vie with the duck tribe in numbers and gaudiness of plumage.
During a hurried journey up the Teoge, I procured, in a short time,
herons of upward of ten distinct species, besides several different kinds
of storks, cranes, &c.

The Lake and its rivers swarm with crocodiles. During the cold time of
the year they resort to deep water, where they remain in a state of
comparative inactivity; but on the approach of the hot season they again
come forward, and may be seen lying in great numbers along the banks,
basking in the noonday sun, and looking exactly like so many logs of
wood. I have often surprised them in this position; and, if not too
close, they have invariably feigned to be asleep. The instant, however,
that I have raised my gun, or even merely pointed toward them, they have
plunged into the deep like a shot.

They are said occasionally to attain a gigantic size, but no
authenticated instance has come to my knowledge of any specimen being
killed which measured above fifteen or sixteen feet, though I have heard
it asserted that they sometimes reach double that length.

The crocodile chiefly lives on quadrupeds, which he lies in wait for, and
destroys when coming to drink; but he is said never to devour his prey
before the flesh has arrived at a state of putrefaction.

When in its native element, the power of this animal must be enormous;
for if the testimony of the inhabitants is to be relied on, he not
unfrequently succeeds in destroying the buffalo, which they say he
accomplishes by seizing the beast by the muzzle and dragging him into
deep water, where he suffocates him. This being done, he hauls his victim
back to the shore, and, pushing the carcass above water-mark, watches
over it until it has become _nicely_ tainted, when he commences his feast.

From the moist and swampy nature of the ground about the Lake and the
rivers, snakes, as may well be supposed, are numerous; but, though
they at times attain a gigantic size, they appear very harmless, being
often destroyed by the natives, who devour them with great relish. I
never myself saw a specimen exceeding seven or eight feet in length, but
procured skins measuring fully three times that size. The Bushmen assured
me that they not unfrequently surprise these monsters when asleep and
gorged, and that on such occasions it was not unusual to dispatch them
with a blow on the head from the knob-kierie. These snakes feed chiefly
on birds and smaller quadrupeds.

The finny tribe was also pretty numerous; but my stay at the Lake was of
too short a duration to collect much information on this head. I saw and
tasted many different kinds, some of which were most excellent eating,
and had a rich and agreeable flavor. The only ones, however, which I
remember had any likeness to northern fishes were a sort of perch, and
one or two barbel kinds.




CHAPTER XXXV.

    The Batoana.—Government.—Eloquence.—Language.—Mythology.—
    Religion.—Superstition.—The Rain-maker.—Polygamy.—Circumcision.—
    Burial.—Disposition of the Bechuanas.—Thievish Propensities.—
    Dress.—Great Snuff-takers.—Smoking.—Occupations.—Agriculture.—
    Commerce.—Hunting and Fishing.


The people who dwell on the shores of the Lake are, as before said,
called Batoana,[87] under the rule of Lecholètébè. They are a small tribe
of that large family of “blacks” known as Bechuanas, who, as a whole,
are probably the most widely distributed and the most powerful of all the
dark-colored nations in Southern Africa. The Batoana have not been long
dwellers in the Lake regions; they came as conquerors under Lecholètébè’s
father. Having dispossessed the aborigines, they reduced them to a state
of slavery, giving them a name corresponding to their condition, viz.,
_Bakoba_ or _Makoba_, that is, “serfs.” These people, however, style
themselves Bayeye, or “Men;” and by that appellation I shall hereafter
call them.

In giving a general description of the manners and customs, religious
rites, superstitions, &c., of the Bechuanas—the parent stock, as shown,
of the Batoanas—I shall also have described those of the latter tribe;
for, though they may differ in some respects, they agree in the main.

“The government of the people is at once both monarchical and
patriarchal, and comparatively mild in its character. Each tribe has
its chief or king, who commonly resides in the largest town, and is
held sacred from his hereditary right to that office. A tribe generally
includes a number of towns or villages, each having its distinct head,
under whom there are a number of subordinate chiefs. These constitute
the aristocracy of the nation, and all acknowledge the supremacy of
the principal one. His power, though very great, and in some instances
despotic, is, nevertheless, controlled by the senior chiefs, who, in
their _pichos_ or _pitshos_ (their Parliament or public meetings),
use the greatest plainness of speech in exposing what they consider
culpable or lax in his government. An able speaker will sometimes turn
the scale even against the king.... These assemblies keep up a tolerable
equilibrium of power between the chiefs and their king; but they are only
convened when it is necessary to adjust differences between tribes—when
a predatory expedition is to be undertaken—or when the removal of a
tribe is contemplated, though occasionally matters of less moment are
introduced.”[88]

[Illustration: THE BECHUANA PICHO.]

The language used by the natives on public occasions, and more especially
by the chiefs, is often powerful, eloquent, shrewd, and fluent, and would
do honor to the best educated European. Take the following speech as an
example, which contains the address of the famous Basuto king, Mosheshe,
to his people, when congratulating them on the happy event of having
received three worthy missionaries among them:

“Rejoice, you Makare and Mokatchani! you rulers of cities, rejoice! We
have all reason to rejoice on account of the news we have heard. There
are a great many sayings among men. Among them some are true and some are
false; but the false have remained with us and multiplied; therefore we
ought to pick up carefully the truths we hear, lest they should be lost
in the rubbish of lies. We are told that we have all been created by one
Being, and that we all spring from one man. Sin entered man’s heart when
he ate the forbidden fruit, and we have got sin from him. These men say
that they have sinned; and what is sin in them is sin in us, because we
come from one stock, and their hearts and ours are one thing. Ye Makare
have heard these words, and you say they are lies. If these words do not
conquer, the fault will lie with you. You say you will not believe what
you do not understand. Look at an egg! If a man break it, there comes
only a watery and yellow substance out of it; but if it be placed under
the wing of a fowl, a living thing comes from it. Who can understand
this? Who ever knew how the heat of the hen produced the chicken in the
egg? This is incomprehensible to us, yet we do not deny the fact. Let us
do like the hen. Let us place these truths in our hearts as the hen does
the eggs under her wings; let us sit upon them, and take the same pains,
and something new will come of them.”

The language of the Bechuanas (the plural of Mochuana, a single
individual) is called Sichuana, an adjective implying any thing belonging
to the nation. It is exceedingly soft and mellifluous, owing to there
being few syllables that end with a consonant. The only exceptions are
“nouns in the ablative case, plural verbs, verbs definite, and the
interrogatives _why_, _how_, and _what_, all of which end with the
ringing n.”

The first acquaintance of Europeans with the Bechuanas dates from an
early period of the history of the Cape Colony. There is reason to
believe that this nation once extended as far as the Orange River, but at
the present day none of the tribes are found beyond the 28th parallel of
south latitude.

The Bechuanas (as already mentioned in the history of the Damaras)
believe that they originally sprang from a cave, said to exist in the
Bakone country, where the footmarks of the first man may still be seen in
the rock.

If we are to credit the testimony of some missionaries, the Bechuanas
have no notion of a Superior Being. It is a strong argument in favor
of this hypothesis that no word in their language properly denotes God.
Speaking of these people, Mr. Moffat says: “I have often wished to find
something by which I could lay hold on the minds of the natives; an
‘altar to the unknown God,’ the faith of their ancestors, the immortality
of the soul, or any religious association; but nothing of this kind ever
floated in their minds. ‘They looked on the sun with the eyes of an ox.’
To tell the greatest of them that there was a Creator, the Governor
of the heavens and earth—of the fall of man, or the redemption of the
world—the resurrection of the dead, and immortality beyond the grave,
was to tell them what appeared to be more fabulous, extravagant, and
ludicrous than their own vain stories about lions, hyænas, and jackals.
To tell them that these (referring, of course, to the different elements
of our creed) were articles of our faith would extort an interjection
of superlative surprise, as if they were too preposterous for the most
foolish to believe.”

“‘What is the difference?’ said a native one day to the writer just
quoted, pointing to his dog, ‘between me and that animal? You say I am
immortal, and why not my dog or my ox? They die; and do you see their
souls? What is the difference between man and beast? None, except that
man is the greater rogue of the two!’

“They could not see that there was any thing in our customs more
agreeable to flesh and blood than in their own, but would, at the same
time, admit that we were a wiser and a superior race of beings to
themselves. For this superiority, some of their wise heads would try to
account; but this they could only do on the ground of our own statement,
that God made man.

“A wily fellow, who was the oracle of the village in which he dwelt, once
remarked, after hearing me enlarge on the subject of creation, ‘If you
verily believe that one Being created all men, then, according to reason,
you must also believe that, in making white people, he had improved on
his work. He tried his hand on Bushmen first, and he did not like them,
because they were so ugly, and their language like that of frogs. He then
tried his hand on the Hottentots; but these did not please him either.
He then exercised his power and skill, and made the Bechuanas, which was
a great improvement; and at last he made the white people. Therefore,’
exulting with an air of triumph at the discovery, ‘the white people are
so much wiser than we are in making walking houses (wagons), teaching the
oxen to draw them over hill and dale, and instructing them also to plow
the gardens, instead of making their wives do it, like the Bechuanas.’”

Dealers in the black art are numerous among the Bechuanas, who place the
most implicit confidence in the sayings and prescriptions of the wizards.
This applies more especially to those persons who devote themselves to
the study of “rain-making.”

The rain-maker possesses an influence over the minds of the people
superior even to that of their king, who is likewise compelled to yield
to the dictates of these “arch-officials.” They are, in general, men
of natural talent and ingenuity. Indeed, it is probable that, in the
full consciousness of their superiority, they are emboldened to lay the
public mind prostrate before their mysteries. Being, moreover, usually
foreigners, they take good care to magnify prodigiously their feats
abroad. Each tribe has one rain-maker, and sometimes more. The wizards
are also doctors; and, at times, they assume the office of sextons by
superintending the disposal of the dead, it being generally believed that
the ceremonies practiced by these impostors have some influence over the
watery treasures floating in the skies. It not unfrequently happens that
the rain-maker prohibits the usual form of interment, and perhaps orders
the dead to be dragged to a distance to be devoured by beasts of prey.

Mr. Moffat, in his “Missionary Labors and Scenes in Southern Africa,”
has given at some length a very striking account of one of these
rain-makers, which amply illustrates the immense influence exercised by
them over the ignorant and superstitious mind, as also the craft and
ingenuity of the men themselves, in order to effect their purpose. It is
in substance as follows:

Having for a number of years experienced severe droughts, the Bechuanas
at Kuruman held a council as to the best measures for removing the evil.
After some debate, a resolution was passed to send for a rain-maker
of great renown, then staying among the Bahurutsi, two hundred miles
N.E. of the station. Accordingly, commissioners were dispatched, with
strict injunctions not to return without the man; but it was with some
misgivings as to the success of their mission that the men started.
However, by large promises, they succeeded beyond their most sanguine
expectations.

During the absence of the embassadors the heavens had been as brass, and
scarcely a passing cloud obscured the sky, which blazed with the dazzling
rays of a vertical sun. But, strange to relate, the very day that the
approach of the rain-maker was announced, the clouds began to gather
thickly, the lightning darted, and the thunder rolled in awful grandeur,
accompanied by a few drops of rain. The deluded multitude were wild with
delight; they rent the sky with their acclamations of joy, and the earth
rang with their exulting and maddening shouts. Previously to entering the
town, the rain-maker sent a peremptory order to all the inhabitants to
wash their feet. Scarcely was the message delivered before every soul,
young and old, noble and ignoble, flew to the adjoining river to obey the
command of the man who they imagined was now collecting in the heavens
all his stores of rain.

The impostor proclaimed aloud that this year the women must cultivate
gardens on the hills and not in the valleys, for the latter would be
deluged. The natives, in their enthusiasm, saw already their corn-fields
floating in the breeze, and their flocks and herds return lowing homeward
by noonday from the abundance of pasture. He told them how, in his wrath,
he had desolated the cities of the enemies of his people by stretching
forth his hand and commanding the clouds to burst upon them; how he had
arrested the progress of n powerful army by causing a flood to descend,
which formed a mighty river, and stayed their course. These, and many
other pretended displays of his power, were received as sober truths, and
the chief and the nobles gazed on him with silent amazement The report of
his fame spread like wildfire, and the rulers of the neighboring tribes
came to pay him homage.

In order to carry on the fraud, he would, when clouds appeared, command
the women neither to plant nor sow, lest the seeds should be washed
away. He would also require them to go to the fields, and gather certain
roots and herbs, with which he might light what appeared to the natives
mysterious fires. Elate with hope, they would go in crowds to the hills
and valleys, collect herbs, return to the town with songs, and lay
their gatherings at the magician’s feet. With these he would sometimes
proceed to certain hills, and raise smoke; gladly would he have called
up the wind also, if he could have done so, well knowing that the latter
is frequently the precursor of rain. He would select the time of new
and full moon for his purpose, aware that at those seasons there was
frequently a change in the atmosphere. But the rain-maker found the
clouds in these parts rather harder to manage than those of the Bahurutsi
country, whence he came.

One day, as he was sound asleep, a shower fell, on which one of the
principal men entered his house to congratulate him on the happy event;
but, to his utter amazement, he found the magician totally insensible to
what was transpiring. “Hela ka rare! (halloo, by my father!) I thought
you were making rain,” said the intruder. Arising from his slumber,
and-seeing his wife sitting on the floor, shaking a milk-sack in order to
obtain a little butter to anoint her hair, the wily rain-maker adroitly
replied, “Do you not see my wife churning rain as fast as she can?” This
ready answer gave entire satisfaction; and it presently spread through
the length and breadth of the town that the rain-maker had churned the
shower out of a milk-sack.

The moisture, however, caused by this shower soon dried up, and for many
a long week afterward not a cloud appeared. The women had cultivated
extensive fields, but the seed was lying in the soil as it had been
thrown from the hand; the cattle were dying from want of pasture, and
hundreds of emaciated men were seen going to the fields in quest of
unwholesome roots and reptiles, while others were perishing with hunger.

All these circumstances irritated the rain-maker very much, and he
complained that secret rogues were disobeying his proclamations. When
urged to make repeated trials, he would reply, “You only give me sheep
and goats to kill, therefore I can only make goat-rain; give me fat
slaughter oxen, and I shall let you see ox-rain.”

One night a small cloud passed over, and a single flash of lightning,
from which a heavy peal of thunder burst, struck a tree in the town. Next
day the rain-maker and a number of people assembled to perform the usual
ceremony on such an event. The stricken tree was ascended, and roots and
ropes of grass were bound round different parts of the trunk. When these
bandages were made, the conjuror deposited some of his nostrums, and got
quantities of water handed up, which he poured with great solemnity on
the wounded tree, while the assembled multitude shouted “Pùla! pùla!”
The tree was now hewn down, dragged out of the town, and burned to
ashes. Soon after, the rain-maker got large bowls of water, with which
was mingled an infusion of bulbs. All the men of the town were then made
to pass before him, when he sprinkled each person with a zebra’s tail
clipped in water.

Finding that this did not produce the desired effect, the impostor had
recourse to another stratagem. He well knew that baboons were not very
easily caught among rocky glens and shelving precipices, and, therefore,
in order to gain time, he informed the men that, to make rain, he
must have a baboon; moreover, that not a hair on his body was to be
wanting; in short, the animal should be free from blemish. After a long
and severe pursuit, and with bodies much lacerated, a band of chosen
runners succeeded in capturing a young baboon, which they brought back
triumphantly and exultingly. On seeing the animal, the rogue put on a
countenance exhibiting the most intense sorrow, exclaiming, “My heart is
rent in pieces! I am dumb with grief!” Pointing, at the same time, to the
ear of the baboon, that was slightly scratched, and the tail, which had
lost some hair, he added, “Did I not tell you I could not bring rain if
there was one hair wanting?”

He had often said that, if they could procure him the heart of a lion,
he would show them he could make rain so abundant that a man might think
himself well off to be under shelter, as when it fell it might sweep
whole towns away. He had discovered that the clouds required strong
medicines, and that a lion’s heart would do the business. To obtain this,
the rain-maker well knew, was no joke. One day it was announced that a
lion had attacked one of the cattle outposts not far from the town, and
a party set off for the twofold purpose of getting a key to the clouds
and disposing of a dangerous enemy. The orders were imperative, whatever
the consequences might be. Fortunately, the lion was shot dead by a
man armed with a gun. Greatly elated by their success, they forthwith
returned with their prize, singing the conqueror’s song in full chorus.
The rain-maker at once set about preparing his medicines, kindled his
fires, and, standing on the top of a hill, he stretched forth his hands,
beckoning to the clouds to draw near, occasionally shaking his spear,
and threatening them with his ire should they disobey his commands. The
populace believed all this, and wondered the rain would not fall.

Having discovered that a corpse which had been put into the ground some
weeks before had not received enough water at its burial, and knowing
the aversion of the Bechuanas to a dead body, he ordered the corpse to
be taken up, washed, and re-interred. Contrary to his expectation, and
horrible as the ceremony must have been, it was performed. Still the
heavens remained inexorable.

Having exhausted his skill and ingenuity, the impostor began to be
sorely puzzled to find something on which to lay the blame. Like all
of his profession, he was a subtle fellow, in the habit of studying
human nature, affable, acute, and exhibiting a dignity of mien, with an
ample share of self-complacency, which he could not hide. Hitherto, he
had studiously avoided giving the least offense to the missionaries,
who he found were men of peace, who would not quarrel. He frequently
condescended to visit them, and in the course of conversation would often
give a feeble assent to their opinion as to the sources of that element
over which he pretended to have sovereign control. However, finding all
his wiles unavailing to produce the desired result, and notwithstanding
the many proofs of kindness he had received from the missionaries, he
began to hint that the reverend gentlemen were the cause of the obstinacy
of the clouds! One day it was discovered that the rain had been prevented
by Mr. Moffat bringing a bag of salt with him from a journey that he had
undertaken to Griqua-town. But finding, on examination, that the reported
salt was only white clay or chalk, the natives could not help laughing at
their own credulity.

From insinuations he proceeded to open accusations. After having kept
himself secluded for a fortnight, he one day appeared in the public fold
and proclaimed that he had at last discovered the cause of the drought.
After keeping the audience in suspense for a short time, he suddenly
broke forth, “Do you not see,” he asked, “when clouds cover us, that
Hamilton and Moffat looked at them? Their white faces scare them away,
and you can not expect rain so long as they are in the country.” This
was a home stroke. The people became impatient, and poured forth their
curses against the poor missionaries as the cause of all their sorrows.
The bell, which was rung for public worship, they said, frightened the
vapors; the prayers even came in for a share of the blame. “Don’t you,”
said the chief one day rather fiercely to Mr. Moffat, “bow down in your
houses, and pray and talk to something bad in the ground?”

But to shorten a long story: after exposing the missionaries to much risk
and danger by his insinuations and accusations, the tables were turned in
their favor. The rain-maker was now suspected; his gross impositions were
unveiled, and he was about to pay the penalty of death—the well-merited
reward for his scandalous conduct—when Mr. Moffat generously interfered,
and, through his presence of mind and humanity, succeeded in saving the
life of one who had so often threatened his own, and who would not have
scrupled to take it, could he thereby have served his purpose. Death,
however, soon overtook him, for he was eventually murdered among the
Bauangketsi nation.

Mr. Moffat concludes his remarks on the career of this notable rain-maker
by the following observation:

“It is a remarkable fact that a rain-maker never dies a natural death.
I have known some, and heard of many, who had, by one means or other,
fallen a prey to the fury of their disappointed employers; but,
notwithstanding this, there was no want of successors. There is not one
tribe whose people have not imbrued their hands in the blood of these
impostors, whom they first adore, then curse, and lastly destroy.”

Polygamy exists to an almost unlimited extent. A man may have as many
wives as he chooses, provided he can pay for such privilege the usual
fees, which vary according to the wealth of the husband.

Like the Damaras, the Bechuanas practice circumcision. From an early age
upward, even to manhood, the males are circumcised. Children, however,
born of parents previously to their having been operated upon, can not
inherit regal power. The ceremony being performed, the youth is anointed,
and at once assumes the character, air, and dress of a man. He is also
considered fit to carry arms.

The females have also their “religious” festival about the same age as
the boys, and, for a certain period, are under the tuition of matrons,
who indoctrinate them in all the duties of wives—passive obedience being
especially inculcated. As a last ordeal, they are made to carry a piece
of heated iron, in order to show that their hands are fit for labor.
They are then lubricated with grease; the lower part of their hair is
shaven off, and the remainder profusely bedaubed with a paste of butter
and sebilo (dark, shining ochre). They now adopt the usual female dress.
“Raised thus from comparative infancy to what they consider womanhood,
they view themselves with as much complacency as if they were enrobed
in the attire of a daughter of an Eastern potentate. They have reached
nearly to a climax in their life, for they expect soon to be married; to
be a mother they consider the chief end of a woman’s existence.”

The Bechuanas generally bury their dead. The ceremony of interment, &c.,
varies in different localities, and is influenced by the rank of the
deceased; but the following is a fair specimen of the way in which these
obsequies are managed.

On the approaching dissolution of a man, a skin or net is thrown over
the body, which is held in a sitting posture, with the knees doubled
up under the chin, until life is extinct. A grave is then dug—very
frequently in the cattle-fold—six feet in depth, and about three in
width, the interior being rubbed over with a certain large bulb. The
body, having the head covered, is then conveyed through a hole made for
the purpose in the house and the surrounding fence, and deposited in the
grave in a sitting position, care being taken to put the face of the
corpse against the north. “Portions of an ant-hill are placed about the
feet, when the net which held the body is gradually withdrawn. As the
grave is filled up, the earth is handed in with bowls, while two men
stand in the hole to tread it down round the body, great care being taken
to pick out every thing like a root or pebble. When the earth reaches the
height of the mouth, a small twig or branch of an acacia is thrown in,
and on the top of the head a few roots of grass are placed. The grave
being nearly filled, another root of grass is fixed immediately over
the head, part of which stands above ground. When this portion of the
ceremony is over, the men and women stoop, and with their hands scrape on
to the little mound the loose soil lying about. A large bowl of water,
with an infusion of bulbs, is now brought, when the men and women wash
their hands and the upper part of their feet, shouting ‘Pùla! pùla!’
(Rain! rain!) An old woman, probably a relative, will then bring the
weapons of the deceased (bow, arrows, war-axe, and spears); also grain
and garden-seeds of various kinds; and even the bone of an old pack-ox,
with other things. They finally address the grave, saying, ‘These are all
your articles.’ The things are then taken away, and bowls of water are
poured on the grave, when all retire, the women wailing ‘Yo! yo! yo!’
with some doleful dirge, sorrowing without hope.”

“The ancients were of opinion that the face was always the index of
the mind. Modern physiognomists have gone a step farther, pretending
that a fine form, perfect in all its parts, can not contain a crooked
or an imperfect mind.” Judging the mind of a Bechuana by such a rule,
it would not be pronounced deficient in talent. Nor is it. But, though
the Bechuanas are a very superior race of men, they frequently conceal
cunning and duplicity under an open and dignified exterior. Any act,
no matter how disgraceful, if attended with success, will make them
perfectly happy. “The Bechuana character is frank and sociable, which,
however, does not appear to rise from benevolence of disposition, so
much as from a degree of etiquette, and habits arising from relationship
and docility.” Like most barbarians, their political wisdom consists in
duplicity and petty cunning, and their ordinary wars are merely predatory
incursions upon weaker neighbors for the purpose of carrying off cattle
with as little exposure as possible of their own lives.

They are exceedingly vindictive and revengeful; but if the injured party
be propitiated with gifts, and the enemy acknowledge the error of his
doings, apparent cordiality and unanimity generally succeed to the most
inveterate hatred.

From the king to the slave, theft is a prevailing vice with the
Bechuanas, and, from what I have seen of them, I am confident that the
wealthiest and the most exalted among them would not hesitate to steal
the shirt off one’s back, could he effect it without being compromised.
Their pilfering habits know no bounds, and they carry on the game with
much dexterity. When grouped about our camp-fires I have known them to
abstract the tools with which we have been working; nay, indeed, the very
knives and forks from our plates. Once they actually took the meat out of
the pot as it was boiling on the fire, substituting a stone! They will
place their feet over any small article lying on the ground, burying it
in the sand with their toes, and, if unable to carry it away at the time,
they return to fetch it at a more convenient period.

I have suffered cruelly from their thievish propensities. When at the
Lake they deprived me of almost the whole of my wardrobe, besides
numerous other articles. Not liking to make a disturbance, and knowing
the uselessness of complaining, I bore my misfortunes for a time with
patience; but there is a limit to every thing. Finding, one morning, that
a bag containing no less than forty pounds of shot (a most invaluable
treasure to me) had disappeared in a mysterious manner, I could no longer
restrain my rage. We tracked the thief to the water, but here, of course,
all our efforts to follow him farther were frustrated. I then proceeded
direct to the chief, and represented to him, in the strongest colors,
the abominable conduct of his people, who robbed me with impunity under
his very eyes, adding that their behavior was the more flagitious, as
I had loaded both him and his men with presents, and treated them with
undeviating kindness. To my astonishment and disgust, he laughed outright
in my face, and told me that he could not control his men in this
respect. Indeed, his own relations would play him the same trick.

“So much the more disgraceful to you,” I remarked, adding that he
might rest assured I would take good care to tell my countrymen of the
villainous conduct of the people at Lake Ngami.

“Well,” he replied, “I really can not assist you in this matter, but will
give you wholesome advice, and my authority for acting on it; that is, to
hang on the nearest tree the first man you catch stealing.”

He said this with so much coolness, indifference, and good-humor, that I
could not, vexed as I was, refrain from smiling; and, half reconciled,
I turned away from him, exclaiming, “Well, Lecholètébè, you are an
incurable rogue!”

That the people really did purloin articles from their own chief I had an
instance when at the Lake. Entering a trader’s hut one day, I observed
some beautiful hippopotamus teeth, and on inquiring how he had become
possessed of them, he replied, “Why, Lecholètébè has just asked the same
question. They were stolen from the chief by his own uncle this very
morning, who sold them to me as his individual property not above half an
hour ago.”

The attire of the Bechuanas is scanty enough. Those, however, who have
had much intercourse with Europeans begin to adopt their mode of dress;
but the women, contrary to custom, are very tenacious of their peculiar
toilet, apparently preferring the garb of mother Eve. The appearance
of the ladies is masculine, and far from prepossessing. Their figures
are usually short, stout, and clumsy, which is still farther increased
by the vast numbers of beads worn by the more wealthy, which hang in
cumbrous coils round the waist and neck. Their wrists, arms, and ankles,
moreover, are encircled by rings of copper, iron, and brass, of various
forms and sizes. They delight in finery, and besides the decoration
of their own persons, they profusely ornament their skin, shirts, and
cloaks, the whole being bedaubed with masses of fat and red ochre. “Their
naturally woolly hair is twisted in small cords, and matted with the
above substances into apparently metallic pendules, which, being of equal
length, assume the appearance of a skull-cap or inverted bowl of steel.”

Notwithstanding the Bechuanas acknowledge us to be a superior race to
themselves, they have no hesitation to pronounce many of our habits and
customs both clumsy and troublesome. They laugh at us for putting our
legs and arms into bags, and using buttons for the purpose of fastening
bandages round our bodies, instead of suspending them as ornaments
from the neck or hair of the head. Once initiated in the use of these
things, however, they are but too glad to benefit by them. To wash the
body instead of lubricating it with grease and red ochre seems to them a
disgusting custom, and cleanliness about one’s food, house, bedding, &c.,
often creates their mirth and ridicule.

The Bechuanas are great snuff-takers, and they indulge in the luxury to
excess. Sharing the contents of your snuff-box with a stranger is almost
the greatest compliment that can be paid to him. Knowing their propensity
in this respect, I brought with me a large supply, but, on my arrival at
the Lake, was astonished to find that they scarcely deigned to look at
it. I soon discovered the cause of their singular abstinence, which arose
simply from the article not being sufficiently pungent. Unless it forces
tears into their eyes, they look upon snuff as worthless.

The way in which the Bechuanas themselves manufacture snuff is singular
enough. A piece of tobacco being presented to a man, two stones are
forthwith procured, between which the weed is carefully ground, and,
when of sufficient fineness, a quantity of wood-ash is added, which,
to their nostrils, constitutes the very perfection of snuff. When the
amalgamation of the ingredients is perfected, every one present presses
eagerly forward to have a pinch. Each fills the palm of his hand with the
mixture, and scoops it into the nose with a peculiarly shaped iron or
ivory spoon, hung round the neck, drawing every grain leisurely up into
the nostrils in such abundance as to force big tears into the eyes, thus
proving the extent of the enjoyment. “Worse than barbarian would that man
be esteemed who would wantonly interrupt a social party so employed.”
Their greasy fingers constitute their handkerchiefs on such occasions,
and their faces, after one of these “snuff-floods,” may not inaptly be
likened to a dewy and furrowed field. Their snuff-boxes are either the
kernel of the palm-fruit, hollowed out, or a diminutive gourd, and, like
the ladles, are suspended round the neck, though sometimes they are
secured to the arm above the elbow.

The Bechuanas smoke, but it can hardly be said to be a fashionable vice
among them. This is, at least, as regards the men, for the women, on
the contrary, are inveterate smokers, a habit (as already mentioned
when speaking of the Hill-Damaras) often productive of serious bodily
disorders.

The occupations of the men consist chiefly in going to war, hunting,
preparing fur and skins for carosses, milking the cows, &c., while those
of the women are by far the heaviest—namely, the erection of houses,
collecting and bringing fuel, tilling, sowing, reaping, thrashing and
grinding the corn, not to mention the heavy task of rearing a family.
While cultivating the ground, I have often seen a woman with one or two
babies fastened to her back under a scorching sun. Yet, notwithstanding
all these exhausting and galling duties, they would be amazed were
a person to tell them that a state of “single blessedness” would be
preferable to that of being the drudge of a haughty and indolent husband.

“While standing near the wife of one of the grandees,” writes Mr.
Moffat, “who, with some female companions, was building a house, and
making preparations to scramble, by means of a branch, on to the roof,
I remarked that they ought to get their husbands to do that part of the
work. This set them all into a roar of laughter. Mahuto, the queen, and
several of the men drawing near to ascertain the cause of the merriment,
the wives repeated my—to them—strange and ludicrous proposal, when
another peal of mirth ensued. Mahuto, who was a sensible and shrewd
woman, stated that the plan, though hopeless, was a good one, as she
often thought our custom was much better than theirs. It was reasonable
that woman should attend to household affairs and the lighter parts of
labor, while man, wont to boast of his superior strength, should employ
his energy in more laborious occupations; adding, she wished I would give
their husbands medicine to make them do the work.”

The Bechuanas who inhabit the shores of the Ngami are rich in sheep and
goats, but possess comparatively few horned cattle. Like other tribes
of that nation, they are excessively fond of their oxen, but more
particularly prize their cows, which scarcely any thing can induce them
to part with. Indeed, they will readily give ivory, when plentiful, in
exchange for cows.

Gardening and agriculture are much practiced by the Bechuanas. These
occupations are conducted in nearly a similar manner as that described
among the Ovambo. The vegetables and the grain are also very much the
same.

The only marketable articles as yet ascertained at the Lake are ostrich
feathers, furs and skins of various sorts, rhinoceros horns, and ivory
(elephant and hippopotamus). The staple articles of exchange are beads,
and more especially ammunition. Clothing is as yet but very little in
demand, the people not being sufficiently advanced in civilization to
care for such a luxury. Even beads are not sought after with the avidity
they used to be, such quantities having of late been exported to the
Lake country that (to use a vulgar, but very emphatic expression of
Lecholètébè) “the women,” who chiefly wear beads, “grunt under their
burdens like pigs.” No visitor, however, should be entirely without
them. All large beads are useless. Small beads of the following colors,
pink, dull white, light green, brick-colored, light blue, dark blue, and
yellow, are chiefly in demand.

The Bechuanas of the Lake are fond of the chase, and almost daily parties
are sent out to provide for the chief’s table. But, though possessed of
a great number of fire-arms, few of the men have as yet attained any
proficiency in their use. By far the greater portion of animals slain are
obtained by means of pitfalls dug by the Bushmen and the Bayeye along
the banks of the rivers. As many as thirty to forty pitfalls may be seen
extending in one continuous line.

Though the finny tribe is pretty numerous in the Lake and its rivers,
none of the Bechuanas take the trouble to catch them. The conquered race,
the Bayeye, however, are very expert and industrious fishermen.




CHAPTER XXXVI.

    Departure for Libèbé.—The Canoe.—The Lake.—Reach the
    Teoge.—Adventure with a Leché.—Luxurious Vegetation.—Exuberance
    of animal Life.—Buffaloes.—The Koodoo.—His
    Haunts.—Pace.—Food.—Flesh.—Hide.—Disposition.—Gregarious
    Habits.—The Chase.


As Lecholètébè proved true to his word with regard to providing me with
men and boats, I was able, after only a few days’ stay at the Lake, to
proceed on my exploring tour to the north. To the last moment, however,
the chief and his people endeavored to dissuade me from the attempt,
urging, among other reasons, the enormous windings of the Teoge, which
would prevent me from reaching my destination for many months, as, also,
the great number of hippopotami, which they represented as the most
savage and voracious of beasts.

I did not give much credit to the story of these men, not having
the least faith in their word. I told them that, with regard to the
sinuosities of the stream, I hoped to overcome that difficulty by
patience; and as to the sea-cows, if they really were such monsters as
described, I assured them I was quite confident that my black followers
(pointing to the boatmen), to whom they were accustomed, would be first
swallowed, which would give me time to escape. With this rude joke, which
highly pleased my untutored audience, I stepped into the canoe, and
waving my hand, in token of leave, to my men and the chief, I launched
forth on the Zouga.

The canoe in which I embarked (and they are all somewhat similarly
constructed) was but a miserable craft. It consisted of the trunk of a
tree, about twenty feet long, pointed at both ends, and hollowed out by
means of fire and a small hatchet. The natives are not at all particular
as to the shape of the canoe. The after-part of some that have come under
my notice would form an angle of near forty-five degrees with the stem!
Nevertheless, they were propelled through the water by the Bayeye (my
boatmen were of that nation) with considerable speed and skill.

The “appointments” of the canoe consist of a paddle, and a pole ten to
twelve feet in length. The paddle-man sits well in the stern, and attends
mostly to the steering; while his comrade, posted at the head of the
canoe, sends her along, by means of the pole, with great force and skill.

The natives, however, rarely venture any distance from the shore in their
frail skiffs. It was said that they had made several attempts to cross
the widest part of the Lake, but had never succeeded. A party, consisting
of ten or twelve canoes, hazarded the experiment a few years previous
to its discovery by Europeans, but were not again heard of, from which
it was concluded that they had been overtaken by a storm and perished.
After about an hour’s paddling, the broad expanse of the Lake lay before
me, glittering in all the beauty and softness produced by reflection of
the warm rays of a tropical sun. It was, indeed, a luxury, after so much
traveling in the burning desert, to be able at last to float upon

    “The glassy, cool, translucent wave,”

and the pleasure was increased by my partiality to water, an element with
which I became familiar in the early stages of boyhood, and on which I
have spent some of my happiest days.

As I felt the cool breeze fanning my cheeks, new life seemed to stir
within me, and my heart beat high with joyous excitement.

Our party, at starting, consisted of only three or four canoes; but, as
we proceeded on the voyage, the number increased, and ultimately amounted
to about a dozen.

In consequence of the frail structure of our craft, and the boatmen’s
tenacity in keeping near the shore, we were two days in getting from the
Zouga to the western extremity of the Lake, although, in reality, it is
only one good day’s voyage. It was not, therefore, until the third day
that we reached the chief entrance of the mouth of the Teoge (for here
the river spreads out into several branches), where there is a bar.
The water was so low on it that although the stream was fast rising at
the time (August), we were forced to draw the canoes across it by main
force. It is true we might have avoided the inconvenience by proceeding
a mile or two to the westward, where a channel exists that is said to be
navigable at all seasons.

Our voyage across the Lake was attended with no incident worth recording,
but, on reaching the point just mentioned, I had a little adventure with
a leché, hundreds of which might be seen grazing and sporting among the
shallows and the numerous little islets of the Teoge.

I had gone in advance of my party in the hope of obtaining a shot; but
though I met with vast numbers of animals, the openness of the ground
prevented me from getting within range. Being quite tired by my severe
but fruitless exertions, I was resting on the rifle, contemplating
the novel and striking scene—the Lake, with its broad blue waters—its
finely-wooded shores—the varied and vast herds of animals—the Teoge, with
its numerous little channels and sedgy shores—when I saw, a little ahead
of me, two magnificent stag lechés approaching each other, evidently
with no friendly intentions. I was right in my conjecture, for in a few
seconds afterward they were engaged in combat. Taking advantage of this
lucky incident, I approached, unperceived, within a dozen paces, when I
quickly dropped on one knee and took a deliberate aim at the shoulder of
the nearest; but, just as I pulled the trigger, he received a violent
thrust from his antagonist, which made him swerve to one side, and the
consequence was that the ball, instead of piercing his heart, merely
smashed one of his hind legs. The animals, nevertheless, were so intently
engaged, that, notwithstanding the report of the gun, and the wounded
state of one of them (he probably attributed this to his adversary), they
did not observe me. Throwing aside the rifle, I drew my hunting-knife,
and thus armed, rushed upon the combatants. Just, however, as I was about
to bury the fatal weapon in the flank of one of the animals, they both
suddenly became aware of me, and fled precipitately. The wounded beast
at once made for the river, which was hard by, and though it was running
very swiftly at this point, perhaps not less than four or five miles an
hour, he plunged into the water.

Not being then aware of the aquatic habits of this species of antelope, I
was very much astonished, and for a while thought the beast would surely
be carried away by the violence of the current and drowned. But I was
soon undeceived; for he struck bravely out for the opposite shore, his
course being marked with streaks of crimson. On gaining the bank, he gave
one glance behind him, shook his bloody and drizzling coat, and made off.
I was determined, however, not to be beaten; and, as I had nothing on but
a pair of trowsers and a flannel shirt, I threw myself, as I was, into
the stream, and soon succeeded in reaching the opposite bank, when I at
once started in pursuit.

In this way, swimming and wading alternately, several rivulets, swamps,
and dikes were crossed and recrossed; but, for a long time, the result
was doubtful. At last, however, the poor animal slackened his pace,
staggered, and lay down, but again proceeded, though apparently with
pain and difficulty. Seeing this, I redoubled my exertions, and having
succeeded in turning him toward the Lake, I drove him right into the
water, which was here shallow, and where he several times stuck fast
in the mud. I now felt sure of my quarry; and, having approached
sufficiently near, I seized him by the wounded leg, and severed the
tendon at the knee-joint. The struggle between us now became severe. On
trying to lay hold of his horns, which were most formidable weapons, with
the intention of cutting his throat, he struck out with so much violence
as to upset me, and I was nearly smothered with mud and water. But the
poor creature’s course was run. His loss of blood and crippled state soon
enabled me to put an end to his miseries. He was a noble old stag—the
finest antelope of the species that I ever shot, and they were many; he
well rewarded me for all my exertions.

After passing the bar at the mouth of the Teoge, the depth of the water
increased, and the current flowed with less velocity—from two to three
miles per hour, I should say. For the first few days’ journey the country
presented a rather dreary and monotonous appearance, being frequently
flooded for many miles, thus converting the land on both sides into
extensive reedy marshes, only occasionally relieved by a pleasant group
of the date and the fan-palm. The banks were in many places so low that,
when bivouacking on shore, we often slept in the water. Even where the
banks rose a few feet above the surface, they were entirely undermined by
the stream; and if a stick was thrust through, water immediately appeared
in the hole. Fuel was exceedingly scarce, and could only be purchased
from the natives (thinly scattered along its banks), who not unfrequently
brought it from a very great distance.

On the fourth day the landscape assumed a more pleasing aspect; the
banks of the river became higher, and were richly covered with a rank
vegetation. There was the fan-palm, the date, the black-stemmed mimosa,
the wild and wide-spreading sycamore, the elegant and dark-foliaged
moshoma, and a variety of other beautiful, often to me new, trees,
many yielding an abundance of palatable and nourishing fruit. Timbo,
who accompanied me, recognized no less than six or seven kinds of
fruit-trees indigenous to the east coast of Africa and the adjacent
countries. The arboreal scenery, indeed, in some places exceeded in
beauty any thing that I had ever seen. I could have spent days under the
shade of some of these ornamental trees, resounding at times with the
wild notes of birds, while in the distance might be seen herds of the
finest of the antelope tribe. Yet common prudence forbids the traveler
to tarry. When the stream, after the annual overflow, begins to subside,
noxious effluvia are emitted, carrying death along with them. Such is the
climate of Africa!

[Illustration: ASCENDING THE TEOGE.]

Animal life was almost on a par with the exuberant vegetation.
Rhinoceroses, hippopotami, buffaloes, sassabys, hartebeests, pallahs,
reed-bucks, lechés, &c., were constantly seen, and every day some game
animal or other was shot. Thus I was able to support and satisfy our
large and hungry party, now consisting of fifty or sixty individuals.

One fine afternoon we came to a place where the tracks of buffaloes were
unusually numerous; and, having hitherto seen little of that animal, I
determined to halt for a day or two, in the hope not only of becoming
better acquainted with it, but of having good sport. The surrounding
scenery, besides, was attractive, which was an additional inducement to
devote a short time to rest and amusement.

The first night that I passed at a “skärm” was a failure in respect of
game, owing probably to my being to windward of the point whence the
buffaloes were likely to come, who, getting scent of me from a distance,
did not venture to approach my place of concealment. A small herd of
these animals, however, came within range of Timbo, whom I had also
placed in ambush some little way from me; but, as usual, he missed, and
they all went off unhurt.

Returning to the camp the following morning, the natives, on hearing of
our ill luck, looked so hungry and unhappy withal, that, although I stood
greatly in need of rest and refreshment, I again shouldered my rifle and
started off in search of game.

On this occasion I was accompanied by about a score of natives. A couple
of pallahs and a koodoo were soon bagged, but a noble sassaby that we met
with got off unscathed.

Afterward we searched long without finding any thing, but the numerous
tracks of buffaloes testified that this part of the country was a
favorite haunt of those animals. At last we came to the skirts of a dense
thicket; and, peering among the bushes, I presently espied several dark
objects on the ground, which at once struck me must be buffaloes. Placing
my finger on my lips as a sign that silence was required, and pointing in
the direction of the dark objects, I whispered the word “onja,” meaning
buffalo. Not the presence of his satanic majesty could have caused
greater consternation among my followers; for no sooner was the magic
word uttered, than one and all of them wheeled about, and made a headlong
retreat. One of the men was carrying a heavy rifle of mine, and wishing
to get possession of it, I followed in their footsteps. But this made
bad worse; for, seeing me also running, and thinking the enemy was at
their heels, they redoubled their pace, nor did they stop until at a most
respectful distance from the thicket. It was really absurd to see us thus
endeavoring to outrun each other.

Having at length overtaken the men and secured my rifle, I returned to
the spot whence I had first observed the suspicious objects; but, though
I approached to within a dozen paces of them, I was unable, from the
denseness of the cover, to make out their identity.

A tree was hard by; and, in the hope of obtaining a better view, I at
once ascended it. But in this matter I was disappointed, for even when
thus elevated I could see no better than from the ground. As the only
mode left me of satisfying my doubts, I now fired into the midst of the
dark objects in question; but not a living thing stirred. For a moment I
fancied I must have been in error, and that what I had taken for animals
were neither more nor less than huge stones. However, to set the point
at rest, after reloading, I sent a second ball in the same direction as
the first, and this time to some purpose, for at the report of the gun up
sprung to their feet four magnificent male buffaloes; and after tossing
their heads proudly, and sniffing the air for a moment, they broke cover
in good style, and, to all appearance, unhurt. I never saw them again.

Following leisurely on their tracks in order to ascertain whether any
of the beasts were hurt, a herd of buffaloes—at least two hundred in
number—suddenly rushed past us with the violence of a tornado, breaking
down and crashing every thing that opposed their headlong career,
and raising so great a cloud of dust as nearly to conceal their dark
forms from view. I fired into the midst of them at random, and had the
satisfaction to see a cow drop to the shot.

The report of the rifle brought the whole herd almost immediately to a
stand, and, facing round, they confronted us in one dark mass. Taking
advantage of a tree at some little distance ahead, I stalked to within
about one hundred and fifty paces of this formidable phalanx. Resting the
gun on a branch, I took a steady aim at the leading bull; but, though I
very distinctly heard the bullet strike him, he did not flinch in the
slightest degree.

One of the natives having by this time mustered courage to steal up to me
with my rifle, I fired a second time, though at another of the herd, but
with no better result. Six several times, at the least, did I repeat the
dose, and though on each occasion the ball told loudly on the animal’s
body, neither it nor any one of the herd (strange as it may appear)
budged an inch! They seemed to be chained to the spot by some invisible
power, eyeing me all the while with an ominous and sinister look. Their
strange and unaccountable bearing puzzled me beyond measure. I expected
every instant to see them charge down upon me. But, even had this
happened—though I am free to confess I felt any thing but comfortable—my
personal safety would not, perhaps, have been much endangered, as by
ascending the tree against which I was leaning I should have been out of
harm’s way. However, I was not driven to this extremity; for, while about
to ram down another ball, the whole herd suddenly wheeled about, and,
with a peculiar shrieking noise, tails switching to and fro over their
backs, and heads lowered almost to the ground, they made off at a furious
pace.

On proceeding to the spot where the buffaloes had been standing, I
observed large patches of blood on the ground, and felt convinced that
both the animals at which I had fired must have been severely, if not
mortally wounded. We followed their tracks for a considerable distance,
but saw no more of them. From information received from the Bushmen at a
subsequent period, however, there is little doubt that both perished.

The night closing in, I determined on once more lying in ambush. I waited
long in vain; but at last I observed a solitary buffalo—an immense
bull—slowly and cautiously approaching my hiding-place, stopping every
now and then to listen. When so near the “skärm” as almost to touch it,
I pulled the trigger, but, to my great annoyance, the gun snapped. On
hearing the click, the animal wheeled about and hurriedly retreated; but,
after proceeding about forty paces, he suddenly halted, and, turning
partially round, exposed his broadside. Having, in the interim, put
on another cap, I took advantage of his favorable position, and again
pulled the trigger. This time I succeeded in placing a bullet well in
the beast’s shoulder. The instant he received the shot he leaped high
into the air, and then plunged violently forward. Immediately afterward I
heard a deep moaning in the direction he had taken—an unmistakable sign
that he was mortally hurt. Nevertheless, what with the severe lesson
I had recently received from the black rhinoceros, and the well-known
savage nature of a wounded buffalo, I did not think it prudent to follow
him. The next morning, however, search was made, when he was found dead
within less than a hundred yards of my “skärm,” the ball having pierced
his heart.

Koodoos were also occasionally seen and killed. Of all that varied and
beauteous form of animal life to be found in the boundless woods and
plains of tropical South Africa, the koodoo is unquestionably the most
distinguished for elegance and gracefulness, united with strength. The
height of the male at the shoulder is about four feet. The general color
of his body is a “rufous gray,” marked with several white bars over the
back and croup. The male carries his exquisitely formed head, ornamented
with ponderous spiral horns of about three feet or more in length, very
erect, which gives him an air of nobility and independence. The koodoo,
in short; is a perfect picture; and “when standing broadside on, is
decidedly one of the grandest-looking antelopes in the world.”

The koodoo is not uncommon throughout the more wooded districts of
Damara-land; but, from its leading a very secluded life, it is not so
often seen as others of the antelope tribe. His favorite haunts are the
stony slopes of hills, overgrown with brushwood. In localities not much
frequented by man, however, and in the early part of the day, he may be
seen in more open ground, on the outskirts of woods, borders of vleys,
and banks of rivers.

His gait is very graceful; but his pace, which consists of a moderately
fast gallop, is less elegant. When pursued, he clears with considerable
agility bushes, stones, and other minor obstructions that may oppose his
course, his leaps being often of very considerable extent.

His food consists chiefly of leaves, buds, and the young shoots of trees
and bushes. He seems capable of going a long time without water, and only
occasionally frequents the pool.

The koodoo produces only one young at a time. His flesh, when in good
condition, is excellent, and the soup, or _bouillon_, made from it is
delicious. The marrow extracted from the bones is highly prized by the
natives, who deem it better than that obtained from any other animal.
They consequently devour it greedily, and without any kind of preparation.

The hide of the koodoo is greatly valued, as well by the hunter as the
colonist. It is rather thin, but exceedingly tough and pliable, and will
stand more wear and tear than any other hide of the same substance. It
is chiefly used for shoes, lashes of whips, thongs, straps, and harness
in general. A koodoo hide, well prepared according to the custom of the
country, is worth from twenty to thirty shillings; and, being much in
request among the farmers, is no despicable article of commerce for home
consumption.

The koodoo is naturally of a shy and timid nature; but the male, when
hotly pressed and wounded, will not unfrequently face about, and even
attack his pursuer.

This species of antelope is gregarious, though seldom seen in large
herds, five or six being the usual number. The males are frequently met
with singly.

As already seen, when taken young, this animal is easily domesticated,
and becomes very tame. Notwithstanding, to the best of my belief, no
specimen has ever been brought to this country alive.

From the koodoo’s secluded habits, fewer of these animals are killed—as
regards Damara-land, at least—than any other species of antelope
indigenous to Southern Africa. He is sometimes hunted on horseback, and
if a hunter has the good fortune to meet with one in a favorable and
open locality, there is no great difficulty in running it down; but as
the animal holds, for the most part, to hilly and stony ground, and such
as is wooded withal, the chase, even if successful, usually proves an
arduous one.

The preferable course is to hunt it on foot. Stalking the koodoo was
a favorite pursuit of mine, and many a noble stag have I thus laid
low. But, on account of the wooded nature of the country it inhabits,
the difficulty of approaching unperceived within gun-shot is very
considerable, and it is greatly increased by Nature, who, with her usual
wonderful provision, has provided the koodoo with the most exquisite
sense of hearing. Its large, prominent ears apparently act as a kind of
focus, against which any unusual noise or sound is quickly arrested in
its progress.

The Bushmen have a way of their own of hunting the koodoo, viz., by
running it down, not by speed of foot, but by gradually exhausting
it. When a hunt of this kind is decided on, a number of these people
assemble, armed with assegais, &c. Having started the animal, one of
the party takes up its “spoor” at a quick pace, the rest following
more leisurely. On feeling fatigued, the leading man drops behind his
comrades, and the next in order takes up the pursuit, and so on, until
they secure the prize. Sometimes this is effected in the course of a few
hours; but it happens, also, that the chase lasts for a whole day, or
even longer. All depends on the ground. If stony or rocky, the men have
an immense advantage over the animal, who, under such circumstances, soon
becomes foot-sore, lies down repeatedly, and, after a while, is found
unable to rise, when he is quickly dispatched. The women and children
carry water on these occasions for the hunters, so that, should the
animal prove very enduring, his pursuers may not be necessitated to give
up the chase for want of that indispensable necessary.




CHAPTER XXXVII.

    Tsetse Fly.—Confined to particular Spots.—Its Size.—Its
    Destructiveness.—Fatal to Domestic Animals.—Symptoms in the Ox
    when bitten by the Tsetse.


During my hunting excursions along the Teoge, I encountered, for the
first time, that most extraordinary of insects, the tsetse (_glossina
morsitans_, Westw.).[89] Among the several scourges to which the traveler
is subjected in the South African wilderness, one of the greatest is this
insect; not, it is true, as to the wayfarer’s own person, for he himself
escapes very nearly unscathed, but as regards the horses and cattle.

[Illustration: TSETSE FLY.]

The tsetse is found chiefly in the bush or among the reeds, but rarely
in the open country. It is confined to particular spots, and is never
known to shift its haunts. Thus cattle may be seen grazing securely on
one side of a river, while the opposite bank swarms with the insect.
Should the natives, who are well acquainted with localities frequented by
the fly, have occasion to change their cattle-posts, and are obliged to
pass through tracts of country where it exists, they choose, I am told,
a moonlight winter’s night, as, during the hours of rest in the cold
season, it does not bite.

In size the tsetse is somewhat less than the common blue fly that settles
on meat, but its wings are longer. Yet, though so small and insignificant
in appearance, its bite carries with it a poison equal to that of the
most deadly reptile. Many is the traveler who, from his draft-oxen and
horses having been destroyed by this pestiferous insect, has not only
had the object of his journey completely marred, but his personal safety
endangered by the loss of his means of conveyance.

Very lately, indeed, a party of Griquas, about twenty in number, who were
elephant-hunting to the northwest of the Ngami, and who were provided
with three wagons and a large number of trek, or draft-oxen, lost, prior
to their return to the Lake, all their cattle by the bite of the tsetse.
Some horses, brought with them to further their sport, shared a similar
fate.

The very same year that this disaster happened to the Griquas, a party of
Englishmen, among whom was my friend Mr. Frederick Green, attempted to
reach Libèbé; but they had only proceeded seven or eight days’ journey
to the north of the Ngami when both horses and cattle were bitten by the
fly in question, and the party were, in consequence, compelled to make a
hasty retreat. One of the number, I am told, was thus deprived of as many
as thirty-six horses, excellent hunters, and all sustained heavy losses
in cattle.

There are large tribes which can not keep either cattle or sheep because
the tsetse abounds in their country. But it is only fatal to domestic
animals, as wild animals feed undisturbed in parts infested by the
insect. Yet many of them, such as oxen and buffaloes, horses and zebras,
dogs and jackals, &c., possess somewhat the same nature. Moreover, it
bites man, and no danger follows. The sensation experienced has not
inaptly been likened to the sting of a flea.[90] The problem to be solved
is, what quality exists in domestication which renders domestic animals
obnoxious to this poison? “Is man not as much a domestic animal as a dog?
Is it the tsetse at all which kills the animal?”

Captain Vardon, of the Indian army, one of the earlier pioneers of the
more interior parts of Southern Africa, was among the first to decide the
point; for he rode his horse up a hill infested by tsetse, and in twenty
days his doubts were removed by the death of his horse.

According to the statement of the celebrated explorers, Messrs.
Oswell and Livingstone, who were severe sufferers by the tsetse, the
following symptoms are observed in the ox when bitten: the eye runs,
the glands under the throat swell, the coat loses its gloss, there is a
peculiar flaccidity of the muscles generally, and emaciation commences,
which proceeds unchecked until—perhaps months after the bite—purging
supervenes, and the animal perishes of exhaustion. Some die soon after
the bite is inflicted, especially if they are in good condition, or
should rain fall; but, in general, the process of emaciation goes on for
many weeks. In some cases the animals become blind before they die.[91]

“From what I have seen of the tsetse,” writes Mr. Oswell to me, “I
believe that three or four flies are sufficient to kill a full-grown
ox. We examined about twenty of ours that were bitten and died, and the
appearances were _similar_ in all. On raising the skin, we perceived a
glairy appearance of the muscles and flesh, which were much wasted. The
stomach and intestines were healthy; heart, lungs, and liver, sometimes
all, but invariably one or the other, much diseased. The heart, in
particular, attracted our attention. It was no longer a firm and muscular
organ, but collapsed readily on compression, and had the appearance of
flesh that had been steeped in water. The blood of the whole carcass
was greatly diminished in quantity. Not more than twenty pints (a
small pailful) were obtained from the largest ox, and this thick and
albuminous; the hands, when plunged into it, came out free of stain. The
poison would seem to grow in the blood, and, through the blood, affect
the vital organs.

“A curious feature in the case is, that dogs, though reared on milk, die
if bitten,[92] while calves and other young _sucking_ animals are safe as
long as they _suck_. Man, and all the wild animals, escape with impunity.
Can the poison be alkaline, and neutralized by the acid?”




CHAPTER XXXVIII.

    The Crocodile.—An Englishman killed by one of these
    Monsters.—The Omoroanga Vavarra River.—Hardships.—Beautiful
    Scenery.—Lecholètébè’s Treachery.—The Reed-ferry.


As we journeyed up the Teoge, we frequently observed crocodiles basking
in the sun in the more secluded parts of the river. One day, while trying
to trace a wounded antelope, I nearly trod on one of these monsters who
was fast asleep. My foot was already descending on his tail before I was
aware of him. Without daring to move, I gently raised the rifle to my
shoulder, and, with a well-directed ball behind the ear, killed him on
the spot.

One does not often hear of crocodiles in these parts seizing on human
beings when immersed in water, which would seem to prove that these
animals are “man-eaters” from the compulsion of hunger rather than
from habit. Indeed, I have been assured by several persons that there
is little danger of being attacked, provided one makes a great noise
previously to entering the water. Accidents, however, do occur. Only a
few years ago an English gentleman, Mr. R⸺, was carried off by one of
these horrid creatures. He and his companion, Mr. M⸺, who told me the
sad story, had encamped on the banks of the Zouga, and, as a number
of water-fowl were seen disporting themselves on the stream, Mr. R⸺
proceeded there in the hope of obtaining a shot. He soon succeeded in
killing several, and among the rest a Muscovy duck; but he was unable to
secure it for want of a boat.

While looking about for a canoe, he observed a fine antelope approaching;
and, running quickly toward the wagon, which was hard by, he called out
to his men to bring him a rifle. On his return to the river, he found
that the antelope had escaped. He then proceeded toward the spot whence
he had shot at the duck, which was still floating on the surface. His
companion having by this time joined him, he expressed his determination
to possess the bird at any cost, and that he would swim after it. He
confessed, however, that he felt some doubt about the safety of such
a proceeding, adding that he had once been witness to the death of a
man who was seized and destroyed by a shark alongside his own boat.
Notwithstanding this (his own) opinion of the risk he was about to incur,
and the warning of his friend, he undressed and plunged into the stream.
Having swum a little distance, he was observed to throw himself on his
back, as if startled at some object beneath him; but in another moment
he was pursuing his course. When, however, he was about to lay his hands
on the bird, his body was violently convulsed, and, throwing his arms on
high, he uttered a most piercing shriek, after which he was seen to be
gradually drawn under the surface, never to reappear!

On the ninth day after we had entered the Teoge we left the principal
channel and passed into the Omoroanga (little river) Vavarra. This
rivulet is merely one of the small branches of the main stream (formed
by its overflowing its banks) so frequently met with, and which usually
rejoin it after a day or two. The Omoroanga Vavarra is only navigable
with canoes when the Teoge is at its greatest height, and even then the
navigation is of the most intricate description. The boatmen, many of
whom were born and bred in the neighborhood, constantly lose their way.
We passed two nights on the Omoroanga, during which time we were exposed
to much inconvenience and hardship.

Lecholètébè had placed two canoes at my disposal, but the rascally
boatmen had by this time so filled them with their own things that no
place was left for me. The consequence was, as the country was one
succession of swamps, lakes, rivulets, and quagmires, I found myself
early and late immersed in water, sometimes swimming, at others wading
up to my neck. Indeed, from the time that I left my camp on the Zouga to
my return to it, a period of about a month, I scarcely knew what it was
to have a dry thread about me. The only time I could partially dry my
clothes was at night along the bivouac-fire; but then I had to lie down
wet. It would have been ruinous to any constitution not previously inured
to hardships of all kinds.

But I was compensated for what I lost in comfort by the beauty of the
surrounding scenery. Wherever the soil was raised a few feet above the
surface of the water, it was covered by a rich and majestic vegetation.

At length, and after about twelve days’ voyaging, we reached a large
village where the great chief of the Bayeye resided. This was a charming
spot, and one to which the most skillful artist would have had some
difficulty in doing justice. Located on a small island about two hundred
feet long by one hundred in breadth, the village consisted of somewhat
more than a hundred houses, standing in the midst of a beautiful group of
elegant fan-palms, and some gigantic wild fruit-trees. At the foot of the
werft, in a semicircle, the clear, transparent Teoge wound its meandering
course. On every side, as far as the eye could reach, lay stretched a
sea of fresh water, in many places concealed from sight by a covering of
reeds and rushes of every shade and hue, while numerous islands, spread
over its surface, and adorned with rich vegetation, gave to the whole an
indescribably beautiful appearance. This was particularly the case at
sunrise and sunset, when the luxuriant vegetation received additional
charms by the brilliant but softened rays of a tropical sun.

I had been given to understand by Lecholètébè that the chief at whose
werft I had now arrived was to have provided me with other men and other
boats. To save time, as also in accordance with the men’s own wishes, I
sent my principal guide and others to inform the chieftain of my coming,
requesting him to get every thing ready; but, on reaching the place the
following day, I found, to my utter astonishment, that he, with all his
people, had set out that very morning to hunt the sea-cow; and no one
could, or rather would, inform me when the great man was likely to return.

It now occurred to me that I was deceived, and my suspicions at once
fell upon Lecholètébè. Still, hoping I might be mistaken, I waited
patiently for several days, but to no purpose. In the mean time, the
women of the village had secretly informed Timbo, who, as usual, was a
great favorite with the sex, that their husbands would to a certainty not
return for a month, and that even then I could not expect to receive
any assistance from them. I felt excessively mortified at being thus
basely duped, and at once called on the only man left in the place, who,
I was informed, was the chief’s brother, and ordered him to tell me,
without prevarication, the real state of the case. As I had suspected,
Lecholètébè was at the bottom of the affair. The man declared he had
no orders to furnish me with men and boats, but that, if I insisted on
proceeding, he was to give a guide to the next tribe, whence I was to
find my way to Libèbé as well as I could, well knowing that such an
arrangement was quite incompatible with my designs.

It is impossible to describe my feelings at being thus baffled, as,
from the success that had hitherto attended me, I had sanguinely hoped
it would have been in my power fully to carry out all my plans. Here I
was, in the midst of an inundated country of unknown extent, without
men, without conveyances, without provisions—in short, without any
thing necessary for such an expedition. Indeed, I was so completely at
the mercy of the natives that I could not stir a step without their
assistance. Nevertheless, rather than be thus foiled, I determined to
risk the utmost, and directed the promised guide to appear without delay,
declaring my intention of proceeding to Libèbé on foot. But it was quite
clear they had resolved not to let me pass beyond them, for, though, I
waited several days more, the man was not forthcoming.

Finding remonstrances unavailing, I had no alternative but to retrace my
steps, and, accordingly, I requested the temporary chief to prepare the
canoes to convey me back to the Lake. This highly delighted and gratified
the wily savage.

Mortified and annoyed at the shameful manner in which I had been treated,
I was nevertheless glad to have come thus far. I had learned much in this
short time (a summary of which will be given in the following chapters),
which I could not have done had I remained at the Lake, to say nothing
of the beautiful, diversified, and novel scenery which almost daily
presented itself to the view, which alone was a sufficient reward for my
troubles and anxieties.

[Illustration: REED-FERRY.[93]]




CHAPTER XXXIX.

    The Bayeye.—Their Country; Persons; Language;
    Disposition; Lying and Pilfering Habits.—Polygamy
    practiced among the Bayeye.—Their Houses; Dress;
    Ornaments; Weapons; Liquors; Agriculture; Grain; Fruits;
    Granaries.—Hunting.—Fishing.—Nets.—Diseases.—The
    Matsanyana.—The Bavicko.—Libèbé.


For a considerable distance to the northward of the chief’s werft, the
banks of the Teoge are inhabited by Bayeye, and a few scattered Bushmen,
all acknowledging Lecholètébè as their chief. Cooley supposes that these
people came originally from the West Coast, and that they have been
established in their present abode for a long period. Formerly, and
before their subjugation by the Bechuanas, they must have possessed a
large territory, and even now the country they occupy is of considerable
extent, consisting, as I believe, of one continued plain, intersected by
rivers, with extensive marshes. The banks of the rivers are, in general,
very low, but wherever they rise a few feet above the level of the
water they are shaded by a rank and wild vegetation. The trees are of a
gigantic size, having their stems and branches interwoven with beautiful
parasitical plants and creepers.

In person, feature, and complexion the Bayeye appear closely allied to
the Ovambo and the Hill-Damaras.

The language of the Bayeye bears considerable resemblance to the
Ovaherero, and has, moreover, some affinity with the dialects of the East
Coast, though two or three “klicks” would seem to indicate a Hottentot
origin.[94]

The Bayeye are of a merry and cheerful disposition, and, like my friends
the Damaras, are the happiest of creatures, provided they have a pot full
of flesh and a pipe. These elements of human felicity are not, however,
peculiar to savages, as may be seen in the following stanza of an old
song, often chanted by our English rustic forefathers:

    “What more can any man desire,
    _Nor_ sitting by a good coal fire,
    And on his knee a pretty wench,
    And on the table a bowl of punch?”

In one respect the English clown has an advantage over the barbarian
of South Africa, inasmuch as the latter does not appear to make any
stipulation in favor of a female companion.

The Bayeye are much given to lying and pilfering, and are as suspicious
as they are deceitful. As an instance of their thievish propensities, I
may mention that, when ascending the Teoge, they deprived me gradually
of almost the entire stock of articles of exchange, consisting chiefly
of beads. These things constituted my only money, and being well aware
that without it I should not be able to get on, I determined to recover
my property at all hazards. But, before proceeding to extremes, I was
anxious to acquire positive proofs of the guilt of my treacherous
companions. Accordingly, I ordered my own men to mark carefully the
different parcels. As soon as the canoes arrived at night at the
appointed rendezvous (we ourselves, as I have mentioned, were walking)
we hastened to the shore, and, while Timbo was ransacking the baggage, I
stationed myself at the head of the canoe, in order to prevent the crew
from landing until we had ascertained if any pilfering had taken place
during our absence.

Scarcely had my servant opened the first pack before he exclaimed, “Oh
yes, master, the rascals have been there, sure enough!” Immediately
stepping up to the native who was in charge of the canoe, I presented my
gun, on cock, at his head, threatening to blow out his brains if he did
not instantly produce the stolen goods. A scene of the utmost confusion
now took place. The men appeared at first inclined to be hostile, many
seizing their arms, while the women were running to and fro, crying
and howling in a manner which baffles all description. However, I was
determined, come what would, to have my property back, and I quietly told
them that their menaces should be of no avail, for the first individual
who attempted to molest me would, to a certainty, be a dead man. And,
to give effect to my threat, I added, with a significant look at the
gun, that they well knew I was not much in the habit of missing my mark.
Conceiving that I was in earnest, they thought better of the matter,
and in a few seconds I had half a dozen of them at my feet, begging I
would spare their lives, and promising that if I would not mention the
circumstance to their paramount chief, Lecholètébè, they would forthwith
restore the missing articles.

Being but too glad to recover my property on such easy terms, I declared
myself satisfied, warning them, however, of the consequences, of any
future attempt on their part to steal, as I should certainly not again
trouble myself about inquiring who was the thief, but would simply shoot
the first man I came across. This had the desired effect; for they not
only left my property untouched for the future, but treated me with far
more civility than they had hitherto manifested.

The men, excepting when hunting and fishing, in which pursuits they show
great activity, usually lead a very idle life at home. All the drudgery
falls on the women, who till the ground, reap, and afterward cleanse and
grind the corn, &c.

Respecting their mythology and religion I am so much in the dark that
it would not be worth while to communicate to the reader the little I
know. It is always difficult to obtain information on these subjects from
savages; and, besides, it requires both time and a knowledge of their
language. This applies also, though not to as great extent, to their
superstitious notions, which are numerous, and, as may well be supposed,
often ridiculous.

Polygamy prevails among the Bayeye, and one not unfrequently finds the
more wealthy consoling themselves with half a dozen wives.

They live in large round huts, covered with matting made of rushes, and
constructed in the same manner as those of the Namaquas.

The men have adopted, as in many other things, the dress of their
conquerors, the Bechuanas, which consists simply of a piece of skin,
broad in front, tied round the waist, with a tassel attached to it on
each side falling down over the hips; and, in addition to this, they wear
a skin, or light caross, which they accommodate to the body according to
the state of the weather.

The women dress very much like those of the Damaras, viz., with a short
skin skirt, which, as well as their own persons (when they can afford
it), is profusely bedecked with beads and various brass, copper, and iron
ornaments. But the plate facing this page will give a far better idea
of the appearance, attire, &c., of these people than can be conveyed in
words.

They are fond of the dance, which is a mimic representation of the
playful sports and courtships of the different wild animals surrounding
them.

The only weapons in use among the Bayeye are light javelins, having
sometimes two or three barbs. In addition to this, the elders of the
nation carry a shield, nearly oval in form, made of a single fold of
ox-hide; but they have only become acquainted with this means of defense
since they were subdued by the Bechuanas. To the want of shields they
entirely attribute their own defeat.

With regard to their habits, customs, manners, &c., much of what has
already been said of the Bechuanas may be applied to the Bayeye—a natural
consequence of subjugation.

Like most dark-colored nations, they are addicted to intoxicating
liquors. They understand how to brew beer, on which they frequently
become inebriated.

The men are inveterate snuff-takers, and the women “dacka” smokers.

[Illustration: BAYEYE.]

In former times the Bayeye possessed numerous herds of cattle, but these
passed into the hands of the Bechuanas upon their assuming the mastery
over the country. They are permitted, however, to rear a few goats, which
they do less for the sake of the milk and flesh than for the skins, which
are converted into sleeping rugs, and carosses for wear. They also keep a
few barn-door fowls, but apparently of a very ordinary breed.

They derive their chief subsistence from the produce of the soil, which
is fertile, yielding the necessaries of life in abundance, and with
little labor. A month or two before the rainy season the ground for
cultivation is selected, cleared, and slightly worked by a small, short
hoe, the only agricultural implement I have seen used by the Bayeye
in tilling. After the first heavy rains they begin to sow the corn,
of which there are two kinds indigenous to the country, namely, the
common “Cafire,” and another sort, very small-grained, and not unlike
canary-seed—a description which is akin, as I am informed, to the
“badjera” of India. This is more nutritious than the other, and, when
well ground, makes excellent flour. Tobacco, calabashes, watermelons,
pumpkins, beans, and small peas are also grown, as well as different
kinds of edible earth-fruits, of which the oiengora (motu-o-hatsi of the
Bechuanas, I believe) may be mentioned in particular. This is a sort of
bean, having its pods under ground. It is well known to the Mozambiques;
is extensively grown by the black population in Mauritius, and is, I am
told, no uncommon article of importation at the Cape of Good Hope.

Moreover, the country, as before said, produces a variety of wild
fruit-trees, which serve no less to beautify the scenery than to afford
good and wholesome sustenance to the inhabitants. Among the most handsome
and useful trees, the moshoma stands, perhaps, pre-eminent. On account
of the great height, the straightness of the trunk, and the distance at
which it begins to branch out, the fruit can only be gathered when it
falls to the ground. It is then exposed to the sun for some time, and,
when sufficiently dried, is put into a hollow piece of wood (a sort of
mortar) and pulverized. It is fit for use at any time by simply mixing
it with water, when it is not unlike honey in appearance, and has a
sweet, agreeable flavor. Strangers, however, must use it cautiously
at first, for if eaten in any large quantity it is apt to derange the
stomach. The moshoma invariably grows on the banks of rivers, or in their
immediate neighborhood, and may, with the greatest facility, be conveyed
down the Teoge to the Lake. The Bayeye use the timber extensively for
canoe-building and in the manufacture of utensils. I found the moshoma
growing in Ovambo-land, and I am also given to understand that it is
common throughout the countries west of the Portuguese settlements on the
East Coast.

The Bayeye store their corn and other products of the soil in large
baskets, not unlike those of the Ovambo, manufactured from palm-leaves
and other fibrous and tenacious substances.

The Bayeye are fond of hunting, and as the country abounds in game, the
spoils of the chase contribute materially to the support of the people.
They are, moreover, expert fishermen. They either strike the fish with
a barbed spear, or, more commonly, capture them in nets. These are made
from the fibrous stalks of a species of aloe, which is found in abundance
throughout the countries of the Namaquas, Damaras, the Ovambo, and others
lying to the eastward, but only grows to perfection about the Teoge.
The fibres are of great tenacity, apparently stronger and more flexible
than hemp, though requiring less labor and attention in its growth and
manufacture. Could this plant be naturalized, it would no doubt prove
a valuable acquisition to any country. I believe the nets are also
occasionally manufactured from fibrous and tenacious leaves, rushes, and
grasses. The meshes are knotted the same way as in Europe.

From the humid nature of the country, the Bayeye, although, generally
speaking, a healthy race, suffer at times from rheumatism and other
similar affections. Ophthalmia is also of frequent occurrence; and many
of the natives bear marks of the small-pox. Like the Lake district, the
Teoge and the surrounding country is visited by a dangerous fever, which
carries off many of the natives.

North of the Bayeye country we find the Matsanyana, but I have not been
able to ascertain whether these people form a distinct nation.

Still further north, that is, beyond the Matsanyana, we hear of the
Bavicko (or Wavicko) nation, whose capital is called Libèbé, from which
also the chief derives his name. The Griquas, whom I mentioned when
speaking of the water-sheds of the Lake, and whom I met and conversed
with on the subject, say that the country about Libèbé is flat and
thickly overgrown with bush, occasionally relieved by large isolated
trees, and that the Teoge is there of great width and studded with
beautiful islands, on which the natives chiefly dwell.

The Bavicko are represented as an industrious and honest people of
agricultural habits. Their mode of dress resembles that of the Moviza
(a great trading nation in the interior of the East Coast, and west of
the Portuguese settlement). Timbo, who was well acquainted with the
appearance of the Moviza, on hearing a description of the Bavicko,
mistook them for the former nation. The latter have some slight knowledge
of metallurgy. Iron they procure easily and in abundance from their
neighbors; but, from all I can gather, this ore does not seem to be
indigenous to their own country.

Libèbé appears to be the centre of a great inland trade. Among other
tribes that repair here for the purpose of commerce are the Mambari, a
race probably resident in the vicinity of the new Portuguese settlement,
Little Fish Bay. A strong argument in favor of this supposition is,
that the Griquas, lately alluded to, and who found a party of these
men at Libèbé, were informed by them that their tribe was visited
by two different white nations: by one of them—meaning probably
the Portuguese—chiefly for the purpose of purchasing slaves; by the
other—most likely the English or Americans—to obtain, by barter, ivory
and other valuable productions of the country. The Mambari bring to
Libèbé, as articles of exchange, blue and striped cotton, baize, beads,
and even cattle.

Again, we find the Ovapangari and Ovapanyama also visiting Libèbé
for trading purposes. These nations, as before mentioned, occupy the
country north of Ovambo-land. On a visit to the latter in 1851 (Galton’s
expedition), we found the tribes above named likewise trading with
the Ovambo. The Bavicko have, moreover, intercourse with Sebetoane,
Lecholètébè, and others.




CHAPTER XL.

    Departure from the Bayeye Werft.—The Reed-raft.—The
    Hippopotamus.—Behemoth or Hippopotamus.—Where found.—Two
    Species.—Description of Hippopotamus.—Appearance.—Size.—Swims
    like a Duck.—Food.—Destructive Propensities of the
    Animal.—Disposition.—Sagacity.—Memory.—Gregarious
    Habits.—Nocturnal Habits.—Domestication.—Food.—Flesh.—
    Hide.—Ivory.—Medicinal Virtues.


After about a week’s stay at the Bayeye werft, I was once more launched
on the Teoge, and only regretted that my course did not lie to the
north instead of to the south. My departure afforded a fresh proof of
the rascality of the Bayeye. As previously mentioned, according to the
injunctions of Lecholètébè, I was to have two canoes at my disposal;
but, on the day in question, the natives unceremoniously deposited me on
a raft composed solely of reeds! When I first saw the unshapely mass,
I could not help smiling; and it was not until I had set my people the
example that they ventured to embark.

This primitive raft, which is in general use among the Bayeye, either
for hunting purposes or for descending the Teoge and other rivers,
is exceedingly simple in its construction. All one has to do is to
cut the reeds (the different species of palmyra, from their buoyancy,
are peculiarly well adapted to the purpose) just above the surface of
the water, and to throw them in layers, crosswise, until the heap is
of sufficient size to support the party. No binding of any kind is
requisite; but fresh layers of reeds must occasionally be added to the
raft, as, from the constant pressure at the top, the reeds get soaked,
and the air contained in them displaced by water. A stout pole is placed
upright in the centre of the mass, to which is attached a strong and long
rope. When the voyagers wish to land, this rope is taken ashore by one
of the men in the canoe that is always in tow or on board the raft, and
secured to a tree or other firm object.

No small recommendation to the reed-raft is the extreme facility and ease
with which it can be constructed. In the course of an hour, three or four
men can put one together of sufficiently large dimensions to support
themselves and baggage.

This mode of conveyance, though inconvenient enough, is well worthy the
traveler’s attention, and more especially in localities where suitable
wood for the construction of a common raft is difficult to procure—any
where, in short, where boats or canoes are not obtainable. It must be
borne in mind, however, that the reed-raft is only available where the
current is in one’s favor.

Though I was at first much disconcerted at the appearance of our very
primitive looking craft, I soon got accustomed to it, and it proved
far more comfortable than might have been supposed. It was much safer,
moreover, than our own canoes, one or two of which we obtained shortly
after our departure. No efforts were made to steer or propel the raft,
which was left entirely to the stream. As soon as we were caught by
some projecting reed-bed—and this was of frequent occurrence—the raft
immediately swung round and thus disengaged itself; but when we came in
contact with trees overhanging the river, we were more inconvenienced;
for, before we could get clear of them, ourselves and baggage were at
times nearly swept into the water. In this manner, nevertheless, and
without serious accident, we accomplished about one hundred and fifty
miles in nine days, entirely by the force of the current, which rarely
exceeded two miles an hour.

While descending the Teoge we met several parties of natives in pursuit
of the hippopotamus; the men were embarked on rafts similarly constructed
as our own. But, before describing the manner in which the chase is
conducted by these people, it may be proper to say a few words regarding
the natural history of the above animal.

“Behold now behemoth which I made with thee; he eateth grass as an ox:
his bones are as strong pieces of brass; his bones are like bars of iron;
he lieth under the shady trees, in the covert of the reed and fens. The
shady trees cover him with their shadow: the willows of the brook compass
him about. Behold, he drinketh up a river; he trusteth that he can draw
up Jordan into his mouth. He taketh it with his eyes; his nose pierceth
through snares.”

The above grand and figurative language of the book of Job seems
particularly applicable to the hippopotamus, whom most people believe
to be identical with the behemoth of the sacred writer. Indeed, in his
“Systema Naturæ,” Linnæus ends his description of the hippopotamus with
calling it the “_Behemot Jobi_.”

The hippopotamus is generally distributed in the large rivers and lakes
of Africa, from the confines of the Cape Colony to about the 22d or 23d
degree of north latitude. It is found in none of the African rivers that
fall into the Mediterranean except the Nile, and in that part of it only
which runs through Upper Egypt, or in the fens and lakes of Ethiopia. It
is, however, receding fast before civilization. It inhabits both fresh
and salt water.

Formerly, there is every reason to believe it existed in parts of Asia;
but the species is now extinct on that continent.

There are said to be two species of hippopotami in Africa, namely, the
_hippopotamus amphibius_ and the _hippopotamus Liberiensis_, the latter
being described as very much the smaller of the two; but, to the best of
my belief, I never fell in with it.

The hippopotamus is a most singular-looking animal, and has not
inaptly been likened to a “form intermediate between an overgrown hog
and a high-fed bull without horns and with cropped cars.” It has an
immensely large head. Ray says the upper mandible is movable, as with
the crocodile. Each of its jaws is armed with two formidable tusks;
those in the lower, which are always the largest, attain, at times, two
feet in length. The inside of the mouth has been described by a recent
writer as resembling “a mass of butcher’s meat.” The eyes—which Captain
Harris likens “to the garret windows of a Dutch cottage”—the nostrils
and ears, are all placed nearly on the same plane, which allows the use
of three senses, and of respiration, with a very small portion of the
animal being exposed when it rises to the surface of the water. The size
of its body is not much inferior to that of the elephant, but its legs
are much shorter—so low, indeed, is the animal at times in the body that
the belly almost touches the ground. The hoofs are divided into four
parts, unconnected by membranes. The skin, which is of nearly an inch in
thickness, is destitute of covering, excepting a few scattered hairs on
the muzzle, edges of the ears, and tail. The color of the animal, when
on land, is of a purple brown; but when seen at the bottom of a pool it
appears altogether different, viz., of a dark blue, or, as Dr. Burchell
describes it, of a light hue of Indian ink.

When the hippopotamus is enraged, its appearance is most forbidding and
appalling, and I am not surprised to hear of people losing their presence
of mind on being suddenly brought into contact with the monster, whose
horrible jaws, when fully distended, afford ample _accommodation_ for a
man.[95]

The size of the _H. amphibius_ is enormous. The adult male attains a
length of eleven or twelve feet, the circumference of its body being
nearly the same. Its height, however, seldom much exceeds four and a half
feet. The female is a good deal smaller than the male, but in general
appearance the sexes are nearly alike.

The following dimensions of the female hippopotamus at the Zoological
Gardens, Regent’s Park, may enable those who are curious in the matter to
form some notion of the progressive growth of the animal—at least in a
state of confinement—when young:

             On its arrival, July 22, 1854.  At present, Jan., 1856.

    From nose to tip of tail  8 ft. 4 in.         10 ft.  1 in.
    Circumference of body     7     1              8      9
    Height at shoulder        3     5              3     10

The hippopotamus, when in the water—I won’t say its “native element,” for
it seems to belong as much to the land as the deeps—swims and dives like
a duck, and, considering its great bulk and unwieldiness of form, in a
manner perfectly astonishing. When on _terra firma_, however, what with
its dumpy legs and the weight they have to support, its progress is any
thing but rapid.

    “The hippopotamus, amidst the flood
    Flexile and active as the smallest swimmer,
    But on the bank ill-balanced and infirm.”

Even were the beast to charge—provided the locality was tolerably open—a
man would have no great difficulty in getting out of his way. It is
seldom met with at any considerable distance from water, for which it
instantly makes when disturbed.

The hippopotamus is an herbaceous animal. Its chief food, in the
selection of which it appears rather nice, consists of grass, young
reeds, and bulbous succulent roots.

When the hippopotamus is located near cultivated districts, it is
very destructive to plantations of rice and grain. Mr. Melly, in his
description of the Blue and White Nile, informs us that the inhabitants
of a certain island found themselves so plagued by these animals that
they were obliged to apply for troops to drive them away, which was
responded to by a hundred soldiers being dispatched in pursuit of the
marauders. Mr. Burckhardt, again, in his travels in Nubia, tells us
that in Dongola, the “barnick” (the Arabic name for hippopotamus) is a
dreadful torment on account of its voracity, and the want of means on
the part of the natives to destroy it. During the day it remains in the
water, but comes on shore at night, destroying as much by the treading of
its enormous feet as by its voracity.

The ravages of the hippopotamus would appear to be an old grievance, for
Sir Gardner Wilkinson, when speaking of the ancient Egyptians, says:
“Though not so hostile to man as the voracious crocodile, it was looked
upon as an enemy, which they willingly destroyed, since the ravages it
committed at night in the fields occasioned heavy losses to the farmer.”

Naturalists and others represent the hippopotamus as of a mild and
inoffensive disposition. It may be so in regions where it is unacquainted
with man; from the numerous unprovoked attacks made by these animals on
voyagers, and the very great dread entertained of them by the Bayeye,
who, so to say, live among them, I am inclined to believe they are not
quite such harmless animals as we are given to understand. In ascending
the Teoge, I saw comparatively little of them, and used almost to
ridicule the natives on account of the timidity they showed when these
beasts made their appearance. But on my return journey I very frequently
encountered the hippopotamus. More than once I narrowly escaped with
life, and found that the men had good reason to fear a contest with this
truly formidable animal.

In regions not much visited by the European hunter and his destructive
companion, the firelock, the hippopotamus appears as a comparatively
fearless animal, not unfrequently abiding the approach of man, whom he
apparently surveys with a curious and searching look, as much as to
say, “Why this intrusion upon my native haunts, which I have enjoyed in
undisturbed tranquillity from time immemorial?” But man is cruel, and by
his relentless persecutions a nature, once unsuspicious and confiding, is
soon changed to that of the most timid and circumspective, causing the
animal to take instant refuge in the water on hearing the least noise.

The sagacity of the hippopotamus is very considerable. Indeed, if we are
to credit the testimony of Plinius, the cunning and dexterity of this
beast is so great that, when pursued, he will walk backward in order to
mislead his enemies. “The habits of the animal,” says Dr. Andrew Smith,
“are opposed to our becoming intimately acquainted with it; yet, from
what has been noticed of its adroitness in guarding against assailants,
in avoiding pits dug purposely to entrap it, in conducting its young
both in and out of the water, and in migrating from localities which it
may have discovered are not to be longer held without serious danger to
others not exposed to such inconveniences—even though to reach those it
may require to make long journeys—are all evidences that it is far from
the stupid animal it has been frequently described.”

It is asserted that if a hippopotamus be shot dead just after calving,
the offspring will immediately make for the water, an element which it
has never yet seen!

Its memory is also considered good. “When once a hippopotamus,” says
the author just quoted, “has been assailed in its watery dwelling, and
injured from incautiously exposing itself, it will rarely be guilty of
the same indiscretion a second time; and though its haunts may not again
be approached by hunters till after a long period has elapsed, it will
survey such approaches, and perform the movements necessary for its
respiration with a degree of caution, which clearly shows that it has not
forgotten the misfortunes to which an opposite course had exposed it.”

The hippopotamus is gregarious, and is usually found in troops of from
five or six, to as many as twenty or thirty. It is amusing to watch these
animals when congregated; to see them alternately rising and sinking,
as if impelled by some invisible agency, in the while snorting most
tremendously, and blowing the water in every direction. At others, they
will remain perfectly motionless near the surface, with the whole or
part of their heads protruding. In this position they look, at a little
distance, like so many rocks.

The hippopotamus is a nocturnal animal, and seldom or never feeds except
during the night. He usually passes most part of the day in the water,
but it is somewhat doubtful if this be not rather from necessity than
choice. Indeed, in more secluded localities, one most commonly sees it
reclining in some retired spot: “He lieth under the shady trees, in
the covert of the reeds and fens. The shady trees cover him with their
shadows, the willows of the brook compass him about.” Or it may be under
shelter of an overhanging dry bank; or, at least, with its body partially
out of the water. I have not unfrequently found the animal in this
situation, and once shot an immense fellow while fast asleep, with his
head resting on the bank of the river.

When, from fear of enemies, the hippopotamus is compelled to remain in
the water throughout the day, it takes the shore on the approach of
night in order to feed. Just as it emerges into the shallows, it has
the peculiar habit of performing some of the functions of nature, during
which it keeps rapidly thumping the surface of the water with its stumpy
tail, thereby creating a very great noise. I have known from twenty to
thirty hippopotami thus occupied at once; and, to add to the din, they
would at the same time grunt and bellow to such a degree as to deprive
our party of the rest that exhausted nature but too much needed.

During the nocturnal excursions of the hippopotamus on land, it wanders
at times to some distance from the water. On one occasion the animal took
us by surprise, for, without the slightest warning, it suddenly protruded
its enormous head within a few feet of our bivouac, causing every man to
start to his feet with the greatest precipitation, some of us, in the
confusion, rushing into the fire and upsetting the pots containing our
evening meal.

The hippopotamus would seem to be easily domesticated. We may judge
so, at least, from the fine specimens now in the Zoological Gardens,
Regent’s Park, which are as manageable as most of the larger animals
of that magnificent establishment. Though these are the first living
specimens that ever found their way into England, the ancient Romans
(who, during their conquests in Northern Africa, became acquainted with
the hippopotamus) held them in captivity. This may be safely inferred;
for “on a medal of the Emperor Philip, or rather of his Queen Otacilla
Severa is (as seen in the adjoining wood-cut) a very striking likeness
of a young, and, perhaps, hungry hippopotamus, designed by some Wyon of
the day. This is, perhaps, the earliest _good_ figure of the creature;
and its representation on such a place shows in what estimation, as a
novelty, it was held.”

[Illustration: MEDAL.]

For the information of the curious in these matters, I may mention
that the food of the _larger_ of the hippopotami now in the Regent’s
Park Gardens, when first shipped at Alexandria in 1850, and when yet
comparatively a “baby,” consisted of the milk of two cows and three
goats. This quantity, however, until supplemented with Indian corn-meal,
was found insufficient to satisfy his voracity. On his arrival at the
gardens, “oatmeal was substituted for Indian corn; and the change,
with an extra supply of milk, seemed to give the gigantic infant great
satisfaction.” By degrees, vegetable diet was supplied instead of milk;
and at the present day the animal is fed on clover, hay, corn, chaff,
bran, mangle-wurzel, carrots, and white cabbage. The three last-named
vegetables constitute his most favorite food. On this (1 cwt. being his
daily allowance) he thrives wonderfully, a proof of which is, that since
his arrival (he then weighed about one thousand pounds) he has increased
more than a ton in weight.

The flesh of the hippopotamus is highly esteemed, and with justice,
for it is very palatable. The tongue is reckoned a delicacy, and the
fat (“speck,” as it is termed by the colonists) is very excellent, and
forms a capital substitute for butter. In general, both flesh and fat of
wild animals have a peculiar and often strong flavor, but that of the
hippopotamus is an exception.

The hide is also in much request, and forms no mean article of commerce
in the Cape Colony. As already mentioned, it is chiefly converted
into “shamboks.” In Northern Africa the hide is used as whips for the
dromedary, as also for punishing refractory servants. The ancient
Egyptians employed it largely in the manufacture of shields, helmets,
javelins, &c.

But the most valuable part of the hippopotamus is its teeth (canine and
incisors), which are considered greatly superior to elephant ivory, and
when perfect, and weighty—say from five to eight pounds each—have been
known to fetch as much as one guinea per pound. It is chiefly used for
artificial teeth, for which purpose it is particularly well adapted,
since it does not readily turn yellow, as is frequently the case with
elephant ivory; as also for instruments, knife-handles, and a variety of
other purposes.

Medicinal virtues are attributed to certain parts of the body of the
hippopotamus. According to Thunberg, the _processus mamillaris_ of this
animal is an effectual remedy for the stone and gravel, and “the fat,”
says Kolben, “is reckoned an excellent thing against a surfeit and a
redundancy of humors in the body.”




CHAPTER XLI.

    The Bayeye harpoon the Hippopotamus.—The Harpoon described.—How
    the Chase of the Hippopotamus is conducted by the Bayeye.—How
    it was conducted by the ancient Egyptians.—The Spear used by
    them.—Ferocity of the Hippopotamus.—Killed by Guns.—Frightful
    Accident.—The Downfall.


On the Teoge, and other rivers to the northward of Ngami, the natives are
accustomed to harpoon the hippopotamus in a somewhat similar manner as
that practiced with the whale. I will endeavor to describe the process,
which, singularly enough, has never, to my knowledge, been done by any
traveler.

The harpoon (of iron), A, is, as seen in the following diagram, short and
strong, and provided with a single barb, B. The shaft, or handle, C C,
consists of a stout pole, from ten to twelve feet in length, by three or
four inches in thickness. At the inner end of the shaft, C C, is a socket
for the reception of the harpoon, A, which is farther secured to the
shaft (at about one third from the socket) by a number of small cords, E
E.[96] These cords, when the animal is struck, and a strain consequently
comes upon them, relax, so as to allow the harpoon to slip out of the
socket, though, of course, it still remains attached to the shaft. To
the other extremity of the handle is fixed the harpoon-line, F, which is
strong, and of considerable length, and to the end of this a “float” or
“buoy,” G.

[Illustration: HIPPOPOTAMUS HARPOON.]

From the weight of the shaft the harpoon is seldom or never hurled at
the hippopotamus, but is held by the harpooner, who drives it either
vertically or obliquely into the body of the animal.

Sometimes the chase is conducted with canoes alone; at others in
connection with a “reed-raft,” similarly constructed to that recently
described. We will suppose the latter plan is adopted. At the appointed
time the men assemble at the rendezvous, and after every thing has been
duly arranged, and the canoes needed for the prosecution of the hunt
drawn up on the raft, the latter is pushed from the shore, and afterward
abandoned entirely to the stream, which propels the unwieldy mass gently
and noiselessly forward.

Hippopotami are not found in all parts of the river, but only in certain
localities. On approaching their favorite haunts, the natives keep a very
sharp look-out for the animals, whose presence is often known by their
snorts and grunts, while splashing and blowing in the water, or (should
there be no interruption to the view) by the ripple on the surface, long
before they are actually seen.

[Illustration: THE REED-RAFT AND HARPOONERS.]

As soon as the position of the hippopotami is ascertained, one or more
of the most skillful and intrepid of the hunters stand prepared with
the harpoons, while the rest make ready to launch the canoes, should
the attack prove successful. The bustle and noise caused by these
preparations gradually subside. Conversation is carried on in a whisper,
and every one is on the _qui vive_. The snorting and plunging become
every moment more distinct; but a bend in the stream still hides the
animals from view. The angle being passed, several dark objects are
seen floating listlessly on the water, looking more like the crests of
sunken rocks than living creatures. Ever and anon, one or other of the
shapeless masses is submerged, but soon again makes its appearance on the
surface. On, on glides the raft with its sable crew, who are now worked
up to the highest state of excitement. At last the raft is in the midst
of the herd, who appear quite unconscious of danger. Presently one of
the animals is in immediate contact with the raft. Now is the critical
moment. The foremost harpooner raises himself to his full height to
give the greater force to the blow, and the next instant the fatal iron
descends with unerring accuracy in the body of the hippopotamus.

The wounded animal plunges violently and dives to the bottom, but all his
efforts to escape are unavailing. The line or the shaft of the harpoon
may break, but the cruel barb once imbedded in the flesh, the weapon
(owing to the thickness and toughness of the beast’s hide) can not be
withdrawn.

As soon as the hippopotamus is struck, one or more of the men launch a
canoe from off the raft, and hasten to the shore with the harpoon-line,
and take a “round turn” with it about a tree or bunch of reeds, so that
the animal may either be “brought up” at once, or, should there be too
great a strain on the line, “played” (to liken small things to great)
in the same manner as the salmon by the fisherman. But if time should
not admit of the line being passed around a tree, or the like, both line
and “buoy” are thrown into the water, and the animal goes wheresoever he
chooses.

The rest of the canoes are now all launched from off the raft, and chase
is given to the poor brute, who, so soon as he comes to the surface
to breathe, is saluted with a shower of light javelins, of which the
following wood-cut is a sample. Again he descends, his track deeply
crimsoned with gore. Presently, and perhaps at some little distance, he
once more appears on the surface, when, as before, missiles of all kinds
are hurled at his devoted head.

[Illustration: THE SPEAR.]

When thus beset, the infuriated beast not unfrequently turns upon his
assailants, and, either with his formidable tusks, or with a blow from
his enormous head, staves in or capsizes the canoes. At times, indeed,
not satisfied with wreaking his vengeance on the craft, he will attack
one or other of the crew, and, with a single grasp of his horrid jaws,
either terribly mutilates the poor fellow, or, it may be, cuts his body
fairly in two!

The chase often lasts a considerable time. So long as the line and the
harpoon hold, the animal can not escape, because the “buoy” always marks
his whereabout. At length, from loss of blood or exhaustion, Behemoth
succumbs to his pursuers.

It is a remarkable fact that almost the same method of securing
the hippopotamus as that just described was adopted by the ancient
Egyptians.[97]

“The hippopotamus,” says Diodorus, “is chased by many persons, each armed
with iron javelins. As soon as it makes its appearance at the surface of
the water, they surround it with boats, and, closing in on all sides,
they wound it with blades furnished with iron barbs, and having hempen
ropes fastened to them, in order that, when wounded, it may be let out
until its strength fails it from loss of blood.”

The many drawings relating to the chase, &c., of the hippopotamus to
be found on the sculptures and monuments of Thebes would seem to prove
that the ancient Egyptians greatly delighted in this kind of sport.
One of these representations is shown on the following page, and has
been borrowed from that valuable work, “The Manners and Customs of the
Ancient Egyptians,” by Sir Gardner Wilkinson, who thus explains the very
interesting illustration.

“The chasseur is here in the act of throwing the spear at the
hippopotamus, which he has already wounded with three other blades,
indicated by the ropes he holds in his left hand; and having pulled the
animal toward the surface of the water, an attendant endeavors to throw
a noose over its head as he strikes it for the fourth time. Behind him
is his son holding a fresh spear in readiness; and in order that there
should be no question about the ropes belonging to the blades, the fourth
is seen to extend from his hand to the shaft of the spear he is throwing.
The upupa, heron, and other birds are frightened from the rushes as the
boat approaches; and the fish, with a young hippopotamus, seen at the
bottom of the water, are intended to show the communication of the fenny
lake with the Nile.”

[Illustration]

“The spear they used on these occasions was evidently of a different
construction from that intended for ordinary purposes, and was
furnished, as Diodorus observes, with a rope for letting out the wounded
animal, in the same manner as practiced by the modern Ethiopians;[98]
there was sometimes another line fastened to the shaft, and passing over
a notch at its upper end, which was probably intended to give the weapon
a great impetus, as well as to retain the shaft when it left the blade.
The rope attached to the blade was wound upon a reel, generally carried
by some of the attendants. It was of very simple construction, consisting
of a half ring of metal, by which it was held, and a bar turning on it,
on which the line or string was wound.”

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Again: “This weapon,” alluding to the harpoon, “consisted of a broad,
flat blade, furnished with a deep tooth or barb at the side, having a
strong rope of considerable length attached to its upper end, and running
over the notched summit of a wooden shaft, which was inserted into the
head or blade like a common javelin. It was thrown in the same manner,
but, on striking, the shaft fell, and the iron head alone remained in the
body of the animal, which, on receiving a wound, plunged into deep water,
the rope having been immediately let out. When fatigued by exertion, the
hippopotamus was dragged to the boat, from which it again plunged, and
the same was repeated till it became perfectly exhausted, frequently
receiving additional wounds, and being entangled by other nooses, which
the attendants held in readiness as it was brought within their reach.”

To return: If the hippopotamus hunt, as just described by me, was
conducted altogether from the reed-raft, one’s personal safety would be
little, or not at all, endangered; for, on account of the great size,
buoyancy, and elasticity of the raft, the animal, however wickedly
inclined, could neither “board” nor capsize it. But when one pursues
him in a canoe—though far the most exciting way—the peril, as shown, is
considerable. One morning, when descending the Teoge, we met a party
of hippopotami hunters, one of whose canoes had been upset by one of
those animals, whereby the life of a man was sacrificed. Indeed, similar
mishaps are of constant occurrence on that river.

Our own safety, moreover, was considerably jeopardized by a hippopotamus.
One afternoon, about an hour before sunset, I sent a canoe, with several
men, in advance, to look out for a bivouac for the night, and to collect
fuel. They were scarcely out of sight when an immense hippopotamus, with
its calf, rushed out from among the reeds, where she had been concealed,
and, passing under our raft, almost immediately afterward made her
appearance on the surface of the water. Upon seeing this, I lost no time
in firing, but, though to all appearance mortally wounded, we lost sight
of her at the time. A few minutes afterward, however, on coming to a bend
of the river, we fell in with the canoe that had been sent on, bottom
uppermost, and found, to our great consternation, that the wounded beast,
in going down the stream, had caught sight of the canoe, and, instantly
attacking it, had, with one blow of her head, capsized it. The men saved
themselves by swimming, but all the loose articles were either lost or
spoiled by the water. Fortunately for me, however, I had taken the advice
of the Bayeye to remove the most valuable of my things, such as books,
instruments, &c., to the raft previous to the canoe leaving.

Innumerable instances, showing the ferocity of the hippopotamus, are
on record. “Lieutenant Vidal,” says Captain Owen, in his Narrative of
Voyages, and when speaking of the River Temby, “had just commenced
ascending this stream in his boat, when suddenly a violent shock was
felt from underneath, and in another moment a monstrous hippopotamus
reared itself up from the water, and, in a most ferocious and menacing
attitude, rushed, open-mouthed, at the boat, and, with one grasp of its
tremendous jaws, seized and tore seven planks from her side; the creature
disappeared for a few seconds, and then rose again, apparently intending
to renew the attack, but was fortunately deterred by the contents of
a musket discharged in its face. The boat rapidly filled, but, as she
was not more than an oar’s length from the shore, the crew succeeded in
reaching it before she sank. The keel, in all probability, touched the
back of the animal, which, irritating him, occasioned the furious attack;
and had he got his upper jaw above the gunwale, the whole broadside must
have been torn out. The force of the shock from beneath, previously
to the attack, was so violent that her stern was almost lifted out of
the water, when the midshipman steering was thrown overboard, but,
fortunately, rescued before the irritated animal could seize him.”

In justice, however, to the poor hippopotamus, who, in these parts,
has already earned for itself a sufficiently bad name for ferocity,
one must not attribute the whole of the casualties that occur on the
Teoge to _willful_ attacks on the part of the animal; for, owing to the
narrowness of the stream, it doubtless, at times, happens that, on coming
to the surface to breathe, it accidentally encounters a canoe, and in its
fright, or, it may be, in playful frolic, upsets it.

The colonists, and others who are possessed of guns, most commonly
shoot the animal from the shore; and this is not a matter of any great
difficulty, for when it comes to the surface, either to breathe or for
amusement, “a single shot through, or under the ear,” as Captain Harris
truly says, “is fatal to the Behemoth.” If there are several “gunners,”
and they station themselves on the opposite sides of the pool where the
hippopotami are congregated (in which case the animals, when rising to
the surface, invariably come within range of one or other of the party),
great slaughter may be committed.

Should the hippopotamus be killed outright, it usually sinks, but in
about half a day reappears at the surface; and, in order eventually to
secure the carcass, it is only necessary to keep a sharp look-out in the
stream below.

Shooting the hippopotamus from the shore is attended with but little
danger. Accidents, however, do at times occur.

“A native,” says Mr. Moffat, “with his boy, went to the river to hunt
sea-cows. Seeing one at a short distance below an island, the man passed
through a narrow stream to get nearer to the object of his pursuit. He
fired, but missed, when the animal immediately made for the island. The
man, seeing his danger, ran to cross to the opposite bank of the river;
but, before reaching it, the sea-cow seized him, and literally severed
his body in two with his monstrous jaws.”

[Illustration: THE DOWNFALL.]

Various devices are resorted to by the natives of Southern Africa to
destroy the hippopotamus. At times he is entrapped in pitfalls; but
the most ingenious plan, and which will be readily understood by the
preceding wood-cut, is by means of the downfall, which the natives would
seem to practice with considerable success.

A is Behemoth; B, a downfall, consisting of a log of wood; C C, stones
attached to the downfall to increase its weight; D, the harpoon affixed
to the lower end of the downfall; E, a tree, or, in lieu of it, an
artificial support of about twenty-five feet in height; F F, a line
attached to the downfall, which, after having been passed over a branch
of the tree or artificial support, crosses horizontally the pathway that
the hippopotamus is in the habit of frequenting during his nocturnal
rambles. When the animal (which, from the shortness of his legs, lifts
his feet but little from the ground) comes in contact with the line,
secured on either side of the path by a small peg, it at once snaps, or
is disengaged by means of a trigger. The liberated downfall instantly
descends, and the harpoon is driven deep into the back of the beast,
who, wounded and bloody, rushes with pain and fury to the nearest water,
where he shortly dies. His death is sometimes hastened by the iron being
poisoned.




CHAPTER XLII.

    Return to the Lake.—The Author starts for Namaqua-land to
    procure Wagons.—Night Adventure with a Lion.—Death of the
    Beast.—Sufferings of the Author.


After about a month’s absence, I returned in safety to the Lake, and
was delighted to find that affairs were going on prosperously at my
camp. My men, however, complained much of the begging and pilfering of
the natives. They had also been greatly annoyed by Lecholètébè, who was
one of the first persons I encountered on my arrival. I had long been
puzzling my brains how I could most effectually pay off the chief for
his treachery, and had resolved to assume an angry and dissatisfied air;
but a glance at his smooth, sly, smiling face was sufficient to mollify
every feeling of resentment; and when, with the most innocent look, he
inquired if I had seen Libèbé, and if I felt satisfied with the trip
in general, my anger was turned into mirth, and I burst into a hearty
laugh. This was all my cunning friend wanted: he seemed like one resting
completely on a profound sense of his own merits, and waiting to receive
the thanks and praises which he felt to be his due.

When stopped so unexpectedly in my exploring career by the artifices of
Lecholètébè, I made up my mind to return forthwith to the Cape, partly
for the purpose of obtaining a fresh outfit, and partly to procure boats
suitable to navigate the Ngami and its water-sheds, and then return to
the Lake to follow up my discoveries. But it was not to be.

As the reader will probably remember, I reached the Ngami by means of
pack-and-ride oxen; but I had found this mode of traveling so exceedingly
inconvenient that I almost dreaded a renewal of it. Moreover, my
collection of ivory, specimens of natural history, curiosities, &c., had
by this time so increased that I found my few remaining half-broken-in
cattle altogether inadequate to the task of conveying me and my stores to
the Cape. A wagon had become absolutely necessary, and the only possible
way of obtaining one was to return to Namaqua-land, where, should my man
Eyebrecht not have such a vehicle at my disposal, I was in hope of being
able to borrow one from the natives. To insure dispatch, although I stood
sadly in need of rest and quiet, I determined on undertaking the journey.

After about a week’s stay at Batoana-town, I set out for Namaqua-land
on the 10th of September, accompanied by only one man, leaving Timbo in
charge of the camp in my absence.

Before I returned to the Lake, and was fairly on my way home, four
months had elapsed; but, though this portion of my travels was not devoid
of interest, the volume has already swelled to such a bulk that I must
content myself with relating merely one striking incident that befell me,
and a few general remarks.

Journeying in a very lonely part of the country, and only accompanied by
a single native, I arrived one day at a fountain, situated in a defile
between some craggy rocks. The water issued from different parts among
these cliffs, forming little pools here and there; and though the place
was difficult of access, elephants and other large game were in the habit
of flocking to the water nightly. As the stony nature of the ground
afforded excellent “ambuscades,” and being much in want of provision, I
determined to watch the pools in question for a night or two.

The first night was a failure, but in the second I succeeded in killing
a white rhinoceros. After this, though I watched long and well, nothing
appeared, and at last sleep overtook me. How long I slumbered I know
not; but on a sudden I thought, or dreamed, that I was in danger. From
much night-watching, my hearing and sight had gradually acquired such an
acuteness that even in sleep I was able to retain a certain consciousness
of what was passing around me, and it is probable that I was indebted to
this remarkable faculty for the preservation of my life on the present
occasion. At first I could not divest myself of fear, and for a while my
senses were too confused to enable me to form any accurate notion of the
imagined danger. Gradually, however, consciousness returned, and I could
distinctly hear the breathing of an animal close to my face, accompanied
by a purr like that of a cat. I knew that only one animal existed in
_these parts_ capable of producing the sound, and at once I came to the
conclusion that a lion was actually stooping over me.

If a man had ever cause for dread, I think I certainly had on this
occasion. I became seriously alarmed. My first impulse was to get hold
of my gun, which was lying ready cocked immediately before me, and the
next to raise myself partially from my reclining position. In doing so,
I made as little noise as possible; but, slight though it might be, it
was sufficient to attract the notice of the beast, who uttered a gruff
kind of growl, too well known to be misunderstood. Following with my
eyes the direction of the sound, I endeavored to discover the lion, but
could only make out a large dark mass looming through the night-mist.
Scarcely knowing what I was about, I instinctively leveled my gun at the
beast. My finger was on the trigger; for a moment I hesitated; but, by
a sudden impulse, pulled it, and the next instant the surrounding rocks
rang with the report, followed by roarings from the beast, as if in the
agonies of death. Well knowing what a wounded lion is capable of, and how
utterly helpless I was, I regretted my rashness. The wounded beast, who
at times seemed to be within a few paces of the “skärm,” and at others at
some little distance, was rolling on the ground, and tearing it up, in
convulsive agonies. How long this struggle between life and death lasted
is hard to say, but to me it appeared an age. Gradually, however, and to
my great relief, his roars and moans subsided, and after a while ceased
altogether.

Dawn at length appeared; but it was not until after some time, and
then with much caution, that I ventured to ascertain the fate of the
lion, whom, to my great satisfaction, I found dead within fifty yards
of my place of concealment. The beast was of an average size, but,
unfortunately, the hyænas and jackals had played sad havoc with his skin.

Some time previously, my men, Eyebrecht and Klaas Zaal, had also shot
a lion in this identical spot; but, owing to his fearful growls while
dying, they thought it best to decamp at once without ascertaining his
fate.

During the four months that I was absent from my men, I traveled,
either alone or accompanied by a single native, sometimes on foot,
and at others on horseback or ox-back, over upward of a thousand miles
of country, parts of it emulating the Sahara in scarcity of water and
general inhospitality. Tongue is too feeble to express what I suffered at
times. To say nothing of narrow escapes from lions and other dangerous
beasts, I was constantly enduring the cravings of hunger and the agonies
of thirst. Occasionally I was as much as two days without tasting food;
and it not unfrequently happened that in the course of the twenty-four
hours I could only once or twice moisten my parched lips. Sometimes I was
so overcome by these causes, coupled with bodily fatigue, that I fainted.
Once both my steed and myself (as seen in the sketch below) dropped down
in the midst of a sand-plain, where we remained a long time in a state
bordering on unconsciousness, and exposed to all the injurious effects
of a tropical sun. I would at times pursue my course with a pained and
listless step, scarcely knowing what I was about, and staggering like a
drunken man. “This,” says Captain Messum, when speaking of the hardships
he had undergone in a short tour into the interior of the West Coast,
“was the pleasure of traveling in Africa. It requires the endurance of a
camel and the courage of a lion.”

[Illustration: AUTHOR AND STEED BROKEN DOWN.]

[Illustration: SIGNAL STATION AT CAPE-TOWN.]




FOOTNOTES


[1] It will doubtless be remembered that, in a gale of wind off the
British coast, the _Dalhousie_ was thrown on her beam-ends, and foundered
in half an hour afterward, when, with a single exception, every soul on
board perished. Out of the several vessels in which I have at different
times been a passenger, the _Dalhousie_ is the third that has perished
shortly after my leaving her!

[2] The term “cart,” in this sense, implies a large, roomy, and _covered_
vehicle, capable of holding four or six individuals, and from five
hundred to one thousand pounds of baggage. It is usually drawn by six or
eight mules or horses.

[3] When a bush-tick is found attached to any part of the body of a man,
the simplest and the most effectual way of getting rid of it, without
any disagreeable result, is to anoint the place to which the insect has
fixed itself with pipe oil. In cases of brute animals, I have found tar
to answer the purpose exceedingly well.

[4] I have seen the white Egyptian vulture feed upon it! This is, I
believe, with one more exception, the only instance where this class of
birds are known to partake of vegetable food.

[5] The southern limit of Great Namaqua-land is, at the present moment,
the Orange River. To the north it is bounded by Damara-land, or by about
the twenty-second degree of south latitude.

[6] To prevent confusion, when speaking hereafter of these people, I
shall simply call them Damaras, in contradistinction to the Hill-Damaras,
who are a totally different race of natives.

[7] A similar notion prevails with regard to that most curious
little animal, the lemming (_lemmus norvegicus_, Worm.), on whose
mysterious appearance and disappearance so many hypotheses have been
unsatisfactorily expended. See Lloyd’s “Scandinavian Adventures,” vol.
ii., chap. v.

[8] His hunting dress on these occasions consisted simply of a thick,
coarse blue shirt or blouse, secured by a belt round his waist,
containing his balls, caps, wadding, &c.

[9] Most animals, when shot or otherwise killed, fall on their sides; but
the rhinoceros is often an exception to this rule: at least such is my
experience. In nine cases out of ten, of all those I have killed during
my wanderings in Africa—and they amount to upward of _one hundred_—I
found them on their _knees_, with the fore parts of their ponderous heads
resting on the ground.

[10] The “shambok” (a Dutch term) consists of a strip of the stoutest
part of the hide of the rhinoceros or the hippopotamus. After being
stretched on the ground, and when it has acquired a certain stiffness,
the strip is subjected to a severe hammering, for the double purpose
of condensing it and giving it a rounded shape. It is then reduced to
the desired size by means of a knife or plane; and, lastly, a piece of
sand-paper, or glass, if at hand, is employed to give it the finishing
smoothness and polish. The “shambok” is exceedingly tough and pliable,
will inflict the most severe wounds and bruises, and will last for years.
The price of one of these “whips,” in the colony, varies from eighteen
pence to as much as nine or ten shillings.

[11] The proper name of these people is _Haukoin_, which literally means
“real men.” By the Namaquas they are styled _Ghou-Damop_ or _Daman_—a
term not sufficiently decorous for translation. The name Hill-Damaras is
that by which they are best known, and, being really very appropriate to
their habits and mode of living, I shall retain it throughout the course
of this narrative.

[12] In the nights the Damaras invariably carry a fire-brand, which they
hold close to their bodies, in order to shelter themselves, in some
degree, from the wind and cold.

[13] I have since had frequent opportunities of hearing the dying
groans of the zebra, which in reality greatly resemble the faint gasps
and ejaculations of a drowning man. Even the subdued neighings of this
animal, when heard from a distance, are of a very melancholy nature.

[14] I have been told that on a similar occasion to the present, a lion
was so injured by the flaming missiles thrown at him, that he was found
shortly afterward dead of his wounds.

[15] Captain Sturt, who in his explorations in Australia seems to have
experienced the same heat in even a greater degree, says,

“The mean of the thermometer for the months of December, January, and
February had been 101, 104, and 105 degrees respectively, in the shade.
Under its effects, every screw in our boxes had been drawn, and the horn
handles of our instruments, as well as our combs, were split into fine
laminæ. The lead dropped out of our pencils, and our signal rockets were
entirely spoiled; our hair, as well as the wool on the sheep, ceased to
grow, and our nails had become brittle as glass. The flour lost more than
eight per cent. of its original weight, and the other provisions in still
greater proportion.” In another part of his narrative, this enterprising
explorer mentions the quicksilver once to have risen to 132 degrees in
the shade, the thermometer being placed in the fork of a tree, five feet
from the ground!

[16] “The black, or rock scorpion,” says Lieutenant Patterson, “is nearly
as venomous as any of the serpent tribe. A farmer, who resided at a place
called the Paarle, near the Cape, was stung by one in the foot during my
stay in the country, and died in a few hours.”

[17] A bottle of any kind, filled with milk, and with a quill (enveloped
in linen) inserted in the cork.

[18] For a detailed account of this curious and interesting insect, see
Mr. Westwood (_British Cyclopædia_); Mr. Savage (_Annals of Natural
History_, vol. v., p. 92), &c.

[19] This surpasses the graphic answer given to Björn Jernsida (the bear
ironside), a famous Swedish sea-king. When on his way to plunder Rome,
he inquired of a wayfaring man what the distance might be. “Look at
these shoes!” said the traveler, holding up a pair of worn-out iron-shod
sandals; “when I left the place you inquire for, they were new; judge,
then, for yourself.”

[20] Previously to my leaving Africa, I learned that the entire tribe had
been broken up.

[21] Omuramba, in the Damara language, signifies a water-course, in the
bed of which both _grass_ and _water_ is to be had.

[22] On his return to England Mr. Galton presented the Kew Gardens with
specimens of the fruit, but I am told that every effort to raise plants
from it proved abortive.

[23] The beautiful drawing from which the above wood-cut is taken was
kindly placed at my disposal by my esteemed and accomplished friend Major
Garden. It represents the species of fan-palm or vegetable ivory-palm
found about Natal, and seems in general appearance to correspond with the
kind observed by ourselves. In size, however, it is very inferior, for,
according to the major’s estimate, it does not much exceed fifteen feet
in height, while the tree of the parts of which I am now speaking not
unfrequently attains to the altitude of from thirty to fifty feet, and
even more.

[24] These trees consisted chiefly of what in the Cape Colony is termed
_Stink-hout_, or stink-wood. It derives its peculiar name from an
offensive odor that it exhales, and which it retains until thoroughly
seasoned. In the grain and the shading it somewhat resembles walnut, but
in external appearance approaches the oak. Indeed, if I am not mistaken,
botanists have described it as _quercus Africana_, in which case I
believe it to be the only species of that kind known to be indigenous to
the African continent. I am told it is by far the best wood in Southern
Africa, and seems well adapted for various purposes, such as wagons,
gun-stocks, ship-building, &c.

[25] Shortly before reaching “Baboon Fountain” I should remark that, at
a place called Orujo, we saw a cavity of a similar shape, though on an
infinitely smaller scale. It consisted of a circular-shaped basin in the
limestone rock ninety feet in diameter by thirty in depth. As it was
dry at the time, we ascertained that the bottom was flat, or nearly so.
In various other places we also met with similar basins, but on a still
smaller scale than Orujo.

[26] In speaking of the Matabili, Captain Harris says, “To be fat is the
greatest of all crimes, no person being allowed that privilege but the
king.” Here, then, we have a new kind of _lèse-majesté_. According to
some of the African tribes, _obesity_ in plebeians is _high-treason_!

[27] These ornaments, together with a narrow and soft piece of skin in
front, and another behind of stout hide, constitute the _dress_ of the
Ovambo _ladies_.

[28] The above wood-cut is a view of the country near Nangoro’s
residence. The huts in the distance are those of Bushmen. A great number
of these people dwell among the Ovambo, to whom they stand in a kind of
vassalage and relationship.

[29] Captain Messum, master of a merchant vessel, subsequently informed
me that he has seen it.

[30] The plate facing the page represents two lions observing me, while
the lioness, not yet aware of my presence, is still eagerly pushing on
toward the intended victims.

[31] In my journey to the Lake Ngami at an after period, I observed
whole forests of a species of tree called Omumborombonga, the supposed
progenitor of the Damaras. This fact, coupled with our knowledge that all
the tribes to the north are more or less conversant with agriculture,
of which the Damaras know nothing (having no word in their language
for cereal food), and that many of the nations to the east are partly
pastoral, would seem to indicate a northeast or east direction as their
original home.

[32] His father, Christian Afrikaner, once lived within the present
boundary of the Cape Colony; but his brother having killed a Dutch
farmer, from whom the tribe is said to have suffered much wrong, he and
his kindred were obliged to fly the country. He then settled on the banks
of the Garib or Orange River, where he soon became famous for his daring
and ferocious exploits against his neighbors. In this state of things he
was found by the Rev. Mr. Moffat, well known for his missionary labors in
Southern Africa, who, after having experienced much opposition, finally
succeeded in converting him to Christianity. At his death the present
Jonker Afrikaner, though an elder brother was still living, assumed
the chieftainship, which occasioned a division in the tribe, and was,
moreover, the original cause of their migration northward.

[33] Some Damaras attribute the origin of the sheep to a large stone.

[34] The grain of this tree is so very close, and the wood so exceedingly
weighty, that we gave it the name of the “iron tree.”

[35] I am told that this is not unfrequently done before life is quite
extinct! It is moreover affirmed, that when the sick man begins to
breathe hard a skin is immediately thrown over his face, which, no doubt,
often causes premature death.

[36] Each caste has a particular tree or shrub consecrated to it. Of this
shrub, a couple of twigs or sticks represent the deceased.

[37] When we thus shot at night, we generally ensconced ourselves in
a “skärm,” that is, a small circular inclosure six or eight feet in
diameter, the walls (usually consisting of loose stones) being about two
feet in height.

[38] A copper-cap box, for the information of my female readers, is about
the size of a pill-box.

[39] The wood-cut on the preceding page is a faithful representation of
the chase described, which took place shortly before sunset.

[40] At the Zoological Gardens, Regent’s Park, where at this moment
several of these birds are alive, the ostrich is fed on a mixture of
oats, barley, chaff, and cabbage, of which the respective quantities are
as follows: oats, one pint; barley, one pint; chaff, half a gallon; and
cabbage, four pounds.

[41] Apicius gives a recipe for the best sauce.

[42] The Romans, as is well known, also introduced large numbers of
ostriches into the circus, where they were butchered by the people. We
are told that no less than one thousand of these splendid creatures
(together with an equal number of the stag, the fallow deer, and the boar
tribe) were on one occasion brutally sacrificed to gratify the insatiable
thirst for blood of the Roman populace.

[43] The plumes, together with the eggs, of the ostrich, are said to have
been held in much request with the ancient Egyptians. Indeed, they formed
part of the tribute imposed on those of the conquered nations in whose
country the bird abounded, and appear to have been used for ornaments
as well as for religious purposes. “The ostrich feather was a symbol of
the Goddess of Truth or Justice. It belonged also to the head-dress of
Ao, was adopted by Hermes Trismegistus, and worn by the soldiery and the
priests on certain religious festivals.” “In Turkey, the janizary who
signalized himself in arms had the privilege of empluming his turban, and
in the kingdom of Congo the feathers, mixed with those of the peacock,
are employed as the ensigns of war and victory.”

[44] Such feathers as have been plucked from the wings of the living bird
are said to be preferable to those obtained from the dead ostrich, as
being less liable to the attack of worms.

[45] “The Boke of Philip Sparrow.”

[46] Among the people of Persia and Arabia the vulgar belief is said to
exist “that the _shutur-moorg_ (the camel-bird) is produced by the union
of a camel with a bird!”

[47] “When slain, the throat is opened, and a ligature being passed
below the incision, several of the hunters raise the bird by the head
and feet, and shake and drag him about until they obtain from the
aperture nearly twenty pounds of a substance of mingled blood and fat,
of the consistence of coagulated oil, which, under the denomination of
_manteque_, is employed in the preparation of dishes and the cure of
various maladies.”—_Harris’s Wild Sports._

[48] Several well-known Australian explorers make mention of similar
occurrences with this identical bird. I have also heard that in India
it is no unusual thing to see hawks snatch the food from a person as he
travels along.

[49] _Oryx capensis_, _oryx beisa_, and _oryx leucoryx_.

[50] The numerous engravings of the leucoryx on the sculptures of
Egypt clearly indicate that this animal was well known to the nations
inhabiting the valley of the Nile. It was chosen as an emblem, but
whether as a good or evil symbol is uncertain, though some modern writers
seem in favor of the former opinion. The wealthy Egyptians kept a great
number of this antelope in a tame state, but it does not appear to
have been considered a sacred animal. Indeed, it was indiscriminately
sacrificed to the gods, and slaughtered for the table.

[51] It is possible that heralds became acquainted with this animal,
or at least with the leucoryx, through the Crusaders. Or perhaps the
knowledge was obtained from the Romans, who, according to Martial, had
the oryx at their games.

[52] For some curious remarks on the unicorn, see Barrow, vol. ii., p.
269, _et seq._

[53] Mr. Lichtenstein, when speaking of the Bushmen dogs, which may
be considered identical with those of the Hottentots, thus writes:
“These dogs, in their size and form, have a striking resemblance to the
black-backed fox of Southern Africa, the jackal, as he is falsely called,
_canis mesomelas_; so that it seems very probable that the one is really
a descendant from the other, only that the properties of the animal are,
in the course of time, somewhat changed, from its having been tamed and
trained by the hand of man.”

[54] Barrow, who wrote about this period, and who gives a remarkable
account of the devastations of these insects, probably alludes to this
very circumstance when he says,

“The present year is the third of their continuance, and their increase
has far exceeded that of a geometrical progression whose ratio is a
million. For ten years preceding their present visit the colony had been
entirely freed from them. Their last departure was rather singular.
All the full-grown insects were driven into the sea by a tempestuous
northeast wind, and were afterward cast upon the beach, where, it is
said, they formed a bank of three or four feet high, which extended from
the mouth of the Bosjeman’s River to that of the Becka, a distance of
near fifty English miles; and it is asserted that when this mass became
putrid, and the wind was at southeast, the stench was sensibly felt in
several parts of Sneuwberg.... The larvæ at the same time were emigrating
to the northward. The column of these imperfect insects passed the houses
of two of our party, who assured me that it continued moving forward,
without any interruption except by night, for more than a month.”

[55] Large species of serpents of the python family are known to inhabit
many parts of the African continent. Dr. Smith, in his “Zoology of South
Africa,” when speaking of a certain species (_python Natalensis_) found
sparingly in the neighborhood of Natal, thus says:

“It occasionally attains a very large size, and, according to the
natives, individuals have been seen whose circumference was equal to that
of the body of a stout man: we have ourselves seen a skin which measured
twenty-five feet, though a portion of the tail was deficient. It feeds
upon quadrupeds, and for some days after swallowing food it remains in
a torpid state, and may then be easily destroyed. The South Africans,
however, seldom avail themselves of these opportunities of ridding
themselves of a reptile they view with horror, as they believe that it
has a certain influence over their destinies; and affirm that no person
has ever been known to maltreat it without sooner or later paying for his
audacity.”

[56] Mr. Freeman, in “A Tour in South Africa,” mentions having heard
of one of this kind of reptiles being destroyed that actually exceeded
this size nearly three times. “This enormous serpent,” says the reverend
gentleman, “was hanging from the bough of a large tree, and was killed
only after a desperate struggle. It measured fifty feet in length. This
was ascertained by a number of men lying down at full length by its
side. It took nine men to reach from the head to the tail, and was of
prodigious girth round the body.”

[57] _Trimerorhinus rhombeatus._

[58] _Naia haje._

[59] _Columber canus._

[60] Turtle blood is also asserted to be a good remedy against wounds
caused by poisoned arrows.

[61] This superstition is common in Devonshire, in the western parts of
which it used, till lately, to be affirmed, “that at twelve o’clock at
night on Christmas eve, the oxen in their stalls are always found on
their knees in an attitude of devotion; and that, since the alteration of
the style, they continue to do this only on the eve of _old_ Christmas
day.” Bravo, oxen!—(_See Brand’s “Popular Antiquities.”_)

[62] This remarkable beast was a long time in the possession of Mr.
Oswell, who, I believe, intended to bring it alive to England, but
unavoidable circumstances prevented this distinguished traveler from
carrying his plan into execution.

[63] Or about 148,000 English square miles. The area of Damara-land is
about 29,000 English square miles.

[64] When speaking of the moon, the Namaquas do not say, like ourselves,
that it rises and sets, but that “it dies and is born again.”

[65] It is a practice among the young Namaquas to hold a goat between the
knees, and draw the milk directly from the teats of the animal into their
own mouths.

[66] After a great hunt, it was also the custom to reserve for the chief
the best pieces of the different kinds of game which had been killed,
such as the breast of the eland, the hump of the rhinoceros, and so
forth, the rest being divided among the tribe.

[67] This institution was founded by the Rev. Mr. Schmelen. In 1830,
during the administration of Sir Lowry Cole, it received by charter an
extensive grant of territory from the British government at the Cape. On
that memorable occasion the zealous missionary presented to the governor
a translation of the four Gospels in the Namaqua tongue.

[68] The above wood-cut is a portrait of a negro youth born and bred at
the Cape. He has been jobbing, and is returning home with the various
articles intrusted to his charge.

[69] Descendants of Dutch farmers and Hottentot women, and hence also
called Bastards.

[70] On accidentally mentioning my fast to Captain Sturt, the
distinguished Australian traveler, he assured me it was a mere trifle to
what he himself had once suffered, having been six and a half consecutive
days without nourishment of any kind!

[71] It is asserted by more than one experienced hunter, that when the
hyæna proves troublesome, the lion has been known to bite off all its
feet, and, thus mutilated, leave the poor animal to its fate!

[72] _Rhinoceros Indicus_, _Rhinoceros Sondaicus_, and _Rhinoceros
Bicornis Sumatrensis_.

[73] I have met persons who told me that they have killed rhinoceroses
with three horns; but in all such cases (and they have been but few), the
third, or posterior horn is so small as to be scarcely perceptible.

[74] The above wood-cut is a rough but characteristic outline of the
heads of the four distinct species of rhinoceroses recognized as
indigenous to Africa. The two lowest heads in the sketch are those of the
“black.”

[75] Only the horns of this species have been described by naturalists.
Dr. Gray, of the British Museum, seems to be one of the first who drew
attention to the Kobaaba as a distinct rhinoceros. In the “Proceedings
of the Zoological Society,” No. ccl., p. 46, the following details
appear. They were obtained from a pair of horns (of which the wood-cut in
the opposite page is an excellent likeness) presented by Mr. Oswell to
Colonel Thomas Steele, of Upper Brook Street:

“The front horn is elongated and thick; but, instead of being bent
back, as is the general character of _R. bicornis_, or erect, as in _R.
simus_, it is bent forward, so that the upper surface is worn flat by
being rubbed against the ground. The front horn is thirty-one inches
long, flat, square, rough and fibrous in front, rounded and smooth
behind. The hinder horn, eleven inches in length, is short, conical, and
sub-quadrangular.”

[76] The Asiatic specimen in the Zoological Gardens, Regent’s Park, is
fed on clover, straw, rice, and bran. His daily allowance is one truss
of straw, three quarters of a truss of clover, one quart of rice, half a
bushel of bran, and twenty to twenty-four gallons of water.

[77] Sparrman says that the cavity containing the brains of a rhinoceros
that he shot was only six inches long, and four high, and of an oval
shape. On being filled with peas, it was found to hold barely one quart;
a human skull, measured at the same time, did not require much less than
three pints to fill it.

[78] It was my intention to introduce at length the history of this
animal; but being (as already alluded to in a preceding chapter) confined
as to space, I must, though reluctantly, abandon the idea.

[79] The cut on the next page represents one of those numerous and
exciting scenes that I have witnessed at night, at the water, when lying
in ambush for game. There is one fact—a fact that has hitherto escaped
the attention of the African sportsman—connected with this illustration
that makes it particularly interesting, and which induced me to designate
it “The Approach of Elephants.” The animals are just appearing above the
distant hill. If the spring or pool, as the case may be, be of small
extent, all the animals present will invariably retire from the water as
soon as they are aware of the presence of the elephants, of whom they
appear to have an instinctive dread, and will remain at a respectful
distance until the giants have quenched their thirst. Thus, long before
I have seen, or even heard the elephants, I have been warned of their
approach by the symptoms of uneasiness displayed by such animals as
happened to be drinking at the time. The giraffe, for instance, begins to
sway his long neck to and fro; the zebra utters subdued, plaintive cries;
the gnoo glides away with a noiseless step; and even the ponderous and
quarrelsome black rhinoceros, when he has time for reflection, will pull
up short in his walk to listen; then, turning round, he listens again,
and, if he feel satisfied that his suspicions are correct, he invariably
makes off, usually giving vent to his fear or ire by one of his vicious
and peculiar snorts. Once, it is true, I saw a rhinoceros drinking
together with a herd of seven male elephants; but then he was of the
white species, and, besides, I do not believe that either party knew of
each other’s proximity.

[80] I lost many noble beasts from the small calibre of my guns, which
did not carry more than fourteen and seventeen balls respectively to the
pound. This was more especially the case as regarded the elephants; and
it was not until after a time, and when they had become scarce and shy,
that I found out the way of bringing them down with any certainty at one
or two shots. I found the best part to aim at (when shooting by night)
was the shoulder, either behind or in the centre, near to the lower edge
of the ear. Another good point, provided the gun be of large calibre,
is to fire at the leg, which once broken, the animal, in almost every
instance, is completely at the mercy of the hunter.

[81] The black rhinoceros is, under all circumstances, as already
mentioned, a morose and sulky beast. The one in question was unusually
savage, as she had probably a young sucking calf. We did not see the
latter, it is true, but assumed such to be the case from the beast’s
teats being full of milk. It is most likely that her offspring was of too
tender an age to accompany her, and that, as not unfrequently happens,
she concealed it among the bushes when about to quench her thirst at the
pool.

[82] “The baobob,” says Mr. Livingstone, “the body of which gives one
the idea of a mass of granite, from its enormous size, yields a fruit
about the size of a quart bottle; the pulp between the seeds tastes like
cream of tartar, and it is used by the natives to give a flavor to their
porridge.” Mr. Green writes me that plants have been raised in England of
the baobob from seeds brought home by his son, Frederick Green, who is at
present treading in my tracks in the interior of Southwestern Africa. For
further details of the baobob, see “Saturday Magazine” for the year 1832.

[83] When the lake was first discovered, a man told me that he obtained,
in exchange for a musket, twelve hundred pounds of ivory, worth, at the
least, £240 sterling!

[84] Many are of opinion that this river continues to flow
subterraneously, and that it ultimately finds an outlet into the sea on
the east coast. It is by no means uncommon in African geography—and we
have in England an instance of it in the Mole—to find a river suddenly
disappearing and as unexpectedly reappearing at some little distance.

[85] Dr. Livingstone informs us that on the first discovery of the Zouga,
its banks literally swarmed with wild animals, and that in the course of
three years no less than nine hundred elephants were killed. However,
from the persecution to which the game is constantly exposed, and the
introduction of fire-arms, the number of animals has rapidly decreased,
and what remain are wild and wary.

[86] Dr. Gray, of the British Museum, to whom I submitted an imperfect
skin and a sketch of the head of the nakong, is unable to determine
its exact nature, but seems inclined to consider it identical with the
_tragelaphus eurycerus_—the broad-horned antelope—of which specimens of
horns and heads have been brought from the Bight of Biafra, on the west
coast of Africa. In the “Proceedings of the Zoological Society,” No. 250,
p. 47, the following details appear:

“Head, pale brown. Broad band before the eyes, and two large spots
on cheeks; chin and front of upper lip white. Horns elongate, thick,
scarcely bent forward at the tip. Throat with long black hairs.”

Again, from a head in Mr. Warwick’s collection:

“The horns are very similar to those of _t. angasii_, but the head is
considerably larger, nearly as large as that of the koodoo, and the horns
are thicker and larger; they are twenty-seven inches long in a straight
line from base to tip, and nine inches in circumference at the base. The
hair of the head is also paler and more uniformly colored, and with very
large white spots on the cheek, much larger than those of the koodoo or
of _t. angasii_. The throat has a distinct mane of blackish rigid hairs.
The muffle is very like that of _t. angasii_, and larger than that of the
koodoo. The skull is imperfect; it has no appearance of any suborbital
pit or slit.”

[87] Some of the notions entertained of these people before the existence
of the Ngami was known to Europeans are curious and amusing. Captain
Messum, in an article in the Nautical Magazine on “the exploration of
Western Africa,” says that he had heard the inhabitants of the Lake
regions represented as monsters, with only one eye in the centre of the
forehead, and feeding on human flesh, as the giants of old used to take
their breakfasts. “A baby was nothing; they swallowed it whole.”

[88] Moffat.

[89] For a scientific description of this insect, see “Proceedings of the
Zoological Society,” No. ccxvii.

[90] When allowed to settle on the hand of man, all it is observed to do
is to insert its proboscis a little farther than seems necessary to draw
blood. It then partially withdraws the dart, which assumes a crimson hue.
The mandibles now appear to be agitated; the shrunken body swells; and,
in a few seconds, the insect becomes quite full, and quietly abandons its
prey.

[91] “One of my steeds,” says Gordon Cumming, “died of the tsetse. The
head and body of the poor animal swelled up in a most distressing manner
before he died; his eyes were so swollen that he could not see; and, in
darkness, he neighed for his comrades who stood feeding beside him.”

[92] A dog reared on the meat of _game_ may be hunted in tsetse districts
in safety!

[93] The above wood-cut represents a native in the act of ferrying
himself across the river on nothing but a bundle of reeds, with sidings
and uprights of the same light materials. It is a most ingenious
contrivance, and, in localities where wood is scarce, answers the purpose
admirably.

[94] As perhaps many of my readers are interested in philology, I may
mention that in the “Geographical Journal” of this year I have introduced
a short vocabulary of the Bayeye language. The words, though necessarily
few in number, have been selected with a view to their utility, and
consist chiefly of those denoting family relations, names of the
different parts of the body, familiar objects, numerals, &c. I have, at
the same time, given the corresponding terms in the Otjiherero (Damara)
and the Chjlimanse (a tribe inhabiting the country west of the Portuguese
settlement on the East Coast) to show the striking analogy existing
between these languages. The nations here mentioned occupy a narrow strip
of territory extending obliquely across the continent from the West Coast
almost to that of the East.

[95] In an old painting at Hampton Court representing the Last Judgment,
the mouth of the hippopotamus is said to be figured as the entrance of
the “place of the wicked.”

[96] The object of having the connecting line to consist of a number of
small cords instead of a single stout one is to reduce the chance of its
being severed by the teeth of the hippopotamus.

[97] In some parts of ancient Egypt the hippopotamus was worshiped. It is
also said to have been a representation of Typho (in connection with the
crocodile) and Mars. According to Plutarch, it “was reckoned among the
animals emblematic of the Evil Being.”

[98] Sir Gardner Wilkinson informs us further that the inhabitants at
Sennaar still follow up the practice of their ancestors, and, like them,
prefer chasing it in the river to an open attack on shore.




GENERAL INDEX.


  A.

  Aamhoup, the, a periodical river, 303;
    splendid mirage, at, _ib._

  Abeghan, a watering-place, 388;
    the Author shoots a large bull-elephant there, 391.

  Afrika, Jonathan, 349;
    his adventure with a lion, 350.

  Allen, John, 71;
    enters Mr. Galton’s service, _ib._;
    his adventure on the banks of the Swakop, 264;
    falls sick of a fever, 301;
    emigrates with Hans to Australia, 334.

  Amral, a Namaqua chieftain, 319.

  Amulets, great faith of the South African natives in, 179, 319.

  Ana, the, a species of acacia, 42, 58;
    its fruit nutritious food for cattle, _ib._

  Animals, domestic, of the Ovambo, 201;
    of the Damaras, 228;
    of the Namaquas, 324;
    of the Bechuanas, 454;
    of the Bayeye, 480.

  Antelopes, Author stalking, in company with lions, 210.

  Archery, the Ovambo inferior to the Damaras in, 184.

  Articles of barter of the Ovambo, 175.


  B.

  Baboon Fountain, 172.

  Bahurutsi, the natives at Kuruman send embassadors to a rain-maker
        residing among the, 442.

  Bain, Mr., the distinguished South African geologist, 333.

  Bam, Mr., slight results of his missionary efforts among the
        Namaquas, 42;
    his wonderful escape from a rhinoceros, 49, 50.

  Baobob-tree, the, 415, 426.

  Barmen, its aspect and situation, 106;
    ill suited for an encampment, 125;
    return to, 214;
    second departure from, 241.

  Basutos, the famous king of the, 438.

  Batoana, the, a Bechuana tribe, 413;
    their appearance and manners, _ib._;
    their government, 437;
    their Pichos, _ib._

  Bayeye, the, expert fishermen, 455.

  Beads, in request with the South African tribes, 202;
    kinds most esteemed, _ib._, 323, 455.

  Bean, a species of white, used as an antidote for snake-bites, 296;
    the Author falls sick from eating a bean-looking fruit, 354.

  Bears, affecting story of two, 20.

  Bechuanas, the, their language, 439;
    first acquaintance of Europeans with, _ib._;
    their want of religious ideas, 440;
    wizards numerous among, 441;
    hold a council at Kuruman as to the best means of removing a severe
        drought, 442;
    practice circumcision, 448;
    festivals attending the age of puberty, _ib._;
    funeral ceremonies, _ib._;
    vindictiveness, 450;
    theft a prevailing vice among, _ib._;
    attire, 452;
    great snuff-takers, 453.

  Beer, 193, 480.

  Bees, wild, frequently make their nests in the giant dwellings of the
        termites, 137;
    their disposition unusually quiet and forbearing, _ib._

  Berry, delicious, 145.

  Bethany, a Rhenish missionary station, 304.

  Bill, a Damara lad in the Author’s service, loses himself in the
        bush, 211.

  Blacksmiths, 203.

  Boers, the, on the Trans-vaal River, 27;
    Sir Harry Smith’s opinion of, 28;
    an uncivil one, 328.

  Bonfield, George, 336;
    spoils the Author’s watch, 390.

  Boom-slang, the (or tree-snake), 294.

  Borele, a species of rhinoceros, 371, 372.

  Buffaloes, following the tracks of, 462;
    proof against bullets, 464.

  _Buphaga Africana_, the sentinel bird, 212.

  Bushmen, a few met with near Omuvereoom, 158;
    Lake Omanbondè, called Saresab in their language, _ib._;
    a few met with near Baboon Fountain, 172;
    and at Otjikoto, 182;
    legend of a Bushwoman changing herself into a lion, 320;
    some met with returning from Lake Ngami, 392;
    their manner of hunting the koodoo, 467.

  Bush-ticks, deadly effects of the bite of, 36.

  Bustard, the large, very abundant at Schmelen’s Hope, 135;
    the flesh good eating, 136.

  Buxton Fountain, origin of its name, 105.


  C.

  Caffre-corn, the, 188, 482.

  Camelopards, a troop of them seen near Omanbondè, 166;
    one shot, _ib._

  Canoe, description of a Bayeye, 456.

  Cape Cross, a vessel supposed to be wrecked at, 129, 139.

  Cape-Town, 24;
    varieties of the human race encountered in its streets, _ib._;
    sensation caused by the Author’s appearance in, 329.

  Caracal, the, 135;
    its fur warm and handsome, _ib._;
    supposed medicinal virtues of the skin, _ib._

  Caravan, 178;
    caravan route, 182.

  Chikor’onkombè, chief of an Ovambo trading caravan, 175;
    his residence, 188;
    desertion of, 206.

  Christmas in the desert, 119.

  Cobra di capella, the, common in the Cape Colony, 293;
    a remarkable escape from one, _ib._

  Cockatrice, the, Damara’s account of, 292.

  Cold weather, 154, 185, 300.

  Comet, the Author observes a remarkable, 354.

  Cornelius, chief of a powerful tribe of Namaquas, 280.

  Cow, the Damara, 309.

  Cunenè, a river of Africa, its discovery and subsequent mysterious
        disappearance, 204;
    the Ovambo often extend their trading excursions to, 205;
    attempt of Mr. Galton’s party to visit it frustrated, 206;
    the Ovambo’s account of, 430.


  D.

  Dacre’s pulpit, 333.

  Damara-land only partially inhabited, 217;
    the seasons there the reverse of those in Europe, _ib._;
    reptiles numerous in, 293.

  Damaras, the, beautifully formed, 62;
    not strong, _ib._;
    complexion, _ib._;
    symmetrical shape of the women, 64;
    clothing, _ib._;
    ornaments, weapons, 65;
    divided into two large tribes, 66;
    carry firebrands at night, 94;
    one struck dead by lightning, 108;
    believe that all men of a light complexion are their enemies, 111;
    entirely a pastoral people, 121;
    their notions respecting property in land, _ib._;
    cruelly treated by the Namaquas, 127;
    the flesh of the leopard, hyæna, and other beasts of prey eaten by
        the poor, 135;
    a Damara’s opinion of his countrymen, 143;
    addicted to telling falsehoods, 144;
    their method of cooking and eating, 151;
    villages, 159;
    their immorality, 177;
    eight Damara women surprised and put to death by Bushmen, 208;
    general reflections on, 214, 215;
    whence they came, 215;
    their conquests, _ib._;
    attacked by the Namaquas, 216;
    their own ideas respecting their origin, 218;
    their chief deity, _ib._;
    their tribes, _ib._;
    have great faith in witchcraft, 219;
    a fire always kept burning before the hut of their chief, 220;
    curious customs respecting food among the, 221;
    the women marry at much the same age as those in Europe, _ib._;
    customs on the occasion of a girl’s betrothal, _ib._;
    polygamy practiced among, 222;
    domestic habits, _ib._;
    customs respecting the naming of children, _ib._;
    bury their dead, 223;
    ceremonies on the death of one of the tribe, _ib._;
    the law of succession among, 222, 225;
    ceremonies on the accession of a new chief, 225;
    fever and ophthalmia their prevailing maladies, 226;
    milk their staple food, 227;
    fond of music and dancing, _ib._;
    power of the chief, _ib._;
    rudiments of science among, 228;
    value their cattle next to their women, 309.

  Dance, a, at Nangoro’s residence, 193.

  Daviep, arrival at, 52;
    much frequented by lions, _ib._

  Dogs, miserable plight of the Namaqua, 278.

  Duikers, the (cormorants and shags), mode in which they obtain their
        food, 32.


  E.

  Eggs, the, of the ostrich, 60;
    of the Guinea-fowl, 92, 136.

  Eikhams, the residence of Jonker Afrikaner, 130;
    twilight at, 230;
    abundantly supplied with water, _ib._;
    hot spring in the neighborhood of, _ib._;
    history of the mission at, 231;
    terrific thunder-storm at, 277.

  Elands, spirited chase after, 366.

  Elephants, tracks of, 143;
    breed near to Omuvereoom, 158;
    combat between rhinoceros and, 164;
    unsuccessful hunt of, 170;
    Hans and Phillippus kill one, 175;
    the Author shoots a large bull-elephant, 391;
    a midnight meeting with a troop of, 394;
    adventure with a herd of female elephants at Kobis, 400;
    a midnight spectacle of a magnificent troop of, 405.

  Elephant Fountain, arrival at, 233;
    formerly a Wesleyan missionary station, _ib._;
    chiefly inhabited by Hill-Damaras, _ib._;
    nature of the country eastward of, _ib._;
    return to, 236;
    abundance of game in its neighborhood, 237.

  Elephant Kloof, the Author shoots a magnificent giraffe at, 357.

  Erongo, a mountain famous for its peculiar formation, and as a
        stronghold of the Hill-Damaras, 114;
    about three thousand feet in height above the level of the plain,
        120.

  Etosha, a sterile plain, 156;
    at times inundated, _ib._

  _Euphorbia Candelabrum_, use made of its poison by the Ovaherero and
        the Hill-Damaras, 91;
    fatal to the white rhinoceros, but harmless to the black species,
        _ib._;
    abundant at Okamabuti, 176.

  Eyebrecht, Mr., Jonker’s right-hand man, 231.


  F.

  Fever, the Author attacked by, 300.

  Fig-tree, a gigantic one near Otjironjuba fountain, 156.

  Fire, the Author nearly destroyed by, 185.

  “Fiscaal,” the, curious belief of the Cape people respecting, 78.

  Fish, 182.

  Fly, wasp-like, 57;
    the Author severely stung by one, _ib._

  Flying-Fish, the, a schooner, 338.

  Foam, the, a small schooner chartered by Mr. Galton for the voyage to
        Walfisch Bay, 28, 29.

  Fowl, domestic, 201, 482.


  G.

  Gabriel, his violent disposition, 79;
    dismissed at Barmen, 125;
    marks his subsequent career with violence and insolence, 140.

  Galton, Mr., starts for the Erongo Mountain, 114;
    obtains information from Jonker, 139;
    departs for England, 247.

  Gemsbok, the, first sight of, 57;
    death of one, 123;
    the Damaras feast on it, 124;
    description of, 273.

  Geological characteristics of Great Namaqua-land, 313.

  Ghanzé, arrival at, 367;
    description of, 368;
    departure from, 386.

  Giraffe, the, one killed, 59;
    their marrow good eating, _ib._;
    troop of, 92;
    peculiar motion of, 93;
    troop of, 154;
    a splendid one pulled down by lions, 396.

  Giraffe-thorn, the, 42.

  Gnoo, a, chase after and death of, 113;
    stalking them in company with lions, 210.

  Grain, kind of, grown among the Ovambo, 188;
    the storing of, 201.

  Griquas, the Author meets with a party of, 347;
    one of them engaged as interpreter, _ib._;
    information derived from, 429, 430;
    severe losses sustained by a party of, 469.

  Grosbeak, the social, 104.

  Guinea-fowls, an immense number at Onanis, 92;
    the flesh of the young tender and well flavored, _ib._;
    the best mode of shooting them, _ib._;
    their eggs excellent, 136.

  Guitar, 193.


  H.

  Hahn, Mr., a missionary of the Rhenish Society, settled among the
        Damaras, 56;
    a Russian by birth, 108;
    his missionary labors, 109;
    his coadjutors, _ib._;
    his fruitless efforts to bring about a reconciliation between the
        Damaras and the Namaquas, 127.

  Hans (Larsen), 68;
    a fine specimen of the true Northman, 69;
    his great strength, _ib._;
    an indefatigable sportsman, 70;
    enters Mr. Galton’s service, _ib._;
    his character for being a good woodsman damaged, 154;
    meets with a little adventure, 241;
    enters into partnership with the Author, 265;
    goes into Damara-land to trade with the natives, 269;
    has an adventure with the Damaras, _ib._;
    emigrates to Australia, 334.

  Hare, the Namaqua superstition respecting, 317.

  Hareld, the (Arctic duck), mode in which it obtains its food, 32.

  Heat, effects of excessive, 51, 101.

  Heitjeebib, a deity worshiped by the Namaquas, 316.

  Hill-Damaras, the, 60;
    a kraal of, at Onanis, 89;
    cultivate dacka or hemp as a substitute for tobacco, _ib._;
    unusual manner in which they smoke, _ib._;
    description of the pipe they use, 89, 90;
    a kraal of, at the foot of Omuvereoom, 157;
    probably the aborigines of Damara-land, 215.

  Hippopotamus, the, the actions and figure of, mimicked by a Damara,
        159;
    visits Omanbondè, 163;
    one takes up his abode at Schmelen’s Hope, _ib._;
    abound on the northern side of Lake Ngami, 434;
    its supposed identity with the Behemoth of Scripture, 487;
    where found, _ib._;
    two species in Africa, 488;
    description of, _ib._;
    its food, 490;
    ravages caused by, _ib._;
    possessed of a good memory, 492;
    nocturnal excursions, 493;
    easily domesticated, _ib._;
    kept in captivity by the ancient Romans, _ib._;
    details respecting those in the Zoological Society’s Gardens in the
        Regent’s Park, London, 494;
    its most valuable parts, _ib._;
    manner in which the Bayeye harpoon, 495;
    drawings on the monuments and sculptures of Thebes relating to the
        chase of, 499;
    the Author’s safety jeopardized by one, 502;
    instances of the ferocity of, 503;
    various devices for destroying, 504.

  History of Damara-land, 215.

  Hogs, found among the Ovambo, 189.

  Honey, wild, poisonous, 91.

  Horse, the Cape Colony, 326;
    instance of the extraordinary endurance of, 327.

  Horse-sickness, the, 67;
    three mules and one horse perish of, _ib._;
    its cause unknown, _ib._;
    usually makes its appearance in the months of November and
        December, 68;
    common throughout various parts of Southern Africa, 68.

  Hottentots, a small kraal of, 39;
    Frederick, their chieftain, and the alarum, _ib._;
    of Great Namaqua-land, 314.

  Hountop River, the, Author’s party encamps near, 301;
    game abundant in the neighborhood of, _ib._;
    an interesting atmospheric phenomenon at, 302.

  Houses, the Ovambo, 201;
    the Damara, 222;
    the Namaqua, 315;
    the Bayeye, 479.

  Hyæna, the, 123;
    called wolf by the colonists, 131;
    mode of setting spring-guns for, 132;
    startling appearance of a spotted, 369.


  I.

  Ia Kabaka, the, a mountain, 144, 155.

  Ice, 209, 300.

  Implements of husbandry, 58, 104, 202.

  Ivory, 202.


  J.

  Jackal, a mischievous, 364.

  Jonker Afrikaner, 108, 112;
    a letter from, 125;
    his quarrel with Kahichenè, 127;
    an instance of his cruelty, 129;
    Mr. Galton sets out to visit, 130;
    relations between him and William Zwartbooi, 138;
    sends an express to Zwartbooi for his horses, _ib._;
    promises to live in peace and amity with the Damaras, _ib._;
    his first victories over the Damaras, 216;
    whence he came, _ib._;
    gifts presented by Mr. Galton to, 231;
    the Author takes his portrait, _ib._;
    loses the greater part of his cattle, 240;
    his werft in the neighborhood of Eikhams, 278;
    engaged in a cattle-lifting foray, 287;
    the Author upbraids him for his depredations, 289;
    his defense, _ib._

  Justice, summary, 149.


  K.

  Kachamaha, a powerful Damara chief, 287;
   the Author’s visit to, _ib._

  Kahichenè, a Damara chieftain, 122;
    immense number of oxen and sheep possessed by, _ib._;
    his quarrel with Jonker Afrikaner, 127;
    meets the Author’s party at Kotjiamkombè, 147;
    his appearance and manners, _ib._;
    at variance with a tribe of Damaras under the rule of Omugundè,
        149;
    his summary treatment of thieves, _ib._;
    his kraal, _ib._;
    his death, 152.

  Kaiaob, the Namaqua witch-doctor, 318.

  Kamapyu, a half-caste native lad, 344.

  Kameel-doorn, the, 104;
    hardness of its wood, _ib._;
    the social grosbeak constructs its nest in the branches of, _ib._;
    groups of, 163.

  Klaas Zaal, engaged as a wagon-driver, 354.

  Kleinschmidt, Mr., 139, 286.

  Kobis, good shooting at, 398;
    adventure with a black rhinoceros there, 399;
    with a white one, 400;
    and with a herd of female elephants, _ib._;
    departure from, 412.

  Kolbé, Mr., 109, 127, 138.

  Komaggas, a Rhenish missionary station, 325.

  Konyati, the, a mountain, 143.

  Koodoo, the, a young one caught and reared, 130;
    its tragic end, 131;
    description of, 465;
    the Bushmen’s manner of hunting, 467.

  Kotjiamkombè, a splendid vley, 146.

  Kuisip, the, a periodical stream, 41;
    swollen by heavy rains, 264.


  L.

  Lambert, eldest son of Amral, a Namaqua chief, 355.

  Larsen (_vide_ Hans).

  Larvæ, locust, sudden appearance of at Schmelen’s Hope, 140;
    conjecture respecting, _ib._;
    devoured by storks, _ib._

  Leché, the, a species of antelope, 431;
    the Author shoots one, 458.

  Lecholètébè, chief of the Batoanas, the Author sends presents to, 393;
    Timbo’s interview with, 402;
    the Author visits, 418;
    his manner of receiving presents, 420;
    his greediness, 421;
    his prompt mode of punishing his subjects, 422.

  Leopard, the, erroneously called tiger by the Dutch, 133;
    one seizes and wounds a favorite dog, 134;
    pursued and slain, 134.

  Libèbé, the capital of the Bavicko, situated considerably to the
        north of Lake Ngami, 422;
    the Author determines to visit, 423;
    the centre of a great inland trade, 484;
    visited by the Mambari, _ib._

  Lightning, a man killed by, 108.

  Lion, the, a daring and destructive one slain by Messrs. Galton and
        Bam, 41;
    a horse and mule killed by lions, 53;
    panic caused by a troop of lions, 66, 67;
    two met with on the banks of the Swakop, 93;
    narrow escape from, _ib._;
    midnight interview with a, 97;
    one deprived of his prey, 98;
    one mistaken for a zebra, 112;
    one kills a goat, 114;
    pursued and slain, 118;
    the travelers serenaded by a whole troop of, 123;
    Mr. Galton confronted by one, 164;
    stalking antelopes in company with, 210;
    very numerous and daring in the neighborhood of Zwart Nosop, 238;
    adventure with one at night, _ib._;
    story of the seizure of lion cubs, 243;
    troops of them in the neighborhood of Tincas and Onanis, 267;
    a lion devours a lioness, 302;
    a fair shot at one, 342;
    Old Piet’s adventures with, 343;
    one finds his way into the church at Richterfeldt, 344;
    instances of their boldness, 350;
    unexpected meeting with five, 396;
    serious night adventure with one, 508.

  Locust, the, larvæ of, 281;
    immense masses of, _ib._;
    their arrival a cause of rejoicing to the Bushmen, 283;
    how prepared as food, 284.

  Locust-bird, the (_Spring-haan vogel_), 284.

  Louis, a Mozambique liberated slave, 337.


  M.

  Mackintosh punt, 160.

  Malays, the, religion and mode of life of, 24, 25.

  Mambari, the, an African tribe, 484.

  Matsanyana, the, an African tribe residing north of the Bayeye, 484.

  Mimosa, the black-stemmed, found in the periodical water-courses, 90.

  Mirage, a remarkable, 33, 303.

  Missionaries, their exertions unavailing in Namaqua-land, 42;
    the natives very reserved on their first appearance in Damara-land,
        109;
    prospect of their success at Schmelen’s Hope disappointed, 127;
    arrival of the missionary ship, 246;
    decline of the mission at Rehoboth, 286;
    the Rhenish missionary station at Bethany, 304;
    blamed by the Bahurutsi rain-maker as the cause of a severe
        drought, 447.

  Monoohoo, a species of rhinoceros, 372.

  Mortar, John, irritability his only fault, 80;
    a famous teller of stories, 81;
    his disappointment in the matter of soap manufacture, 237.

  Mosheshe, the famous Basuto king, 438.

  Mukuru-Mukovanja, a large river, 204;
    the Ovambos’ account of, 430.

  Mules, the, one becomes exhausted and is left behind, 51;
    shortly afterward killed by lions, 53;
    the travelers lay in a stock of mules’ flesh, 54;
    the flesh of, not unpalatable, 56;
    worn out, 61;
    three killed by sickness, 67;
    escape, and are intercepted at Barmen, 130;
    again make off, and are not retaken, _ib._

  Mummies, 182.

  Mushrooms, grow on the sides of the nests of the termites, 137.


  N.

  Naarip, the, a sterile plain, 48, 51;
    travelers often lose their way on, 74;
    the author’s party suffers much from cold on, 76;
    affords a good road, 84;
    its pleasant appearance after rains, 266.

  Naitjo, an Ovambo man, 188.

  Nakong, the, a species of antelope, 431;
    description of, 431-433.

  Namaqua-land, Great, description of, 312;
    in a geological point of view, 313.

  Namaquas, the, their character, 42, 43;
    their astonishment at the first wagons they saw, 43;
    treat the Damaras very cruelly, 127;
    usually very barbarous, 129;
    their respect for truth-tellers, 290;
    best mode of behaving toward, _ib._;
    names of the chiefs of the Northern, 315;
    their habitations, _ib._;
    their religious ideas, 316;
    their superstitions with regard to the hare, 317;
    have great faith in sorcery, 318;
    their neglect of widows, and cruel treatment of old and disabled
        persons, 322;
    their custom of adopting fathers and mothers, _ib._;
    personal adornment, 323;
    excessively idle, _ib._;
    understand the art of distilling spirits, 324;
    attack Richterfeldt, 339;
    ill-treat the missionaries, _ib._

  Nangoro, king of the Ovambo, 165;
    assists a Damara chief, 169;
    a messenger sent to, 186;
    interview with, 191;
    his personal appearance, _ib._;
    his wives, 198.

  Naras, the, a delicious fruit, 27;
    its beneficial qualities, 38;
    where found, _ib._

  Ngami, the Lake, preparations for navigating, 22;
    failure of Mr. Galton and the Author to reach it, 234;
    the Author resolves to make another attempt, 236;
    first appearance of, 416;
    arrival at, 417;
    first information received by Europeans respecting, 423;
    different names by which it is known among the natives, 424;
    description of, _ib._;
    Mr. Green’s description of, 425;
    its shores, _ib._;
    must have undergone very considerable changes at different periods,
        426;
    the Author navigates, _ib._;
    fed by the River Teoge, 427;
    finds an outlet at its eastern extremity in the Zouga, 428;
    a great variety of animals found in its neighborhood, 431;
    hippopotami abound on the northern side of, 434;
    swarms with crocodiles, 435;
    snakes numerous on the shores, 435, 436;
    fish, 436;
    departure from, 507.

  Nosop, the river, 353.


  O.

  Obesity equivalent to high treason among certain African tribes, 191.

  Oerlams, a branch of the Hottentot race, 314.

  Okamabuti, the residence of the Damara chief Tjopopa, 168;
    the northern limit of Damara-land, 169;
    rank vegetation at, 176.

  Omanbondè, Lake, Mr. Galton hears of, 111;
    surmises respecting its extent, 158;
    Mr. Galton’s party makes preparation for spending some time on its
        shores, 160;
    arrival at, 161;
    its insignificance _ib._;
    visited by hippopotami, _ib._;
    departure from, 166.

  Omatako, 141;
    its beautiful appearance, _ib._;
    the river of, 143.

  Ombotodthu, a mountain, 149;
    remarkable for its peculiar red stone, 150.

  Ommutenna, a tributary to the Swakop, 61, 114.

  Omoroanga Vavarra, the, a branch of the Teoge, 473.

  Omugundè, the chief of a tribe of Damaras, 147;
    slays several of Kahichenè’s children, and keeps the others
        prisoners, 148.

  Omukuru, the chief deity of the Damaras, 218.

  Omumborombonga, a tree, the supposed progenitor of the Damaras, 215.

  Omuramba-k’Omatako, a periodical river, 208;
    supposed to flow toward the Bechuana country, 209.

  Omurangere, the holy fire of the Damaras, 220.

  Omutjamatunda, a cattle-post belonging to the Ovambo, 183;
    a copious fountain, 184;
    ducks and grouse numerous there, _ib._

  Omuvereoom, the, a mountain, 144;
    distance between it and Omatako, 153;
    arrival at the southern extremity of, 155;
    extensive view from its summit, 157.

  Onanis, the residence of a kraal of very poor Hill-Damaras, 89;
    fine pasturages, 91;
    troops of lions seen at, 267.

  Ondangere, the vestal virgin of the Damaras, 220.

  Ondara, the, a species of serpent, 291;
    story of one, _ib._

  Ondonga, the country of the Ovambo, 186;
    arrival in, _ib._;
    water and pasturage scarce, 189;
    departure from, 206.

  Onesimus, Zwartbooi’s henchman, joins the Author’s party, 140;
    is flogged, 363.

  Ongeama, native name for lion, 114;
    cries of, 178.

  Onguirira, a species of animal resembling, but totally distinct from,
        the lion, 153.

  Ophthalmia, the Author attacked by, 281.

  Orange River, the, description of, 310.

  Oranges, a feast of, 331.

  Orukumb’ombura, “rain-beggars,” the name given by the Damaras to
        columns of sand driven along by the wind, 217.

  Oryx, the death of one, 123;
    the Damaras feast on it, 124;
    description of, 273.

  Ostrich, the, omelet of the eggs, 60;
    the egg equal to twenty-four of the common fowl, _ib._;
    numerous on the Naarip plain, 247;
    chase and capture of part of a brood of young ones, 248;
    interesting manœuvre of a parent ostrich, _ib._;
    districts in which found, 250;
    types in other parts of the world, _ib._;
    general appearance, _ib._;
    its cry greatly resembles that of the lion, 251;
    its marvelous speed, _ib._;
    food, _ib._;
    power of enduring thirst, 252;
    season for breeding, _ib._;
    period of incubation, 253;
    a peculiarity in regard to the eggs of the ostrich, 254;
    nature of the covering of the young birds, _ib._;
    the flesh of the young ostrich palatable, _ib._;
    in estimation with the ancient Romans as an article of food, 255;
    uses to which the egg-shells are applied, 256;
    ostrich feathers, _ib._;
    the ostrich in a wild state, 258;
    its powers of digestion, 259;
    resemblance to quadrupeds, _ib._;
    modes in which it is captured, 262.

  Oswell, Mr., his chase of a rhinoceros, 382.

  Otjihako-tja-Muteya, 186;
    sufferings from cold on, 207.

  Otjikango, the, name of a series of wells, 172, 179.

  Otjikoto fountain, 180;
    a wonderful freak of nature, 181;
    its remarkable cavern, _ib._;
    visited by a great number of doves, 182;
    Bushmen reside near to it, _ib._

  Otjironjuba Fountain, 156;
    departure from, 158.

  Otjombindè, 233.

  Otjruru, an apparition, 219.

  Otters, not uncommon in Lake Ngami, 434.

  Ovaherero, the, their mode of using tobacco, 90;
    tip their arrows with the poison of _euphorbia candelabrum_, 91.

  Ovambo, the, a people of Africa, 165;
    first interview with, 172;
    their food, 173;
    arms, 174;
    effect of fireworks on, 192;
    musical instruments in use among, 193;
    their personal appearance, 194;
    their strict honesty, 196;
    no pauperism in their country, _ib._;
    their national pride, _ib._;
    hospitality, 197;
    staple food, _ib._;
    morality among, 198;
    state of religion among, _ib._;
    their dwellings, 201;
    domestic animals, _ib._;
    farm implements, 202;
    their chief articles of export, _ib._;
    have some slight knowledge of metallurgy, 203.

  Ovapangari, the, an African tribe, 205, 485.

  Oxen, invaluable in South Africa, 44;
    method of breaking in, 45;
    one charges Mr. Galton, 47;
    manner of guiding a saddle-ox, 71;
    can be made to travel at a pretty quick pace, _ib._;
    training for the yoke, 77;
    vicious one ridden by Mr. Schöneberg, 102;
    become wild and unmanageable from their over-long rest, 123;
    several stolen from Mr. Galton’s party, 148;
    extraordinary confusion among, and the cause of it, 212;
    curious custom when an ox dies at a chief’s werft in Damara-land,
        220;
    their instinctive power of catching the scent of humid winds and
        green herbage at a great distance, 240;
    instance of affection between two, 268;
    Author’s adventure with a runaway, 270;
    the Author has an ugly fall from one, 288;
    superstition that they refrain from eating on Christmas-eve, 307:
    the Damara breed of, _ib._;
    the Bechuana breed of, 308;
    the Namaqua breed of, 324.


  P.

  Palm-trees, a large number seen, 166;
    description of a peculiar kind of fan-palm, _ib._;
    fruit of the, _ib._, 188.

  Parrots, crested, 57, 59.

  Pelicans, 77;
    curious mode of flight, _ib._

  Phenomenon, 143.

  Phillippus, a Damara, joins the Author’s party as a wagon-driver, 140.

  Pichos, the (or Parliaments), of the Batoanas, 437.

  Pitfalls for the capture of game, 362.

  Polygamy, 198, 222, 321, 448, 479.

  Population of the Ovambo country estimated, 189.

  Portuguese, 183.

  Puff-adder, the, 294;
    its manner of seizing its prey, _ib._


  R.

  Rain-maker, the Bahurutsi, 442;
    murdered among the Bauangketsi nation, 447.

  Rains, the, begin as early as September and October, 125.

  Rath, Mr., 61, 109, 121;
    his description of the track of a nondescript animal, 133.

  Rehoboth, a Rhenish missionary station, 139, 281;
    description of, 286;
    the rocks in its neighborhood strongly impregnated with copper,
        349.

  Religion, 198.

  Reptiles, numerous in Damara-land and Namaqua-land, 293;
    superstitions respecting, 294;
    antidotes used in Southern Africa for the bites of, 295.

  Rhinoceros, the, curious anecdote preserved in the archives of
        Cape-Town relating to a death of one, 26;
    Mr. Bam’s story of his wonderful escape from one, 49, 50;
    tracks of, 49;
    one shot, 72;
    fall frequently on their knees when killed, 73;
    curious anecdote, _ib._;
    flesh not unpalatable, _ib._;
    hide useful, _ib._;
    discovery of a, 84;
    adventure in pursuit of one, 85;
    its escape, 86, 87;
    combat between elephant and, 164;
    several shot at Ghanzé, 369;
    where found, 370;
    four distinct species known to exist in South Africa, 371;
    distinctions between the black and the white rhinoceros, 373;
    appearance of, 374;
    food, 375;
    breeding, 376;
    Colonel Williams’s story respecting one, 377, 378;
    conflicts with elephants, 378;
    the flesh and horns, 380;
    adventure with a black rhinoceros at Kobis, 399;
    with a white one, 400;
    the Author shoots a white one, 407;
    desperate adventure with a black one, 407, 408;
    method of chasing, 381;
    Mr. Oswell’s stories respecting the chase of, 382.

  Richterfeldt, a Rhenish missionary station, reached, 61;
    water abundant, _ib._;
    soil fertile, _ib._;
    when founded, 62;
    return to, 95;
    bid a final farewell to, 123.

  Rifle, obtained in barter, 150;
    excellent weapon, _ib._

  Rights of succession, 198, 222, 225.

  Ringel-hals, the, or ring-throat, a species of snake, 294.

  Roode Natie, the (or Red Nation), a powerful tribe of Namaquas, 279;
    their character, 280;
    Cornelius, their chief, _ib._;
    their country, 281;
    few Damara slaves among them, _ib._


  S.

  Salt-lick, a, 366.

  Sand Fountain, excursion to, 34;
    badness of its water, 35;
    its disagreeable guests, 36;
    its advantages, 37;
    general aspect of the country in the neighborhood of, 38.

  Sand-wells, 365.

  Scarlet flower, the, emotions on first seeing, 48;
    observe it again, 49.

  Scenery, striking, 170.

  Schaap-steker, the, a species of snake, 294.

  Scheppmansdorf, Mr. Galton arrives at, 40;
    all the baggage safely deposited at, 41;
    description of, _ib._;
    first impressions of, 76;
    kind friends at, 77;
    departure from, 83.

  Scheppman’s Mountain, origin of its name, 103.

  Schmelen, Mr., a highly-gifted and enterprising missionary, 127.

  Schmelen’s Hope, its situation, 126;
    origin of its name, 127;
    agreeable residence; abundance of game to be obtained there, 135;
    departure from, 146;
    return to, 214.

  Schöneberg, Mr., 101;
    his mishap, 102;
    his wailing, 103.

  Scorpions, a swarm of, 105;
    their fondness of warmth, _ib._;
    their bite poisonous, but rarely fatal, _ib._

  Season, the rainy, in Ovambo-land, 201;
    in Damara-land, 217.

  Sebetoane, an African chief, false report respecting, 414.

  Serpent, tracks of an immense (the Ondara), 290;
    story of a, 291.

  Serpent-stones, 297.

  Servants, described, 78-83;
    African travelers can not be too particular in the selection of, 79;
    become refractory, 125;
    adventure of one of them with an ox, 270;
    Damara servants abscond, 355.

  Shambok, the, 73, 74.

  Shrike, a species of, 78;
    superstitious belief respecting, _ib._

  Smith, Dr. Andrew, 213, 491.

  Snake, a curious species of, 292;
    several species occasionally met with in Damara-land and
        Namaqua-land, 294;
    antidotes for the bites of, 295;
    numerous in and about Lake Ngami, 435, 436.

  Snake-stone, the, 298.

  Snuff, manner in which the Bechuanas manufacture, 458.

  Spring, hot, at Barmen, 108;
    at Eikhams, 230;
    at Rehoboth, 286.

  “Spring,” Author’s ride-ox, 71.

  Spuig-slang, the, or spitting-snake, 294.

  St. Helena, John, officiates as head wagoner, 80;
    his extraordinary disposition, _ib._;
    discourses on ghosts, 331.

  Steinbok, the, a young one taken and reared, 130;
    its tragic end, 131.

  Stewardson, Mr., 45.

  Stink-hout, a species of oak, 170.

  Sugar-cane, supposed to exist in many parts of Southern Africa, 188.

  Sun-stroke, Author receives one, 58;
    usual results of a, _ib._;
    the Author in danger of a second, 88.

  Sunrise, the, in the tropics, 51;
    often followed by intense heat, and sufferings thereon, _ib._;
    a mule left behind, _ib._

  Superstition, a, with regard to oxen, 152.

  Swakop, the, first appearance of, 49;
    its cheerful aspect, _ib._;
    the Author’s party attacked by two lions on the bank of, 93;
    the Damaras flock with their cattle to, 241.


  T.

  Table Mountain, 25;
    ascent by the Author of, _ib._

  Tans Mountain, 348.

  Tent, the Author’s, takes fire, 299.

  Teoge, the River, feeds Lake Ngami, 427;
    scenery along the banks of, 460;
    crocodiles observed on, 471.

  Termites, the, Schmelen’s Hope swarms with, 136;
    their method of constructing their nests, _ib._;
    encampment in the middle of a nest of, 145;
    instances of the fearful ravages they are capable of committing in
        an incredibly-short space of time, 155.

  _Textor erythrorhynchus_, a parasitical insect-feeding bird, 213.

  Thirst, suffering from, 52;
    water not quenching thirst, _ib._

  Thorn coppices, 182.

  Thunder-storm, a, in the tropics, 107, 141, 352.

  Tiger-wolf (or spotted hyæna), 369.

  Timbo, a native of Mazapa, 81;
    carried into captivity by Caffres, _ib._;
    sold as a slave to the Portuguese, 82;
    liberated by an English cruiser, _ib._;
    his faithless spouse, _ib._;
    his good qualities, _ib._;
    his love of (native) country, 83;
    friendship between him and George Bonfield, 336;
    turns sulky, 352;
    the Author sends him to Lake Ngami, 393;
    his return, 402.

  Tincas, the mountain, 52;
    great stronghold and breeding-place of lions, _ib._

  Tincas, the River, 84.

  Tjobis, a river and tributary to the Swakop, 59.

  Tjobis Fountain, arrive at, 60, 93;
    depart from, 61, 93.

  Tjopopa, a great chief of the Damaras, 168;
    reach his werft, 169;
    his character, _ib._;
    death of his mother, 176;
    his idleness and fondness for tobacco, _ib._;
    sensuality, 177;
    leaves Okamabuti, 207.

  Tobacco, great size of leaves of, 110;
    the Ovambo cultivate it, 189;
    buy sheep for, 208.

  Topnaars, a branch of the Hottentot tribe, 314.

  Toucans, 59.

  Trans-vaal River, the, rumors respecting the churlish conduct of the
        Boers on, 27.

  Traveling by day injurious, 58, 61;
    by, night preferable, but dangerous, 84;
    difficulties of African, 160.

  Trees, bearing an apple-looking fruit, 176, 189;
    enormous sized, _ib._

  Tsetse fly, the, where chiefly found, 468;
    description of, 469;
    poisonous nature of its bite, _ib._;
    result of Captain Vardon’s experiment on, 470;
    Mr. Oswell’s examination of oxen bitten by, 471;
    wild animals unaffected by the poison of, _ib._

  Tunobis, 233;
    days profitably and pleasantly passed there, 235;
    immense quantity of game in the neighborhood of, _ib._;
    the Author’s misadventure at, 360.

  Twass, the head-quarters of the Namaqua chief Lambert, 355.


  U.

  Usab, the, a striking gorge, we arrive at, 83.


  V.

  “Venus,” a small half-breed dog, her combat with a rhinoceros, 391;
    great sagacity of, _ib._

  Voet-gangers (_vide_ larvæ).

  Vollmer, Mr., 139, 286.


  W.

  Waggoner, John, his sulkiness and reluctance to work, 79;
    dismissed at Barmen, 125;
    his subsequent dishonest career, 139.

  Wagons, the, fifteen hundred weight a good load for, 78;
    accident to, 170.

  Wait-a-bit thorn, the, 156;
    great strength of its prickles, _ib._;
    excessively troublesome, 367, 413, 415.

  Walfisch Bay, the Author’s party advised to select this place as a
        starting-point for their journey into the interior, 28;
    arrival at the entrance of, 29;
    appearance of the coast as seen from, _ib._;
    description of, 30;
    trading establishments there, _ib._;
    frequented by immense numbers of water-fowl, 31:
    outrageous conduct of the crews of whaling and guano ships
        visiting, 243;
    extraordinary number of dead fish in, 245;
    the Author’s second visit to, 339.

  Water, difficulty of obtaining, 306, 387.

  Water-courses, the periodical, afford the only really practicable
        roads, 124.

  Wenzel, Abraham, 79;
    his thievish habits, _ib._;
    dismissed at Schmelen’s Hope, 140.

  Whirlwinds, 217.

  Williams, John, results of his carelessness, 80.

  Willow-tree, the, in the neighborhood of Omuvereoom, 155.

  Witch-doctor, the Namaqua, 318.

  Witchcraft, Damaras have great faith in, 219;
    the Bechuanas have great faith in, 442.

  “Wolf,” 114.

  Wolves, or hyænas, 131.

  Women, Ovambo, 194;
    Damara, 221;
    Bayeye, 480.


  Z.

  Zebra, melancholy wail of the, 98;
    the Author shoots one, 102;
    its flesh not very palatable, _ib._;
    a lion mistaken for one, 112;
    the Author shoots one, 142.

  Zouga, a river which flows out of Lake Ngami, 403;
    runs in an easterly direction from Lake Ngami for a distance of
        about three hundred miles, 428;
    vegetation along its course varied and luxuriant, _ib._

  Zwartbooi, William, a Namaqua chieftain, 137;
    relations between Jonker Afrikaner, and, _ib._;
    his territory, 138;
    assists us with servants, 140.

  Zwart Nosop, many pitfalls for game constructed in the neighborhood
        of, 238.

  Zwart-slang, the, or black snake, 294, 295.




LATIN INDEX.


  Acacia giraffæ, 42, 104.

  Aigocerus ellipsiprymnus, 431.

  Amadina squamifrons, 213.


  Behemot Jobi, 487.

  Buphaga Africana, 212.


  Canis mesomelas, 278.

  Chizoerhis concolor, 59.

  Columber canus, 294.

  Croton, 323.


  Diosma, 323.


  Euphorbia candelabrum, 91, 176.


  Felis caracal, 135.

  Francolinus adspersus, 50.


  Glossina morsitans, 468.

  Gryllus devastator, 281.


  Harelda glacialis, 32.

  Hippopotamus amphibius, 488, 489.

       ”       Liberiensis, 488.

  Holcus Caffrorum, 173.

  Hyrax Capensis, 291.


  Lanius subcoronatus, 78.

  Loxia socia, 104.


  Naia haje, 294.


  Oryx Capensis, 272.

    ”  beisa, 272.

    ”  leucoryx, 272.

  Otis kori, 135.


  Processus mamillaris, 495.

  Python Natalensis, 290.


  Quercus Africana, 170.


  Rhinoceros bicornis, 372, 373.

      ”         ”     Sumatrensis, 370.

      ”      Indicus, 370.

      ”      Keitloa, 372, 376.

      ”      Oswellii, 372.

      ”      simus, 372, 373, 374.

      ”      Sondaicus, 370.


  Textor erythrorhynchus, 213.

  Tragelaphus Angasii, 433.

      ”       eurycerus, 433.

  Trimerorhinus rhombeatus, 294.


  Vipera inflata, 294.


THE END.




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