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The Vee-Boers: A Tale of Adventure in Southern Africa

Chapter Fourteen.
Crossing a “Drift.”

As yet the alarmed emigrants had not decided on the direction to be taken. Up stream was that which led to the district of country they were treking to. But to keep on the river’s banks, wooded as these were, might be to continue in the infested region, and they would nothing gain by changing their place of encampment. At rest, or moving, their animals would become victims to the insects’ venom all the same. So before starting, a consultation was held to determine the route. Hurried it was, and without unanimity of opinion. Jan Van Dorn, leader of the party, believed the tsetse had been brought thither by the buffaloes, and was not anywhere else than just around that spot. There was much probability in this view, regarding the behaviour of these animals in their mad rush and routing. Not that they need have feared the insect; as, unlike with domesticated cattle, its sting is never fatal to them. But it annoys, and often sets them on the run. Despite this likelihood, the other two baases, Blom and Rynwald, differed with Van Dorn. In their belief there was tsetse all along the stream, up and down, and their best way would be to trek off from it inland – anywhere.

While they were still undecided, the Gordian knot was cut by their guide, Smutz. The nimble Hottentot had climbed, monkey-like, into the highest branches of the mowana, where he commanded a far view of the surrounding country; and from this elevated position had descried a place of probable safety. It was a range of high hills running parallel with the river; a dry, rocky ridge without any sign of timber on it, and therefore unlikely to be infested with the fly so much feared.

Shouting down his discovery, it brought their deliberations to an abrupt end, with a resolve to make straight for the hills. In any case it would be but the loss of a day or two’s time, with the toil of some twenty miles’ extra travel, the ridge appearing to be about ten or twelve miles off. But what of that, so long as it saved their stock from destruction? And, without further delay, the word went round for starting; the oxen were whipped up, and the waggons moved off, leaving the laager, late full of busy life, a deserted, desolate spot.

The river had still to be crossed, as they were on its southern side, and the range of hills lay north. But about this they anticipated no difficulty; having examined the drift on the day before, and found it easily fordable. When the attempt came to be made, however, it did not prove so easy. The rain-deluge of the preceding night, which half drowned Piet Van Dorn among the ant-hills, had swept all over the country, and the stream was now in freshet to full channel.

There were ways of getting the people across, the animals, too. But the waggons must wait for the subsidence of the waters. Luckily, this had commenced, and, as they could see, was going on rapidly. Many South African rivers rise to highest flood, to fall again within a few hours, and such an one this appeared to be. With glad eyes they saw it go down by inches, as though the water were filtering into the earth underneath, as well as running off down stream.

Confident it would soon be at its normal level, they did not think of outspanning. Instead, the oxen were kept attached to dissel-boom ³⁰, and trek-touw; only the horsemen dismounting to make things more trim for the passage across.

In an incredibly short space of time the water was low enough to attempt it; and then arose a chorus of shouts, with cracking of whips, as drivers, achter-shambok men, and forelopers, urged the oxen down the sloping bank into the stream’s bed. Not less was the fracas while the fording was being made, every moment of it a continuance of encouraging cries, and whip-cracks loud as pistol shots, till the three huge vehicles were dragged out on the northern shore, high, but not dry; instead, dripping wet up to their boxes.

The fording had been effected without serious accident, though accompanied by one of a comical character, in which Andries Blom was the conspicuous figure. This ill-starred youth, now more than ever jealous of Piet Van Dorn, while crossing the drift, rode close to the waggon that carried Katharina Rynwald. With the hope of re-establishing himself in her good graces, he was making great show of solicitude for her safety, as also display of his horsemanship. This is a set-off against Piet’s late pitch out of the saddle, which had become known, and his own account of it credited by all, save Andries himself. The latter, however, affected disbelief in it, insinuating that it was a simple downright “throw,” no hyena-hole, nor any other having aught to do with it. While wading his horse alongside the waggon, he had sneeringly said as much to Katharina, to get for his pains a look of reproachful scorn. Stung by it, and the jealousy that tortured him, he became reckless, spurring his horse angrily in front. But the animal, angered too, commenced pitching about, and tripping on the loose, slippery stones in the stream’s bed, went head over, not only sousing its rider, but flinging him from the saddle. As the two struggled out upon the bank, paces apart, the laughter that from all sides saluted him was bitter as though it came from the throats of fiends; all the more that a sweet silvery voice took part in it, which he knew to be Katharina’s.

But the merriment at his discomfiture was of short duration. Just then, all were oppressed with an apprehension of the tsetse having already done its deadly work, and that the fatal result would declare itself later on. It was not that, however, which brought their hilarity to an end, abrupt as though a bombshell had burst in their midst. This came from a shout sent from the opposite side of the stream – that they had just left – a cry of alarm. Looking across, they saw one of the Caffres, who had lingered behind at the laager to pick up odds and ends, coming at full run down to the drift, as he ran, excitedly exclaiming, “Olifants! olifants!” (Elephants.)

What was there in this announcement to alarm them? Instead, a professional hunter would have hailed it with delight, thinking of ivory and the gain to be got from it. So might they, but for a spectacle which on the instant after they had under their eyes. Looking back upon the open list, late traversed by them, they beheld a band of elephants, nigh a hundred in number, in all likelihood the same met on their midnight march across the Karoo. But whether they, or others, the danger was all the same and imminent. The huge pachyderms were coming over the veldt and in their usual fashion, single file, making straight for the drift, and likely to cross there. These sagacious animals know all the waters within any district frequented by them – the springs, vleys, and streams, with their fording places. The herd was advancing as if along an oft-trodden track, and the apprehension of the Vee-Boers – a very fear – was not without sufficient cause. Should the elephants continue on over the stream, it would be sure destruction to everything that chanced in their way. The rush of the buffaloes, lately dreaded, were as nothing to it. It was now that the head baas, Jan Van Dorn himself, assumed authoritative command, and gave display of his intelligence; calling to the forelopers to lead off, with the drivers and jambok men to whip up after. The waggons were instantly switched to one side, and clear of the track, which the elephants, left unmolested, would be likely to take. The driven cattle, too, were hurried out of the way, the people at the same time seeking safety in concealment.

But the old jägers had no intention of leaving the olifants unmolested; instead, he meant to make slaughter among them, and from their tusks get some compensation for the loss sustained by that wholesale poisoning of sheep.

He had barely time to arrange his battery – all the available guns belonging to the party – as the leading elephant, a grand old tusker, with ears big as carriage umbrellas, entered the open list in the timber, the rest still following in file. Though going only in a walk, it was with a stride that carried them along fast as most other animals in full run, and in a few seconds after the tusker stood on the stream’s bank; then with a flourish of trumpets, and a whirl of his flexible trunk, struck straight down into the water.

But never to go out of it again alive, on his own legs. Scarce had he wetted his huge hooves, when he was saluted by a fusillade from the opposite side that not only tumbled himself over, but five or six of his fellows following immediately behind, some of them wounded, some killed outright. The rest of the herd took instant affright and wheeling round, went off in wild rush, no longer aligned, but in scattered confusion, breaking through the bushes in every direction.

When the waggons were again drawn back upon track, and moved off inland, in addition to their usual loading, they carried several hundred pounds weight of valuable ivory.

Chapter Fifteen.
A Camp full of Carcasses

Another encampment of the Vee-Boers, their three waggons as before, forming its substantial centre. In almost everything else it is different from that under the baobab, being situated in a kloof ³¹ between two rocky ridges, which, trending towards one another, meet and form a sort of cul-de-sac. The valley’s bottom is of some breadth, grass – covered but treeless, save some stunted bushes scattered thinly over it, with here and there a tall camel-thorn, from which hang the purse-like pensile nests of a colony of weaver birds. The ridges are of basalt, and along their slopes lie huge boulders, some square-shaped and big as houses; other similar blocks being strewn about on the level below. Just over the camp, and shadowing it from the sun, is a high kop ³², on whose ledges cling aloes, euphorbias, and other plants, characteristic of desert vegetation; for all is barrenness, above and around, the bottom land alone showing any sign of fertility. This last is due to a spring, which, issuing from the cliff’s base, trickles down the valley, to be caught in a little pool, some hundred paces below. Being a permanent fontein, it afforded sufficient water for all the animals when they wanted it. But few of them want it now; most being dead, whilst those that survive are in death’s throes, without hope of recovery. The fatal work begun by the tulp, is being finished by the tsetse; good as finished already – and the migrating graziers will soon be without stock of any kind, horse, ox, or cow. Even their dogs are dead or dying.

This wholesale fatality, as they have since ascertained, was brought about by the buffaloes; some of the people, sent back to the river higher up, having there found no signs of the venomous insect. They had gone with a view to continuing the journey; but before a fresh start could be made, the too well-known symptoms of tsetse-sickness had declared themselves, and all thoughts of treking further were relinquished.

For the first forty-eight hours the effect of the poison had not been perceptible, and there was a hope of the animals escaping. A hope which had to be abandoned when they began to water at the eyes, and run at the nostrils, their hair standing on end as in the midst of an arctic winter, while they were under the hottest of tropical suns. Soon after came swelling of the jaws, scouring, with consequent emaciation, weakness to staggering; some actually going mad, as with hydrophobia, and having to be shot. All would have been shot ere this, but for a lingering, half-despairing belief that some might still get over it.

This is now gone; many of them have been buried; and of those above ground, the dying lie mingled with the dead, groaning and moaning piteously.

When at length comes the conviction that all are doomed, the fiat goes forth to put the suffering creatures out of pain. The guns are again brought into requisition; a brisk, though reluctant, fusillade follows, and the camp is left without a living quadruped.

For a time there was silence, profound and solemn as that which succeeds the firing over a soldier’s grave. Every one sate despondent, or stood in listless attitude, ignorant of what was next to be done. They but knew that to remain there would be out of the question, while treking away with their waggons was no longer possible. These huge vehicles, now teamless, with their white canvas covers, were as ships becalmed in mid-ocean; all sails set, but not a breath of wind to blow them on. And the migrating Boers themselves might be likened to shipwrecked sailors – castaways on a desert shore – for not much better was their situation. Around they saw the ruin of their hopes, the wreck of their fortunes, but nothing of what lay before them, or beyond.

Under such circumstances no wonder at their being sad and despondent.

But if silent, not so was the scene around. Throughout the kloof were noises enough, and more than enough, since all were disagreeable to their ears. Skulking among the rocks and bushes, the jackal gave out its long – drawn, lugubrious whine, in concert with the wild, hysterical laughter of the hyena; while from the ledges above came the hoarse wah-wah of baboons, as though these quadrumana were afflicted with colds, and all the time clearing their throats.

Along the cliff’s crest were perched vultures of various species, sunning themselves, with wings outstretched, now and then uttering harsh croaks as they contemplated the rich banquet below, soon to be ready for their beaks. ³³ Eagles, soaring high in air, meant partaking of it also, as betokened by their necks craned downwards, and screams of eager concupiscence.

An interval having elapsed, and the necessity for action forcing itself upon his mind, the head baas, Jan Van Dorn, summoned his two associates into council, for deliberation on what should be done.

A flat-topped stone near the centre of the camp offered a convenient seat, and, sitting down upon it – all three pipe in mouth – the leader thus delivered himself —

“Brothers! we’re in a bad way now; it couldn’t well be worse.”

“Ya – ya, that is true,” responded the others in a breath, Blom adding —

“Nach Mynheer Jan, it couldn’t possibly be worse.”

“Then what ought we to do, think you?”

To which merely formal question Van Dorn received no answer, the other two tacitly puffing away at their pipes in expectation that he would tell them. Accustomed to this sort of deference the old jäger no longer held back, but proceeded to unburden himself, saying —

“Well, brothers; the first thing we must do is to look out for our lives – our very lives. And it’s the only thing we can do now. To keep on to the place we were making for, even though sure of reaching it, wouldn’t help us a bit. Without our cattle we’d be no better off there than here; and now that our horses and dogs are gone too, there’s but small chance for us subsisting by the chase. Once our ammunition gave out, we’d be just as Bosjesmen, have to live on roots and reptiles. That’s not the life for a Vee-Boer, nor the diet either.”

“Gott der himmel, no!” was the deprecatory exclamation of Blom, sent forth between two puffs of smoke.

“So,” continued Van Dorn, “I see no hope for us but return to the Transvaal.”

“Neither I. Nor I,” assented the associate baases, Rynwald adding interrogatively —

“But, Mynheer Jan, how are we to get back there?”

This was just the trouble that stared all in the face, and had been in their thoughts ever since the tsetse-sickness first made its appearance among the stock. For in their thoughts, also, was the Karoo they had lately crossed with so much difficulty and danger. This when they had all the means of transport, waggons to carry their women, children, provisions, and other effects, with horses to ride upon. What would be the recrossing it without these, and afoot? Impossible, as Van Dorn well knew; and so declared, saying —

“Overland, brothers, we never could get back. We are more than three hundred miles from Zoutpansberg, the nearest settlement of our people, as you know. Some of us might hold out to reach it, but not all; only the strongest. The weak ones, our dear ones, would many of them perish by the way. Need I say more?”

“No – no!” promptly responded Rynwald, thinking of a wife and only daughter, the fair Katharina. “That’s enough, Mynheer Jan. We mustn’t attempt to go back over the Karoo; it would be our ruin, as you say.”

“Then how are we to go?” demanded Blom. “What other way?”

“By water,” answered the head baas. “We must make down the river, and on to the sea.”

“What river are you speaking of?”

“The Limpopo. The stream we’ve just left should run into it, not a great way below; and the Limpopo itself empties somewhere to the northward of Delagoa Bay. I have heard there is a Portugese settlement, a small port near its mouth, where whalers and coasting vessels occasionally call. If we can reach that, ’twill give us a chance to get down the coast to Port Natal, and then over the Drakenbergs back home.”

“That would be a long voyage,” suggested Blom, “full of all sorts of dangers, too.”

“In time not near so long as by land, and not half as many dangers either – if we have luck.”

“Ay, if we have luck. But suppose we haven’t?”

“We must take the chances, Mynheer Hans; all the more as there’s no help for it. But I’m sure it’s our best way.”

“So I,” seconded Rynwald.

“But,” said Blom, less objecting than to get a clearer comprehension of what their chief intended, “you don’t propose our descending the river afoot – tramping along the banks, do you?”

“Certainly not! That would be a trudge to take time, indeed; harder than crossing the Kalahari ³⁴ itself. We’ll sail down to the sea.”

“But what about boats? We have none.”

“We must do without them – build rafts, which in a way will be better than boats.”

“Oh! that’s your idea, Mynheer Jan. I suppose it’s a good one, and for the best. Well, I’m willing too. So let us make it a water journey.”

The other two having already pronounced in favour of this, the consultation came to a close by Van Dorn saying —

“And, brothers; the sooner we start the better. We can gain nothing by staying longer in this tainted spot; but may lose something – our health, likely, if not our very lives.”

Chapter Sixteen.
A Carnival of the Carnivora

Needless to say that Van Dorn’s last words, pointing to the urgency of immediate departure, were convincing to his associate baases, had they stood in need of conviction. But neither did; they, as he, being but too glad to get away from a scene where they had suffered so much loss, to say nothing of the misery. The spectacle now under their eyes was itself sufficiently disagreeable, seeming a very charnel-house. Scores of carcasses lay in and around the camp; and, as the hot sun continued to burn down upon them, the effluvia was every moment becoming more offensive, and would soon be unbearable. True, they could be buried as those first dying had been. But, for days past, an understanding prevailed that the encampment was to be changed, time and place alone remaining undetermined. The former had now come, and the latter been also resolved upon; no new ground, but one familiar to them – in short, that they had so lately and hurriedly abandoned.

They need have no fear of re-occupying it, nor had they. Tsetses might be swarming there thick as midges in midsummer; but nothing cared they now. The only hurt these insects could hereafter do was by their presence to remind them of the damage already done, recalling dissipated hopes and expectations. So far as the accursed fly was concerned, however, it was no longer thought of; and all were full of eagerness to be back under the mowana. They had pleasant remembrance of the hours spent beneath its shade, so different from that of the kop, which but gave them shadow when the sun had either not reached, or passed meridian. Besides, on the river’s banks grew trees of many kinds, affording edible fruits, some even delicious. No wonder, then, at the general joy, when it became known they were to move back to the river.

The prospect inspired every one, as it were, with new life; and when the moving commenced, as on the instant it did, all hastened to lend hand of help. For there was much work to be done, big burdens to be carried in the transference of their effects from camp to camp. And it would take more than one trip ere completed.

The women and children were marched off first, even these carrying loads proportioned to their strength. And with them went the first batch of regular carriers, to be followed by another, soon as the packages were made ready for transport; then another, and so on – all to return again. Thus down the ten miles of slope between mountain range and river passed a continuous stream of men bearing burdens, like ants on return to their hills; the same men soon after going back upward, unweighted, and with light elastic step. Only the downward journey was accomplished on the first day, as it was late ere they had commenced it. But on the second they made the “round trip,” and more; three times traversing the space between the camps.

Not all were of the last party that returned to the hills, only a certain number needing to go thither now. Most of the effects intended for removal had been got down on the second day, the waggons alone remaining in the kloof. Of course these cumbrous vehicles, of no use now, would be left behind; but not their tilts. These, sure to prove of good service afterwards, were to be fetched away, and it was chiefly for them the carriers had come back. The party consisted of half-a-dozen young Boers, with about twice the number of Caffres and Hottentots, Piet Van Dorn having charge of it.

The sun had set ere they re-entered the old camp; and as all were fagged out by the incessant toil of the two days, their thoughts alone dwelt upon rest and sleep. The return journey, their last, was to be made on the following morning, and there was no necessity for further work that night. So they at once betook them to their respective sleeping-places; the young white men climbing into the waggons, their native attendants, wrapped in karosses (Note 1) laying themselves along the ground underneath.

Soon all were buried in a profound slumber; the dismantled camp around them silent as a cemetery. But it was a silence of short duration. Scarce had they become unconscious, ere getting awakened by sounds which robbed them of the power of sleep, if not its desire. For their ears were saluted with the cries of wild beasts, coming from every side, and of so many kinds, it seemed as if all the predatory species of Africa were assembled within the kloof. In point of fact, most were there, attracted from far and near by the scent of the dead animals, whose carcasses were now far gone in decomposition. On previous nights there had been something of the same, though never such a racket as now. Then fires had been kept burning to frighten the beasts off; but this night being warm, and the last they were to spend on that spot – tired, too, – the young men had neglected taking such precaution; imprudently, as all saw, when startled out of their sleep by the roar of a lion, multiplied in loud reverberation along the adjacent cliffs. It was but the prelude of a horrible chorus quick succeeding, in which could be distinguished the angry “gurr” of the leopard, the spiteful snarl of the cheetah, and the cat-like miaulling of the serval. Hyenas of different species alternatively howled, chattered, and laughed, while jackals contributed their snappish bark to the fear-inspiring din.

Fear-inspiring it was to those freshly awakened; all the more when, after rubbing their eyes, they looked off, to see a sight which made their flesh creep, and blood run cold. No wonder. Over the camp-ground were lions, leopards, and the other sorts, thick as sheep in a pen, in all attitudes, and every variety of action; some tugging and tearing at the carcasses, others in dispute about pieces already severed: still others rushing to and fro in quest of a stray morsel. The moon shining in full effulgence rendered them distinguishable, almost as by daylight; while on the still calm air within the kloof, the roaring, growling, yelping, and howling, all repeated in echo from the cliffs, combined to make a very Pandemonium.

Fortunate for those who listened that the tilts were still upon the waggons, with end curtains of strong stuff to draw close – in part designed for just such a danger. In a trice everybody was inside them – white, black, and yellow – the flaps pulled to, and all made safe as might be. Still the situation was one of greatest peril. What if, after eating the dead animals, the devourers should turn their attention to the living men, and make a burst through the canvas? The stroke of lion’s paw, or leopard’s either, would tear that screen to sheds as though it were but tissue-paper, and they, concealing themselves under it, well knew this. But they knew also, that if left unmolested, more likely the fierce brutes, having filled their bellies, would retire from the ground, and give no further trouble.

For a time they were so left; but not long. The position was too ticklish and irksome for continued endurance. The young Boers, deprived of their rest, and kept in such a stretch of apprehension, soon began to chafe at it, till their impatience became anger, rendering them reckless. Besides there was one always eager to distinguish himself as a hunter, and never might such opportunity occur again. This was Piet Van Dorn, who at length casting all prudence aside, proposed opening fire on the enemy. Being chief of the party, and with controlling power, his proposal was unanimously agreed to; and, in less than five minutes after, the brutes making such noise over the camp-ground, heard other noises that were new to them – the cracking of guns – at the same time saw puffs of smoke, with jets of flame, darting out from the white covers of the waggons.

Surprise, with some fear, hushed the wild beasts into a momentary silence; the cowardly canidae– hyenas and jackals – scampering off at the first fire. But the fiercer and more courageous felines kept their ground, till a second volley had been sent into their midst; then only moving away with sullen reluctance, some even staying to receive a third discharge from the death-dealing guns. But of those that thus stayed, not many got off afterwards. The clear moonlight afforded a fine chance for sure aim, and the young Boers – all best marksmen – made deadly play with their roers, scarce missing a shot.

In fine, the camp was cleared of its fierce four-footed invaders, save those that had fallen. And of these could be counted a goodly array; four lions, with two lionesses, three leopards, and a couple of cheetahs!

Their pelts, stripped off the next morning, added to the weight requiring transport. But the young jägers could make light of this additional lading, in anticipation of the triumph such spoils would secure them.

Note 1. “Kaross.” A wrap of blanket size and shape, made of the skins of wild animals stitched together; they are worn by most of the uncivilised natives of South Africa. Various sorts of skins are used in their manufacture; those of the leopard and cheetah, or hunting-leopard, forming the distinctive garb of a chief.