Alexander and the Major were now neck and neck, close to each other, at full speed, when of a sudden the Major’s horse stumbled, and fell upon an ostrich, which was sitting on her nest; Alexander’s horse also stumbled and followed after the Major; and there they were, horses and riders, all rolling together among the ostrich-eggs; while the ostrich gained her legs, and ran off as fast as the giraffe.
As soon as they had got on their legs again, and caught the bridles of their horses, they looked round, but could not distinguish the giraffe, which was out of sight among the mimosa-trees; while Omrah was very busy picking up their rifles, and laughing in a very disrespectful manner. The Major and Alexander soon joined in the laugh. No bones were broken, and the horses had received no injury. All they had to do was to return to the caravan looking very foolish.
“Your first essay in giraffe-hunting has been very successful,” said Swinton, laughing, as they came up to him.
“Yes, we both threw very pretty summersets, did we not?” said Alexander. “However, we have got some ostrich-eggs for supper, and that is better than nothing. It will soon be dark, so we had better encamp for the night, had we not?”
“I was about to propose it,” said Swinton.
“Did you ever hunt the giraffe, Swinton?” inquired Alexander, as they were making their supper on roasted ostrich-eggs; each of them holding one between his knees, and dipping out with a large spoon.
“Never,” replied Swinton; “I have often seen them in Namaqua-land, but never killed one. I remember, however, a circumstance connected with the giraffe, which would have been incredible to me, if I had not seen the remains of the lion. You are well aware how long and strong are the thorns of the mimosa (or kamel-tree, as the Dutch call it, from the giraffe browsing upon it), and how the boughs of these trees lie like an umbrella, close upon one another. A native chief informed me that he witnessed a lion attacking a giraffe. The lion always springs at the head or neck, and seizes the animal by that part, riding him, as it were. The giraffe sets off at full speed with its enemy, and is so powerful as often to get rid of him; for I have seen giraffes killed which had the marks of the lion’s teeth and claws upon them. In this instance the lion made a spring, but the giraffe at that very moment turning sharp round, the lion missed his aim, and by the blow it received was tossed in the air, so that he fell upon the boughs of the mimosa on his back. The boughs were not only compact enough to bear his weight, but the thorns that pierced through his body were so strong as to hold the enormous animal where he lay. He could not disengage himself; and they pointed out to me the skeleton on the boughs of the tree, as a corroboration of the truth of the story.”
“It does really approach to the marvelous,” observed the Major; “but, as you say, seeing is believing. I trust that we shall be more fortunate to-morrow.”
“I have gained a piece of information from Swanevelt,” said Swinton, “which makes me very anxious that we should leave this as soon as possible; which is, that the Matabili king had no idea that we had Griquas in our company, and still less that we were to come into his country with only the Griquas as attendants. You are not perhaps aware that Moselekatsee is the deadly enemy of the Griquas, with whom he has had several severe conflicts, and that we are not very safe on that account?”
“Why did not the Griquas say so?” replied Alexander.
“Because they do not care for the Matabili, and I presume are glad to come into the country, that they may know something of it, in case of their making an attack upon it. Depend upon it, as soon as the king hears of it, we shall be looked upon as spies, and he may send a party to cut us off.”
“Have you said any thing to the Griquas?”
“Yes, and they laughed, and said that they should not care if we went right up to the principal town, where Moselekatsee resides.”
“Well, they are bold enough, and so far are good traveling companions; but we certainly did not come here to fight,” observed the Major. “But does the Matabili with us know that they are Griquas?”
“He did not; he supposed that they were Cape people whom we had brought with us; but he has found it out by the Hottentots, I suppose. Swanevelt says, that the very first body of Matabili that we fell in with, he sent a runner off immediately, I presume to give the information. I think, therefore, that the sooner we can get away the better.”
“Well, I agree with you, Swinton,” replied Alexander.
“We will try for the giraffe to-morrow, and when the Major has had the satisfaction of killing one, we will retrace our steps, for should we be attacked, it will be impossible to defend ourselves long against numbers. So now to bed.”
They rose early the next morning, and, leaving the wagon where it was, again proceeded on horseback in search of giraffes. They rode at a slow pace for four or five miles, before they could discover any. At last a herd of them were seen standing together browsing on the leaves of the mimosa. They made a long circuit to turn them, and drive them toward the camp, and in this they succeeded. The animals set off at their usual rapid pace, but did not keep it up long, as there were several not full grown among them, which could not get over the ground so fast as the large male of the preceding day. After a chase of three miles, they found that the animals’ speed was rapidly decreasing, and they were coming up with them. When within a hundred yards, Alexander fired and wounded a female which was in the rear. The Major pushed on with the dogs after a large male, and it stopped at bay under a mimosa, kicking most furiously at the dogs. The Major leveled his rifle, and brought the animal down with his first shot. It rose again, however, and for a hundred yards went away at a fast pace; but it again fell, to rise no more. The female which Alexander had wounded received another shot, and was then also prostrated.”
“I have killed a _giraffe_,” said the Major, standing by the side of the one he had killed. “It has been a long way to travel, and there have been some dangers to encounter for the sake of performing this feat; but we have all our follies, and are eager in pursuit of just as great trifles through life; so that in this I am not perhaps more foolish than the rest of mankind. I have obtained my wishes–I have killed a giraffe; and now I don’t care how soon we go back again.”
“Nor do I,” replied Alexander; “for I can say with you, when we arrive in England, I too have killed a giraffe; so you will not be able to boast over me. By Swinton’s account if we stay here much longer, we shall have to kill Matabili, which I am not anxious to do; therefore, I now say with you, I don’t care how soon we go back to the Cape.”
As they were not more than two miles from the wagon, they rode back, and sent the Griquas to bring in the flesh of the animals; Swinton not caring for the skins, as he had already procured some in Namaqua-land, and the weight of them would be so very great for the wagon. On their return, they had some conversation with the Griquas, who candidly acknowledged that it was very likely that the Matabili king would attempt to cut them off, although they appeared not at all afraid of his making the attempt. They, however, readily consented to return the next morning. That night, a messenger arrived to the Matabili chief who was escorting them. What was the communication of course our travelers could not tell; but their suspicions were confirmed by the behavior of the man. When he found that, on the following morning, they yoked the oxen and retraced their steps, he begged them not to go, but to advance into the interior of the country, where they would find plenty of game; told them that the king would be very angry if they left so soon; and if he did not see them, his heart would be very sad. But our travelers had made up their mind, and traveled back during the whole of that day. The Matabili dispatched the messenger who had come to him, and who again set off at all speed; at night he urged our travelers not to go back, saying that the king would be very angry with him. But as the Griquas were now equally convinced that treachery was intended, they paid no attention to the Matabili chief, and continued their route, shooting elands by the way for their sustenance. Late in the evening of the third day they found themselves on the borders of the Val river. It was still two hours before dark, and as the Matabili pressed them to encamp where they were, they were satisfied that they had better not, and therefore they forded the river, and rejoined the caravan, under charge of Bremen, just as night closed in.
The Griquas said, that from the Matabili wishing them to remain on the other side of the river, they were persuaded that a force would arrive during that night or the following morning, and that it would be necessary to be on the look-out; although probably the enemy would not venture to attack them without further orders, now that they were no longer in Moselekatsee’s dominions. Every preparation was therefore made: the Griquas and Hottentots were all supplied with ammunition, and mustered with their guns in their hands. The wagons were arranged, the fires lighted, and four men were posted as sentinels round the encampment. What added still more to their suspicions was, that, about an hour after dark, the Matabili chief was not to be found.
“My opinion is,” said the Major, “that we ought to steal a march upon them. Our oxen are in excellent condition, and may travel till to-morrow evening without feeling it. Let us yoke and be off at once, now that it is dark. The moon will rise about two o’clock in the morning, but before that the wagons will be twelve or fifteen miles off. Alexander and I, with Bremen, will remain here with our horses and wait till the moon rises, to see if we can discover any thing: and we can easily join the wagons by daybreak. We will keep the fires up, to allow them to suppose that we are still encamped, that they may not pursue.”
“And also to keep off the lions,” observed Alexander, “which are not enemies to be despised.”
“I think it is a very good plan; but why not have more men with you? We have plenty of horses, and so have the Griquas.”
“Well then, let us talk to the Griquas.”
The Griquas approved of the plan; and, having their own horses, six of them agreed to remain with Alexander and the Major, and Swanevelt and two more of the Hottentots were also mounted to remain; which made a force of twelve men, well mounted and well armed. The remainder of the caravan yoked the oxen to the wagons, and, under the direction of Swinton, set off in a southerly direction, across the desert, instead of going by the banks of the Val River, as before.
This had been arranged previously to any expected attack from the Matabili, as it would considerably shorten the distance on returning, although they knew that they would find much difficulty in procuring water for a few days. After the caravan had departed, it was found that Omrah had helped himself to a horse and a gun, and had remained in the camp; but as he was always useful, his so doing was passed over without notice. In half an hour the wagons were out of sight, and the noise of their wheels was no longer to be heard.
They fastened their horses in the center of the fires, and sat down by them till the moon rose, when they directed their eyes to the opposite bank of the river; but for some time nothing was discovered to confirm their suspicions. When the moon was about an hour high, they perceived a body of men coming, down toward the banks, and the moon shone upon their shields, which were white. As soon as they arrived at the bank of the river, they all sat down, without making any noise. Shortly afterward, another body with dark-colored shields, made their appearance, who came down and joined the first.
“We were not wrong in our suspicions, at all events,” said the Major; “I should say that there are not less than a thousand men in these two parties which have already appeared. Now, what shall we do? Shall we remain here, or shall we be off, and join the wagons?”
“I really can hardly decide which would be the best,” replied Alexander; “let us have a consultation with Bremen and the Griquas.”
“If we were to go away now,” said Bremen, “the fires would soon be out, and they might suspect something, and come over to reconnoiter. When they found that we were gone, they would perhaps follow us, and overtake the wagons; but if we remain here, and keep the fires up till daybreak, the wagons will have gained so much more distance.”
The Griquas were of the same opinion; and it was decided that they would remain there till daybreak, and then set off.
“But,” said Alexander, “shall we leave this before they can see us, or allow them to see us?”
The Griquas said, that it would be better that the enemy should see them, as then they would know that the fires had been kept up to deceive them, and that the wagons were probably a long way off.
This having been agreed upon, a careful watch was kept upon the enemy during the remainder of the night. Although the moon had discovered the approach of the Matabili to the party, the spot where the camp had been pitched was in the shade, so that from the opposite side of the river only the fires could be distinguished. A little before dawn, some one was heard approaching, and they were all prepared to fire, when they discovered that it was Omrah, who, unknown to them, had crawled down to the banks of the river to reconnoiter the enemy.
Omrah, who was out of breath with running, stated that some of the Matabili were crossing the river, and that six had landed on this side, before he came up to give the information. He pointed to a clump of trees, about three hundred yards off, and said that they had gone up in that direction, and were probably there by that time.
“Then we had better saddle and mount,” said the Major, “and ride away gently to the wood on this side of the camp. We shall then be able to watch their motions without being seen.”
This advice was good, and approved by all. They led out their horses without noise, and as soon as they had done so, they went back, and threw more fuel on the fires. They then retreated to the wood, which was about the same distance from the camp, on the other side, as the clump of trees where the Matabili were secreted.
They had hardly concealed themselves, before the Matabili in the clump, surprised at not seeing the awnings of the wagons, and suspecting that they had been deceived, came out from their ambuscade; first crawling on all-fours, and as they arrived at the camp, and found only fires burning, rising up one after another. After remaining about a minute in consultation, two of the party were sent back to the river to communicate this intelligence to the main body, while the others searched about in every direction. Alexander, with the Major and their party, remained where they were, as it was their intention to cross through the wood, until they came to the open ground, about a quarter of a mile to the southward, and then show themselves to the enemy, before they went to join the wagons.
In a few minutes it was daylight, and they now perceived that the whole body of the Matabili were crossing the river.
“They intend to pursue us, then,” said Alexander.
Omrah now pointed to the side of the river, in the direction which the wagons had traveled when they came up by its banks, saying, “When go away–ride that way first–same track wagon go that way back–same way wagon come.”
“The boy is right,” said the Major; “when we start from the wood, we will keep by the riverside, in the track by which the wagons came; and when we are concealed from them by the hills or trees, we will then start off to the southward after the wagons.”
“I see,” replied Alexander; “they will probably take the marks of the wagon-wheels coming here, for those of the wagons going away, and will follow them; presuming, as we go that way, that our wagons have gone also. But here they come up the banks; it is time for us to be off.”
“Quite time,” said the Major; “so now let us show ourselves, and then trust to our heels.”
The Matabili force was now within four hundred yards of the camp. It was broad daylight; and, with their white and red shields and short spears in their hands, they presented a very formidable appearance.
There was no time to be lost, so the party rode out of the end of the wood nearest the river, and, as soon as they made their appearance, were received by a yell from the warriors, who dashed forward in the direction where they stood. The Major had directed that no one should fire, as he and Alexander did not wish that any blood should be shed unnecessarily. They therefore waved their hands, and turning their horses’ heads galloped off by the banks of the river, keeping in the tracks made by the wagons when they came up.
As soon as they galloped a quarter of a mile, they pulled up, and turned their horses’ heads to reconnoiter. They perceived that the Matabili force was pursuing them at the utmost speed: but as they had no horsemen, that speed was of course insufficient to overtake the well-mounted party in advance. As soon as they were near, our party again galloped off and left them behind. Thus they continued for four or five miles, the Matabili force pursuing them, or rather following the tracks of the wagons, when they observed a belt of trees before them about a mile off; this the Major considered as a good screen to enable them to alter their course without being perceived by the enemy. They therefore galloped forward, and as soon as they were hidden by the trees, turned off in a direction by which they made certain to fall in with the track which the wagons had made on their departure during the night.
They had ridden about two miles, still concealed in the wood, when they had the satisfaction of perceiving the Matabili force still following at a rapid pace the tracks of the wagons on the riverside. Having watched them for half an hour, as they now considered that all was safe, they again continued their course, so as to fall in with the wagons.
“I think we are clear of them now,” said the Major; “they have evidently fallen into the trap proposed by that clever little fellow, Omrah.”
“He is a very intelligent boy,” observed Alexander, “and, traveling in this country, worth his weight in gold.”
“I wish Swinton would make him over to me,” said the Major; “but, Alexander, do you observe what a change there is already in the country?”
“I do indeed,” replied Alexander; “and all ahead of us it appears to be still more sterile and bare.”
“Yes, when you leave the rivers, you leave vegetation of all kinds almost. There is no regular rainy season at all here, Swinton says; we may expect occasional torrents of rain during three months, but they are now very uncertain; the mountains attract the greater portion of the rain, and sometimes there will not be a shower on the plains for the whole year.”
“How far shall we have to travel before we fall in with water again?” inquired Alexander.
“Swinton says there may be water in a river about sixty miles from where we started last night; if not, we shall have to proceed about thirty miles further, to the Gykoup or Vet River. After that we shall have to depend for many days upon the water we may find in the holes, which, as the season is now coming on, may probably be filled by the rain.”
Alexander and his party rode for seven or eight miles before they fell in with the tracks of the caravan; they then pulled up their jaded horses, and proceeded at a more leisurely pace, so that it was not till late in the evening that they discovered the wagons at some distance, having passed the dry bed of Salt River ahead of them. During the whole day their horses had had neither food nor water, and the animals were much exhausted when they came up with the wagons. The oxen also were fatigued with so long a journey, having made nearly fifty miles since they started the evening before.
The country was now stony and sterile; a little vegetation was to be found here and there, but not sufficient to meet the wants of the animals, and water there was none. During the day but little game had been seen,–few zebras and ostriches only; all other varieties had disappeared. There was of course no wood to light the fires round the encampment: a sufficiency for cooking their victuals had been thrown into the wagons, and two sheep were killed to supply a supper for so numerous a party. But the absence of game also denoted the absence of lions, and they were not disturbed during the night. In the morning the Griquas parted company with them, on the plea that their oxen and horses were in too poor a condition to pass over the desert, and that they must make a direct course for the Val River and return by its banks.
Our travelers gave them a good supply of ammunition, the only thing that they wished for, and the Griquas, yoking their oxen to the crazy old wagon, set off in a westerly direction.
The route of the caravan was now directed more to the south-west, and they passed over an uninterrupted plain strewed with small land-tortoises, and covered with a profusion of the gayest flowers. About noon, after a sultry journey of nine hours, they fortunately arrived at a bog, in which they found a pool of most fetid water, which nothing but necessity could have compelled either them or the exhausted animals to drink. Near this pool in the desert they found several wild animals, and they obtained three gnoos for a supply of provision; the little wood that they had in the wagon for fuel was all used up in cooking their supper.
A heavy dew fell during the night, and in the morning, before the sun rose, they were enveloped in a thick fog. As the fog dispersed, they perceived herds of quaggas in all directions, but at a great distance. They again yoked the oxen and proceeded on their journey; the country was now covered with herbage and flowers of every hue, and looked like a garden.
“How strange that the ground should be covered with flowers where there is no rain or water to be found,” observed Alexander.
“It is the heavy dews of the night which support them,” said Swinton, “and perhaps the occasional rains which fall.”
A line of trees to the southward told them that they were now approaching an unnamed river, and the tired oxen quickened their pace; but on their arrival they found that the bed of the river was dry, and not even a drop of water was to be found in the pools. The poor animals, which had been unyoked, snuffed and smelt at the wet, damp earth, and licked it with their tongues, but could obtain no relief. The water which they had had in the casks for their own drinking was now, all gone; and there were no hopes of obtaining any till they arrived at the Vet River, at least twenty-five to thirty miles distant. Two of the oxen lay down to rise no more, the countenances of the Hottentots were dejected and sullen, and our travelers felt that their situation was alarming.
While they were still searching and digging for water, the sky became overcast, thunder and lightning were seen and heard in the distance, and the clouds came rolling in volumes toward them. Hope was now in every face; they already anticipated the copious showers which were to succeed; their eyes ever fixed upon the coming storm; even the cattle appeared to be conscious that relief was at hand. All the day the clouds continued to gather, and the lightning to gleam. Night closed in, but the rain had not yet fallen; the wind rose up, and in less than an hour all the clouds had passed away, the stars shone out brightly, and they were left in a state of suffering and disappointment.
CHAPTER XXVII.
As our travelers were sitting together, each occupied with his own melancholy thoughts, after the dispersion of the clouds and the anticipated relief, the Major said–
“It is useless our remaining here; we must all perish if we do not proceed, and it would be better for us to yoke and travel by night; the animals will bear the journey better, and the people will not be so inclined to brood over their misfortunes when on the march as when thus huddled together here, and communicating their lamentations to dishearten each other. It is now nine o’clock; let us yoke and push on as far as we can.”
“I agree with you, Major,” said Alexander; “what do you say, Swinton?”
“I am convinced that it will be the best plan, so let us rouse up the people at once. There is the roar of a lion at some distance, and we have no fires to scare them off.”
“The creaking of the wagon-wheels will be better than nothing,” replied the Major.
The Hottentots were roused, and the orders given to yoke: the poor fellows were all sound asleep; for a Hottentot, when he hungers or thirsts, seeks refuge from all his miseries in sleep. The oxen were yoked, and they proceeded; but hardly had they gone a mile, when the roar of three or four lions, close upon them, caused such alarm to the horses and the oxen which were not yoked that they started off in full gallop in a northerly direction.
Alexander, the Major, and Omrah, who were the best mounted, immediately set off in pursuit of them, desiring Swinton to proceed with the caravan, and they would drive on the cattle and join him. They galloped off as well as the horses could gallop, and perceived the stray horses and oxen still at full speed, as if they were chased by the lions. They followed in the direction, but it was now so dark that they were guided only by the clatter of their hoofs and their shoes in the distance; and after a chase of four or five miles they had lost all vestiges of them, and pulled up their panting steeds.
“We may as well go back again,” said Alexander; “the animals must have made a circuit.”
“I suppose so,” said the Major; “but my horse trembles so, that I had better dismount for a little while, that he may recover himself; indeed, so had you too and Omrah, for the animals are completely worn out.”
“The clouds are rising again,” said Alexander; “I trust that we may not be disappointed a second time.”
“Yes, and there is lightning again in the horizon–may the Almighty help us in our distress,” exclaimed the Major.
The horses, exhausted from want of water, continued to pant so fearfully, that it was nearly half an hour before they ventured to mount, that they might return to the caravan. In the meantime the heavens had become wholly obscured by the clouds, and there was every prospect of a heavy shower; at last a few drops did fall.
“Thank God!” exclaimed Alexander, as he lifted his face up to the heavens, to feel the drops as they fell. “Now let us return.”
They mounted their horses and set off, but the stars were no longer visible to guide them, and they proceeded on at a slow pace, uncertain whether they were right or wrong. This they cared little about; their thoughts were upon the coming rain, which they so anxiously awaited. For more than three hours they were tantalized by the lightning flashing and the thunder pealing, every moment expecting the flood-gate of the heavens to be opened; but, as before, they were doomed to disappointment. Before the morning dawned the clouds had again retreated; and when the sky was clear, they found by the stars that their horses’ heads were turned to the northward and eastward.
They altered their course in silence, for they were worn out and despondent; they suffered dreadfully from thirst, and it was pitiable to see the tongues of the poor horses hanging out of their mouths. Day dawned, and there were no signs of the caravan. A thick vapor was rising from every quarter, and they hoped that when it cleared up they would be more fortunate; but no, there was the same monotonous landscape, the same carpet of flowers without perfume. The sun was now three hours high, and the heat was intense; their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths, while still they went on over flowery meads; but neither forest nor pool, nor any trees which might denote the bed of the river, caught their earnest gaze.
“This is dreadful,” said Alexander, at last, speaking with difficulty.
“We are lost, that is certain,” said the Major; “but we must trust in God.”
“Yes, we may now say, Lord help us, or we perish,” replied Alexander.
At this moment, little Omrah, who had been behind, rode up to them, and offered them one of the Hottentots’ pipes, which he had lighted saying, “Smoke,–not feel so bad.” Alexander took it, and after a few whiffs found that it had the effect or producing a little saliva, and he handed it to the Major, who did the same, and felt immediate relief.
They continued to walk their horses in a southerly direction; but the heat was now so great, that it became almost insufferable, and at last the horses stood still. They dismounted and drove their horses slowly before them over the glowing plain; and now the mirage deluded and tantalized them in the strangest manner. At one time Alexander pointed with delight (for he could not speak) to what he imagined to be the wagons; they pushed on, and found that it was a solitary quagga, magnified thus by the mirage. Sometimes they thought that they saw lakes of water in the distance, and hastened on to them; and then they fancied they were close to rivers and islands, covered with luxuriant foliage, but still were doomed to disappointment; as all was the result of the highly-rarefied air, and the refraction of the sun’s rays on the sultry plain. What would they have given for a bush even to afford them any shelter from the noonday sun, for the crowns of their heads appeared as if covered with live coal, and their minds began to wander. The poor horses moved at the slowest pace, and only when driven on by Omrah, who appeared to suffer much less than his masters. Every now and then he handed to them the pipe, but at last even that had no longer any relief. Speech had been for some hours totally lost. Gradually the sun sunk down to the horizon, and as his scorching rays became less intense they to a certain degree recovered their wandering senses.
At night they sat down by the side of the horses, and, worn out with fatigue and exhaustion, fell into a troubled sleep; a sleep which, if it relieved their worn-out frames, condemned them to the same tantalizing feelings as had been created by the mirage during the day. They dreamed that they were in the bowers of paradise, hearing heavenly music; passing from crystal stream to stream, slaking their thirst at each, and reclining on couches of verdant green. Every thing that was delightful appeared to them in their dreams; they were in the abodes of bliss, and thus did they remain for an hour or two, when they were wakened up by the roar of a lion, which reminded them that they were without food or water in the desert.
They awoke speechless with thirst, their eyes inflamed, and their whole bodies burning like a coal, and the awful roar of the lion still reverberated along the ground. They started on their legs, and found Omrah close to them, holding the bridles of the horses, which were attempting to escape. They were still confused, when they were fully restored to their waking senses by a second roar of the lion still nearer to them; and by the imperfect light of the stars they could now distinguish the beast at about one hundred yards’ distance. Omrah put the bridles of their two horses in their hands, and motioned them to go on in the direction opposite to where the lion was. They did so without reflection, mechanically obeying the directions of the man-child, and not perceiving that Omrah did not follow them. They had advanced about one hundred yards with the terrified animals, when another loud roar was followed up by the shriek of the other horse, announcing that he had become a victim to the savage animal. They both started, and dropping the reins of their horses, hastened with their rifles to the help of Omrah, of whose absence they now for the first time were aware; but they were met half-way by the boy, who contrived to say with difficulty, “Lion want horse, not little Bushman.” They waited a few seconds, but the cries of the poor animal, and the crushing and cracking of its bones, were too painful to hear; and they hastened on and rejoined the other horses, which appeared paralyzed with fear, and had remained stationary.
They again led their horses on for an hour, when they arrived at a small pile of rocks; there they again lay down, for they were quite exhausted and careless of life. Not even the roar of a lion would have aroused them now, or if it had roused them they would have waited for the animal to come and put an end to their misery. But another and a softer noise attracted the quick ear of Omrah, and he pushed Alexander, and put his finger up to induce him to listen.
Having listened a little longer, Omrah made signs to Alexander and the Major to follow him. The noise which Omrah had heard was the croaking of a frog, which denoted water at hand, and the sniffing of the horses confirmed him in his supposition. Omrah led the way through the rocks, descending lower and lower; and ever and anon listening to the noise of the animal, till he perceived the stars of heaven above reflected in a small pool, which he pointed out to Alexander and the Major. Down they dropped to earth and drank, and as soon as their thirst was satisfied they rose, and pushed Omrah forward to make him drink also; and as the boy who had saved their lives was drinking, they kneeled down and prayed–not loud, for they had not yet recovered their speech; but if ever grateful prayers were offered up to the Almighty throne, they were by our two travelers, as they kneeled by the side of this small pool. They rose and hastened to their horses, and led them down to the water, when the poor animals filled themselves almost to bursting, walked away, and returned to drink more. They also repeated their draught several times, and then lay down, and would have fallen asleep by the side of the pool had not Omrah, who could now speak freely, said, “No, no; lion come here for water; up the rock again and sleep there–I bring horses.” This good advice was followed, and when they had gained the summit of the rising ground they again lay down and slept till daylight.
When they awoke, they found themselves much refreshed, but they now felt–what they had not done during their extreme suffering from thirst–the craving pangs of hunger. Omrah was fast asleep, and the horses picking among the herbage, about two hundred yards off.
“We have much to thank God for,” said Alexander to the Major.
“We have indeed, and, next to divine aid, we have to thank that poor boy. We have been as children in his hands, and we are indebted to him and his resources for our lives this night. I could not speak yesterday, nor could you; but his courage in remaining with the horse as an offering to the lion I shall not forget.”
“He is a child of the desert,” replied Alexander; “he has been brought up among lions, and where there is scarcity of water, and he has most wonderfully guided us in our path; but we are still in the desert, and have lost our companions. What must we do? Shall we attempt to regain the caravan, or push off to the westward, to fall in with the river again?”
“We will talk of this an hour hence,” replied the Major; “let us now go down to the pool, and as soon as I have had a drink I will try if I can not kill something for a meal. My hunger is now almost as great as was my thirst.”
“And mine too, so I will go with you; but we must be careful how we approach the water, as we may fall in with some animal to make a meal of.”
“Or with a lion, ready to make a meal of us,” replied the Major; “so in either instance we must approach it cautiously.”
As they walked to the pool, they discovered the head of an antelope just above a rock. The Major fired, and the animal fell. The report of the rifle was answered by a roar; three lions bounded away from the rock, and went at a quick canter over the plain.
“Both our suppositions have proved correct,” observed Alexander, as they walked up to where the antelope lay dead; “but how are we to cook the animal?”
“Any dry stuff will serve for a fire, if we can only get enough, and a very little cooking will serve us just now. Here comes Omrah. Let us carry the game up to where we slept last night, as soon as we have had a drink.”
They went to the pool, and were surprised to behold the filthy puddle which had appeared to them so like nectar the night before. They were not sufficiently thirsty to overcome their disgust, and they turned away from it.
Omrah now began collecting dried grass, and herbs, and lichen from the rocks, and had soon a sufficiency to make a small fire; they struck a light, and cutting off steaks from the antelope, were in a short time very busy at the repast. When their hunger was appeased, they found that their thirst was renewed, and they went down to the pool, and shutting their eyes drank plentifully. Omrah cooked as much of the meat as the small fire would permit, that they might not want for the next twenty-four hours; and the horses being again led to the water to drink, they mounted, and proceeded to the southward, followed by Omrah on foot. Another day was passed in searching for the caravan without success. No water was to be found. The heat was dreadful; and at night they threw themselves down on the ground, careless of life; and had it not been sinful they would have prayed for death. The next morning they arose in a state of dreadful suffering; they could not speak, but they made signs, and resolved once more to attempt to join the caravan.
They proceeded during the whole of the forenoon in the direction by which they hoped to discover the tracks of the wagons. The heat was overpowering, and they felt all the agony of the day before. At last the horses could proceed no further; they both lay down, and our travelers had little hopes of their ever rising again. The scorching of the sun’s rays was so dreadful, that they thrust their heads into some empty ant-hills to keep off the heat, and there they lay in as forlorn and hopeless a state as the horses. Speak they could not; their parched tongues rattled like boards against the roofs of their mouths; their lips were swollen and bloated, and their eyes inflamed and starting from the sockets. As Alexander afterward said to Swinton, he then recollected the thoughts which had risen in his mind on his departure from the English shore, and the surmise whether he might not leave his bones bleaching in the desert; and Alexander now believed that such was to be the case, and he prayed mentally and prepared for death. The Major was fully possessed of the same idea; but as they lay at some yards’ distance, with their heads buried in the ant-hills, they could not communicate with each other even by signs. At last they fell into a state of stupor and lost all recollection. But an Almighty Providence watched over them, and during their state of insensibility the clouds again rose and covered the firmament, and this time they did not rise in mockery; for, before the day was closed, torrents descended from them and deluged the whole plain.
Omrah, who had held up better than his masters, crawled out of the ant-hill into which he had crept; and as soon as the rain descended, he contrived to pull the heads of the Major and Alexander, who still remained senseless, from out of the ant-hills, and to turn their blackened and swollen faces to the sky. As their clothes became saturated with the rain and the water poured into their mouths, they gradually revived, and at last were completely restored. The wind now rose and blew fresh, and before morning they were shivering with cold, and when they attempted to get up found their limbs were cramped.
Soon after daylight the rain ceased, and they were glad to bask in the then cheering rays of the sun, which had nearly destroyed them on the day before. The horses had recovered their legs and were feeding close to them; and the flesh of the antelope, which had been untasted, was now greedily devoured. Most devoutly did they return thanks for their preservation, and the hopes which were now held out to them of ultimately regaining the colony; for they had abandoned all hopes of reaching the caravan, as they considered the risk of crossing the desert too great. They made up their minds to push for the Val River as fast as they could, and proceed back by its banks.
They had two horses, and Omrah could ride behind one of them, when he was tired; they had guns and ammunition, and although they were fully aware of the dangers to which they would be exposed, they thought lightly of them after what they had suffered. They now mounted their horses, and proceeded at a slow pace toward the westward, for the poor animals were still very weak. At sunset they had traveled about ten miles, and looked out for a spot to pass the night. Wood to light fires they had none, but they hoped, if their horses were not taken away by the lions, to reach a branch of the river by the following evening. There was now no want of water, as they repeatedly passed by small pools, which, for a day or two at least, would not be evaporated by the heat of the sun. But they knew that by that time, if no more rain fell, they would have again to undergo the former terrible privations, and therefore resolved upon continuing their course toward the river as their safest plan, now that they had lost the caravan.
As they were seated on a rising ground which they had chosen for their night’s rest, and occasionally firing off their rifles to drive away the lions which were heard prowling about; all of a sudden Omrah cried out, and pointed to the northward; our travelers turned and perceived a rocket ascending the firmament, and at last breaking out into a group of brilliant stars.
“It is the caravan,” exclaimed the Major; “Swinton has remembered that I put some rockets into my wagon.”
“We must have passed it,” said Alexander, springing on his feet. “God be praised for all his mercies.”
“Amen,” replied the Major devoutly.
Omrah ran after the horses, which were feeding close to them, for their instinctive fear of the lions made them keep as close as possible to their masters. They were soon mounted, with Omrah behind the Major, and set off at all the speed that they could obtain from the animals. After an interval another rocket was seen, and by its light they discovered that they were not a mile from the wagons. The horses appeared to be sensible of this, and went off at a quicker pace; and in a few minutes they had rushed in among the cattle, and Alexander and the Major were received into the arms of Swinton, and surrounded by the Hottentots, who were loud in their congratulations at their return.
As soon as Alexander and the Major had made known their perils and sufferings to Swinton, the latter informed them that about three hours after they had left the caravan in pursuit of the cattle, the animals had returned, that of course, he had fully expected them to follow.
Finding that they did not arrive, he had decided upon remaining where he was, at all events, for another day; but that the cattle were by that time so exhausted, that it was with difficulty they were moved, and he could not proceed with them more than ten miles, when they lay down in their yokes. Thirteen had died, and the others must have shared their fate, if it had not been for the providential rain, which had restored them.
Swinton stated that he had been in a great state of alarm for them, and that he had almost satisfied himself that they had perished, although he had used every means that he could think of. When he fired the rockets off, he had scarcely a hope of thus bringing them back to the caravan.
“However,” observed Swinton, “it shows that we should never despair, and never leave a chance untried, even in the most desperate circumstances. You are back again, and I thank the Almighty for it with all my heart and all my soul and all my strength, most fervently and most sincerely. I have been very, very miserable, I can assure you, my dear fellows. The idea of returning to the Cape without you was dreadful. Indeed, I never would have left the country until I had found you, or had some clew to your deaths.”
“Our preservation has indeed been miraculous,” replied the Major; “I never thought to have raised my head out of the ant-hill again.”
“Nor I,” replied Alexander; “and next to the Almighty, we certainly owe our lives to little Omrah. There is nothing that I would not do for that boy, if you will only give him over to my care.”
“Or mine, Swinton,” replied the Major.
“Depend upon it,” replied Swinton, “I will do all for him that ought to be done; I owe him a debt of gratitude for preserving my friends, and will not forget to repay it.”
“Well then, you must allow us to help him as well,” replied the Major. “How far are we now from the Modder River?”
“About forty miles, I should think, and we had better push on as fast as we, can; for although the river will contain water, the pools in the desert between us and the river will soon be dried up. The cattle, however, are still very weak, and, as I have stated, we have lost all our relays. But you must long to have a good night’s rest, so go to your wagons, and we will watch and keep off the wild beasts. We have been obliged to fire our guns all night long since your absence, and have burned one of the spare poles of the wagons to cook our victuals.”
Every thing is comparative. When our travelers first took up their night’s lodgings in the wagons they found their resting-places hard, after sleeping in comfortable beds at Cape Town; but now, after having passed their nights in the wild desert, their mattresses in the wagons were a luxury that was fully appreciated. Returning thanks to Heaven for their preservation, Alexander and the Major slept soundly till morning, notwithstanding that the latter was often half roused by the importunities of Begum, who appeared delighted at the return of her master.
At daylight the oxen were yoked, and they proceeded on their journey. There was no want of game; indeed they were so plentiful, that they shot them from the caravan as they passed. At night they had made twenty-five miles, and before they had unyoked, a deluge of rain again fell, and they passed a very uncomfortable night, as it was very cold, and they could light no fires, from want of fuel. Any thing, however, was better than the want of water; and early in the morning they again yoked their oxen, and, after a hard day’s toil, were rejoiced to perceive at a distance the trees which lined the banks of the Modder River. The sight was hailed with joy by the Hottentots, who shouted aloud; for they considered their dangers and difficulties to be over, now that they were approaching to the boundaries of the colony.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
As the cattle required some repose, after the sufferings they had gone through, our travelers resolved to remain a few days on the banks of the Modder River. The pasturage was fine and the game abundant. Gnoos and springboks were to be seen in every direction, and quaggas, bonteboks, and several other varieties of antelopes, were in profusion over the now undulating country. Neither were our travelers sorry to have some repose for themselves, although every mile that they drew nearer to the Cape made them more anxious to return.
As usual, the caravan was halted on a rising ground, at some distance from the river, to avoid the wild beasts, which during the day were concealed, and during the night prowled on its banks, to spring upon the animals which came down for water. As there was now plenty of wood, the fires were again lighted at night, and the oxen driven in and tied up. During the day, the animals reveled on the luxurious pasture, and in a week had become quite sleek and in good condition.
Every day our travelers went out to hunt for a supply of provisions, and never returned without more than was sufficient. Swinton was anxious to possess one or two more specimens of the oryx, or gemsbok. This antelope, we have before observed, from having very straight horns, which at a distance appear as one, has given rise to the fabulous animal the unicorn, which is now one of the supporters of the royal arms. It is a very formidable animal; being the one that our travelers found with its horns pierced through the lion which had attacked it. The horses being now fresh and in good heart, Alexander and the Major went in pursuit of this animal very often, but without success, as the chase was continually interrupted by the herds of ostriches and other game which fell in their way.
One morning, having discovered with the telescope that three of these gemsbok were some miles distant on a rising ground, they set off, accompanied by a portion of the Hottentots on foot, who were desired to go round, so as to drive the animals toward the camp. Bremen and Big Adam were of the party, and they had made a circuit of three or four miles, so as to get on the other side of the game, which now darted down from the high ground, and, descending on the plain, stopped for a while looking at their pursuers, while the horsemen advanced toward them in the opposite direction. A shot from Alexander at last brought one of these splendid animals to the ground, while the others fled off to a distance, so as to give no hopes of again coming up with them; and the party on foot, as well as the horsemen, now proceeded to the spot where the gemsbok lay dead.
As Swinton wanted the animal for a specimen, it was placed on the back of the horse which Omrah rode as usual, and one of the Hottentots went off with it to the camp, which was not more than three miles distant. They were debating whether they should make an attempt to get near to the other gemsbok, which were still in sight at a distance, or try for some other game, when they perceived three lions not far from them on a rising ground; and suddenly the horses, from which they had dismounted to give them time to recover their wind, broke loose from the Hottentots who held the bridles, and galloped away toward the camp. The cause of the panic was now evident, for a very large male lion had detached himself from the other two, and was advancing slowly toward the party.
As soon as they perceived the approach of the lion, which they had not at first, they all seized their guns; but being wholly unprepared for such a sudden attack, there was a great deal of confusion; the Major crying out, “Let no one fire till I tell him,” only produced more alarm among the Hottentots, all of whom, except Bremen, appeared to be at their wits’ ends. When within fifty yards, the lion made one or two bounds, and in a moment was among them all, before they could bring their guns to their shoulders; the retreat was general in every direction, and not a shot was fired.
All, however, did not escape; Big Adam had started back, and coming with all his force against Omrah, who was standing behind him, had fallen over the boy, and they were both flat on their backs, when the lion made his spring. The lion was standing up, looking proudly at his flying enemies, when Big Adam, who was close to him, attempted to rise and gain his feet; but perceiving this, the animal, with a blow of its fore-paw, laid him prostrate again, set its foot upon his breast, and in this attitude again looked proudly round him, as if confident of his superiority.
Omrah, who had sense enough to lie still, had yet his eyes sufficiently opened to see what was going on; and as the lion appeared to be looking at the scattered party, in a direction away from him, Omrah made one or two turns over, so as to get further off, hoping that he might escape unperceived. The lion, however, heard the rustling, and turning round growled at him, and Omrah remained still again. As Big Adam’s feet were turned toward Omrah, the lion now took up his position, deliberately lying down at full length upon Big Adam’s body, with his hind-quarters upon the Hottentot’s face, so that he not only secured his prisoner, but watched Omrah, who lay about three yards from him.
In the mean time the anxiety of the other party may be imagined; they considered that Big Adam and Omrah must be sacrificed. It was proposed to fire with good aim, so as, if possible, to bring the animal’s attention and indignation upon themselves; but Swinton cried out not to fire on any account. “The animal is not hungry or even angry,” said Swinton. “If let alone, he will probably walk away without doing them injury. At all events, our firing will be the signal for their destruction.”
The advice of Swinton was considered good, especially as it was backed by that of Bremen, who also said that the lion was not hungry, and that, by the way in which he, moved his tail, he was evidently more inclined to play than any thing else.
But in the mean time the pressure of the lion, whose weight was enormous, was not only more than Big Adam could bear, but the hind-quarters of the animal being over his face prevented him from breathing; and at last he was compelled to struggle to get his head clear. The consequence of his struggling was a severe bite on the leg, inflicted on poor Adam; not, however, in a furious manner; for the lion merely caught at him as a cat would at a mouse, to prevent its escape, or because it was not quite dead. However, Big Adam had so far disengaged his head that he could now breathe; and as the party kept crying out to him to lie still, he continued so to do, although nearly suffocated with the enormous weight of the animal.
Omrah, who had remained still during all this time, perceiving that the lion was licking the blood which flowed from the wound in Big Adam’s leg, thought that he might as well try another roll over, and being on his back, he turned over on his face away from the lion. Thereupon the lion rose from off Big Adam, walked up to Omrah, and, to the horror of our travelers, took up the boy by his waistcloth, and, carrying him like a small bundle in his mouth, went back to Big Adam, and laying Omrah close down to the Hottentot’s head, again took up his position on his body; now, however, with his paws upon the Hottentot’s breast, so that he might keep Omrah in view before him. Little Omrah had sense enough not to move during the time that the lion carried him, or after he was laid down.
The change in the position of the lion occasioned our travelers and the party to walk round, so as to be able to watch the countenance of the animal, as every thing depended upon the temper he might be in. The Major and Alexander became very impatient, and were for advancing to the attack, but Swinton persuaded them not to do so until the last moment.
The lion now put its fore-paw upon the Hottentot’s mouth, and again stopped his breath; this occasioned another struggle on the part of Big Adam, which was followed by the animal seizing him by the arm and biting him severely; but in so doing the lion removed its paw, and the man could breathe again. The taste of blood appeared pleasant to the lion, for it continued biting the arm, descending from the shoulder to the hand, and as the blood flowed from the wounds on its paws, the lion licked it off. Again and again it licked its paw clean, and then, with its glaring eyes fixed intently upon the Hottentot’s face, it smelt him first on one side and then on the other, and appeared only to be waiting for a return of appetite to commence a deliberate meal upon the poor fellow’s body.
In the mean time our travelers were standing about seventy yards distant, waiting for the signal to attack, when Bremen observed to Swinton–
“He won’t wait much longer, sir; the blood has given him an appetite. We must now drive him away, or they will both be killed.”
“I think so too,” replied Swinton; “let us first try if we can disturb him without making him angry; that will be the best way. We must go back out of springing distance, and then all shout together, and keep hallooing at him.”
This advice was followed; they retreated a hundred yards, and then all shouted at once, and after that the Hottentots hallooed and bawled to the lion. This had the effect intended: the lion rose from the bodies and advanced toward the party, who stood still hallooing at him, but not attempting to irritate him by presenting their guns. The lion looked steadfastly at them for some time, and then turned away. After retreating a few steps, it turned back to face them; the whole party continued on the same spot, neither advancing so as to irritate him, nor retreating so as to let the animal suppose that they were afraid of him. When the lion had continued for a few minutes this course of retreating and advancing, he turned right round, and went away at a hand canter, and our travelers immediately hastened to the spot where Big Adam and Omrah were still lying.
Omrah, who was not at all hurt, instantly jumped on his legs, and, if he had been afraid, appeared to have quite recovered his courage, as he cut all manner of capers, and laughed immoderately; but Big Adam was greatly exhausted and could not move, as much from the immense pressure of the lion’s enormous body, as from the blood that he had lost by the wounds which he had received. On examination, the bite in his leg was found to be much the most serious, as the bone was injured; the wounds on his arm were all flesh-wounds, and although very painful, were not dangerous. He was at present unable to speak, and was carried by his comrades to the camp. Our travelers followed the Hottentots, as they all had enough of hunting for that day. As soon as they arrived, Big Adam’s wounds were dressed by Swinton, and the poor fellow was accommodated with a bed, made up for him in the baggage-wagon. They remained two days more on the banks of the Modder River, and then they forded it and continued their journey.
On the second day they perceived some small human figures on the summit of a hill at some distance, which the Hottentots declared to be Bushmen, of which people there were numerous hordes in this part of the country. An attempt was made to open a communication with them, but in vain, as when any of the party advanced on horseback toward them, the Bushmen made a precipitate retreat. As they were now in the neighborhood of these plunderers, every care was taken of the cattle, which were tied up before dark to prevent their being stolen.
On the following day they very unexpectedly fell in with a party of nine of the Bushmen, who were very busy devouring a quagga, which they had killed. They replied to questions put to them with much fear and trembling, and, having been presented with some tobacco, they made a precipitate retreat. On that night the fires of the Bushmen were to be seen on several of the surrounding hills. They continued their course on the following day, when they fell in with about twenty women of the race we have just mentioned, who approached the caravan without fear, requesting tobacco and food; the former was given to them in small quantities, and a shot from the Major’s rifle soon procured them the latter. They were now without water again, and had no chance of procuring any, except from the pools, until they arrived at the Nu Gariep, or Black River, which they had crossed when they came out from the Caffre Land.
Having traveled till dark, they halted under a hill, and were soon afterward joined by a party of Bushwomen, who continued with them in spite of all their attempts to get rid of them. They were very small in person, well made, and the young were rather pretty in their features, but their ornaments were enough to disgust any one but a Hottentot; for they were smeared with grease and red ocher, and were adorned with the entrails of animals as necklaces. The Hottentots, however, appeared to think this very delightful, and were pleased with their company, and as the women showed them a pool of water, where the oxen could drink, it was not considered advisable to drive them away. But Swinton observed, that it would be necessary to keep a very sharp lookout, as the women were invariably sent by the Bushmen as spies, that they might watch the opportunity for stealing cattle.
They now resumed their former plan; starting at a very early hour, and traveling till afternoon, when the cattle were allowed several hours to feed, and were then tied up for the night to the wagons. Indeed the lions were now not so numerous as they had been, and they had more to fear from the Bushmen and the hyenas, which were very plentiful.
The next day fully proved the truth of this, for the oxen, having been unyoked as usual to feed, about two o’clock in the afternoon, had been led to a hollow of luxuriant pasture by the cattle-keepers, where they could not be seen from the caravan, although they were not half a mile off. Toward dusk, when it was time to drive them in and tie them up to the wagons, it was found that the cattle-keepers, who had been in company with the Bushwomen, had neglected their charge, and they were not to be found.
The keepers came running in, stating that a lion had scared the cattle, and that the animals had galloped off to a great distance. But Omrah, who had gone to where the cattle had been feeding, returned to the camp and told Swinton that it was not lions but Bushmen who had stolen them; and, bringing the horses ready saddled to the Major and Alexander, said, that if they did not follow them immediately, the cattle would be all killed. It was also observed that the Bushwomen had all disappeared.
Swinton, who was well aware of the customs of the Bushmen, immediately proposed that they should mount as many as they could, and go in chase, as there was not an hour to be lost. In half an hour a party, consisting of our three travelers, Bremen, Omrah, and three of the most trusty of the Hottentots, who were all that they could mount, set off in the direction which they knew must have been taken, so as to conceal the cattle from the sight of those in the caravan; and it being a fine moonlight night, the keen eyes of Omrah tracked them for more than five miles, where they were at fault, as the traces of their hoofs were no longer to be seen.
“What shall we do now?” said the Major.
“We must trust to Omrah,” replied Swinton, “he knows the habits of his people well, and they will not deceive him.”
Omrah, who had been very busy kneeling on the ground, and striking a light every now and then with a flint and steel, to ascertain the track more distinctly, now came up and made them comprehend that the Bushmen had turned back upon the very track they had gone upon, and that they must return and find where they diverged from it again.
This created considerable delay, as they had to walk the horses back for more than a mile, when they again found the footing of the cattle diverging from the track to the southward and eastward, in the direction of some hills.
They now made all the haste that they could, and proceeded so rapidly on the track, that in about an hour they perceived the whole herd of oxen driven up the side of a hill by a party of Bushmen. They put spurs to their horses and galloped as fast as they could in pursuit, and soon came up with them; when a discharge of rifles left three Bushmen on the ground and put all the rest to flight. The cattle, which were much frightened, were with some difficulty turned and driven back toward the encampment. In the mean time the disappointed Bushmen had turned upon those near, and were letting fly their arrows from the bushes where they were concealed and continued thus to assail them until the party arrived at the open plain. One of the Hottentots was wounded by an arrow in the neck; but that was the only accident which occurred to any of the party, and this was not known to our travelers until after their arrival at the encampment, when it was almost daybreak; and then, tired with the fatigues of the night, all were glad to obtain a few hours’ rest.
When they rose the next morning, Swanevelt informed them that nine of the oxen were so wounded with the poisoned arrows of the Bushmen, that they could not live; and also, that Piets the Hottentot had been badly wounded in the neck with one of the arrows. Swinton immediately ordered the man to be brought to him, as he was well aware of the fatal effects of a wound from a Bushman’s arrow.
It appeared that Piets had pulled the arrow out of his neck, but that some pieces of the barb had remained in the wound, and that these his companions had been extracting with their knives, and the wound was very much inflamed in consequence. Swinton immediately cut out as much of the affected part as he could, applied ammonia to the wound, and gave him laudanum to mitigate the pain, which was very acute; but the poor fellow lay groaning during the whole of the day.
They now examined the wounded oxen, which were already so swollen with the poison that there were no hopes of saving them, and they were immediately put out of their pain. Several others were found slightly hurt, but not so as to lose all hopes of their recovery; but this unfortunate circumstance prevented them from continuing their journey for two days; as the whole of the oxen had been much harassed and cut by the Bushmen, although not wounded by poisoned arrows. During this delay, the poor Hottentot became hourly worse; his head and throat were much swollen, and he said that he felt the poison working within him.
After many hours of suffering, during which swellings appeared in various parts of his body, the poor fellow breathed his last; and the next day being Sunday, they remained as usual, and the body of the unfortunate man was consigned to a grave. This event threw a cloud over the whole caravan, and whenever any of the Bushwomen made their appearance at a distance, and made signs that they wished to come into the camp, an angry bullet was sent instantly over their heads, which made them take to their heels.
On the Monday morning they again started with their reduced trains, for now they had barely sufficient cattle to drag the wagons. Fortunately they were but a few miles from the Nu Gariep, and they arrived at its banks before evening. The next day they crossed it with difficulty, putting all the oxen to two of the wagons and then returning for the others.
They were now once more in the colony, and their dangers and difficulties were now to be considered over. It was not, however, till a week afterward that they succeeded in crossing the Sweenberg and arriving at Graff Reynet. At this beautiful spot they remained for a few days, to make arrangements and to procure horses, that they might proceed to Cape Town as fast as possible, leaving Bremen in charge of the wagons, which he was to bring down to them as soon as he could. We shall pass over the remainder of their journey on horseback, as there was nothing remarkable to be related. Suffice it to say, that on the 11th of January, 1830, they arrived safe and sound at Cape Town, and were warmly congratulated by Mr. Fairburn and their many friends, after all the dangers and difficulties which they had encountered.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Alexander Wilmot again took possession of the apartments in Mr. Fairburn’s house, and was not sorry once more to find himself surrounded by all the comforts and luxuries of civilization. He could scarcely believe where he was when he woke up the first morning, and found that he had slept the whole night without being disturbed by the roar of a lion or the cries of the hyena and jackal: and after the habit to which he had been so long accustomed, of eating his meals in the open air with his plate on his knees, he could hardly reconcile himself for a few days to a well laid-out table. The evenings were passed in narrating their adventures to Mr. Fairburn, who was truly glad of the result of the mission to Port Natal, as it would be so satisfactory to old Sir Charles.
Alexander was now most anxious to return to England, and resolved to take his passage in the first ship which sailed after the arrival of the wagon with his effects. In the mean time his mornings were chiefly passed with Swinton and the Major, the latter of whom intended to go to England by the same vessel as Alexander. In three weeks after their return to the Cape, the four wagons arrived, and excited much curiosity, as they were filled with every variety of the animal kingdom which was indigenous to the country. Swinton’s treasures were soon unloaded and conveyed to his house, and our naturalist was as happy as an enthusiastic person could be in the occupation that they gave him. Alexander only selected a few things, among which were the skins of the lion and lioness. As for the Major, he had had all his pleasure in the destruction of the animals.
Bremen reported that all the Hottentots had behaved very well, and that Big Adam had nearly recovered, and was able to limp about a little, although it would be a long while before he would regain the perfect use of his leg. Alexander now sent for them all, and paid them their wages, with an extra sum as a gratuity for their good conduct. To Bremen and Swanevelt, who had invariably conducted themselves faithfully, and who had been the leading and most trustworthy men, he gave to each a wagon and span of ten oxen as a present by which they might in future obtain their livelihood, and the poor fellows considered themselves as rich as the king of England. The other wagons and cattle of every description were left with Swinton to be disposed of.
The Major pressed Swinton very hard to part with little Omrah, but Swinton would not consent. The Major therefore presented Omrah with one of his best rifles, and accouterments to correspond, as a mark of his attachment; and Alexander desired that all the money which was realized by the sale of the remaining wagons and other articles, as well as the cattle and horses, should be put by for Omrah’s benefit. As a keepsake, Alexander gave the lad his telescope, with which he knew that would be highly pleased.
We may here as well observe, that, a few months after Alexander and the Major left the Cape, Omrah, who had been placed at a school by Swinton, was admitted into the church, and baptized by the name of Alexander Henderson Omrah; Alexander and the Major being his sponsors by proxies. He turned out a very clever scholar, and remains with Swinton at this moment. He has more than once accompanied him into the interior, and has done much in reclaiming his countrymen, the bushmen, from their savage way of life, and has been of great service to the missionaries as interpreter of the Word to his heathen brethren.
About a fortnight after the return of the wagons to Cape Town, a free trader cast anchor in Table Bay to take in water, and Alexander and the Major secured a passage in her to England. Alexander parted with great regret from Mr. Fairburn and Swinton, with whom he promised to correspond, and they sailed with a fair wind for St. Helena, where they remained for a few days, and took that opportunity of visiting the tomb of Napoleon, the former emperor of the French. A seven weeks’ passage brought them into the Channel-and they once more beheld the white cliffs of England.
Alexander’s impatience to see his uncle, from whom he had found a letter waiting for him on his return to the Cape, stating that he was in tolerable health, induced him to leave the ship in a pilot-boat, and land at Falmouth. Taking leave for a time of the Major, who preferred going on to Portsmouth, Alexander traveled with all possible speed, and on the second day arrived at his uncle’s.
“Is my uncle quite well!” said Alexander, as he leaped out of the chaise, to the old butler who was at the door.
“No sir, not quite well: he has been in bed for this last week, but there is nothing serious the matter, I believe.”
Alexander hastened up stairs and was once more in the arms of Sir Charles Wilmot, who embraced him warmly, and then, exhausted with the emotion, sank back on his pillow.
“Leave me for a little while, my dear boy, till I recover myself a little,” said Sir Charles. “I have no complaint, but I am very weak and feeble. I will send for you very soon.”
Alexander, who was himself much affected, was not sorry to withdraw for a while, and sent the housekeeper, who attended his aged relative, into the room. In about an hour a message arrived requesting that he would return to his uncle.
“And now, my dear, kind boy, tell me every thing. I am indeed overjoyed to see you back again; I have not had one line from you since you left the Cape, and I really think that the worry and anxiety that I have felt have been the cause of my taking to my bed. Now you are back I shall be quite well again. Now tell me all, and I will not interrupt you.”
Alexander sat down on the bed, and entered into a full detail of the results of his expedition to Port Natal; reading over all the memoranda which they had collected, and satisfactorily proving that the descendants of the Europeans then existing could not by any possibility be from those who had been lost in the _Grosvenor_ East Indiaman.
Sir Charles Wilmot listened in silence to all Alexander had to say, and then, joining his hands above the bed-clothes, exclaimed, “Gracious Lord, I thank Thee that this weight has been removed from my mind.” He then for some minutes prayed in silence, and when he had finished, he requested Alexander to leave him till the evening.
The physician having called shortly after Alexander left his uncle, Alexander requested his opinion as to Sir Charles’s state of health. The former replied–“He has but one complaint, my dear sir, which all the remedies in the world are not very likely to remove: it is the natural decay of nature, arising from old age, I do not consider that he is in any immediate danger of dissolution. I think it very likely that he may never rise from his bed again; but, at the same time, he may remain bedridden for months. He sinks very gradually, for he has had naturally a very strong constitution, I believe the anxiety of his mind, arising from your absence, and the blame he laid on himself for having allowed you to undertake your expedition, have worn him more than any thing else; but now that you have returned, I have no doubt, after the first excitement is over, that he will rally. Still man is born to die, Mr. Wilmot, and your uncle has already lived beyond the three-score years and ten allotted to the average age of man. Depend upon it, every thing shall be done which can protract a life so dear to you.”
Alexander thanked the physician, and the latter then went up stairs to Sir Charles. On his return, he informed Alexander that Sir Charles’s pulse was stronger, but something must be allowed for the excitement which he had undergone.
When Alexander saw his uncle in the evening, the latter again thanked him for having undertaken the expedition, and having brought back such satisfactory accounts.
“I am much your debtor, my dear boy,” said he; “and if it is any satisfaction to you (which I am sure it must be from your kind heart) to know that you have smoothed the death-bed of one who loves you, you have your reward. I feel quite strong now; and if it will not be too much trouble, I should like you to give me a narrative of the whole expedition; not all at once, but a little now and then. You shall begin now, and mind you enter into every little detail,–every thing will interest me.”
Alexander commenced his narrative, as his uncle requested, stating to him how they were fitted out; the names of all the people; describing Swinton and the Major, and giving a much closer narrative of what passed than we have done in these pages. After an hour or so, during which Alexander had not got so far in his narrative as to have quitted the Cape for Algoa Bay, he left off, that he might not weary his uncle, and wished him good-night.
For many weeks did the narrative, and the conversation produced by it, serve to amuse and interest the old gentleman, who still remained in his bed. But long before it was finished, Major Henderson had arrived at the hall, and had been introduced to Sir Charles, who was much pleased with him, and requested him to remain as long as he found it agreeable. The Major, at Alexander’s request, had the lion and lioness set up in Leadbeater’s best style, and the case had now arrived at the hall, and was brought up into Sir Charles’s room, that he might have some idea of the animals with which they had had to contend; and there it remained, for the old gentleman would not allow it to be taken away.
“I must send out a present to that little Omrah,” said Sir Charles, one morning, as he was conversing with the Major; “what shall it be?”
“Well, sir, I hardly know; but I think the best present for him would be a watch.”
“Then, Major, order one of the best gold watches that can be made, when you go to town, and send it out to him; and, Major,–I am sorry to give you that trouble, but I am an old bedridden man, and that must be my excuse,–take the keys from the dressing-table, and open the small drawer of that cabinet, and you will find two morocco cases in it, which I will thank you to bring to me.”
The Major did so, and Sir Charles, raising himself on his pillow, opened the cases, which contained each a massive ring, in which was set a diamond of great value.
“These two rings were presented me by Eastern princes, Major, at the time that I was resident in their country. There is little difference in their value, but you would find it difficult to match the stones, even in England. I will shut the cases up again, and now that I have shut them up in my hands, take one out for me. Thank you, Major; that one is a present from me to our friend Swinton, and you must send it out to him with the watch for the Bush-boy. The other, Major, I hope you will not refuse to accept as a testimony of my gratitude to you, for having accompanied my dear boy on his expedition.”
Sir Charles put the other case into the Major’s hands.
“I certainly will not refuse any thing as a remembrance from you, Sir Charles,” replied the Major; “I accept your splendid present with many thanks, and so will Swinton, I am certain; but he will be more pleased with the kind attention than he will be with its great value; and I trust you will believe me when I add that such is also my own feeling.”
“I only hope you may have both as much pleasure in receiving as I have in giving them,” replied Sir Charles; “so put them in your pocket and say no more about them. There is Alexander coming up, I know his tread; I hope you do not mean to desert him now that the shooting season is coming on; he will be very lonely, poor fellow, without you.”
“I have good news, my dear uncle,” said Alexander, as he entered; “Swinton is coming home; I have a letter from him, and he will be here, he trusts, a fortnight after his letter.”
“I shall be most happy to shake hands with him,” said Sir Charles. “Pray write for him to come down immediately he arrives.”
Three weeks after this announcement Swinton made his appearance, and we hardly need say was most warmly welcomed. Omrah he would not bring with him, as he wished him to continue his education; but the Major declared that he had left the boy because he was afraid of his being taken from him. Our travelers were thus all reunited, and they agreed among themselves that it was quite as comfortable at the hall as it was at the Bechuana country; and that if the sporting was not quite so exciting, at all events it was not quite so dangerous.
Swinton and the Major remained with Alexander till the opening of the next year, and then they both left at the same time, and sailed in the same ship; the Major to rejoin his regiment in India, Swinton to his favorite locality in Africa, to obtain some more specimens in natural history.
As the physician had declared, Sir Charles never rose from his bed again; but he sunk so gradually that it was almost imperceptible, and it was not until the summer of that year that he slept with his fathers, dying without pain, and in perfect possession of his senses.
Alexander now came into possession of the estates and title, and certainly he entered upon them without any reproach as to his conduct toward his uncle, who died blessing him. And now my tale is ended, and I wish my young readers farewell.
THE END