Читать книгу Hendricks the Hunter; Or, The Border Farm: A Tale of Zululand - William Henry Giles Kingston - Страница 12

What the camel is in Northern Africa—the ship of the desert—so may be considered the waggon in the southern part of the dark continent. It may be likened indeed to a huge, deeply laden merchantman, steadily making her way amid the rolling waves of the ocean.

Some time had passed, not reckoned by months only, but by years, since the events narrated in the previous chapters occurred, when one of those lumbering vehicles, dragged by a span of fourteen sturdy oxen, was rolling along through the eastern part of Natal towards the Zulu border.

A short distance ahead rode our old friend Hendricks the hunter, scarcely changed since we first knew him, except that his beard might have become slightly more grizzled, and that here and there a wrinkle had deepened on his open countenance. Occasionally a shade of melancholy passed over it, as he spoke to a companion who rode at his side on a light, active little horse.

“It was His will who rules all things, Lionel, to take her; but I would rather you had remained some time longer under her fostering care, instead of commencing the rough life you will have to lead with me. But she has done you justice. You are better fitted morally and physically for what you may have to go through, than I might have ventured to hope. You will be of great service to me, as I can rely on you in a way I cannot even on Umgolo, or certainly on the rest of our Kaffir and Hottentot servants.”

“Thank you, uncle, for your good opinion of me,” answered Lionel, who had learnt to call his kind protectress, Mrs. Jansen, by the name of aunt, and very naturally in consequence addressed her brother, the hunter, as uncle. “I will do my best to show my gratitude to you, and to Aunt Susannah for all her kindness to me. Though I shall never see her again, I cannot help fancying that she will know what I am about. It was a sad day when she was taken from us so suddenly, and I thought I should have broken my heart if you had not arrived. I was so happy with her, that I never wished to be away, though I used to like going out with Mangaleesu, and shooting with the little fowling-piece you gave me, as long as he lived in the neighbourhood. Did you know that a short time ago he and his wife disappeared without saying where they were going? When I last went to see them, what was my dismay to find their hut burnt to the ground! At first I was afraid that they had been murdered; but Denis Maloney, who accompanied me the next morning, and I could discover no remains of anything belonging to them, and he is of opinion that they had some reason for going off. If they hadn’t been in a desperate hurry, they would, I am sure, have come to bid us good-bye.”

“I have no doubt that Mangaleesu was summoned by a superior chief to whom he owes allegiance for some special object—probably to take part in an attack on another chief. We shall hear about it when we get into Zululand,” replied Hendricks. “You were speaking just now of young Maloney. I am glad to hear so good an account of him; he appears to have acted the part of a true friend to you.”

“Indeed he has, and I am much obliged to him. It was fortunate for me that he remained in Maritzburg so long, for he taught me a great many of the things I know. Still he declares that he hates books, and would a hundred times rather be shooting elephants and lions than studying. Poor fellow! he has become very anxious about his father. Still he does not give him up, though everybody else in the town thinks he is dead.”

“I do not agree with them, though I confess that I am very anxious about my old friend,” answered Hendricks; “I still hope that he pushed, as I know he intended doing, far away to the northward, and that though he may probably have got into difficulties, he has escaped with his life. I think it very likely, however, that he has lost his waggon and servants, or he would have managed to communicate with me during my last long trip. I made every possible inquiry, and sent out messengers in all directions; but could hear nothing of him. It is strange that he should have so totally disappeared, without leaving any trace to show the direction he took. I am inclined to believe that he was entrapped by some treacherous chief or by some rebel boers who have often vowed that they would allow no Englishman to come near the territory they claim.”

While Hendricks was speaking, Denis Maloney, now a well-grown lad, rode up. He had previously been forming one of a party of three following the waggon at a little distance. All traces of sickness had disappeared, his muscles were well knit, and his countenance bronzed by the heat of the sun to which he had been exposed during a trading expedition dispatched by his uncle into Zululand. He had gone in the capacity of clerk or accountant to the leader of the expedition, his duties being similar to those of a supercargo on board ship. He had acquitted himself in the most satisfactory manner, and had thus gained experience both as a hunter and a trader. His uncle was so much pleased that he promised before long to fit him out with a waggon and team on his own account, that he might try his fortune in trading, chiefly for cattle, among the Zulus.

“Mr. Crawford and young Broderick asked me to come on and inquire when we are likely to outspan, for they complain that they are both hungry and tired, as they are not well accustomed to our style of travelling,” he said, addressing their leader.

“Tell them we shall camp in an hour or in less time perhaps; and if they can’t hold out, do you get some biscuits from a box in the hinder part of the waggon,” answered Hendricks.

Young Lionel was inclined to feel something like contempt for those so much older than himself, who were not ashamed to acknowledge that they were hungry and tired after travelling somewhat under twenty miles in a broiling sun. Denis, who had, it must be confessed, spoken one word for them and two for himself, soon got out the biscuits, and keeping a portion, distributed the rest between his two companions. One of them, Percy Broderick, was a lad about his own age, fair and good-looking, and well-grown, not having the appearance, however, of a person particularly well fitted for a life in the wilderness. The other, Harry Crawford, though much older, looked at the first glance still less fitted for roughing it. Not that he wanted breadth of shoulders, strong muscles, or stout limbs; but that his countenance betokened intellect and refinement, rather than firmness, resolution, and the other qualities requisite for a person who has to go through the hardships of a settler’s existence.

“Faith! I wonder what brought you two fellows out here, and I doubt much whether you’ll like the country now you have come. It’s a mighty fine one, there’s no doubt about that, for those who have a fancy for a wild life, and shooting rhinoceroses and buffaloes, not to speak of elephants and lions,” exclaimed Denis. He had as yet had but little conversation with his fellow-travellers, they having only that morning joined the waggon party from a farm at which they had been staying. All Denis knew was that they had come out together from England, and were now bound in the same direction.

“As to that, I was born in the colony, and have only come back to my native land,” answered Percy. “Haven’t you heard of my father, Captain Broderick, who is settled at Falls Farm on the borders of the Transvaal country? I suppose I can endure what my father and mother, and my brothers and sisters have to go through, and I shall soon get accustomed to it. I can’t say I know much about it at present, as I was sent to school in the old country, when I was a very little chap under the charge of an uncle, with whom I spent my holidays, and who looked after me all the time I was in England; but he died some months ago, and as my father could not send money to pay for my schooling, I was shipped off to return home, and Mr. Piatt, the owner of the Cloof Farm, where we were staying, was good enough to ask your friend Mr. Hendricks to let us accompany him as far as we were going, as he said that he expected to pass close to my father’s house.”

“You are very fortunate to find so good a man to travel with,” said Denis. “He is the most noted hunter in the whole colony, and a capital fellow besides.”

“I was much pleased with him,” remarked Crawford, “and should greatly like to accompany him throughout the whole of the expedition; but as I came out to farm, I must lose no time in endeavouring to learn. Half a year ago I had no notion of doing such a thing. I was at Oxford, intending to become a barrister; but the small fortune I expected to inherit disappeared, and as it might be several years before I could obtain a brief, I thought the wisest thing I could do with the remainder of my possessions was to come out to this country, of which I had heard glowing accounts. I cannot say exactly that I am disappointed; but were I to purchase a farm, and attempt to commence operations by myself, I should feel remarkably like a fish out of water, for I confess I have not the slightest idea what I should do.”

“Faith! there are a good many young gentlemen like you, Mr. Crawford,” observed Denis, “only they haven’t the wisdom to keep their money in a bank while they are learning something about the business they wish to engage in. In most instances they are so eager to begin, that they buy land, and very soon find all their money gone, long before their crops have grown, or what they have laid out in other ways has given them any return. When I was in the office of my uncle, Mr. Walker, in Maritzburg, numbers of young gentlemen used to come and ask for employment, just for their food and lodging. Those who have friends at home who can pay their passage money return, others have to turn their hands to digging and delving, or road making, though a few occasionally get to the surface. Now if they, as I was saying, had kept their money, and begun by working on a farm, either for wages or even for nothing, they would have been able in time to set up for themselves.”

“As to that, I must not boast too much of my wisdom,” answered Crawford. “My capital hasn’t yet been sent out to the colony, so that I could not invest it even if I wished to do so. Percy assures me that I shall receive a warm welcome from his family, and that I may besides have an opportunity of seeing how farming operations are carried on. He tells me also that I shall obtain an easy introduction to every description of wild beast: elephants, rhinoceroses, lions, gnus, black and brindled, blessbocs, hartebeests, reitbocs, not to speak of others of smaller size, and birds innumerable.”

“Faith! you’ll not find any want of them, but you’ll remember it’s not always pleasant to meet a lion or a black rhinoceros in a morning’s ramble, and you will have reason to be thankful if you don’t, for I can assure you that they’re rather troublesome acquaintances. I came to that opinion not many years ago, when I had to spend some hours up a tree, waiting for my breakfast, while a couple of lions and their cubs were watching below, eager to breakfast off me;” and Denis told, with much naïvété, his adventure on his first journey with his father.

Besides the white persons who have been mentioned, the waggon party consisted of three Hottentots, whose duty was to drive and attend especially to the cattle; and six Kaffir hunters, among whom Umgolo was the chief. Hendricks intended to obtain others who had before served under him on the way. There were three spare horses, which followed the waggon, fastened by riems or thongs of hide, the general substitute for rope in the colony. Five dogs may also be counted as forming part of the expedition, rejoicing in the names of Spout, Growl, Pincher, Fangs, and Raff. The latter belonged to Denis, who so called the animal after the name of a countryman, Paddy Rafferty, who had given it to him. The “baste,” he boasted, did credit to the “ould counthry:” for although no beauty, he was the cleverest and bravest of all the dogs, and much attached to him.

Each of the fourteen oxen had a Dutch name, to which it answered, well knowing when the driver shouted out, that if it did not exert itself, it would presently feel the effects of his long whip on its hide.

Travelling in Africa needs the exercise of a large amount of patience. Even when the ground is level, the huge machine moves leisurely along; but when rough hills have to be surmounted, the progress is still slower.

The “trek,” as the day’s journey is called, had been far from a pleasant one. A dry scorching wind blew in the faces of the travellers, while the country presented a vast stony plain, burned and arid, with here and there a few small round hills breaking the line of the horizon. Harry Crawford and Percy looked about them with dismay.

“I hope the country ahead is not all to be like this,” said the former.

“No fear of that,” answered Denis. “We shall have, to be sure, a few stony mountains to climb over, and now and then, in parts, it’s hard to find a tree, but that’s only here and there; for there are forests, and grassy meadows, and streams, and beautiful valleys, such as are to be found in no other part of the world, or, at all events, none superior to them, in my opinion. Look out there ahead, you’ll see, just rising above the plain, what I daresay you took to be a cloud, but it is a range of mountains; when we get over them, we shall have fine scenery enough to satisfy you. We shall then meet also with what you fellows from the old country call adventures, but which we out here are so accustomed to that we do not think much about them.”

Dreary as was the scenery in other respects, it was enlivened by numberless gorgeous flowers, the beauty of which Harry Crawford was well able to appreciate, although ignorant of the names of most of them.

“We should value these in our hot-houses at home,” he said.

“For my part I’d sooner have plenty of green grass,” observed Denis, “and so would the cattle, I’ve a notion. To say the truth, I’ve seen so many of these things that I no longer pay any attention to them, although they are mighty fine, I’ll acknowledge, now that I come to examine them more particularly.”

Percy, who admired the flowers as much as his friend did, every now and then got off his horse to pick some of them, until he had collected a large bouquet, greatly to the amusement of Denis.

“Take care, my boy, not to catch hold of the tail of a puff adder,” he exclaimed, as Percy again dismounted. “They are pretty numerous hereabouts, and you may chance to put your hand close to one of their holes while you are picking those flowers.”

Percy, without making any remark, threw himself into his saddle again, satisfied with the collection he had already made.

As they advanced the country improved. They passed the ruins of several farms, the owners of which had “trekked” to the Transvaal republic.

Hour after hour the waggon proceeded on through the same monotonous style of country, until towards evening, no other more convenient spot being found, a halt was called near one of the mounds which have been described, and close by which ran a small “spruit,” or stream, affording the weary oxen sufficient water to quench their thirst. As no trees or shrubs grew near, a quantity of dry dung was collected to serve as fuel. This, when once lighted, threw out an intense heat, quickly boiling all the pots placed over it; but as it produced little or no flame, it was not so well calculated to serve as a watch fire to scare away wild beasts as one formed of wood. It was necessary, therefore, to keep a stricter watch than usual at night, lest a lion might visit the camp with the intention of making a feast off one of the oxen or horses.

While the party were seated at supper, Denis amused himself by telling all sorts of terrible tales of the way a lion had occasionally leapt into a camp and carried off a man before his companions had time to rescue him.

“Come, Denis, don’t be trying to frighten our young friends with your wonderful stories, and to make them wish that they were out of the country again,” said Hendricks. “The lion is not so very formidable a beast, after all. I’ve never been troubled by one in my camp, although I have not unfrequently had half a dozen roaring round it at night; but then I have always kept up a good fire, and had men on the watch, ready to shoot the brutes, should they come near; so their instinct, I fancy, has told them that it would be prudent to keep at a distance.”

The horses had been knee-haltered, the usual way of securing them from straying, and had been turned out with the cattle to pick up as much sustenance as they could obtain from the withered grass, with one of the Hottentot boys, old Dos, to watch them. The Hottentots, like postilions, are always boys to the end of their days. Dos, though near sixty, was so small and wiry, that at a little distance he might have been mistaken for a boy.

As Hendricks intended to start at daylight, he ordered all hands to lie down at an early hour, and obtain as much rest as they could, with the hard ground for their beds, and the starry heavens overhead. A piece of canvas let down from the side of the waggon served somewhat to screen the young Englishmen—who were supposed to be more luxuriously inclined than the rest of the party—from the chilly night air, while the mound also contributed to protect the camp.

Denis and Lionel did not disdain to creep in beside them, while Hendricks occupied his usual berth inside his waggon. In a few minutes all voices were hushed, but though Crawford and Percy did not speak, the strangeness of the scene prevented them from going to sleep. Some time had passed, and they were at length beginning to get a little drowsy, when they were startled by a terrific roar, which seemed to come almost from above them. Starting up, and knocking their heads against the bottom of the waggon as they did so, in a very unpleasant fashion, they scrambled out from their sleeping-place, their impulse being to meet the danger, whatever it might be, on their feet, and to look about them. They were followed by Denis and Lionel, who had naturally been awakened by the roaring.

“What is it? Where is it?” asked Percy Broderick.

“Look there,” answered Denis, pointing to the top of the mound, where, in the dim light, the outlines could be seen clearly defined against the sky, of two lions. The monsters, placing their heads to the ground, again sent forth a roar, which sounded fearfully loud in the silent night air. The hideous uproar they made at length aroused Hendricks, who, turning out of his berth, seized his gun, ever ready at hand, and stepped a few paces from the camp towards them. The rest of the men in camp had sprung to their feet, and held their rifles ready for instant action, while the dogs, rushing to the front, continued barking in varied tones, though they showed no inclination to venture beyond the protection of their masters. The lions, however, did not advance, but continued standing in the position in which they had at first been seen, contenting themselves with uttering an occasional roar, as if to terrify the occupants before making a final rush into their midst. The hunters, however, were too well accustomed to encounters with lions to be alarmed, let them roar ever so loudly; still a fight with a couple at night would not be free of danger, should either of them be wounded and not killed outright. It would indeed be no easy matter to bring them down at the distance they were off.

“We must send these brutes away, or they’ll give us no time for sleep,” said Hendricks, and he summoned Umgolo and another experienced hunter to his side. Ordering the other men to keep back the dogs, he slowly advanced with his two companions towards the foot of the mound. Denis and Lionel, who was well able to use the small rifle his friend had procured for him, with Percy and Crawford, kept behind as a reserve, but Hendricks had ordered them on no account to fire, unless by chance the lions should break through and come down upon them.

Slowly the hunters advanced up the mound: the lions, however, not appearing to have noticed them, continued roaring as loudly as before, till suddenly they seemed to become aware that enemies were at hand, when, instead of springing boldly forward, Percy and his companions, to their astonishment, saw them retiring as cowardly dogs are apt to do after barking, then finally turning round, they trotted off until they were lost to sight at the other side of the mound.

“The brutes often prove poltroons, if courageously met, and so these have shown themselves,” exclaimed Denis. “We shall not be troubled again to-night by their sweet voices, though we may hear them in the distance growling and muttering over their disappointment.”

In a short time the camp was again quiet, and Denis and Lionel, accustomed to such adventures, quickly went to sleep, but Percy and Crawford could not, as before, close their eyes. Every now and then, as they listened, they heard a low muttering sound coming from a distance.

“What can that curious noise be?” asked Crawford. “I should fancy it was made by deer; I have heard something like it in England.”

“I don’t fancy any deer would remain in the neighbourhood with a couple of hungry lions roaming about,” answered Percy. “Perhaps it is made by monkeys. I’ll ask Denis. He was awake a few minutes ago. I say, Denis, what creatures are making those curious sounds? Just listen for a minute.” Denis was asleep, but on hearing himself called, awoke in an instant, fancying that something was the matter.

“What curious sounds?” he asked. “Sure I only hear a couple of lions muttering away as the beasts have a fancy for doing at night when they want their suppers, and haven’t yet found anything to eat. There now go to sleep, and don’t be bothering a fellow by waking him out of his first nap; you’ll soon get accustomed to stranger noises than those.” And Denis covered his head up again with his blanket.

The rest of the night passed quietly by, but at early dawn there was a great hubbub among the Hottentots and Kaffirs. The horses had disappeared; either the lions had put them to flight in spite of their being knee-haltered, or they had gone in search of greener pastures. Old Dos had not seen them go. He had been herding the cattle, and had taken little note of them, thinking that they could take care of themselves. The consequence was, he and another Hottentot boy, Tan, were sent off in search of them as soon as daylight had increased sufficiently to enable their spoor to be seen. The party had therefore to remain encamped until they were brought back.

“I should have preferred more picturesque scenery to spend the day in. I wonder our leader takes the matter so coolly,” observed Crawford.

“It’s just this, that he’s accustomed to it,” answered Denis. “A man who travels in this country must have a vast amount of patience. He must not value time as you do in the old country.”

Hendricks, however, did not let his people remain idle. They were employed in repairing or strengthening the harness, cutting thongs, collecting fuel, and doing other odd jobs, while he and Umgolo went out with their guns in search of a pallah or other game. Crawford and his younger companions amused themselves in camp, for the heat was too great to enjoy exercise. Before noon the horses were brought back, and the hunters returning with a springboc, no time was lost in inspanning, and the waggon proceeded on at a faster pace than usual, to make up for lost time. A drift or stream was forded, the waggon sticking as it reached the opposite bank, and much more time was lost in dragging it up, as the oxen obstinately refused to pull all together. In vain the Hottentot boys rushed in among them, endeavouring by soft blandishments to induce them to move. The Kaffirs swore in strange-sounding tones, and Denis flew here and there, poking one, lashing another, hauling at the head of a third, his example being followed by the other Englishmen. Their leader rode forward, merely observing—

“You must make haste, boys, for we have a worse bit than this to cross, and cross it we must, before we outspan for the night.”

Scarcely had he disappeared in the distance than the oxen, suddenly pulling together, hauled the waggon out. Denis uttered a loud shout of triumph, and away it went rumbling after them.

The promise of their leader was soon fulfilled. After moving on for three miles or so, the foot of a hill was reached. The driver knowing what was before him urged on the oxen, hoping that by pulling together as they were then doing, he might urge the waggon up without a stop. For the first two-thirds of the way they did very well, but at last coming to a steep pitch, suddenly the whole span stopped, and refused to budge an inch farther. Frantically the driver lashed and lashed, and cracked his whip, the reports resounding like a sharp fire of musketry amid the hills. It was of no avail, and had not two of the men rushed up with two huge masses of rock, which they placed behind the wheels, the waggon would have gone backwards, and dragged the animals after it to the bottom of the hill. In vain the driver shouted and yelled; forward they would not go; but began twisting and turning round in their yokes, some facing one way, some another; some dropping down on their knees, others rolling over with the risk of being strangled by the riems which secured them to the yoke. To Crawford’s eye they appeared in a state of confusion, from which it would be impossible to extricate them. The Hottentots shouted, the driver leapt from his box, and with the other boys rushed here and there, uttering yells, shouts, and execrations while they plied their tough waggon whips with a vehemence which brought blood at every stroke from the backs of the obstinate brutes. Now they seized the animals’ tails, twisting them round and round, some actually seizing them with their teeth, while they endeavoured to get them back into line, all the time shouting “Juk! juk!” to make them start, or “Om! om!” whenever they wanted them to turn round, generally at the same time hitting them on their noses with the butt ends of their whips. Crawford and Percy could do nothing, but Denis and Lionel exerted themselves fearlessly. At last old Dos, dragging at the leading oxen with a riem, the whole span “trekked” at the same moment, and in a few moments the waggon was again moving forward at a slow pace.

“All our difficulties are not over yet,” observed Hendricks to Crawford, as they were walking ahead, leading their horses. “See, there’s an ugly spot yonder, which it will require all the skill of old Dos to surmount. I’ll leave the drivers, however, to their own resources. If I interfered, they would simply follow my directions, throwing the responsibility upon me, and take no further trouble about the matter. If they get into a fix, I try and get them out of it.”

The ugly spot was reached. The path was sufficiently broad for the waggon to pass, but it sloped down to the edge of a steep precipice, not however quite perpendicular, as the tops of tall trees could be seen rising out of its side, but sufficiently steep to cause a waggon to turn over and over, and of a depth which would ensure its being crushed or smashed to fragments when it reached the bottom. The Hottentots gazed at it with uneasy glances. They first examined the harness, to see that all was secure, they then fastened four riems of stout buffalo hide to the side of the waggon opposite to the precipice. The whole of the party were next summoned to lay hold of the other ends of the riems, and the driver fixing himself on his box with his whip ready for action, Dos went ahead, and the waggon started. The ground was of clay, excessively slippery, and the party holding on to the riems and running alongside the waggon, found it no easy matter to keep their feet. Every moment it appeared that the waggon must slip down the steep incline. Lionel and Denis worked as hard as any one, although their united weight did not do much to keep back the heavy vehicle. All the party were slipping, hauling, scrambling along, shouting at the top of their voices, now and then one of them coming down in the mud, but still holding on to the riems. The fear was that the oxen would come to a standstill. So long as they kept moving, the danger was not so great; but there appeared every probability, should the waggon once fetch way, that not only it and the oxen, but the whole party, would be dragged over the precipice. Hendricks, assisted by Crawford, had taken charge of the horses, and rode on ahead, too well accustomed to similar adventures to feel especially anxious about the matter.

“The waggon will get over it,” he remarked; “if it does not, it will be provoking; but I always make up my mind for an occasional accident, although on the present occasion I should regret it very much, as it would delay the search for my friend Maloney: for in spite of what others think, I have hopes that he is still alive.”

“Denis thinks so too, and frequently alludes to the subject. He could not be as merry as he is if he believed that his father was really lost,” remarked Crawford.

Meantime old Dos and the other Hottentots were shouting and shrieking in shrill tones, the Kaffirs roaring in deeper bass, while Denis, Percy, and Lionel were halloing and laughing as they tugged away at the thongs. The oxen, encouraged by the voices of their drivers, were doing their part. The difficult spot, which the Dutch settlers called a squint path, was passed, and the waggon gained the top of the height, when at some distance a broad river was seen flowing to the southward.

“There is the Tugela; we must cross that to-morrow morning, to get into Zululand,” said Hendricks to Crawford. “To-night we must encamp midway between it and the foot of the hill.”

The waggon at once began its descent, as there was but little time to spare before darkness came on. The riems were now secured to the hinder part to prevent its slipping down too rapidly in the steeper places. The scenery from the top of the hill was wild and picturesque. Beyond the river lay several cloofs or valleys, containing numerous fine timber trees, and rich in the variety of their foliage and gorgeous flowers. A carpet of green clothed the side and foot of the berg, as well as the borders of the broad river, although the intermediate space was dry and parched by the summer heat.

The waggon reached the bottom of the mountain in safety, and soon afterwards the travellers camped by the side of a small stream flowing down from the berg they had crossed, a thick wood near at hand affording them abundance of fuel.

While the camp was being formed, Hendricks and Umgolo, according to their usual custom, hastened out with their guns, and each before long returned with a klipspringer, which were forthwith cut up and prepared for supper. The abundance of good meat restored the spirits of the Kaffirs and Hottentots, which the toils of the day had somewhat depressed. The night passed without any unusual incident. Lions might have been heard roaring or muttering in the distance, and occasionally the camp was surrounded by musically-inclined jackals or hyenas, but the brutes did not venture near enough to disturb the slumbers of the travellers, and at daylight every one was on foot ready to commence the trek which was to carry them into Zululand.