LIONS PULLING DOWN GIRAFFE.

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

BY
CHARLES JOHN ANDERSSON.

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

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

PREFACE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

LAKE NGAMI.

CHAPTER I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MALAY.

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

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

“To be taken, to be seen,

These have crimes accounted been.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER II.

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

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

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

VIEW OF WALFISCH BAY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By his bounteous hand,

God covers earth with food for man and beast,

Insect and bird; yea, the poor creeping worm

Partakes the Creator’s bounty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER III.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER IV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAMARAS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER V.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VI.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HILL-DAMARA PIPE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VIII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER IX.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE LUCKY ESCAPE.

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

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

CHAPTER X.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XI.

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

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

“Herbs for man’s use of various power,

That either food or physic yield.”

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

“His rains from heaven parch’d hills recruit,

That soon transmit the liquid store,

Till earth is burden’d with her fruit,

And Nature’s lap can hold no more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SHOOTING TRAP.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then felt I like some watcher of the skies,

When a new planet swims into his ken.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FAN-PALM.[23]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PIPE.

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

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

DAGGER AND SHEATH.

HATCHET.

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

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

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

BASKET FOR MERCHANDISE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OTJIKOTO FOUNTAIN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVI.

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

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

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

INTERVIEW WITH KING NANGORO.

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

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

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

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

BEER-CUP AND BEER-SPOON.

GUITAR.

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

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

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

OVAMBO.

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

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

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

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

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

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

MEAT-DISH.

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

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

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

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

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

“the most terrible and nimble stroke

Of quick, cross lightning?”

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

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

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

DWELLING-HOUSE AND CORN-STORES.

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

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

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

VIEW IN ONDONGA.[28]

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

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

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

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

BLACKSMITHS AT WORK.

CHAPTER XVII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

UNWELCOME HUNTING COMPANIONS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVIII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That they should take who have the power,

And they should keep who can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAMARA GRAVE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIX.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JONKER AFRIKANER.

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

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

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

WILD BOAR’S HEAD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To give the reader an idea of the immense quantity of game hereabouts, I may mention that, in the course of the few days we remained at Tunobis, our party shot, among other animals, upward of thirty rhinoceroses. One night, indeed, when quite alone, I killed, in the space of five hours (independently of other game), no less than eight of those beasts, among which were three distinct species; and it is my belief that if I had persevered I might have destroyed double the number.[37] But I never took delight in useless slaughter. In our case, and I think I may say in all cases where I have been concerned in killing a great number of wild beasts, not a pound of flesh was ever wasted, for what we did not require for our own use was devoured by the natives.

As another evidence of the enormous quantity of game in this region, I may state that the fountain in question, which was a copious one—nay, apparently inexhaustible—was almost nightly drunk dry.

On several occasions I had narrow escapes from being gored by the horns of these ugly monsters. Thus one animal, on receiving a mortal wound, charged me with such fury as to carry completely away the fore part of my “skärm,” and I only saved my life by throwing myself with great force against the opposite wall, which fortunately gave way.

At another time I was walking leisurely up to a huge female white rhinoceros, that Mr. Galton had killed during the preceding night, when all at once its calf, about the size of an ox, rushed upon me from behind the carcass. Its movements were so rapid that I had neither time to get out of its way nor to level my gun; but passing the barrel, like a stick, against its chest, I fired, and, as luck would have it, the ball caused the calf to swerve on one side and take itself off. A short time afterward, and at no great distance from our encampment, it was found dead.

Being tired of shooting, and having got all the information we could from the Bushmen, we bent our steps homeward. Our failure in not reaching the Lake Ngami deeply mortified me. Night and day I was haunted by the thought. Taking every thing into consideration, I could not help thinking that, under more favorable circumstances, success would crown my endeavors, were I determined to renew the attempt. Accordingly, I made up my mind first to see my friend safe from the African shore, and then to return as soon as the rains had fallen.

I communicated my resolve to Mr. Galton, who at once fully entered into my views; and as I had neither oxen nor wagons, he kindly promised to supply me with both, as also with such articles of barter as his own reduced stores afforded.

After nearly a month’s absence, we found ourselves safe at Elephant Fountain. Notwithstanding we had been almost solely living on fresh meat during this time, we had only used the one half of a small copper-cap box[38] of salt! I mention the circumstance to show that salt is not strictly necessary to man’s existence. Moreover, excepting once or twice at the missionary table, we had not tasted bread for months. I had so totally forgotten the use of it, that, after our return to Barmen, on being entertained at Mr. Hahn’s house, I finished my meal without noticing the piece of bread which was conspicuous enough alongside my plate. Our men grumbled a little at first at being deprived of bread, but they also soon got accustomed to do without it, nor did the least inconvenience arise from its absence. I have always heard that the want of bread and vegetables is the greatest hardship a man can experience. Be that as it may, the human system—as the above facts demonstrate—is capable of reconciling itself to nearly all conditions and circumstances.

The men left in charge of the wagon were well, but poor John Mortar, the cook, looked pale and thin. On asking him the cause, he pointed to the fire where our food was cooked, and, with something like an oath, exclaimed, “Sir, look at that pot! I have been watching it these seven-and-twenty days and nights, and, after all, I find that my labor is thrown away!”

Shortly after leaving Elephant Fountain, John, it seems, had set about making soap, of which our supply was exhausted. Through some mistake, however, he used unslaked lime instead of the alkali obtained in the country from the ash of the native soap-bush. This at once accounted for his failure in regard to the article itself, and his own emaciated appearance.

Game, as has been said, was very abundant near to Elephant Fountain, and, by means of spacious pitfalls, great numbers of wild animals were almost nightly captured. The whole ground in the neighborhood of Zwart Nosop, which flowed past the place, was literally a succession of pitfalls, and they were so cleverly arranged and well concealed that it required the utmost caution in walking about. Even people thoroughly acquainted with the locality ran great risk of being precipitated into these dangerous traps.

Lions were numerous and very daring. From time to time, several of Amral’s people, while lying in ambush for game at night, had been either carried off or fearfully mangled by these beasts. Finding that I was somewhat incautious, the chief expressed the greatest apprehensions for my safety, more especially as I was usually quite alone.

On one of these occasions I must confess to having felt rather uncomfortable. I had posted myself in a dense mimosa brake, commanding the approach to the Zwart Nosop River at a point much frequented by wild animals, and flanked by an immense pitfall. The darkness was deepened by surrounding thick foliage and high river banks. Indeed, so black was the night that I could not discern even the muzzle of my gun. The gloominess of my solitude was increased by the occasional “Qua-qua!” of the night-heron, which made the succeeding hush more dreary, during which even the falling of leaves and rustling of insects among dry grass was hailed as a relief to the oppressive dumbness. To a man in a savage wilderness, and without a companion, silence, especially when combined with utter privation of light, is inexpressibly solemn. It strikes the mind not merely as a negation, but as a threatening presence. It seems ominous. I shall never forget the loneliness and sense of desolation I felt on this occasion. It was past midnight, and still no game appeared.

Suddenly I fancied I heard the purr and breathing of an animal close behind me; but as no other indications of any living thing ensued, I attributed the sounds to a heated imagination. All at once, however, the dismal stillness was disturbed by the quick steps of a troop of pallahs descending the stony slope leading direct to my ambush. Stooping as low as possible, in order to catch their outline, I waited their arrival with my gun on full cock. Nearer and nearer they came, till at last I fancied the leader was on the verge of the pitfall; but just at that moment there was a low, stifled growl, a rush, and then a faint cry, as of some dying animal. All was again silent. Though the impenetrable darkness prevented me from seeing any thing, I could no longer doubt that I was in the immediate vicinity of a lion. I freely acknowledge that I felt awed, well knowing that, were he to attack me, I should be completely at his mercy. My situation was critical in the extreme. Straining eyes and ears to discover the beast’s whereabout, I held my breath in fearful suspense, while every nerve was strung to the highest pitch. Presently I heard, to my astonishment, the report of a gun within fifty paces of my hiding-place; then a second and a third shot. This made matters worse; for I now became apprehensive that the men, not aware of my presence, might direct their fire toward me. I therefore sprang to my feet, and vociferated, “Who’s there?” “Sir! the lion—the lion!” replied Eyebrecht, for it was no other. The next instant he stood trembling before me. He had, it appeared, been sent by Amral to call me back, but had encountered the beast in his path, and fired, in order to frighten him away.

Though I did not exactly comply with the wishes of the chief, I deemed it advisable, after what had passed, to remove to a more open place, where I was less likely to be taken by surprise. Early next morning a number of Hottentots came to examine the ground, when, as I had expected, we found the footprints of a lion at the very back of my “skärm,” and scarcely distant the length of the gun-barrel from my own person, where he had evidently been crouching previously to leaping on the pallah (whose cry I had heard in the night), but which, though wounded, had effected its escape. How far the beast intended me mischief is hard to say, but, in any case, my position had not been an enviable one.

On our return journey to Barmen it rained heavily, and in some places the landscape looked quite revived. Many migratory birds, such as the swallow, the cuckoo, and others, had again made their appearance.

The animals, which during the dry season are compelled to gather round the springs and other permanent waters, were enabled, by the late rains, to scatter themselves over a large extent of country, and were now difficult to find. There can be little doubt that the instinctive power of animals—domesticated as well as wild—is capable of catching the scent of humid winds and green herbage at a very great distance. Thus I have often seen oxen turn their heads toward the quarter where distant lightning indicated that rain had fallen, and sniff with evident pleasure the breeze produced by colder air. Mr. Moffat, the missionary, mentions an instance where a great number of cattle were entirely lost, solely, as he supposes, from this cause.

“Many years previous to my sojourn in Namaqua-land,” says the reverend gentleman, “Afrikaner thus lost the greater part of his cattle. One evening a strong wind commenced blowing from the north; it smelt of green grass, as the natives expressed it. The cattle, not being in folds, started off after dark. The circumstance being unprecedented, it was supposed they had merely wandered out to the common, where they were accustomed to graze; but it was found, after much search, that some thousands of cattle had directed their course to the north. A few were recovered, but the majority escaped to the Damara country, after having been pursued hundreds of miles.”

For my own part, I have frequently passed through localities abounding with game, and, repassing them in a short time, I have found them deserted without any apparent cause; as I proceeded, however, I have discovered them in quite different quarters, and ascertained that the attraction has been the young grass, which was either produced by the moisture of the atmosphere, or from the natives having fired the old grass. The rapidity with which parched and sunburnt pasturages in tropical climes are converted by any of these causes into luxuriant savannas is incredible, and can only be duly estimated by those who have themselves witnessed such changes.

A stage on this side of Eikhams we encountered Hans, who had met with a little adventure in the neighborhood of Scheppman’s Mountain, where he had one day unyoked. He had been out in search of game, when on his return he was astonished to observe a number of natives rushing toward the wagon, no doubt with the intention of plundering it, and probably of spearing the men who had it in charge. On seeing Hans approach with a gun, however, they all took to their heels; but some were captured, and, after they had undergone a sound drubbing, and been threatened with death should they ever attempt a similar outrage, they were allowed to depart. Not many hours elapsed before these very savages returned to beg for tobacco!

We were sorry to find that our cattle looked thin and miserable. Indeed, Hans had experienced the greatest difficulty in bringing on the wagon. Restored tranquillity had given confidence to the Damaras, who were now flocking in great numbers with their cattle to the banks of the Swakop, the result of which was that every blade of grass was consumed for miles around both sides of the river. This was indeed sad news, as our route lay precisely through these parts, and our draft animals were by this time in a distressingly exhausted and reduced state. It required some efforts on our part to overcome these difficulties, and we lost no time in retracing our steps. After Mr. Galton had disposed of some of the superfluous goods to the natives, and exchanged the runaway mules to Jonker for cattle, we bade farewell to the hospitable hearth of the missionaries at Barmen and Richterfeldt, and proceeded quickly on our road to Walfisch Bay.

On arriving at the confluence of the Swakop and the Tjobis Rivers, we had a narrow escape from being poisoned, as the Hill-Damaras had mixed the juice of the euphorbia candelabrum with the stagnant pool-water for the purpose of killing buffaloes, which were numerous hereabout. Fortunately, by having gone in advance of our party, in the hope of obtaining a shot at these animals, I discovered the poisoned water (easily detected by its peculiar clay color) in time to prevent any serious mischief. Some of the dogs partook of it, but, having previously taken their fill of clear, pure water, they escaped with a heavy vomiting. At this identical place Hans had a short time previously found several dead and dying buffaloes that had been poisoned.

The symptoms with men, after imbibing the poison in question—not the least of the many dangers to which the African traveler is almost daily exposed—are generally a fullness of the system, quick pulsation, giddiness, and a violent “flesh-quake.”

Though our cattle suffered dreadfully from want of pasturage, we reached Walfisch Bay on the 5th of December without the loss of a single ox.

The missionary vessel had not yet arrived, but there were two others, a brig and a bark. The master of the first was an Englishman, in search of guano, as also of nitrate of soda, which was reported to exist on this coast. He imagined that he had really found the latter valuable salt, and whispered his discovery to us as a great secret. On examining the specimens in his possession, however, it was found to be nothing more nor less than pieces of common soap! part, probably, of the cargo of some wrecked vessel. The action of the water had so altered the soap in appearance that the mistake was really excusable. On learning from us the real nature of his supposed prize, the poor captain, as may be imagined, evinced no little chagrin and disappointment.

The second ship was an American, in search of the sperm whale, which is not unfrequently found in these waters. Our shabby and tattered garments and unshaved faces induced the captain to regard us at first with suspicion, taking us not improbably for outlaws, unfit for other society than savage men and beasts. By degrees, however, his mind, as to our proper character, was set at rest, and we were hospitably entertained on board his ship, which was scrupulously clean and orderly.

The crews of many of the whaling and guano ships who were in the habit of frequenting Walfisch Bay had behaved very outrageously, either by plundering, or wantonly destroying the contents of the temporary store-house. On one occasion they had been amusingly baffled in their dishonest and disreputable practices. At the time of which I am now speaking, the store was tenanted by Mr. Dickson, the trader, who possessed some very fine lion cubs. These a certain captain determined to purloin, and, for that purpose, sent a number of his men in the dead of the night to carry them away. The animals were usually kept in a large tub or barrel; but it so happened that, on the very evening the master had fixed on for the execution of his plan, they had been removed elsewhere, and that Mr. Bassingweight, one of Mr. Dickson’s employés, had taken up his abode in their old quarters. The sailors entered the building unperceived, and began rapidly to roll the tub away. Mr. Bassingweight at first imagined he was dreaming; but, as the motion became more violent, the thumping of his head against the wooden walls soon brought him to his senses, on which he roared out most lustily. The unexpected and strange noise so terrified the sailors that they made a precipitate retreat.

The next morning, the captain, having previously had the audacity to possess himself of one of Mr. Dickson’s horses, came riding, very drunk, to his house, and in an imperious and impudent tone demanded the cubs to be given up to him. At the same time, he thrust an immense dagger through a dish of pancakes which a servant was busy preparing. Mr. Dickson was not at home; but his wife, who was a shrewd and determined woman, not only refused compliance, but commanded the fellow instantly to dismount and go about his business. On his hesitating, she unceremoniously pulled him off the horse, and threatened to knock him down if he did not immediately leave the house. Fearing, however, that he might return with his crew during the night to revenge himself, and, perhaps, take forcible possession of the young lions, she ordered Bassingweight and another of her servants (having previously primed them with cordials to raise their spirits and courage) to proceed at dusk toward the Bay to watch the enemy’s movements. Mrs. Dickson’s surmise proved correct; for the men had not gone far before they distinguished the clamorous voices of a number of persons who were rapidly approaching them. Squatting behind some sand-hillocks, they allowed the marauders to come within range, when they fired a shot over their heads, which had the desired effect. Without waiting for further hostility, Jack instantly bolted. Elated by their easy success, Bassingweight and his companion instantly gave chase, and on coming up with the fugitives, a terrible pele-mêle fight ensued. Notwithstanding one of the men was almost a giant in strength and stature, the odds were too great, and they were on the point of being overpowered. At this critical moment Bassingweight called loudly for assistance, hoping that some of the natives, who occasionally slept on the beach, might come to the rescue. To their inexpressible relief, up rose from among a number of empty barrels, which happened to be ranged along the shore, a Bushman. His appearance acted like magic, and instantly turned the cards in their favor; for the sailors, as it was afterward ascertained, imagining the casks to be savages also, and dreading probably their poisoned arrows, were seized with a panic, and fled precipitately in every direction, some rushing up to their necks in water, while others actually fell on their knees begging forgiveness! Unless for the Bushman, Bassingweight assured me that himself and companion must have been inevitably killed.

The bay presented at this time a most extraordinary spectacle, the whole being covered with one mass of dead fish. We could only account for so unusual a sight by supposing that an epidemic had occurred among them, more especially as it did not appear to be confined to one or two species of the finny tribe, but to all which are indigenous to the coast, the gigantic shark not excepted. In some of the more sheltered spots the fish lay so deep that I remember on one occasion to have had some difficulty in forcing my way through in a small Mackintosh punt.

As may well be expected, the effluvium arising from such a mass of decomposed matter was offensive and sickening. Whether all the fish died, or the stench drove the survivors away, I am unable to decide; but certain it is that hardly a fish was left in the Bay. On our first arrival we captured large quantities by means of a small seine-net, but now all our attempts proved futile.

An incident occurred to me one day which might have been attended with fatal consequences. A cutter had lately arrived from the Cape, the object of the captain being to harpoon the “humpback” whale, which at this season of the year abounds in the vicinity of Walfisch Bay. I had paid a visit to the craft in the punt mentioned. On my return it came on to blow hard from the land. In calm weather the punt could be managed with great ease; but, on account of her flat bottom and light construction, it was impossible to make head against a stiff breeze. When within a stone’s throw of the shore she became unmanageable, and for the space of fully one hour all my efforts to propel her were unavailing. At last, finding my strength failing, I made one more desperate effort, and, having fortunately succeeded in getting her into shallow water, I leaped over the side and ultimately brought her to a place of safety. My arms were quite paralyzed, and for a while I was unable to lift them from my sides. Had the struggle lasted another minute, nothing could have saved me from being blown out into the open sea, and as there was a gale of wind at the time, there can be no doubt as to the result.

On the 31st of December, being then at Scheppmansdorf, I received intelligence that the long-expected missionary vessel had arrived, and that she was to sail in a few days for St. Helena. On the following morning, the first day of the year 1852, a parcel of European letters was handed to me. It was now fully twenty months since I had heard any news of my friends, and I hailed this token of their interest in my behalf with rapture. But alas! although I had much to be thankful for, the intelligence was damped by the unexpected tidings of the death of a younger brother. Poor fellow! notwithstanding he and I could never agree during life, I loved him dearly. His last words, uttered in delirium, were said to have been addressed to me, imploring me to come to his assistance. He died at Rio Janeiro of that scourge, the yellow fever. Peace be to his memory! The cholera was also raging in Sweden, and I trembled for the news that might next reach me.

I proceeded immediately to Walfisch Bay to bid farewell to Galton. John Williams, John Mortar, and Timbo were to accompany him to St. Helena, whence they were to be forwarded to Cape-Town. Hans—in himself a host—John Allen, and John St. Helena, agreed to remain with me.

My specimens of natural history, which had been collected with much care and trouble, and which had cost me many a sleepless night, I consigned to Galton’s care. They consisted of about five hundred bird-skins, nearly double that number of insects, and a few odds and ends. I also took this opportunity to forward several letters to my European friends.

Galton appeared delighted with the prospect of soon returning to civilized life. Though he had proved himself to be capable of enduring hardships and fatigue as well as any of us, it was evident that he had had enough of it.

The schooner was to have sailed on the 5th of January; but, in consequence of the arrival of “The Grecian” man-of-war, then cruising off the West Coast, it was postponed till the next day. As the schooner gradually disappeared from view, I began to feel in full force the loneliness of my situation, and the loss of my friend’s company. It would seem that, the farther the object of our esteem and regard is separated from us, the better we are able to appreciate its value. Galton’s excellent disposition and even temper had enabled us to struggle through all difficulties very happily together, and it was, therefore, with sincere regret that I parted from him. I whispered a prayer for his safe return to the bosom of his family. It was heard; for, though the passage proved of long duration, he reached England in safety, after an absence of two years.

Not long subsequently to his return, the Royal Geographical Society, I was happy to learn, bestowed upon him their gold medal as a reward for his services in the cause of science.

CHAPTER XX.

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

Ostriches are at all times more or less numerous on the Naarip Plain, but more particularly so at this season, on account of the naras (of which mention was made in the second chapter) being now ripe.

While waiting for the missionary vessel, previously to the departure of Mr. Galton, I made several trips between the Bay and Scheppmansdorf, in order to arrange matters for my intended journey to the Ngami. On one of these occasions I was accompanied by my friend. When we had proceeded little more than half the distance, and in a part of the plain entirely destitute of vegetation, we discovered a male and female ostrich, with a brood of young ones about the size of ordinary barn-door fowls. This was a sight we had long been looking for, as Galton had been requested by Professor Owen to procure a few craniums of the young of this bird, in order to settle certain anatomical questions. Accordingly, we forthwith dismounted from our oxen and gave chase, which proved of no ordinary interest.

The moment the parent birds became aware of our intention, they set off at full speed, the female leading the way, the young following in her wake, and the cock, though at some little distance, bringing up the rear of the family party. It was very touching to observe the anxiety the old birds evinced for the safety of their progeny. Finding that we were quickly gaining upon them, the male at once slackened his pace, and diverged somewhat from his course; but, seeing that we were not to be diverted from our purpose, he again increased his speed, and, with wings drooping so as almost to touch the ground, he hovered round us, now in wide circles, and then decreasing the circumference till he came almost within pistol-shot, when he abruptly threw himself on the ground, and struggled desperately to regain his legs, as it appeared, like a bird that has been badly wounded. Having previously fired at him, I really thought he was disabled, and made quickly toward him. But this was only a ruse on his part; for, on my nearer approach, he slowly rose and began to run in an opposite direction to that of the female, who by this time was considerably ahead with her charge.

COURSING YOUNG OSTRICHES.

After about an hour’s severe chase, we secured nine of the brood; and, though it consisted of about double that number, we found it necessary to be contented with what we had bagged.[39]

On returning to the Bay, however, the next morning in a mule-cart, Mr. Galton again encountered the same birds with the remainder of the family, and, after a short race, captured six more of the chicks.

The ostrich (which, from possessing the rudiments of a gall-bladder, and the absence of wings fit for flight, seems to form a kind of connecting link between the two great families of mammalia and aves) is an inhabitant of a large portion of Africa, but rarely extends farther east than the deserts of Arabia. Throughout the Indian Archipelago, the family of birds (of which the ostrich is the leading type) is represented by the cassowary; in Australia by the emeu; in the southern extremity of the western hemisphere by the rhea; and even in Europe, though somewhat departing from the type, it has its representative in the stately bustard.

Any thing like a scientific description of the ostrich would here be out of place; but it may be proper to mention that the lower part of the neck and the body of the mature male bird are of a deep glossy black, intermingled with a few whitish feathers, only visible when the plumage is ruffled. “In the female the general color of the feathers is of a grayish or ashy brown, slightly fringed with white. In both sexes the large plumes of the wings and tail are beautifully white.”

The ostrich, when full grown, stands no less than from seven to eight feet, and instances are recorded where individual birds have attained as much as nine. Its weight is proportionate. Judging from what I have experienced in carrying the dead body, it is not less, perhaps, than two or three hundred pounds. Indeed, there are persons who believe that the mature bird, when in prime condition, as a butcher would say, will attain a weight of thirty stone.

I could never obtain any data that would enable me to form a correct estimate of the age of the ostrich, but it may fairly be concluded that he lives between twenty and thirty years.

The cry of the ostrich so greatly resembles that of a lion as occasionally to deceive even the natives. It is usually heard early in the morning, and at times also at night.

The strength of the ostrich is enormous. A single blow from its gigantic foot (it always strikes forward) is sufficient to prostrate, nay, to kill many beasts of prey, such as the hyæna, the panther, the wild dog, the jackal, and others.

The ostrich is exceedingly swift of foot, under ordinary circumstances outrunning a fleet horse: “What time she lifteth up herself on high, she scorneth the horse and its rider.” On special occasions and for a short distance, its speed is truly marvelous, perhaps not much less than a mile in half a minute. Its feet appear hardly to touch the ground, and the length between each stride is not unfrequently twelve to fourteen feet. Indeed, if we are to credit the testimony of Mr. Adanson, who says he witnessed the fact in Senegal, such is the rapidity and muscular power of the ostrich, that, even with two men mounted on his back, he will outstrip an English horse in speed! The ostrich, moreover, is long-winded, if I may use the expression, so that it is a work of time to exhaust the bird.

The food of the ostrich, in its wild state, consists of the seeds, tops, and buds of various shrubs and other plants.[40] But it is often difficult to conceive how it can manage to live at all, for one not unfrequently meets with it in regions apparently destitute of vegetation of any kind:

“A region of emptiness, howling and drear,

Which man hath abandoned from famine and fear;

Which the ostrich and lizard inhabit alone,

With the twilight bat from the old hollow stone;

Where grass, nor herb, nor shrub take root,

Save poisonous thorns that pierce the foot;

And the bitter-melon for food and drink,

Is the pilgrim’s fare by the salt lake’s brink!”

Although the ostrich is undoubtedly capable of undergoing thirst for a considerable period, yet water appears to be indispensable to its existence. In the dry and hot season I have often observed the same flock drinking almost daily. They swallow the water by a succession of gulps. On such occasions, that is, when approaching a spring, they seem quite stupefied. While staying at Elephant Fountain, where in a short time I killed eight of these magnificent birds, they made their appearance regularly every day about noon; and although the locality afforded but indifferent shelter, they invariably allowed me to get within range, only retreating step by step.

Like the capercali of Europe, the ostrich has a plurality of wives—from two to six, it is said. The breeding season would seem to be somewhat undefined, for I have met with nests in every month from June till October. Each female is represented as laying from twelve to sixteen eggs, and all in one and the same nest, which is simply a cavity scooped out in the sand.

Both male and female assist in hatching the eggs, which are placed upright, in order, it would seem, “that the greatest possible number may be stowed within the space.” When about a dozen eggs are laid, the bird, which squats astride over them, with its legs pointed forward, begins to sit. I have observed that on perceiving a man, instead of running away from the nest, it not unfrequently lowers its conspicuous neck till it becomes in a line with the ground, evidently in the hope that it may be passed unnoticed.

During the period of incubation, the ostrich, if an intruder approaches its nest, resorts to various artifices to induce him to withdraw far off.

“One morning,” says Professor Thunberg, “as I rode past a place where a hen-ostrich sat on her nest, the bird sprang up and pursued me, with a view to prevent my noticing her young ones or her eggs. Every time I turned my horse toward her she retreated ten or twelve paces, but as soon as I rode on she pursued me again.”

The period of incubation seems to vary; but, on the average, it may be about thirty-eight days. One or more of the females are said to lay meanwhile; but the supernumerary eggs are placed outside the nest, and are supposed to serve as nourishment for the callow brood. If such really be the case, we in this again see a wonderful provision of nature, inasmuch as the chicken would be unable to digest the indurated matter furnished by their too-often sterile haunts.

The notion so generally entertained of the ostrich merely depositing her eggs in the sand, and leaving them to be vivified by the sun, arises probably from its habit of occasionally quitting the nest in search of food, more especially as it generally does so during the hottest part of the day.

Some travelers affirm that the ostrich not only never sits on her eggs after having once been handled, or even if a man should have passed near the nest, but that she actually destroys them! I, for my part, can not speak to this point, having, whenever I found an ostrich’s nest, usually plundered it at once, thus leaving the bird no opportunity of obeying so strange an instinct.

It seems pretty certain, however, that the ostrich, as with many other birds, is in the habit of deserting her eggs if they be handled. “The slaves,” says Professor Thunberg, “always use the precaution not to take away the eggs with their hands (in which case the birds, who perceive it by scent, are apt to quit the spot), but by means of a long stick they rake them out of the nest as fast as the birds lay them.”

A peculiarity in regard to the eggs of the ostrich, and, so far as I am aware, confined to the eggs of this bird alone, is mentioned by several African travelers. For example: “The farmer here likewise informed me,” says the author just quoted, “that a stone or two is sometimes found in the ostrich’s eggs, which is hard, white, rather flat and smooth, and about the size of a bean. These stones are cut and made into buttons, but I never had the good fortune to see any of them.”

Again: “In these eggs,” writes Barrow, “are frequently discovered a number of small oval-shaped pebbles, about the size of a marrowfat pea, of a pale yellow color, and exceedingly hard. In one egg we found nine, and in another twelve of such stones.”

Notwithstanding the number of eggs laid, seldom more than thirty to thirty-five are hatched. Almost as soon as the chicks (which are about the size of pullets) have escaped from the shell, they are able to walk about and to follow the mother, on whom they are dependent for a considerable period. And Nature, with her usual care, has provided the young with a color and a covering admirably suited to the localities they frequent. The color is a kind of pepper-and-salt, harmonizing wonderfully with the variegated sand and gravel of the plains which they are in the habit of traversing. Indeed, when crouching under my very eyes, I have had the greatest difficulty in discerning the chicks. The covering is neither down nor feathers, but a kind of “prickly external,” which, no doubt, is an excellent protection against injury from the coarse gravel and the stunted vegetation among which they dwell.

The flesh of the young ostrich is not unpalatable, but that of the old bird is any thing but good. To my notion, it tastes very much like that of the zebra. According to the Mosaic law, the ostrich was denounced as an unclean animal, and the Jews were, consequently, forbidden to eat it. The Arabs of the present day still adhere to this prohibition. Some of the native tribes of Southern Africa, however, are less fastidious, and partake of the flesh with great relish, more especially when fat.

Though people at the present day place little or no value on the ostrich as an article of food, the ancient Romans, who were great epicures, seem to have been of a different opinion. We are told by Vobiscus that the pseudo-Emperor Firmus, “equally celebrated for his feats at the anvil and at the trencher, devoured, in his own imperial person, an entire ostrich at one sitting.”[41] The brain of this bird was considered a superlative delicacy; and, like every thing else with that luxurious nation, it was provided on the most magnificent scale. Thus, according to an ancient testimony, the Emperor Heliogabalus was served at a single feast with the brains of six hundred of these birds.[42]

If the flesh of the ostrich be not much esteemed, its eggs, at all events, are prized in the highest degree by natives and travelers. To say nothing of their flavor, each contains as much as twenty-four of the eggs of the barn-door fowl, and weighs about three pounds.

From the great size of the ostrich egg it might be supposed that one would be a sufficient meal for any man; but I have known instances where two eggs have been dispatched by a single individual, even when mixed with a quantity of flour and fat. Indeed, Hans and his companion once finished five ostrich eggs in the course of an afternoon!

Even the egg-shell is of considerable value, and is an excellent vessel for holding liquids of any kind. The Bushmen have hardly any other. By covering it with a light net-work, it may be carried slung across the saddle. Grass, wood, &c., serve as substitutes for corks.

By the monks of Dayr Antonios, we are informed that the Copts (by whom the eggs are looked upon as the emblem of watchfulness, and who suspend them in their churches) pass the cords of their lamps through the shell in order to prevent the rats from coming down and drinking the oil.

The shell of the egg is used medicinally. The Boers, after reducing it to powder and mixing it with vinegar, give it to cattle afflicted with strangury, for which disease it is considered a sovereign remedy. The powder itself is said to be an excellent preservative against blindness.

The white wing-feathers[43] of the ostrich (the black ones are used chiefly for mourning) are a considerable article of commerce. The market, however, is very fluctuating. At the Cape the price varies from one or two guineas sterling to as much as twelve for the pound, the latter sum, however, being only paid for very prime feathers. The thinner the quill, and the longer and more wavy the plume, the more it is prized.[44] Seventy to ninety feathers go to the pound. But, although half this number may be obtained from a single bird, only a small portion are of any value. In the pairing season, and it may be at other times, the ostrich, like the turkey-cock, the capercali, and many other birds, is in the habit of drooping its wings, so that the outer feathers trail on the ground, which soon destroys their beauty. The proper time to kill the ostrich for its plumes is shortly after the moulting season, or in the months of March and April.

The Damaras and the Bechuanas manufacture handsome parasols from the black feathers of the ostrich, which serve as signs of mourning, or are useful for the preservation of the complexion. “It is a beautiful sight,” says Harris, “to behold a savage whose skin, somewhat coarser than the hide of a rhinoceros, might vie in point of color with a boot, protecting his complexion by the interposition of such an umbrella.”

Some of the tribes of Southern Africa are said to employ ostrich parasols while hunting wild animals, with a similar purpose to that of a Spanish bull-fighter who uses a red cloth. Thus, in case of a wounded beast charging a man, the latter, just at the moment he is about to be seized, suddenly thrusts the supports of the nodding plumes into the ground, and, while the infuriated animal is venting its rage on its supposed victim, the native slips unperceived on one side and transfixes his antagonist.

The skin of the ostrich is also said to be held in great request, and forms no inconsiderable article of commerce. “The whole defensive armor of the Nasamones, inhabitants of Libya, was manufactured of the birds’ thick skin, which, even at the present day, is used as a cuirass by some of the Arab troops.”

The ostrich, though usually dwelling far from the haunts of men, occasionally approaches the homestead, and at such times causes the Boer considerable damage by trampling down and eating the grain.

The opinions of authors and sportsmen with regard to the ostrich vary considerably. Some ascribe to it great stupidity, while others consider it as possessed of vivacity and much intelligence. Without passing a judgment, I will only mention that I have seen it exhibit these opposite qualities in no small degree.

In a domesticated state, it is true, the ostrich appears to be a quiet, dull, and heavy-looking bird; but when seen in its native haunts, it is restless, wary, and difficult of approach. From its great stature, and the prominent position of its eyes, its range of vision is naturally considerable, which enables it to discover danger at a considerable distance. This, together with the exposed localities frequented by it, probably accounts for the comparatively few that even the mightiest Nimrods of South Africa can boast of having killed.

What may be the case with the ostrich in a wild state is hard to say; but when in confinement, no bird or other animal demonstrates so little discrimination in the choice of its food, for it then swallows with avidity stones, pieces of wood and iron, spoons, knives, and a variety of other indigestible matters. This strange propensity and apparent obtuseness of taste obtained for the bird at an early period the epithet of “the iron-eating ostrich:”

“The estridge that will eate

An horshowe so great

In the steade of meat;

Such fervent heat

His stomach doth freat.”[45]

Many amusing anecdotes are told of the strange habits of this bird. Once—so runs the story—when the ostrich was still a rare sight in Europe, a woman, on hearing of the arrival of a batch of these birds, and being anxious to obtain a sight of them, hastily shut up her house, taking the key of the door in her hand. No sooner, however, had she arrived on the spot where the birds were kept, when one of them stalked gravely up to the lady, and, snatching the iron instrument out of her hand, deliberately, and to her great horror, swallowed it, actually shutting her out of her own house!