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Title: The narrative of an explorer in tropical South Africa
Author: Francis Galton
Release date: September 27, 2025 [eBook #76940]
Language: English
Original publication: London: John Murray, 1853
Credits: Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NARRATIVE OF AN EXPLORER IN TROPICAL SOUTH AFRICA ***
[Illustration: NATIVE GROUP. Damaras. Ovampo.
Drawn on Stone by W. L. Walton. Printed by Hullmandel & Walton.
John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1853]
THE
NARRATIVE OF AN EXPLORER
IN
TROPICAL SOUTH AFRICA.
BY FRANCIS GALTON, ESQ.
WITH COLOURED MAPS, PLATES, AND WOODCUTS.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1853.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
PREFACE.
The following pages contain the description of a part of Africa hitherto
unknown to Europeans, but which has recently been travelled over and
explored by the Author. His journey was a tedious and a very anxious one,
but happily brought to a close without loss of life or serious accident
to any member of his large party, which altogether amounted to nearly
forty men.
The result of this excursion has been to fill up that blank in our
maps which, lying between the Cape Colony and the western Portuguese
settlements, extends to the interior as far as the newly discovered Lake
’Ngami.
The country of the Damaras—warlike, pastoral Blacks—was in the first
instance explored; beyond them he found a broad tract, inhabited by
aboriginal Hottentots; and, again, to the north of these, the Ovampo, a
race of intelligent and kindly negroes, who are careful agriculturists,
and live in a land of great fertility.
On his return southwards, a quick journey was made into the interior,
near the line of the southern tropic, until a road, which had recently
been travelled from the borders of the Cape Colony to Lake ’Ngami, was
reached, and in this way a practicable route between the Lake and the
Atlantic was proved to exist.
Few new objects of natural history were either collected or heard of, as
the tract in question was for the most part a high barren plateau, that
supported but little variety of either animal or vegetable life.
The journey may perhaps produce a useful result, by indicating a very
favourable opening to missionary enterprise, namely, among the Ovampo.
The writer has no wish to commit himself to extreme views either on this
or on kindred subjects, but, if philanthropists continue anxious to
promote African civilisation, the remarkable advantages of Ovampo-land,
as a leverage ground in these matters, should not be lost sight of.
The healthiness of the climate, the position of the country, the
intelligence and orderly habits of the natives, their travelling and
trading propensities, and, lastly, the ready access which it admits of
from a healthy sea-coast, form most cogent recommendations. In addition
to these, though bordering on slave-producing countries, Ovampo-land is
itself exempt from that scourge, and there would be one prejudice the
less for Christian teachings to encounter.
A traveller who, starting with the same views that the Author did, chose
to start from Little Fish Bay, or elsewhere, in Benguela, and explore to
the eastwards and southwards, would be likely to make a very successful
journey. He would find shooting in abundance, and have opportunities of
learning everything about as highly interesting a race of negroes as is
probably to be found in the whole of Africa. The Author’s fate certainly
led him over a great deal of barren country, and many monotonous days
were passed; still he cannot regret that he undertook the journey, for,
besides the enjoyment of robust health in Africa, habits of self-reliance
in rude emergencies were acquired, which are well worth possessing,
though an English education hardly tends to promote them.
A question is commonly put to explorers, “Why could you not go further
when you had already succeeded in going so far?” and the answer to this
is, that several independent circumstances concur in stopping a man after
he has been travelling for a certain time and distance. He _must_ refit,
for his cattle become worn out; his articles of exchange, which are his
money, expended; and, indeed, the medium of currency among the people
he at last reaches being unknown to him, has of course been unprovided
for. His clothes, necessaries, luxuries, all become exhausted, and the
_capital_ out of which he has to support himself fast disappears. On the
other hand, infinite difficulty is found in acquiring the confidence of a
strange nation; a new language has to be learnt; native servants refuse,
and are unfitted, to accompany their master in countries strange and
probably hostile to them, and whom months of joint labours had educated
into a kind of sympathy with his cause; and so, when an explorer intends
to cross the frontier of a neighbouring tribe, he finds that all his old
travelling arrangements are more or less broken up, and that the further
progress of the expedition will require nearly as many preparations
and as much delay as if it were then about quitting the borders of
civilisation. But his energies are reduced, and his means become
inadequate to the task, and therefore no alternative is left him but to
return while it is still possible for him to do so.
It is therefore not to be expected that any large part of the vast
unexplored region before us will yield its secrets to a single traveller,
but, rather, that they will become known step by step through various
successive discoveries; and as the experience of nearly a century
corroborates these views, it is probable that for years to come there
will still remain ample room in Africa for men inclined for adventure to
carry out in them, if nowhere else, the _métier_ of explorers.
FRANCIS GALTON.
8, ST. JAMES’S PLACE, _April 27th, 1853_.
[Illustration: The four Mimosas that, to the exclusion of nearly every
other tree or bush, form the vegetation of Damara-land.]
DATES OF MY JOURNEYINGS.
1850 | August | Sail from Cape Town and land at Walfisch Bay.
| September | Travel with cart and mules to Otjimbinguè.
| October } | Buy oxen and send them down to fetch the waggons,
| November} | while I stay at Otjimbinguè and at Barmen.
| December | Make an excursion on ride-oxen to Erongo.
1851 | January | Take waggons to Schmelen’s Hope, and ride thence to
| | beyond Rehoboth.
| February | Interviews at Schmelen’s Hope; adjacent country is
| | explored.
| March | Travel with the waggons to the northward.
| April | Pass Omanbondè—reach Okamabuti—a waggon breaks down.
| May | Meet the Ovampo caravan, and return with them on
| | ride-oxen to Ondonga.
| June | Stay a fortnight at Nangoro’s, then go back to
| | Okamabuti.
| July | Return southwards with the waggons by the Omoramba.
| August | Reach Barmen and go on to Jonker’s.
| September | Take waggon to Elephant Fountain, ride thence on
| | ox-back to Okomavaka.
| October | Cross plain to ’Tounobis; stay a week and return.
| November | Travel with waggons down towards the coast.
| December | Reach Walfisch Bay and wait for the ship.
LATITUDES AND LONGITUDES OF PRINCIPAL POINTS.
See p. 161, vol. xxii., “Journal of Royal Geographical Society,” for
details of the calculations and for further latitudes.
South Latitude. East Longitude.
Schmelen’s Hope | 22° 0′ | 16° 56′
Okamabuti | 19° 31′ | 18° 20′
Nangoro’s Werft in Ondonga | 17° 59′ | 16° 14′
Elephant Fountain | 22° 27′ | 18° 59′
’Tounobis (or Otchombindè) | 21° 55′ | 21° 55′
ITINERARY OF MY PRINCIPAL ROUTES.
From WALFISCH BAY to NANGORO’S 719 English Miles.
” ” ’TOUNOBIS 518 ”
The hours given are those of actual travelling, _exclusive of all
delays_. I allow 2½ English miles for each hour; but, reckoning _as the
crow flies_ from point to point, 2 _geographical_ miles will be found to
be very near the truth.
+------+---------------------------++------+---------------------------+
|Hours.| WALFISCH BAY TO BARMEN. ||Hours.| BARMAN TO OMANBONDÈ. |
| | 207 Miles. || | 219 Miles. |
+------+---------------------------++------+---------------------------+
| |From Walfisch Bay to— || |From Barmen to— |
|1 |Sand Fountain. ||8 |Schmelen’s Hope. |
|5 |Scheppmansdorf. ||1¾ |Okandu. |
|16 |Oosop Gorge. [No W.] ||5¼ |Okamabondè, |
|9 |Daviéep Gorge. ||4½ |Kutjiamakompè. |
|13 |Mouth of Tsobis R. [W.] ||6½ |Okandjoë. [No W.] |
|7 |Tsobis. ||6¼ |Omoramba R. [No W.] |
|7¾ |Kurrikoop. [No W.] ||2½ |Okatumba. |
|2 |Otjimbinguè. ||2½ |Otjikururumè. |
|3½ |In river-bed. ||2½ |Ontekeremba. |
|5 |Okandu. ||5 |Wells. |
|2 |Ondjiadjikennè. ||3 |Ozukaro. |
|4 |Etamondjua. ||5¼ |Ombarombonga. |
|4 |Reedy Fountain. ||8¾ |Wells. [No W.] |
|3½ |Barmen. ||20 |Okavarè (or Omanbondè) [W.]|
+------+ |+------+ |
|82¾ or 207 miles. ||91¾ or 228 miles. |
+------+---------------------------++------+---------------------------+
+------+---------------------------++------+---------------------------+
|Hours.| BARMEN TO ’TOUNOBIS. ||Hours.| OMANBONDÈ TO NANGORO’S. |
| | 310 Miles. || | 284 Miles. |
+------+---------------------------++------+---------------------------+
| |From Barmen to— || |From Omanbondè to— |
|3 |Foot of first hills. ||10 |Okatjokeama, S. Vley. [W.] |
|11½ |Katjimahas old kraal. [W.] ||4¾ |Okapukua. |
|4 |Eikhams. ||4¼ |Otjamuneè. |
|12¼ |Wells on Quieep R [W.] ||3¼ |Okamabuti. |
|5 |Bend of Quieep R. ||4 |Namboshua. |
|18½ |Noosop R. [No W.] ||6 |Ootui. |
|2½ |Kurrikoop. ||8 |Otchikango. [No W.] |
|1¾ |Water in Noosop R. ||12 |Otchikoto. [No W.] |
|13 |Elephant Fountain. [No W.] ||9¼ |Otjando. [No W.] |
|11½ |Twas. [No W.] ||14½ |Omutchamatunda. [No W.] |
|9 |Okaietoura. [W.] ||10½ |Wells in Flat. [No W. for |
|6½ |Okanyindu [W.] || | 9½ hrs.] |
|5½ |Okomavaka. ||21 |Vleys, 2 hours in Ondonga. |
|20½ |’Tounobis. [No W.] || | [No W.] |
| | ||6 |Nangoro’s Werft. |
+------+ |+------+ |
|124½ or 311 miles. ||113½ or 284 miles. |
+------+---------------------------++------+---------------------------+
The letters in brackets affixed to those stages which exceed 5 hours,
mean as follows:—[W.] that there is water sufficient in quantity for
cattle on the road in one or more places, [No W.] that there is not.
CONTENTS.
Page
CHAPTER I.
Determine to travel in Africa.—Motives for the
Journey.—Preparations.—Stock in Trade.—An Emigrant
Ship.—Arrival at Cape Town.—Dangers of the Road.—Change
of Route.—Determine to proceed by Walfisch Bay.—Necessary
Outfit.—Prospects of the Route.—Travelling
Cortège.—Servants and Dogs.—Arrival at Walfisch
Bay.—The Natives.—Extraordinary Mirage.—The Kuisip
River.—Tobacco.—Ride-Oxen.—Disembarking.—Misadventure at
Starting.—Perils of the Desert.—The ’Nara.—The Mission at
Scheppmansdorf 1
CHAPTER II.
Sand Fountain.—A Lesson to the Natives.—A Present.—News of
a Lion.—Scheppmansdorf.—A narrow Escape.—A Missionary’s
Establishment.—Native Huts.—Missions.—A Lion Hunt.—Preparations
for the Road.—Native Trees.—The Hottentots.—Character
of the Country.—Mode of breaking in an Ox.—Arrangement
of the Baggage.—A Prosperous Start.—The Swakop.—Night
Bivouac.—Labours of the March.—Loss of a Horse and a Mule.—The
Lions’ Chase.—Attempt to avenge the Loss.—Animal Food.—The
Ghou Damup.—Erongo Mountain.—Intense Heat.—The Tsobis
River.—Ride-Oxen.—Native Servants.—Their Cape Town Life.—A
Giraffe Hunt.—Change of Country.—An Ostrich Egg.—Approach to
Otjimbinguè.—Hans Larsen 24
CHAPTER III.
Hear ill News.—Engage Hans.—Ride to Barmen.—En route.—Oxen
_versus_ Mules.—Arrive at Barmen.—Jonker’s Attack.—Previous
History.—Oerlams and Europeans.—Hottentots and
Bushmen.—Establishment of Missions.—Native Feuds.—Dislike to
Missions.—Obstruction to Travellers.—Write to Jonker.—Buy Oxen
from Hans.—Breaking them in.—Attacks of Distemper.—Complete
my Encampment.—Damara Digging.—Native Hunting.—Oxen sent
to the Bay.—I go to Barmen.—Damara Thorn-trees.—Jonker
writes to me.—My Plans.—The Ovampo.—First Rain.—Hottentot
Beauties.—Hyena’s Insolence.—Damara Ferocity.—Cruel
Murder.—Mutilated Victim.—Message to Chiefs.—Their Replies 59
CHAPTER IV.
I go to meet the Waggons.—Start for Erongo.—En route.—Damara
features.—Gabriel in a Scrape.—The Mountain Erongo.—Chase
Zebras.—Ghou Damup Huts.—A Black Coquette.—Return to
Waggons.—Leave Otjimbinguè.—Mishaps.—How to encamp and water
Oxen.—Arrive at Barmen, thence to Schmelen’s Bay.—Ride
to Eikhams.—A doomed Sufferer.—Visit Jonker.—Conference
with him.—Swartboy and Amiral.—Ride on to Rehoboth.—Umap’s
Judgment.—Obtain Interpreters.—Return to Rehoboth.—Murder a Dog
and pay for it.—Conference at Eikhams.—Legislating.—Proposed
Conference.—Mules run quite away.—Schmelen’s Hope.—Dates 95
CHAPTER V.
Personnel.—Commissariat.—Daily Allowances.—Start on the
Expedition.—Damara Obtuseness.—Inability to count.—Information
withheld.—Kahikenè sends to us.—Arrive on the high
Tableland.—Superstitions on Food.—Meet Kahikenè.—His
Difficulties.—Gives me Advice.—Information about the
Road.—Four Oxen stolen.—The Culprits are punished.—Recognising
lost Oxen.—Hear of another Road.—Reach Omatako.—African
Puma.—Eshuameno.—Chipping the front Teeth.—View from the
Hill.—Ja Kabaca.—Climb Omuvereoom.—A Snake.—Seriously
obstructed by the Thorns.—Reach Otjironjuba.—How to make
Soap.—We catch some Bushmen.—Learn a little and travel
on.—Doubts about our route.—Arrive at a Werft.—Are guided
onwards.—Omanbondè.—Hippopotami 128
CHAPTER VI.
Mistake a Lion for an Antelope.—Explore a Road.—Reach
Palms.—Return and bring the Waggons.—Experiences of African
Travel.—Guide decamps and we find another.—Settle at
Okambuti.—The first Elephant.—Waggon breaks down.—Make a Strong
Camp.—Chapupa’s History.—Savages _versus_ Europeans.—Ride on
to the Ovampo.—Method of searching for Water.—Damaras are bad
Guides.—Find some Bushmen.—We start, but are ordered back.—The
Ovampo Caravan.—Chikorongo-onkompè.—Pronunciation of the letter
L.—Salt, not a Necessary of Life.—Damaras never eat it.—Return
to Chapupa’s Werft.—Arrange a Present for Nangoro.—Dressed and
tanned Leather.—Hear of Kahikenè’s Death.—Damara Creed.—Eandas
and Omakuru.—Ceremonies.—Huts and Finery.—Chaunts and
Music.—Damara Language.—Prefixes 162
CHAPTER VII.
Damara Helpmates.—Marriage Tie.—Caravan to Ovampo-land.—Yearly
Traffic.—Otchikoto.—Improvised Chaunts.—Reach an Ovampo
Cattle-post.—Archery Practice.—The Parent Tree.—We reach
Ondonga.—Corn, Beans, and Palms.—Fruit-trees.—Native
Beer.—Density of the Population.—Encamp by Nangoro’s
Village.—Cannot obtain Pasturage.—Nangoro pays us a
Visit.—Ovampo Belles.—We go to a Ball.—Description of
Dances.—Charms and Counter-charms.—Nangoro’s Palace.—The
Great River.—Prospects.—The King is crowned.—His lawful
Successors.—The Queens’ Duties.—Ovampo Dentists.—Surgical
Practice 195
CHAPTER VIII.
We are ordered to return.—Hesitation.—The Slave dealings
here.—Future of Ovampo-land.—A Field for Missionaries.—Best
way of getting there.—Slavery and Servitude.—Giving Men
away.—Arrange my Packs.—Start Homeward.—Leave Ondonga.—The Oxen
suffer severely.—Reach Okamabuti.—The Waggons are safe.—Start
for Omaramba.—Okavarè.—Elephants visit us.—Ice every
night.—Pass Omagundè.—Reach Barmen 225
CHAPTER IX.
The Waggons are condemned.—Messengers to the Cape.—The
Kaoko.—History of Damara-land.—Ghou Damup Genealogies.—Start
for Elephant Fountain.—Excessive Drought.—Engage Eybrett.—Sell
my Cart and Mules.—Travel from Eikhams.—Shooting Giraffes in
the Dusk.—Elephant Fountain.—Numerous Pitfalls.—Plundering
Expeditions.—The Kubabees reach ’Ngami.—Trouble of taking
Observations.—Leave Waggon and ride to the East.—Engage
Saul.—Hans and a Lion.—We enter the Bushman Tract.—Rhinoceros
Skulls.—Hear of the Kubabees Hottentots.—Start for
’Tounobis.—Shoot a White Rhinoceros.—Reach ’Tounobis.—Elephant
in a Pitfall.—Prepare for Sport.—Night-Watching for
Game.—Rhinoceros Veal.—Opera-glasses.—Herd of Elephants.—Fights
and Frolics.—Bulk of the Rhinoceros.—A Picturesque
Finale.—Spring Hares.—Remarks on my Route.—Unicorns
and Cockatrices.—Bushmen Springes.—Setting Guns at
Night.—Description of Plate.—Poisoned Arrows 246
CHAPTER X.
Hear the Fate of my Two Oxen.—Plan an Attack to
avenge them.—Make an Attack on Two Werfts.—Catch some
Culprits.—Hottentot Passion for Onslaught.—Return to
Eikhams.—Best sort of Travelling Compass.—MS. and other
Almanacs.—Watches and Alarums.—Large Packs of Lions.—A
Tale learnt from Tracks.—Accidents with Guns.—Methods of
carrying them on Horse-back.—Description of the Plate.—Saddle
Arrangements.—Travelling Dress.—Colours most suited for
Sportsmen.—Bright Colours of Skulking Animals.—Rationale
of them.—Join Hans’ Party.—Begin to break up the
Expedition.—Travel down the Swakop.—Reach Walfisch Bay.—Whales,
Sharks, and Ostriches.—Retrospects.—Leave Africa 288
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
NATIVE GROUP FRONTISPIECE.
THE THORNS OF DAMARA-LAND Page vii
TRAVELLER WITH PACK-OXEN 103
CHAPUPA, A DAMARA CHIEF 171
DAMARA WOMAN 189
DAMARA WEAPONS, ETC. 194
CAMP IN OVAMPO-LAND 210
NANGORO, KING OF THE OVAMPO 220
OVAMPO WEAPONS, UTENSILS, ETC. 224
SETTING A GUN AS A SPRING-GUN 286
HOTTENTOT METHOD OF CARRYING A GUN ON HORSE OR OX-BACK 302
MAPS AT THE END.
TROPICAL SOUTH AFRICA.
CHAPTER I.
Determine to travel in Africa.—Motives for the
Journey.—Preparations.—Stock in Trade.—An Emigrant
Ship.—Arrival at Cape Town.—Dangers of the Road.—Change
of Route.—Determine to proceed by Walfisch Bay.—Necessary
Outfit.—Prospects of the Route.—Travelling
Cortège.—Servants and Dogs.—Arrival at Walfisch
Bay.—The Natives.—Extraordinary Mirage.—The Kuisip
River.—Tobacco.—Ride-Oxen.—Disembarking.—Misadventure at
Starting.—Perils of the Desert.—The ’Nara.—The Mission at
Scheppmansdorf.
It was in 1849 that I determined upon a long travel in Africa. I had been
there once; and then, landing at Alexandria, sailed or rode far beyond
all the deserts, temples, and cataracts of Egypt, until I had fairly
entered the “Soudan,” or country of the Blacks—that zone of the tropical
vegetation, to which the name of Central Africa properly applies.
It was a tour hastily performed, but still sufficient to imbue or poison
me with that fascination for further enterprise, which African tourists
have so especially felt—a fascination which has often enough proved its
power by urging the same traveller to risk his comfort, his health, and
his life, over and over again, and to cling with pertinacity to a country
which after all seems to afford little else but hazard and hardships,
ivory and fever.
The motive which principally induced me to undertake this journey was
the love of adventure. I am extremely fond of shooting, and that was an
additional object; and lastly such immense regions of Africa lie utterly
unknown, that I could not but feel that there was every probability of
much being discovered there, which, besides being new, would also be
useful and interesting. A large field lay open to any explorer who might
wish to attempt the enterprise, and I chose to undertake the task.
The discovery that was made of Lake Ngami, in South Africa, gave a
direction to my plans; and in the beginning of 1850 I fixed on the Cape
as the point at which to enter Africa.
Many South African travellers and sportsmen were then in London; so that
I received every information about the Bechuana country up to 300 or 400
miles north of the Orange River, which has been most successfully shot
over by several of our countrymen; and through the very kind interest
which several influential members of the Geographical Society took in my
proceedings, I was readily enabled to start, perfectly _au fait_ as to
what was known and what was wanted to be known in South Africa.
I now began my preparations in good earnest. Mr. Andersson, a Swedish
gentleman and a naturalist, consented to accompany me; and to his
perseverance and energy I have since been in the highest degree indebted.
I collected together all the things I could think of, or that my friends
were kind enough to suggest to me, as advisable to take.
I knew that at least the first part of my journey would have to be
undertaken in waggons, in each of which I was assured four thousand
pounds’ weight could be carried without risk across the country, so far
as it had been penetrated, and therefore I was not necessarily stinted in
the quantity of comforts I could carry from Europe; but as to the latter
part of my expedition I was aware that the probability was that I should
have to leave my waggons, and to travel either by boat or on the backs of
some beasts of burden, or possibly even to walk, in which case I should
have to content myself with far less luggage. I therefore collected my
things together, on the principle of having them as light as possible,
and in duplicate, the half of which I could leave _en cache_, when I had
to quit my waggons, as a store to fall back upon should I happen to meet
with robbery or accident.
In my perfect ignorance of what would be the most acceptable presents,
and what were the best articles of exchange among the people I should
meet with, I made a great collection of all sorts of ornaments, so that
I had a store like a pedlar’s shop; for besides the more staple articles
of guns, beads, knives, and gaudily printed calico, I bought or collected
looking-glasses, accordions, hunting-coats, my friends’ old uniforms,
burning-glasses, swords, gilt belts, immense bracelets, anklets, yards
of picture chains for necklaces, Jews’-harps, mosaic rings; lastly,
I explored the shops of Drury Lane for some theatrical finery, and a
magnificent crown rewarded my search, which I vowed to place on the head
of the greatest or most distant potentate I should meet with in Africa.
On the 5th of April, 1850, everything was prepared; I and my boxes were
on board an East Indiaman; my last adieu was said, the very last line
sent off by the pilot boat, and we were off for the Cape.
I had plenty of occupation on board ship in arranging my things, trying
to learn the Bechuana language, practising with a sextant, and reading
up books; so that the time passed as agreeably as can be expected in a
sea voyage. It so happened that the ship in which I had taken my berth
carried a number of emigrants—a fact which the careful agent only let us
find out at the last moment—but I liked the crowding and bustle of it
amazingly. The emigrants were not in the least in the way of the cabin
passengers, for we, of course, had the poop to ourselves; and looking
down from it, the deck had all the appearance of a crowded fair.
The emigrants were a squalid starved-looking set at first, but six weeks
of rest and good feeding made a wonderful change in their condition;
and as we sailed into the warm weather, and they could sit about the
decks, they began to think of their personal appearance, and to wash and
tidy themselves and put their clothes to rights. It was amusing to see
how soon they divided themselves into cliques, and how high and mighty
the party that sat under the left corner of the poop were, and how they
looked down on those who sat elsewhere. Anyhow we had a pleasant sail,
though some eighty days had passed before we were in Table Bay, and among
the white stone and green-shuttered houses of Cape Town.
I intended to make a stay here of a few weeks, and then to sail on to
Algoa Bay, whence my land journey was to have been commenced. I therefore
took the earliest opportunity of presenting my letters of introduction,
and I hoped that chance would soon throw much information, valuable to
me, within my reach. I cannot sufficiently express how much kindness I
received during my stay in Cape Town from all my acquaintance there.
Everybody that I was thrown with seemed to take the greatest interest
in my excursion, and I was referred and introduced to all those whose
experience or information might be of any use to me.
I had not, however, arrived many days, when news came that materially
affected my plans, and in the end gave them a somewhat different
direction. The emigrant Boers—those Dutch colonists who had rebelled and
run away from us—had broken out into open revolt. They invested the whole
breadth of the habitable country, north of the Orange River, through
which the direct way to Lake Ngami lies; and information was received
that they had resolutely refused the passage of any stranger from the
colony through their country; that they had already turned back some
travellers, and that in all probability they would send a “commando” to
take immediate and exclusive possession of the lake country. Sir Harry
Smith, then Governor of the Cape, was so good as to put me in immediate
possession of the news, and strongly dissuaded me from attempting to pass
them, not because there was any risk to my life, but because after the
tedious journey of six weeks or two months that led to their country, I
should be met by these Boers, and almost to a certainty stopped, robbed,
and turned back. There was no road to the left of these people, because
they live up to the verge of the great Karrikarri desert, which takes up
all the middle of South Africa, whilst any party taking the road to their
right would have to pass in the first instance through the whole length
of the Caffre country, and then to the fever-stricken neighbourhood of
the west coast. In fact when the Boers chose to stop all communication
from the Colony northwards, by the usual route, they were perfectly able
to do so.
In a few days the intelligence that had before been received about
the Boers’ intentions became more fully confirmed, and I had to think
of other ways of getting to the tropical lands of South Africa. My
first thought was to try the east coast, by Delagòa Bay, but that
plan was instantly abandoned on account of the fearful unhealthiness
of the district. Next I thought of the Mozambique, and of landing at
Quillirmaine—a plan which was warmly advocated by a Portuguese gentleman
of the highest standing at that place, Signore Isidore Pereira.
His father had crossed Africa from Mozambique to Benguela, and he himself
had travelled much, and was in intimate relation with the chiefs of
many of the surrounding parts. He chanced to be passing through Cape
Town when I was there _en route_ to Rio. He took the kindest interest
in my plans, gave me very full information upon what he knew of the
interior, and subsequently furnished me with credentials to different
Portuguese gentlemen at the more distant of their settlements. If I had
been under no sort of tie, I should have slaved at learning Portuguese
in Cape Town until the first ship sailed for Mozambique, and then have
gone by her—but I was engaged to take my travelling companion by some
means of conveyance, by which he could bring home a complete collection
of the Natural History of the country; and Signore Pereira told me
that no beasts of burden were used in the interior of Mozambique, but
that all luggage was carried on men’s backs, and the traveller himself
in a palanquin. This way of travelling would never have answered the
object Andersson had in view, and I therefore did not feel justified in
proposing it to him. At last a plan was suggested, and very strongly
urged upon me, chiefly by some merchants, of sailing to Walfisch Bay,
and thence travelling with waggons; this was the idea I finally adopted.
I heard that though all was desert by the sea-coast between the Cape
Colony and Benguela, yet that beyond this desert not only habitable but
very fertile country was to be found. As to distance, Walfisch Bay was of
all places most favourably situated for an excursion into the interior,
and there were Missionary establishments already formed from near the
coast to many days’ journey inwards. I was referred to a person who had
carried on for some years a cattle trade between Walfisch Bay and the
countries near it and the Cape. He had built a store at the Bay, and had
had a vessel of his own there; sometimes he sent the cattle by her to St.
Helena, sometimes he sold them to the whalers and guano ships which then
were numerous, and often put in to him for provisions, and lastly he had
driven large herds of them overland to the Cape—by a road to the _west_
of that Karrikarri desert, of which I spoke a few lines back, and to the
_east_ of which the Boers and Bechuanas reside. All about this line of
country the Namaqua Hottentots live, and up it some fifteen or twenty
years ago Sir James Alexander was the first to explore a waggon-road.
My informant, the cattle-trader, had himself seen nothing but arid
worthless country, but he strongly stated his belief in the fertility
of Damara-land, into which no white man had ever penetrated, but on the
borders of which the Missionary stations are placed.
I then went to the agents and friends of the Missionary Societies to
which those stations belonged, and the trader’s account was very fully
confirmed by them. I was informed that the Damaras were considered by
the Missionaries as a most interesting nation, and one well worthy of
exploring, and that an expedition had long been contemplated by them
to go through Damara-land, to see what field might lie open for their
labours beyond it. I was very kindly assured of every assistance on
their part, and my friends insisted on the great advantage that I should
have, if the first stage of my journey was made in company with persons
who had experience of the country and acquaintance with the language.
Moreover, a novice had just arrived from Germany, and was waiting for
the earliest opportunity of being shipped off to join his future fellow
labourers. So far matters seemed promising enough; but one point was
certain, that everything I might want must be taken from Cape Town, as
nothing whatever but oxen could be bought where the Missionaries were.
Servants, waggons, and things of every kind, I must take with me, for
the ship would land me on the desert sand—four tedious months’ journey
from Cape Town; and when she sailed away all communication thence would,
for at least a year, be at an end. Now if I had been going to travel in
any of the usual ways, as with pack-horses, mules, camels, boats, and so
forth, and with people I knew something about, I should not have had the
least anxiety; but oxen were creatures I had no experience with, or of
Cape half-castes either. Cape Town is proverbially the worst place in the
Colony to get waggon drivers and leaders from, and I did not much fancy
the undertaking; but still go somewhere I must, and I could think of no
other alternative but Walfisch Bay. I therefore consoled myself with the
idea that, if the whole affair broke down at the very first, Andersson
and I would still find protection from the Missionaries, and that if on
the other hand we could push on at all, we could probably get a great
way. So I began resolutely to make my preparations.
I will try to put in a few words the whole of the information that I
could get, and upon which I had to act. Walfisch Bay was perfectly
desert, though traders had lived there. The nearest water was three miles
off, and that in very small quantities. The nearest place where cattle
could thrive was between twenty and thirty miles from the coast. This
was the first Missionary station,—it was called Scheppmansdorf. Thence
a journey of ten or twelve days inland over wretched country led to two
other stations; they were the furthest; and all beyond them northwards
was unknown. These last were in Damara-land; the Namaqua Hottentots lived
between them and the Cape. A small pen and ink map was also shown me, but
it was blotted and not very intelligible. No oxen could be bought until I
arrived at the furthest stations. If I bought them from the Damaras they
were untaught; if from the Namaquas taught oxen; the horse distemper was
very severe, and no horse would live throughout the year. The Namaquas
were always fighting with the Damaras, and it was very doubtful whether
having travelled amongst the one tribe, the other would permit me to
pass through their country. No money was used or known, nothing but
articles of barter,—iron things for the most part among the Damaras,
clothing and guns among the Namaquas. Lastly, that the great man of all
the country, who could do what he liked, and of whom everybody stood in
awe, was Jonker Africaner. It was said that he had a wholesome dread of
the English Government, and unlimited respect for a large letter with a
large seal, but that I had much better keep out of his way. This I think
is a faithful summary of all that I could learn, and I soon set to work
to act upon it.
Cape Town abounds with mules, small well-bred looking things, so I made
inquiries and bought eight that had been well broken into harness, and
were in good condition; I could only buy one pack-mule, which made my
ninth. Mules had withstood the distemper so well in Bechuana country,
that I trusted that at least half of them would live until my wanderings
were ended. I then bought a large strongly-built cart for them to draw,
and with it I purposed to make my first expedition up the country,
carrying the heavy articles of exchange and bringing back oxen. I
also bought two waggons—I believe the only two travelling waggons in
Cape Town—for now-a-days the march of intellect has inspired even the
ponderous Dutchmen, and they make good roads and use lighter vehicles.
These were to be drawn by the oxen that I intended to buy in the country,
and the mules, as I calculated, would be strong enough to pull them from
Walfisch Bay to Scheppmansdorf, the first station, and thence to go on
with the cart and articles of exchange. As there was no grass at Walfisch
Bay, I took plenty of corn for my cattle, and a cask of good water for
ourselves; the mules would drink at Sand Fountain, the place three miles
off. I only took two horses, as I knew they would be victims to distemper
before the important part of my journey commenced; and I bought but few
additional articles of exchange for I hoped to obtain enough game to
supply us with daily food, in addition to the few sheep we should take
with us as slaughter-cattle. This was a sad mistake, as I found out
afterwards. I was aware I should require at least sixty waggon oxen,—two
spans of from fourteen to sixteen for each waggon. As Namaqua-land was
out of my intended route, and as I had been so strongly advised not to go
there, I took only enough clothing, &c., to buy some forty or sixty oxen
there, and iron things enough to buy 150 from the Damaras; the surplus
beyond what I immediately wanted being meant to cover the unavoidable
expenses of travelling. I had, as I mentioned before from England, a
large and indeed an expensive set of “presents” but my great error was in
not taking far more things of _known_ exchangeable value, and in having
taken those “presents” which the natives really cared very little for.
I felt quite sure that everything connected with my waggons was right,
because I got more than one experienced friend to look them over; and
having engaged my vessel, a schooner of some 100 tons, all except my
servants were at length in readiness. I wanted, in the first instance,
a headman—one who had travelled with oxen and knew the work—a man with
a character that he could not afford to lose, under whom I could put
every detail, and whom I would pay highly; but I could find no such
person in Cape Town. I, however, engaged a Portuguese, John Morta, a
most thoroughly trustworthy man, who, though he did not in the least
fulfil the conditions I have just mentioned, was honest in the extreme,
and with whom I received an excellent character; next, I hired Timboo,
a black, liberated by one of our cruisers years ago, on capturing a
slave-ship in the Mozambique. He, too, had an admirable character, and
could do a little of everything. I do not think he would have joined me
had he not been suspected of too active interference (on the loyal side)
during the late anti-convict movement, which made it convenient for him
to leave Cape Town for a season. There was some story about his having
had a personal conflict with an influential leader of the opposition.
Timboo was an excellent groom, and had some acquaintance with oxen.
Besides him, I got John St. Helena, as waggon-driver, and his brother,
for leader; John Williams, a square-built, impudent, merry fellow, and
a right useful servant, was another leader; and a young scamp, Gabriel,
who clung to my heels wherever I went in Cape Town, and who undertook
to be agent in getting me dogs, horses, or anything else, begged so
earnestly to go with me, that I enrolled him also in my corps. I still
wanted a second waggon-driver, and at the last moment took a man out
of a waggon-maker’s shop, though I did not much like him. As for dogs,
although I was assured that I could find any number in the country, still
I thought that a few Cape Town mongrels would be of no harm, and Gabriel
brought me a whole pack for approval, at an uniform rate of 2_s._ 6_d._
each; one good dog was given to Andersson, and by entreating that a
sentence of execution, which was passed on a fine-looking Newfoundland,
for trespassing in the barracks, might be commuted to transportation
for life, I obtained him also. I had a fancy to take a small dog which
could be carried in the waggon all day, and would be wakeful at night,
so I bought a spaniel, on which I lavished infinite affection, and who
rejoiced in the name of Dinah.
Andersson was most busy in packing and arranging my things. I don’t know
how I should have got through the work myself: the confusion seemed
endless. At length, after we had been for three weeks or a month in Cape
Town, the schooner was brought close into shore; the kicking mules were
boated into her; the heaps of wheels, axletrees, &c., that belonged to
the four vehicles of the Missionary and myself disappeared off the quay;
all the boxes were on board, and, last of all, a cab-full of lamenting
curs were embarked and sent away.
In the second week of August, 1850, we set sail, and on the eve of the
20th the low sandy shore of the land we were bound for came in sight. We
rounded Pelican Point (on which pelicans were certainly sitting), and
came into a wide bay, the shores of which were dancing with mirage, and
presented the appearance of the utmost desolation. The store-house was a
wretched affair to have received so grand a name—being a wooden shanty,
about the size of a small one-storied cottage—which we could not for a
long time see from on board our ship. The name of the bay, “Walfisch,” is
Dutch, and means whale-fish: the sailors have corrupted it to Walwich,
and, lastly, to Woolwich Bay, all which aliases may be found in different
maps. There are a great many whales of the sort called “humpbacks” all
about this coast; in coming here we passed through a “school” or herd.
It was a magnificent sight; for the whole sea around us was ploughed
up by them. We went up the Bay very cautiously, for it has never been
properly surveyed; and different charts give most widely different plans
of it. At night-fall, we anchored a mile or so off shore. We could see no
natives; and not a sign of life anywhere, excepting in the immense flocks
of pelicans and of flamingos and other sea-birds. And this, it appears,
is the character of the entire coast between the Orange River and the
Portuguese territory—a physical barrier which has saved the natives who
live behind it from the infliction of a foreign slave-trade.
The books of sailing directions say that no fresh water can be obtained
on the coast for the whole of that distance; but this is a mistake, as in
Sandwich Harbour, some twenty miles south of Walfisch Bay, there is, at
least at present, a copious supply.
In the morning we saw some savages about, and brought the schooner
as close in shore as seemed safe, about one-third of a mile from the
store-house; and at midday, the captain, the new Missionary, and
ourselves landed. A row of seven dirty squalid natives came to meet us.
Three had guns: they drew up in a line, and looked as powerful as they
could; and the men with guns professed to load them. They had Hottentot
features, but were of a darker colour, and a most ill-looking appearance:
some had trousers, some coats of skins, and they clicked, and howled,
and chattered, and behaved like baboons. This was my first impression,
and that of all of us; but the time came when, by force of comparison,
I looked on these fellows as a sort of link to civilisation. They were
well enough acquainted with sailors; and the advent of a ship was of
course a great godsend for them, as they bartered, for tobacco, clothes,
and all sorts of luxuries, the goats’ milk and oxen which a few of
them had; but they had been savagely ill-used more than once, and had
occasionally retaliated. The captain of them soon made his appearance,
and we became very amicable, and walked towards Sand Fountain, signs
and smiles taking the place of spoken language. A letter was sent on to
the Missionary at Scheppmansdorf, a cotton handkerchief and a stick of
tobacco being the payment to the messenger for his twenty-five miles’
run. We passed over a broad flat, flooded in spring-tides, following the
many waggon-tracks that here seemed so permanent as not to be effaced by
years. We were surrounded by a mirage of the most remarkable intensity.
Objects 200 yards off were utterly without definition: a crow, or a bit
of black wood, would look as lofty as the trunk of a tree. Pelicans were
exaggerated to the size of ships with the studding-sails set; and the
whole ground was wavy and seething, as though seen through the draught
of a furnace. This was in August, the month in which mirage is most
remarkable here; it is excessive at all times, and has been remarked by
every one who has seen the place. A year and a half later I tried on two
occasions to map the outline of the Bay, which was then comparatively
clear, but still the mirage quite prevented me; an object which I took
as a mark from one point being altogether undistinguishable when I had
moved to my next station.
After proceeding half a mile we came to the bed of the Kuisip, a river
that only runs once in four or five years, but, when it does, sweeps
everything before it. The bed was very broad, and hardly definable: there
were marks here and there like the bottom of dried-up pools, where the
ground has been made into a paste and afterwards cracked by the drought.
Bushes (Dabby bushes I have always heard them called) not unlike fennel,
but from eight to twelve feet high, grew plentifully; a prickly gourd,
the ’Nara, with long runners, covered numerous sand-hillocks; and lastly,
high shifting sand-dunes, on either side, completed the scene. We were
so much out of condition, that the depth of the sand and the heat of the
sun (at least, what we then thought was heat) gave us a good tiring, and
we were heartily glad when Sand Fountain and its watering-place came in
sight. My imagination had pictured, from its name, a bubbling streamlet;
but in reality it was a hole, six inches across, of green stagnant water.
It was perfectly execrable to taste, as many years had elapsed since the
Kuisip last ran, and the water which drains from its damp sand to the
hollow here, had become almost putrid, and highly saline. However, it
was drinkable, and I was satisfied that with plenty of digging enough
could be obtained to water my mules. Some years ago, when the trader
lived here, the water was copious and very good; but all these sort of
wells are very uncertain, even more so than the flow of the river on
which they depend. We came back much as we went, and bought five ostrich
eggs that were brought to us, giving seven sticks of tobacco for the
lot, but this was a piece of extravagance, five being the proper price.
Cavendish tobacco is that which has been nearly always bartered here; it
is, as most smokers know, in sticks, each stick weighing about an ounce,
and worth a penny. I had taken only a hundredweight with me; but five
hundredweight would not have proved at all too much. We took the captain
and an ill-looking Hottentot, who appeared to be a relation of his, on
board, as the two were inseparable; and we employed ourselves in picking
bush tics from our persons, for the bushes swarmed with them.
During the night a gun was heard on shore, and a fire was lighted, which
proved to be made by the Missionary, Mr. Bam, and Stewartson, who had
been a cattle-trader, but had lately lost everything, so that he, his
wife, and children could not afford to return to Cape Town, but lived at
the same station with Mr. Bam. We had sent the letter at midday; they
received it about night-fall, and had ridden down on oxen in five hours.
I had up to that moment no conception that oxen ever were, or had been,
used as hacks, except possibly as a joke; but here were two fine-looking
beasts, saddled, and with sticks through their noses, and a thin bridle
fastened to the stick, and tied to a log of wood, and really they looked
uncommonly well, and not at all out of their element.
We at once proceeded to disembark. The horses and mules had to swim:
the sailors managed it rather clumsily, and nearly drowned one; but at
last the creatures were all got on shore. Heavy packages had next to be
landed in the dingy, and we got through a deal of work. In the evening I
rode with Mr. Bam to the Hottentot kraal, by Sand Fountain, and of course
listened with great interest to all he had to tell me of the country.
With the Damaras he had little or no acquaintance. He was born in the
Cape; had made several overland journeys; spoke much of the difficulty of
travelling here, both from want of food and the badness of the road; and
did not hold out to me the slightest encouragement as regarded my journey.
After sunset Mr. Bam returned on board to sleep, and to get a good
substantial dinner there, which is not to be despised by a resident
in these parts. I pitched my tent on shore, and slept in guard of the
things. My men had worked with very good spirit through the day in
landing them, though it was hard work, and they were wet all the time.
Some slept on shore and some on board. I had a heavy spar, which lay
on the beach, carried under the lee of the store-house, and picketed
my mules and horses to it. The night was very chilly, damp, and windy,
and the animals extremely restless. In the morning we found that my two
horses had broken loose, and escaped. Timboo and John St. Helena went
directly on their tracks; but as hours passed, and they did not return, I
became much alarmed. On Mr. Bam’s coming on shore he advised me at once
to send some natives with provisions after the men, as all was desert for
forty miles and more round the Bay; the horses would never perhaps be
overtaken by the men, who would possibly follow their tracks till they
were exhausted, and so be themselves unable to return. I therefore sent
two natives directly,—Mr. Bam interpreting for me—one with provisions,
and the other with orders to go on after the tracks, and bring the
animals back. Late in the afternoon my men made their appearance, looking
sadly exhausted. They had gone very far, until they dared not go further;
and then, intending to return by a short cut back, soon became bewildered
among the sand-hills, and quite lost their course. They were on the
point of going altogether wrong, when the mist cleared away, and showed
them the sea and the Bay, with the schooner in it, in the far distance.
After a long walk they came to the waggon-tracks, which took them to Sand
Fountain, where they obtained water, and there the Hottentots met them.
The sailors had landed some of my things very carelessly indeed, dropping
bags of flour into the sea. I made a great row, with much effect,
about it. Some goats were driven down to sell. I bought two kids for a
second-hand soldier’s coat, without the buttons: I had three dozen, and
gave sixpence each for them at a Jew’s shop in Cape Town.
The horses were still missing. I sent the captain, “Frederick,” and
another man, on their ride-oxen upon the spoor, for I became extremely
anxious for their lives; there is not a blade of grass or a drop of water
where they are gone. Frederick would not go unless I promised him and
his friend a really respectable coat and a pair of trousers, to be paid
if they brought the horses back—not otherwise. The agreement was made,
and off they started. I wish I had brought more old clothes. Two coats
and the etceteras are a sad drain upon my wardrobe. Another accident
happened: my large white dog, that I begged from the barracks, took
fright at the waggon-whips which we had landed, and were cracking: he ran
straight away, and was never seen by us again. Flamingos gathered here in
immense flocks; their flight is very curious; the long projecting neck in
front, and the long legs behind, make them look in the distance more like
dragon-flies than birds. I broke a pelican’s wing with a cartridge of
swan-shot, and had a chase of a good mile after him before I came up: the
Hottentots eat him. The Bay seems, from all accounts, to swarm with fish;
but, though I have a small seine-net, I have no time now to set it.
_August 23._—The horses are found! They had strayed nearly forty miles
(I saw their tracks long afterwards), and Frederick drove them to
Scheppmansdorf for food and water, as it was much nearer for them than
the Bay. He came to claim his apparel: I grudgingly enough gave him the
only coats I could; they were the workmanship of Stultz: I had intended
them for full-dress occasions at Missionary chapel-meetings, &c. But it
could not be helped; and the greasy savages put them on, exulting in
their altered appearance.
I have mentioned above the ’Nara, a prickly gourd, which grows here: it
is the staple food of these Hottentots, and a very curious plant. In
the first place, it seems to grow nowhere except in the Kuisip and in
the immediate environs of Walfisch Bay; and, in the second place, every
animal eats it; not only men, cattle, antelopes, and birds, but even dogs
and hyenas. It is a very useful agent towards fixing the sands; for as
fresh sand blows over, and covers the plant, it continually pushes on its
runners up to the air, until a huge hillock is formed, half of the plant,
half of sand. I do not much like its taste; it is too rich and mawkish.
The waggons that belonged to the Missionaries in the country came down to
the beach to carry away their supplies, which had arrived by my ship. A
vessel would have been chartered for them if I had not previously engaged
it. They had arranged that one should be sent every two years to bring
them their things of barter—clothes and groceries, and whatever else
they might want; for the overland journey was found to be more expensive
and less practicable, as it takes quite four months to reach Cape Town
from Walfisch Bay, and the roads are so rocky that a waggon is seriously
risked by the journey. The oxen, too, are probably much worn out, and,
after all, only some 1500lb., net weight, can be carried in each waggon.
On the other hand, a vessel from the Cape arrives in a week, and can, of
course, carry anything. The trip costs about 100_l._: it would be much
less if it was not that the prevalent winds make it a matter of some four
weeks to return. Chance vessels hardly ever arrive now-a-days at Walfisch
Bay: not one had come for more than a year.
All our things were at length landed; the wells at Sand Fountain yielded
enough water for the mules; the storehouses both there and at the Bay
were unlocked, and cleared out to receive my luggage; the waggons and
cart were pieced together; and the schooner sailed away.
CHAPTER II.
Sand Fountain.—A Lesson to the Natives.—A Present.—News of
a Lion.—Scheppmansdorf.—A narrow Escape.—A Missionary’s
Establishment.—Native Huts.—Missions.—A Lion Hunt.—Preparations
for the Road.—Native Trees.—The Hottentots.—Character
of the Country.—Mode of breaking in an Ox.—Arrangement
of the Baggage.—A Prosperous Start.—The Swakop.—Night
Bivouac.—Labours of the March.—Loss of a Horse and a Mule.—The
Lions’ Chase.—Attempt to avenge the Loss.—Animal Food.—The
Ghou Damup.—Erongo Mountain.—Intense Heat.—The Tsobis
River.—Ride-Oxen.—Native Servants.—Their Cape Town Life.—A
Giraffe Hunt.—Change of Country.—An Ostrich Egg.—Approach to
Otjimbinguè.—Hans Larsen.
The Missionary who had come with us from Cape Town went off at once to
Scheppmansdorf with Mr. Bam, whose oxen fetched his waggon and all his
things, and who very kindly promised to give me a help with mine, when
the oxen were sufficiently rested, if I would first get the luggage as
far as Sand Fountain. The mules were therefore harnessed, and worked
excellently, carting my heavy things through the deep sand; and they made
sometimes two and sometimes three trips a day between that place and the
Bay. Andersson and myself slept at Sand Fountain. John Morta cooked for
us, and the others drove the cart, and took care of my store at the Bay.
Mr. Bam told me I should have great trouble in first going up the
country, unless I had a person to guide me, and that there was not a
Hottentot with him who could go. I had no interpreter for them, and they
were frightened at the Damaras. Stewartson said that he was going in
about two months, and would then be very happy to show me the way. It
appeared, on further conversation, that the business which detained him
from going at once was, that he had to make a fence round his garden to
keep it from Mr. Bam’s pigs. So I arranged with two of my men that they
should go and help him to get through the work quickly, while my others
were employed with me. After a week everything was returned to Sand
Fountain. Andersson and myself had employed ourselves in walking about,
superintending the work. The Hottentots of course crowded round us every
day, but they did not at all trouble us: only one or two of them were
impudent, and, as I did not know how much thrashing they would stand,
I let them alone. I took some pains to exhibit and explain to them the
mechanism of a spring rat-trap, and when they sufficiently comprehended
its object, I gave them to understand that my boxes were all guarded by
rat-traps, so that if they put their hands into them to steal, they would
infallibly be caught.
The black and white crows almost attacked our larder for food. They live
on the dead fish that lie about the beach, which indeed is almost the
only food hereabouts for them. The natives brought us milk every morning
to barter for tobacco, and also some goats. Mr. Bam very kindly sent me
a slaughter ox. It seemed to me the most princely of presents. Meat
keeps wonderfully well here in this season (August and September), and
even dries instead of tainting; but I subsequently found it otherwise in
December. I had taken plenty of salt meat with me from Cape Town, and
rice and biscuits—quite two months’ provisions—for I knew it must be a
long time before we could fall into the ways of the country, and find our
own commissariat there.
I gave the mules a day’s rest, and then started with my first load to
Scheppmansdorf. Andersson remained behind. Mr. Bam had sent me word that
a lion had come over from the Swakop River, and was prowling about and
very daring, and that a hunt should be got up at once. As we travelled
sometimes in the soft sand of the river-bed, sometimes on the gravelly
plain, through which it runs, we kept a sharp look-out for the track that
had been seen there: we found it after we had travelled ten miles. The
natives amused themselves by cleverly imitating it; they half clenched
their fist and pressed their knuckles into the sand. It was curious to
see to what a distance the lion kept to the waggon-road, walking down the
middle of it as though it had been made for him. I listened deferentially
to Timboo and John St. Helena, who were quite learned on the subject of
tracking. Except some ostriches scudding about, some crows, lizards, and
a few small birds, there was no other sign of animal life, but we saw
spoors now and then of the little steinbok, a very pretty gazelle some
sixteen inches high.
We followed the waggon path till an hour after night-fall, when the
damp feel of the air, distant lights and barking of dogs, announced
that we had arrived at Scheppmansdorf. Mr. Bam welcomed me most kindly,
introduced me to his wife, gave me an outhouse for my boxes and myself,
and we formed a very pleasant party that evening, more especially
as I heard that my horses were quite well and fat. We talked over
the lion, and it seemed that he had been prowling about the station
continually;—that he was a well-known beast, who usually hunted the lower
part of the Swakop, and had killed an immense number of cattle;—many
a time have I heard them reckoned over,—fifty oxen, three horses, one
donkey, and innumerable calves and dogs. He had often been chased but was
too wary to be shot—and so forth. We talked over the lion at Mr. Bam’s
till a late hour: he assured me that the animal would prowl about that
night, as he had done so every day for a week, and that if I wanted to
try my rifle, I could track him in the morning. He and Stewartson had
taken my horses the day before to hunt him, and they found him and gave
chase; at last he came to bay, when they rode to the top of a sand-hill
immediately above him, where the beast not waiting to be fired at charged
them. Mr. Bam galloped off, but Stewartson’s horse being thoroughly
blown, would not stir a step, until the lion’s head appeared over the
sand-hill just above the astonished animal, who probably had no idea
of what was taking place, for Stewartson seems to have been “craning”
over the ridge of the bank. I was glad to learn, not only on account of
Stewartson’s safety, but also as a proof of the discretion and speed of
my horse, that the next second of time left the lion behind at a safer
distance.
Mr. Bam’s household, which I may as well describe, as it gives a good
idea of a Missionary establishment, was as follows—Himself, Mrs. Bam, a
numerous family, and an interpreter, who helped at the schools, could
drive a waggon, and was the factotum, made the party that took their
meals together, the interpreter being very deferential, and only speaking
when spoken to. Besides these were a few hangers-on, more or less
trustworthy, and always ready for a job. The house is a tolerably sized
cottage or bothy, all on one floor, built of course by the Missionary
himself, as well as he was able to build it; the workmanship was
naturally very rough, but as it takes far less labour to use trees for
the uprights and rafters than planks, it is also very strong. Chairs, a
table, and a bureau, were imported from Cape Town; the bed, bookshelves
and so forth, made here. The wife does the whole house work, cleaning
the rooms, managing the children, cooking the dinner, and, what I never
liked, waiting at table. These ladies have the hardest and rudest of
occupations, but, I must candidly say, they seem to like this life
extremely, and I am sure that Missionaries must find great favour in the
eyes of the fairer sex, judging from the charming partners that they have
the good fortune to obtain. As to the natives, they make their huts as
they like, and where they like; they plant sticks in a circle of six feet
across, then bend the tops together and tie them with strips of bark;
lastly, they wattle the sides and plaster them up.
Scheppmansdorf is prettily situated on a kind of island in the middle
of the Kuisip River bed near a clump of fine trees, somewhat resembling
elms. At one side stands the Missionary’s and Stewartson’s houses, in
the middle is the white-washed chapel, and round the other sides lie the
huts twenty or thirty in number. All around is sand; to the south there
a perfect sea of sand-dunes from 100 to 150 feet high, to the north the
Naanip plain. A small streamlet rises from the ground, and runs through
the place, watering about three acres of garden and field, and losing
itself half a mile off in a reedy pond full of wild fowl.
The natives crowd the church and sing the hymns, which, being about
three quarters articulate and one quarter clicks, produce a very funny
effect. The Missionary is, to all intents and purposes, Lord paramount of
the place, though he is modest, and refers matters as much as possible
to the captain of the tribe. Savage countries are parcelled out by a
tacit understanding between different Missionary Societies, priority of
occupation affording the ground of claim, it not being customary for one
sect to establish its stations in a land where another sect is already
settled. Mr. Bam and the other gentlemen I was thrown amongst belonged to
a German Mission, and were all of them Germans or Dutch. Further to the
interior, and communicating with the Cape, not by the sea, but overland,
are some English Wesleyan stations. Subsequently, I passed through
these, but at the time of my visit they were unoccupied.
To return to the lion. When I turned into bed I listened long for a roar
or some token of his presence, but in vain; and at last I dropped asleep.
In the morning we found his tracks all about us, he had paid particular
attention to a hut that was lying rather apart from the others, and had
been prowling all round it. Stewartson volunteered to accompany me, he
disapproved of horse-back, and mounted his trusty ox. Mr. Stewartson’s
profession in early life was that of a tailor—though subsequently a
dissenting minister, and afterwards a cattle-trader. I confess that I
felt, as I rode by his side, I had rather have been introduced to the
genus “lion” by a person of almost any other calling, and carried by
any other kind of animal than my bucolic friend’s. I took two of my
men with me, and off we set with a few natives. The lion had walked
backwards and forwards so much in the night, that it was long before we
found the last tracks he had made. We followed them very quickly, as
his broad foot-print was unmistakeable on the sand; there was a growing
interest as we found how he had stopped and looked down and considered
whether a bush by one side would suit him or not, but had decided in the
negative and gone slowly on. We peered about and marched very silently;
the bushes got thicker, and the pace slower, when we stopped short at a
well-trodden part whence the lion had evidently just risen, for the sand
was still warm from his touch. Had he gone away, or was he close by, was
the question. We were all mixed up together. Of a sudden the lion stood
up, twelve paces in front, looked over his shoulder at us, made an easy
noiseless bound, and was gone. His action was so steady, so smooth, so
entirely devoid of hurry, that I could perfectly understand how a person
might be seized through miscalculating the speed of his advance. As it
was, he disappeared before one of our guns was well up to our shoulders.
I am sure, if he had come at us, he could have done what mischief he
liked. My horse would have shied on to the horns of Stewartson’s ox, and
in the narrow pass we should all have tumbled about and rolled one on
another. The cover into which he went, and on the border of which he had
been lying, was far too thick to be practicable for our further pursuit,
though we did make several good attempts at dislodging him. I returned
very crest-fallen at our want of success, but I had now seen the animal
and better understood the elements of hunting him.
As we rode back across the plain we saw vast numbers of old gemsbok
tracks, although there are but few of these fine antelopes in the
neighbourhood; but impressions made on this crisp gravelly soil take
years to efface; they seem to be almost stereotyped; and a very few
animals and waggons have produced an extraordinary number of spoors.
I mentioned that Scheppmansdorf was built in a rude circle. To the middle
of this the oxen of the place come of their own accord every night as
the evening sets in, and lie there till the early morning; they find
shelter from the wind, and are certainly sensible of protection. Besides
this the ox is a sociable domestic animal, and loves fires and the
neighbourhood of men. The oxen, therefore, lay close up to the doorway
of the outhouse in which I slept, and the night was pitch dark. Now,
after we had all gone to bed and were fast asleep, there was a rush and
an outcry, and people hallooing and dogs barking, for the lion had got
into the midst of the oxen. I confess I was glad there was a door to my
outhouse, for fear the lion should walk in; however, all became quiet,
and I soon went to sleep again.
A grand hunt was determined on in the morning; every available native
was pressed into the service. Mr. Bam rode one horse, I the other,
and Stewartson his ox. Johannis, Captain Frederick, and some other
Hottentots, came mounted on their oxen, and we went off after breakfast
with as many cur dogs as would follow us. The proceedings were much the
same as before. After eight miles his spoor went into a bush; we threw
stones in and shouted, and up he got about one hundred yards off. I
purposely did not fire, as my horse was in a bad position for me to take
as good an aim as I wished, and nobody else fired either; but we galloped
after him in full view, the object being to bring him to bay, or to get a
nearer shot as he ran. This last I hardly expected whilst he was moving,
for my horses were not accustomed to be shot from, and it took so much
time to pull them up, that the lion had gained a long start again before
I could do so. The bushes were in his favour, and we nearly lost him;
but by most skilful tracking the Hottentots came up and often helped us
out when we were at fault. Some hours elapsed when, as Mr. Bam and myself
were cantering on, we turned the corner of a sand-hill and saw the lion
about sixty yards ahead, trotting on, looking over his shoulder. I got
my long rifle up, and, sincerely praying that my horse would not kick
me off when I fired, I pulled the trigger; the horse was too blown to
start, and I placed my two-ounce bullet well into the lion’s quarter. He
growled and snarled, and bit the wound, but evidently had not heart to
chase me, but turned to bay under a bush. There was a sand-hill opposite.
We waited till the stragglers came up, and then went behind the sand-hill
and dismounted; and Stewartson and ourselves crawled up to the top of it,
right above the lion. He was in a tearing passion, and fifty paces from
us, yet I could not see him as clearly as I could wish—wild beasts have
such a readiness of availing themselves of the smallest bush or tuft of
grass as a screen, which he did on this occasion; his head was between
his paws, and his tail whirling up the sand. One single shot at the
head struck him stone dead. He was a huge gaunt beast, miserably thin,
and had a dog of Stewartson’s in his inside, which he had snapped up on
the werft the night before. The dog was in only five pieces, not at all
chewed or even digested; it had been bolted in a hurry, and had probably
disagreed with him. The lion was soon skinned. My bullet had passed right
alongside the backbone, breaking its way through nearly half its length.
Neither the oxen nor the horses showed that dread of his smell, which
they generally do. I even rolled up his hide like a valisse, and carried
it behind my saddle, without my steed showing any objection. I cannot to
this day imagine why we dismounted and climbed up the sand-hill; but I
put myself under the orders of my more experienced friends. It would have
been much easier and much safer to have given the animal his finishing
wound from horse-back.
The next day I had the skin dressed; it was necessary that the load which
the cart had to carry up the country should be lessened, and I therefore
was driven to pack-oxen, and wanted a hide to cover my saddle-bags;
Stewartson was to make them for me, and the lion’s skin came as a
godsend, for I had only one other. I bought two oxen, a black and a red
one, from Stewartson, both of which he engaged to break in, so far as to
carry such things as would not injure if kicked off. He also hired out
to me another ox, and I bought a yellow ride-ox, by name Ceylon, from
Johannis, the interpreter. Groceries and a gown for his wife settled my
account with Stewartson, and a common gun that with Johannis. The four
oxen were to carry five or six cwt. between them, which would materially
lighten the cart, but still leave it a load of about 1000lbs. I heard
constantly from Andersson, who remained at Sand Fountain with most of
my men, guarding the boxes till Mr. Bam’s oxen were fresh enough to go
down and take them. They had a monotonous time of it. A hyena paid them
two visits at night, but got away in the dark unscathed. Little else
happened.
_September 12th._—The waggons were sent for, full of things, and as
some were still left behind, Mr. Bam kindly lent me his light waggon to
fetch them. The oxen could hardly get it back, and to my extreme regret
when they did so the axletree was found to have been strained; it was,
of course, a great annoyance to my worthy host, as no seasoned wood was
to be had, from which my carpenter could make another one. There are,
indeed, only two kinds of timber trees in Damara and the greater part
of Namaqua-land; one is the unna, which grows about Scheppmansdorf, and
looks something like an elm; the other is the camelthorn, which also
is a fine tree, but more gnarled. Unna wood is soft and porous, and of
very little use; camelthorn is almost too hard to be worked, it is very
heavy indeed, and very brittle; still for want of better wood it has
to be used for most carpentering work. We therefore made an expedition
with the cart in search of a tree, as none grew within some six miles of
Scheppmansdorf. Mr. Bam, my carpenter, and myself, went with tools. After
a long search we found one, and my best axe splintered sadly in cutting
it down; it was quite a long job to fell it. As it lay we roughly shaped
it; and even then had to use all our strength to lift the future axletree
into the cart.
When we got it home, I learnt how to season wood in a hurry: a trench was
dug, a good fire made in it, and after a time the ashes swept out; then
water was poured in, which steamed the hot earth; lastly, the wood was
placed in the trench, covered up, and left to lie for a day.
After two days’ hard work, the axletree was formed into shape, the
necessary holes were bored through it, and Mr. Bam laid it by, so that if
his present one fairly broke, he could, with a day’s work and ordinary
tools, put in the new one, which, in the meantime, was left to season
thoroughly.
I began now to see something of the character of my men, and what they
were fit for. They had on the whole worked willingly and well; but a
great deal of pilfering had been going on. In the constant loading and
unloading of my many things, it was impossible but that several occasions
should occur for the servants to steal them, and some had certainly done
so. However, I said nothing, but Andersson and myself both kept a sharp
look-out. Mr. Bam had assured me of the general honesty of the natives at
his station, in such strong terms, that I felt I could safely accept a
kind offer that he made, and leave all my boxes with him, in the outhouse
that I had occupied, and take the whole of my men with me.
It seems that these Hottentots have a great respect for locks and
keys; the wooden store-house of the bay has been left entirely without
protection for months, and although the natives knew that it was
then full of the very things they valued so highly, no occasion was
known of their having broken into it. The sandy soil is a great check
upon dishonesty, for the spoor remains to tell of the thief and his
whereabouts.
I had made my first attempts at mapping. From the sand-hills above
Scheppmansdorf, Walfisch Bay could be seen clearly; and as many distant
mountains were visible from both stations, I could begin triangulating.
The mountains of the Swakop, on the other side of the desert plain to
our north, were clear in the blue distance. A few peaked hills were
more in the foreground, and I took the bearings, as well as the natives
could point out, of the place we were first to aim for. Our first stage
is a very difficult one. It occupies sixteen hours’ actual travelling,
exclusive of all stoppages. There is no grass for the oxen, or water
either; though a few cup-fulls of the latter can be found in a granite
rock after the first twelve hours’ journey; and there is generally so
thick a mist on the plain, that, travelling, as people generally do, all
through the night, there is every probability of losing the path. The
consequence is, that the plain is covered with false waggon-roads in
every direction, and a great number of oxen have died on the way. The
natives of the place are no better than the strangers; as soon as they
lose their road they go wandering about, not only till daylight, but till
the fog clears away and shows them where they are. Losing the way 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.
Stewartson, on his ox, was to be the guide. My men were all to walk;
Andersson and myself to ride the horses, giving a mount now and then
to the men. The chestnut mule and four oxen were to be packed with my
belongings, one other ox with Stewartson’s.
The ceremony of breaking in the black ox had next to be performed, and
in this way; the whole herd was driven close up together, and then,
Stewartson, with a long thong of leather (a reim), noosed like a lasso,
crept in amongst the creatures, and pushed the noose with a stick round
the leg of the victim, holding on at the other end of the thong like grim
death. The ox bellowed and kicked and galloped on three legs; the herd
dispersed, everybody ran to help, and soon the animal, looking highly
wroth and disgusted at the treatment, was brought to a stand-still, and
another noose thrown over his horns; then, by lugging at the thongs, the
beast was tumbled over, his nose pierced with a stick: some old worthless
bags were filled with sand, and tied firmly on his back, and he was let
go, to plunge and bellow, and to vent his sulkiness on, and tell his
story to, his fellow oxen.
Next morning, the packing operation was again gone through, as the pack
had become loose; and this was repeated for two or three more days. Now
that the ox had a nose-stick, it was much easier to secure him; for when
once lassoed by the leg, an active individual could soon snatch the
stick. In this way the beast was secured fore and aft, and unless from
sulkiness he lay down, could be packed standing. The little red ox was a
far more awkward customer than the other. I never witnessed greater vice
than the creature showed; and his horns were sadly annoying.
At length, after various delays, the day on which we were destined to
start arrived.
The things taken were distributed as follows:—
+------------+---------------------+-------+----------------------------+
| Pack-Oxen. |Load carried. | Gross |In Cart drawn by 8 Mules. |
| | |Weight.| |
+------------+---------------------+-------+----------------------------+
| | | lbs. | lbs.|
|Ceylon |Canvass Bag, No. 1,— | |Common guns 112 |
| | Peas, 45 lbs. }| |Barrel full of presents 56 |
| | Sugar, 48 ” }| 97 |6 pots and 2 kettles 110 |
| | | |Assegais 56 |
|Stewartson’s|Canvass Bag, No. 2.— | |Hatchets and spear-heads 25 |
| Ox. | Rice, 42 lbs. }| |Fore and after chests, |
| | Coffee, 42 ” }| | containing small things, |
| | Spelter, 25 ” }| 110 | knives, tobacco, |
| | | | tinder-boxes, flints, |
|Black Ox. |Skin Bag, No. 1,— | | choppers, and also |
| | Spelter, 75 lbs. }| | calico and dresses 196 |
| | Dresses, &c. }| 135 |Biscuits 53 |
| | | |Tools 23 |
|Red Ox. |Skin Bag, No. 2,— | |4 shooting guns (we |
| | Bullets, }| | carried the others) 36 |
| | Moleskin Clothes, }| |Clothes, books, and |
| | 2 Bars lead, }| | personal effects of |
| | Shot, Powder, }| 130 | Andersson and myself 120 |
| | | |Astronomical |
|Mule |Tent, 40 lbs. }| | instruments, &c. 50 |
| |Water, &c. 20 ” }| 90 |Natural history |
| | | | instruments 42 |
| | | |Men’s sleeping things |
| | | | and clothes, about |
| | | | 30 lbs. per man 210 |
| | | | ---- |
| | | | 1089 |
| Everything was weighed with a steel-yard that I had taken. |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
For meat, I only took with me five or six thin goats, as I was quite
confident of finding game in the Swakop, where vast quantities had been
formerly shot. The day was cool, and we started about eleven o’clock in
the forenoon. We had been packing the red and black oxen since the early
morning; for as fast as the bags were tied on, they kicked them off or
loosened them. The red ox could not be held: he was lashed to a tree,
and there packed. As soon as they let him loose, the brute ran about,
looking for somebody handy to be tossed: he caught sight of me first,
just as I was mounting, and trotted up. I had no idea he meant mischief
till he was close by, when he made a most vicious dash at me; and if I
had not had spurs, I could never have twisted my horse round enough in
time to avoid his aim, for, as it was, the curve of his short sharp horn
glanced along and bruised my thigh and the horse’s shoulder; but we both
escaped its point.
The crisp sand of the desert was very pleasant to travel on; and we made
great progress: the mules pulled very well, and all went cheerily. After
night-fall we floundered about a little amongst some broken ground,
and Stewartson lost his way for a time; but by keeping steadily on by
compass, the rounded head of the Granite Rock showed itself against the
clear sky, and we off-packed and outspanned at eleven o’clock to drink
coffee and to sleep.
We were up before daylight; and the oxen, being very tired, were
submissive, and we were off about half-past six. After four hours, we
entered into the broken country that borders the Swakop; and, making our
bivouac at the head of a steep path that led down to the river-bed, sent
the animals down some four miles to eat and drink.
This was the _premier pas_ of my journey; and I am sure we were all
highly delighted at its success. The only drawback was, that the wretched
goats were quite knocked up; and when we went down to the river-bed, we
could perceive no signs of game. The first sight of the Swakop, in its
deep hollow, charmed us; the plain on which we had travelled was nine or
ten hundred feet above our head, and the crumbling rocks that flanked the
gorge, which the river had made for itself, were magnificently abrupt.
The bed was as smooth as a lawn, and as green with grass—a little sand
peeping out here and there,—a thick fringe of high reeds bordered the
river-bed, clumps of fine camelthorn trees were clustered wherever there
was room for them, and a small rivulet of water trickled along; skulls of
numerous buffaloes were lying about; and Oosop, for that was the name of
the place, seemed a scene in Rasselas’ Happy Valley.
We stopped all day enjoying ourselves, and had a good bathe in a hollow
beneath a huge rock, which the rivulet had filled with water. There was
not a sign of game; not a spoor that was not many days old; and those
that were there were chiefly of buffaloes, and all going down towards the
mouth of the river.
The Swakop is the artery of half Damara and Namaqua-land; all the best
watering-places are in it. It is the frontier between those two nations.
There are three Missionary stations on its banks; and along its side
is the only road that is known to be practicable at all seasons from
the sea to the interior. The Kuisip leads into Namaqua-land; but the
watering-places are few and uncertain: the road by it is execrable in
places, and cannot bear comparison with the Swakop. No people inhabit
Oosop, or the lower part of the river, except some straggling Ghou Damup,
who live, like jackdaws, up in the hills. These are a very peculiar and
scattered race of Negroes, who speak no language but Hottentot, and are
frequently slaves to the Bushmen. Who they are, and where they came from,
has been a standing enigma; but I subsequently found out much that was
interesting about them.
The Hottentots come over now and then from the Bay, when the ’Naras are
not in season, and bring their cows and oxen to give them a good feed.
The place is not suited for savages; for there are no roots for them to
grub up and feed upon, and the river-bed is so deep and the rocks so
abrupt, that nothing would be easier than to entrap a drove of oxen in
it. Anywhere else, when a plundering attack is made, men and oxen scamper
off in all directions, but here they would be “pounded.”
I had hitherto generally slept under cover, because at Scheppmansdorf
there was no place for a bivouac, and the night air was damp and chilly;
but here I began to discard my tent, and to sleep by the side of the
fire. A large driving-apron, water-proofed on one side and drugget on the
other, made my rug, and a blanket and an eider-down quilt, my coverlets.
My men had pieces of oiled canvas, which I took for them to sleep on, and
blankets or old horse-rugs to cover them. We slept round a fire as large
as we could get fuel to make it, and on the lee-side of a bush. The cart
stood five or six yards off, and the mules were tied by their halters,
and the oxen by their nose-bridles, to the cart and whatever else they
could be tied to. My mules were very restless and noisy, kicking each
other, and whinnying all night long; but the oxen were far more sedate,
and lay down, looking at the fire with their large eyes, and chewing the
cud. The stars were clear, the air was keen and bracing: we had been
eating our last goat, and the mules were stuffed full of reeds and green
grass.
_September 21st._—We were off at seven, for packing and harnessing took
us about one hour and a half, and daylight now breaks about half-past
five. We only managed to get a cup of coffee before starting. We had
bivouacked on the plain, just at the entrance of the gorge that leads
down to Oosop, and our course to-day was parallel to the Swakop, and on
to Daviéep, another gorge, but not so deep a one as that of Oosop.
The sun, from the first, was extremely hot; we seemed to have quite
changed our climate, and the cool sea-breezes were evidently shut out. As
the day wore on, the mules showed evident effects of their late change of
diet from hard food (corn and dry grass) to green grass and reeds;—all
animals, when travelling, are extremely affected by causes like this,
and the necessity of the change is often one of the great difficulties
of a traveller. We had crossed a ridge; and a huge, rounded mountain
(Tinkhas), that faced us, was the principal feature in the landscape. The
ground we travelled on was still a crisp gravel, and extended far away
to our right; on our left lay broken rocky ground, then the deep cutting
of the river-bed, which we often could see nothing of, though so near
to it, and beyond, a complete chaos of broken crags and rugged hills;
while level with the tops of these crags, and far beyond them, we could
clearly see long reaches of another barren plain, the counterpart of the
one we were travelling over.
The fact is, we were in wretched travelling condition. An indolent life
of high feeding and perfect rest on board ship, is a bad preparation
for a journey like ours. Now, on a sudden, we had begun to live without
stimulants of any sort, to work hard, and to endure a sun which exhausted
what little nervous energy was left us. We went down to the water,
leaving the packs as before, at the top of the descent, which here is
only two miles long, and drank excessively. The water seemed to do us
some good; but as soon as we had walked a short distance from it, the
thirst, and hunger, and faintness, came on again, and we went back to
drink, time after time. We could not see a sign of game, except the same
buffalo tracks, which spoke of the beasts having passed by, and migrated
to the mouth of the river some days since. There was no spoor of wild
beasts, or any signs of life, except a few doves, that we tried in vain
to shoot, by cutting up a bullet into slugs: they were too wary for us.
After sundown, the cart came: the men had left three mules behind, that
had lain down, and would go no further. Andersson, Timboo, and John St.
Helena, took a hasty meal, and very pluckily went after them. They were
absent two hours, but returned without the mules: who it seemed had got
up again as the evening became cool, and had strayed, and were nowhere to
be found. There were many old zebra tracks about the plain, which are as
like those of mules as can be, and in the night quite undistinguishable
from them. As for the six mules that had arrived, they were, by
Stewartson’s advice, sent down into the river to eat and rest themselves
all night. He assured me there would be little danger, that we had seen
no tracks of wild animals to injure them, and, what was very true, they
_must_ have food. I think it was the most foolish thing that I was guilty
of during the whole journey, to leave the poor animals to shift for
themselves, two miles from us, and without the slightest protection; but
I was new to the country, and thought it a far better plan to put myself
under the entire guidance of my worthy friend, until I had gained some
experience, than to make a mess of the whole thing by trying to manage
for myself. I ought to have gone with two or three men to the river, and
watched the mules whilst they fed for a couple of hours; then tied them
up, and given them a good rest the next day. As it was, I slept in happy
ignorance of the fate that awaited them.
In the morning I sent a man down to drive them up: he was a long time
absent, and at last returned with piteous news. He had found no mules,
but, instead of them, the tracks of several lions; and going on, he came
to where he saw the tracks of all the mules going full gallop, and by the
side of them those of the lions. A little further on he heard something
in the bushes, and found my poor chestnut pack-mule half eaten, and a
hyena devouring the remains of the carcase. At a short distance lay my
largest horse, and a lion by him; the lion looked so savage, and walked
so slowly away, that my man crept up the rocks, and waited there for a
long time, which accounted for his delay, and then ran back to tell us.
Andersson and myself took up our guns directly and ran down, and
the others after us. We went to the chestnut mule—she had been left
behind the night before, and her instinct led her to climb down to the
river-bed, into which she seems to have been watched, and seized by the
lions the moment she got there. We then followed the tracks on to the
dead horse, the mules and horses had all been galloping together: there
were distinct tracks of six lions galloping by their side, and then had
been the fatal spring, and the dead horse lay half eaten. The other
lions gave over their pursuit after a few paces. We next followed the
mule tracks until they lay sufficiently clear of one another for us to
count them, and see whether any more besides the two animals we had seen
were dead. I was delighted to find nine tracks; so that not only the six
mules, that had drawn the cart, and the little horse were safe, but also
the two remaining cart mules which had been left on the road had found
out their fellows during the night, and joined them. I sent Timboo and
another man to fetch them back, and the rest of us returned to cut off
as much meat from the mule and the horse as we could eat or carry, for
we were now without any animal food. We then climbed up the cliff that
overhung the place where the mule lay, to hide it out of the way of the
hyenas and jackals, until we were going back to the waggons.
We hunted about the whole day after the lions, but their spoors were
lost among the rocks, and we could not see one of them. Andersson and I,
therefore, determined to sit up and watch for them, as they were sure to
return to the carcases in the night. There were two spots, where we might
lie in wait; the one a camelthorn tree, about fifty yards from the mule,
but with a most difficult trunk to climb, so thick and straight, that
ropes would be necessary; the other, a ledge in the rock, at the very
spot where we had been hiding the meat. The cliff rose abruptly above
us—a man could easily climb it; but we agreed, in our innocence, that a
lion could not. So, when the strayed mules and horses had been recovered
in safety, we went to the cart, had our dinner, and brought down our warm
coats and spare guns, as the evening closed in. Stewartson, with two or
three hands, came with us to carry back the horse-meat. It became rapidly
twilight, as the sun set behind the crags, throwing the deep gorge of the
Swakop into shadow; and there was no time to be lost in getting down the
meat and in choosing our positions, for the lions were due at night-fall.
We walked quickly to the dead mule, and as we went, the men pointed out
five or six deer, or something like them, that we could not clearly see,
bounding along the rocks above us and parallel to us. We came to the
place, the mule lay as we had left her. Andersson had gone to the other
side of the river to reconnoitre something, and I left my guns, &c., at
the bottom of the rock, with Stewartson and the men, and ran up to fetch
the meat. I was busy tugging out the last shoulder of my trusty steed,
when the men called out, “Good God, sir, the lion’s above you!” I _did_
feel queer, but I did not drop the joint, I walked steadily down the
rock, looking very frequently over my shoulder; but it was not till I
came to where the men stood that I could see the round head and pricked
ears of my enemy, peering over the ledge under which I had been at
work. Stewartson made a very good shot at him, but too low, splintering
the stones under his chin. It was far too dark for a good aim. It then
appeared that the creatures we had thought were deer, were really the
lions. It was now useless to lie out where we had intended, as the
lions knew all about us, and proved to be far better rock-climbers than
ourselves; and, as we could not get up the tree, we returned thoroughly
out-generalled.
In the evening a waggon came down. It was _en route_ from the Missionary
station of Mr. Hahn to the Bay. The waggon-driver had a small flock of
slaughter sheep for his own consumption by the way; he kindly sold us two
of them, which was all he could spare.
In the morning, with a heavy heart and diminished cavalcade, we proceeded
onwards, sometimes Andersson and sometimes I rode—but I had much the most
riding of the two. The next day one of my sheep had to be killed for
meat—for some of the men had a most unaccountable prejudice against horse
and mule flesh. The mule, I grant, was stringy, for she was old, and had
done a great deal of work. But the horse was what butchers would describe
as “prime.”
_September 25th._—We came to a water-hole in the sandy river-bed, at a
place where it was flanked with deep reeds. Stewartson had made us travel
in the middle of the day, and right in the midst of the deep sand of
the river—he seemed to have a most marvellous dread of lions, though at
this season of the year night is the only fit time for travel, and I saw
clearly that the mules were knocked up; indeed we only travelled three
hours a day. There were lions roaring about us all night, and as there
was a long reach of dry reeds, we set fire to it. It makes a glorious
bonfire, frightens the wild beasts, and improves the pasturage very much.
_26th._—Intensely hot. We passed some Rhinoceros spoors, and had a long
chase after him, walking or running many miles, but without success; the
chase, fortunately, led us parallel to our course, so that we regained
the cart pretty easily. In the middle of the day we met some Ghou Damup,
and persuaded four of them join us. I had a great curiosity about these
natives. It was so peculiar to see Negroes speaking the language of a
light-coloured race, the Hottentots, and that too in a far more northern
part of Africa than Hottentots were believed to exist in. All published
maps up to the last two or three years, place a dotted line no great
distance north of the Orange River, with the remark, that that is the
northern limit of the Hottentot race. Now not only were the Hottentots
by Walfisch Bay natives in the country, but here were black people, a
race living in amity with, but as inferiors to these very Hottentots,
and also speaking their language without any other of their own. It
seemed that these Ghou Damup have a stronghold of their own, a large
table-mountain, inaccessible except by one or two passes, which a white
man in the country, by name Hans, of whom I shall have much to say by and
by, had visited and gone up; he gave me a very interesting account of
it. This mountain I had made Stewartson promise to accompany me to, to
buy goats, after I had reached the Missionary station ahead. Now these
very Ghou Damup belonged to it, and therefore we engaged them as guides.
I found also the advantage of having natives to do the troublesome work,
as carrying wood, watching cattle,—which they have an aptitude for, and
which similar servants do not like, and cannot be spared to perform.
Erongo is the name of the mountain; it was described as two days’
journey, either from hereabouts or from the next Missionary station
(Otjimbinguè) that of Mr. Rath’s. We had no difficulty in explaining our
wants to the Ghou Damup, although Stewartson’s vocabulary was extremely
limited; few interjections, twenty or thirty substantives, and infinite
gesticulation, are amply sufficient for a dexterous traveller to convey
to an intelligent native his views and wishes on a marvellous variety of
subjects.
My thermometers had been packed so carefully that I had never hitherto
looked at them, but to-day it felt very hot, and I took them out. I could
not have conceived the heat—143° in sun at three o’clock, and 95° in the
shade. The poor mules cannot get on through the horrible sand. Andersson
very nearly had a sun-stroke. I found him very ill, and with a racking
headache, under a tree to which he had staggered—it was the only shade
near—and a very lucky chance for him that he reached it. In a quarter of
an hour he was able to ride on, but was extremely poorly for the evening.
We slept at the mouth of the Tsobis River bed, and eat our last meal of
animal food. We had shot nothing, not even fired at game in the Swakop.
The days passed by rather heavily, for we were not yet acclimated, but
out of health and fevered. The least cut or scratch festered, and we
were not fit for much exertion. Stewartson told us innumerable anecdotes
of events in the country since he had resided there. He showed me all
the points of an ox; explained how immeasurably superior that beast was
in every respect to a horse—a fact which I cannot endorse—and every now
and then gave me a mount. My first impression in riding an ox was, that
the saddle was ungirthed, for his skin is so loose, that hold on as you
will, it is impossible to be as steady as on horse-back. I hated the
animal’s horns; they were always annoying the rider or somebody else, but
nevertheless are dearly prized by Hottentots as an ornament. I learnt
it would cast infinite ridicule upon me, in their eyes, if when I had
ride-oxen of my own, I should saw off their tips. The footfall of an ox
is peculiarly soft.
My men, I was glad to see, worked together pretty amicably, but there
was no one amongst them with sufficient influence over the rest to be
made into a head servant. John Morta, who had far the most character of
them all, was unfitted to head the others, from his ignorance of oxen and
horses, and the whole of that very work that I especially wanted a head
servant to undertake for me; I therefore made him cook and housekeeper,
and gave him the principal charge of the stores. Timboo had attached
himself to me from the first, as henchman and valet-de-chambre—that
is to say, if I called out for anything, he would not let anybody but
himself bring it—and he made my bed and saddled my horse, and so forth.
I had intended Gabriel for that sort of work, but the poor lad was quite
bewildered and frightened. He was also a great scamp. In Cape Town he had
been the most impudent, self-possessed, and good-looking of young rogues,
but the hard work and sense of anxiety quite dashed his spirits and his
assurance, and he had relapsed into a timid frightened boy, and used
to talk to the men in a piteous way about his mother. Listening to the
conversation of the men at our bivouacs, I was quite shocked at the low
tone of honour that pervaded it, and yet they must be taken as above the
average of the working class in Cape Town. They were perpetually talking
of the prison there, which they literally seemed to consider as a kind
of club or head-quarters, where a person had an excellent opportunity of
meeting his friends and of forming fresh intimacies, but where he was at
the same time subjected to considerable inconvenience. They positively
reckoned dates by the epochs in which either they or their mutual friends
had been confined. They had no shame in alluding to these matters, even
when I was joining in the conversation—in fact, the gaol was the chief
thing that they talked about. I have no doubt that if, as an amusement,
I had proposed that each man should tell a story, the beginning would
usually have been—“When I was in prison,” &c. &c. This feature in their
character corroborated the suspicion of pilfering that I had entertained.
But I soon saw that some were very far worse than the others, and
I determined to take the first opportunity of weeding these out. I
especially mistrusted one man, whom I believe to have been a regular gaol
bird, and who had the worst of influence over the rest. John Morta’s most
perfect honesty, through any temptation, I was assured of, and though I
had had less opportunity of observing him, I fully believed in Timboo’s.
I only wanted to get rid of two men, and to replace them if I could, and
then I had hopes I should get on very well with the others.
Our seventh day’s march was an affair of six hours, and up the Tsobis
river-bed. For the second time, we had no animal food left; but
immediately that we started we saw the fresh spoor of a giraffe. I
doubted whether or no to go after it, as my horse was very thin and weak,
and I could not tell where the giraffe might have gone to, probably far
beyond reach; so we travelled slowly on. However, as I rode some little
distance in front of the cart, I found that the track went straight up
the river-bed, which being now hemmed in with impracticable cliffs, the
giraffe’s path and our own must necessarily be the same. This made a
great alteration in the case, and I cantered slowly on the spoor. My
rifle was a little one (only 36 bore), but loaded with steel-pointed
bullets. I was afraid of losing all chance of a shot if I wasted time
by returning to the cart and getting a larger gun, and therefore I went
on, as much for the pot as the sport. After four hours’ travel, during
which I had kept a couple of miles in front of the rest of the party, so
as to be well away from the sound of the whip and of the men’s talking,
the tracks turned sharp to the right, up a broad ascent, which there led
out of the river, and in the middle of this, among some bushes, and under
a camelthorn tree stood my first giraffe. I took immediate advantage of
a bush, and galloped under its cover as hard as I could pelt, and was
within one hundred yards before the animal was fairly off. I galloped
on, but she was almost as fast as I, and the bushes, which she trampled
cleverly through, annoyed my horse extremely; I therefore reined up, and
gave her a bullet in her quarter, which handicapped her heavily, and took
some three miles an hour out of her speed. Again I galloped, loading
as I went, but excessively embarrassed by the bushes, and fired again,
whilst galloping, at thirty yards’ distance, and I believe missed the
animal. The riding at that time was really difficult, and my horse shied
very much. Again I loaded, but my horse was becoming blown, and I rode
parallel to the beast, intending to overtake and confront her. There was
a water-course in the way, quite jumpable, but my poor beast made a mess
of it, and chested the opposite side; yet I somehow got him over, and
then rode with all the skill I could. At last I steadily gained on the
giraffe, then beat her, and passed her. The giraffe obstinately made for
her point. I was forty yards in advance, and pulled up full in her path.
She came on: my horse was far too blown to fidget, and was standing with
his four legs well out. I waited as long as I dare—too long, I think,
for her head was almost above me when I fired, and she really seemed
coming at me with vice. I put my bullet full in her face: she tossed
her head back, and the blood streamed from her nostril as she turned
and staggered, slowly retracing her path. I dare not fire again, lest I
should fail in killing her, and only excite her to another run, which my
horse was not fit to engage in. I therefore rode slowly after the wounded
beast, and I drove her back to near where she came from, and there she
stopped under a high tree. My horse was now frightened, and would not let
me take my aim for the finishing blow at the brain, as it is but a small
mark to shoot at; so I got off, and the unhappy creature looked down at
me with her large lustrous eyes, and I felt that I was committing a kind
of murder, but for all that, I was hungry, and she must die; so I waited
till she turned her head, and then dropped her with a shot.
There was now a fine holiday feast for us. When the party came up, we set
to work flaying and cutting large steaks from the meat, and securing the
marrow-bones, until as much was heaped on the cart as the mules could
possibly struggle on with. Our Ghou Damup guides ran on to Tsobis, where
many of their people lay, and who brought us six ostrich eggs and sweet
gum, in return for the meat we had left behind. We now emerged from the
deep gorges and high cliffs that for so long a time had shut us in, and
could breathe more freely in the open country that lay about us. We had
left the arid Naanip plain behind, and were arrived to where thorn-bushes
and scanty grass overspread the sandy country. Fantastically peaked rocks
rose on every side, and huge masses of mountains, that indicated the
course of the Swakop, made a grand succession of distances; but there
was a want, even painfully felt, of life in the landscape. The grass was
withered, the bushes stunted and sear. No birds could be seen or heard;
and every feature looked still and dead, under that most saddening of
lights, a blazing sun in an unclouded sky.
_September 28th._—We rested a day, to have a really good breakfast and
dinner. I have read in some old-fashioned books of fiction, entitled
“Natural History,” that an ostrich egg would feed six men; but I know
that Stewartson, Andersson, and myself, finished one very easily for
breakfast, before beginning upon the giraffe. I confess, however, that we
enjoyed the blessing of a good appetite.
My mules had become sadly distressed: one was very ill; he had nearly
been drowned when landed at Walfisch Bay, and never recovered the
accident; he was therefore seldom harnessed, but was driven along with
any other mule that I might be anxious to spare. I tried harnessing my
horse once, but his pace and step were so different to those of his
comrades, that the work was too much for him.
We were now only two days’ journey from the missionary station
Otjimbinguè, in which a man of the name of Hans Larsen was now encamped
(he who had been to Erongo), of whom I had heard very much, and whom
I had been most strongly urged by Mr. Bam to engage in my service, if
I could do so, as he was excellently qualified to take charge of my
expedition. My own waggon-men were very thoughtless and careless in
their duty, and wanted strict overseering. Hans had been in the service
of two cattle-dealers, who successively had ruined themselves by their
speculations. He had received payment of his wages partly in goods and
partly in cattle, and was now living about the country an independent
man, shooting, enjoying the possession of his cattle, and doing odd jobs
for the missionaries. He intended to drive his stock down to Cape Town as
soon as the rains had set in, and to make what money he could by them.
Hans had originally been a sailor, but begged to leave a ship that he had
become disgusted with, and was allowed to do so at Walfisch Bay, where he
entered into the service of the traders I mentioned above. Having been
seven years living about the Swakop, he had had very many adventures
there; and as it appeared subsequently, had utterly shot off all the
game in it. As it was very doubtful if the mules could struggle on much
further, we determined, if they came to a stand-still, to send on for
Hans.
The first day’s journey from Tsobis was got through pretty well, but
on the second the mules and cart came to a dead lock, in a broad
sandy tributary of the Swakop, that we had to cross. We rode on to
Otjimbinguè, found Hans, who went directly back with oxen and yokes,
and, before sundown, we were all encamped on the Swakop, at the
Missionary station of Otjimbinguè. But now there was this difference,
that no more yellow faces of Hottentots were about us, as at Walfisch
Bay, but we had come among the negroes—the Damaras—and a country that
was, in a certain sense, generally habitable, stretched before us instead
of a sand-desert.
CHAPTER III.
Hear ill News.—Engage Hans.—Ride to Barmen.—En route.—Oxen
_versus_ Mules.—Arrive at Barmen.—Jonker’s Attack.—Previous
History.—Oerlams and Europeans.—Hottentots and
Bushmen.—Establishment of Missions.—Native Feuds.—Dislike to
Missions.—Obstruction to Travellers.—Write to Jonker.—Buy Oxen
from Hans.—Breaking them in.—Attacks of Distemper.—Complete
my Encampment.—Damara Digging.—Native Hunting.—Oxen sent
to the Bay.—I go to Barmen.—Damara Thorn-trees.—Jonker
writes to me.—My Plans.—The Ovampo.—First Rain.—Hottentot
Beauties.—Hyena’s Insolence.—Damara Ferocity.—Cruel
Murder.—Mutilated Victim.—Message to Chiefs.—Their Replies.
Otjimbinguè is well situated for a Missionary station. Water, the first
necessary of life, is here in sufficient quantity, as a small streamlet
runs down the bed of the river. Grass, the next essential in the eyes of
a pastoral people like the Damaras, is also in abundance, for the Swakop,
at this place, instead of lying between abrupt cliffs, runs through
a wide plain, that shelves for miles down its bed; and which, though
covered with thorn-bushes, affords a fair allowance of grass-bearing
soil. The mission-house was a temporary affair, a mud wall six feet high,
and over it a round-tented ceiling of matwork, in shape like a waggon
roof. A gigantic house was being built by Mr. Rath, the missionary, on
the top of a little cliff close by. Mr. Rath and his wife received
me with great kindness, and as this place, or its neighbourhood, was
to be my head-quarters for some time, I chose my encampment with some
deliberation. It was among a group of fine trees, and close by a good
spring of water. The natives about the station were excessively annoying
and troublesome, and I was strongly inclined to make an example of some
of them; but I still followed a pacific policy. When my encampment had
been planned, and the tent pitched, and bushes placed in a wide circle
round the cart, I went to spend the evening with the missionary, and to
hear the news of the country. The first intelligence shocked me very
much; it was, that quite recently the neighbouring Namaqua Hottentots had
attacked Schmelen’s Hope (three long days’ journey ahead), had murdered
and mutilated the Damaras that lived there, and, naturally enough,
terrified the resident missionary into leaving the place. The cause of
this outrage, as far as I could learn, was simply savage barbarism, a
little robbery, and a demonstration of dislike to the missionary cause.
I mentioned, at the beginning of the book, the name of Jonker Africaner,
as the most important man among the Hottentots; it was he who headed the
expedition.
The effect of this attack, which had occurred after a long peace or pause
from fighting, was to frighten every Damara who had cattle to lose, into
the far interior, so that hardly an ox was grazing within two days’
journey north of the Swakop, and to seriously alarm the missionaries,
who had hitherto depended on these very Hottentots for protection from
Damara insult. The Damaras that I saw were paupers who had no cows—people
who chiefly lived, not on milk, but on roots like pig-nuts, and who
collected round a white man with a vague hope of protection from him
against their countrymen.
I determined to start immediately for Barmen, the head seat of
intelligence as regards Damara and Hottentot movements, and called upon
Hans, the next morning, to get, not horsed, but “oxed,” for the journey.
I found him in the neatest of encampments, with an old sail stretched
in a sailor-like way to keep the sun off, and in an enclosure of thick
reeds, that were cut and hedged all round. The floor was covered with
sheep-skin mats: shooting things, knick-knacks, and wooden vessels were
hung on the forked branches of the sticks, that propped up the whole. A
very intelligent English lad was acting as his “help.” Natives squatted
round at a respectful distance, and Hans sat on an ottoman, looking
like a Mogul. I had some conversation with him, and saw at once that
he was not only willing to accompany me, but that also he was the very
man I wanted. I had heard but one opinion of his efficiency and honesty
from the Europeans that I had seen, which satisfied me on those points,
and the style of the man was exactly what I desired, for he was quiet,
sedate, but vigorous and powerfully framed, showing in all his remarks
the shrewdest common sense, and evidently, from the order around him, an
excellent disciplinarian. We very soon came to terms, which were, that he
should go with me to Barmen on trial, and that, if we suited, I would
employ him as head servant. I was strongly urged to make a good enclosure
(kraal) for mules and men, as the lions were extremely numerous about the
low ground, in which I had encamped, for the sake of the shade, though
they seldom prowled upon the bare cliff on which Hans and the Damara huts
were scattered. I therefore collected all the natives together that I
could, and set vigorously to work, cutting down all the bushes I could
find, to strengthen my kraal with, and two days passed very busily. I
then left Andersson in charge, and rode on with Stewartson and Hans
towards Barmen, in the afternoon of the second day. Our little caravan
consisted entirely of Hans’ animals, for all of mine required rest;
besides our ride-oxen, we had one ox packed and one loose, three sheep,
and two Damaras; our pace was a jog-trot, and the Damaras drove the sheep
and two oxen in front, while we rode behind and drove on the Damaras. We
off-packed after three hours, but it was dark when we did so, and the
sheep ran loose and we could not drive them in together; one ran quite
away, and was eaten, I presume, by the hyenas, who disturbed us a good
deal; one we killed, and the other we tied to a bush. Hans made me a much
more comfortable bed than I had previously enjoyed, showing me how to cut
the bushes and make a dead hedge of them; then he smoothed the ground,
and plucking dry grass, strewed it thickly about; upon that he laid two
or three sheepskins, over them my mackintosh, and, lastly, my eider-down
quilt. This had become torn to rags by the thorns, and I intended on the
first opportunity to get a caross instead of it. Sheepskins and carosses
are no incumbrance in travelling with pack-oxen, for they are carefully
placed under the saddle-bags, and their use in keeping the animal’s back
from being galled is more than compensation for their weight. I listened
with much interest to Hans’ tales and anecdotes. He had been the most
successful sportsman in the country, and had lived the last two or three
years in sole charge of an immense drove of oxen, once amounting to 700,
with only one or two native lads to help him in the care of them. He had
shot a great many lions out of the Swakop, six in the preceding year,
and made it a much safer place than it used to be, to drive cattle in.
From his account, that river-bed must have swarmed with game, when it
was first seen by Europeans, but I can easily fancy, from the confined
character of the country, how in a short time one or two guns would
entirely exterminate them.
In the morning our remaining sheep could not be driven; he was too
scared, and as time was much more precious than mutton, we killed him,
took out his inside, and strapped him across one of the oxen with
hardly any delay. I was well mounted on an old ox, and really liked his
walking pace very much. I think I can sit more hours on ox-back than on
horse-back, supposing in both cases the animals to walk. An ox’s jog-trot
is not very endurable, but anything faster abominable. The peculiarity of
the creature is, that he will not go alone, from his disposition being so
very gregarious. He is distressed beyond expression, when any attempt
succeeds for a time in separating him from the herd. It is with great
difficulty that an ox can be found willing to go ahead of the others,
even though he knows that his fellows are just behind him. Whipping and
spurring has hardly any effect on the animal: he feels every cut most
sensitively, as the rider cannot but be aware of; but the obstinacy of
his nature is so wonderfully great, that pain has little or no influence
upon his determination. His character is totally different from that of a
horse, and very curious to observe; he is infinitely the more sagacious
of the two, but never free from vice. The gregariousness of oxen and of
sheep is of great advantage to the traveller; for it is not necessary to
be perpetually counting the animals, to see if any have strayed; and at
night, when the oxen are all loose about him, a constant anxiety is taken
off the owner’s mind, by knowing that if he sees one, all are there.
My mules had given me a great deal of trouble, by requiring much more
watching than the oxen; and I hardly know how I could have travelled with
a large drove of those animals. I should not dare to let them be loose at
night; and the country seldom affords enough trees to tether them to.
We made a tedious ride to-day, taking something to eat at noon, and
going on in the evening. I began to see that being able to endure
severe exertion for half the day without the breakfast we always have
in England, was essential to our sort of life. At first it is very
trying. In temperate climates it is easy enough; but in tropical ones,
when you begin work in the fresh cool of the morning, and become hungry
and exhausted at the very time that the sun is beginning to blaze most
powerfully, the want of a restorative is more particularly felt. It
is impossible in practice to ensure breakfast before you start; and
constantly, when you least expect it, a series of accidents occur that
keep you mounted, and put it off till two or three o’clock in the
afternoon; but coffee, so long as you have any, can always be made before
starting.
We passed over very broken ground, and slept under some magnificent
camelthorn trees: the meat we killed in the morning seemed a little
tainted; so we cooked as much as we could in our iron pot, to prevent it
from becoming worse, and gave all the rest to our two or three natives
for a grand feast. The evening of the next day found us at Barmen, which,
if I was to avoid the Hottentots, would probably be the starting-point of
my exploring expedition. Mr. Hahn, a Russian by birth, and married to an
English lady, and a missionary of considerable influence, was the founder
of this station.
Mr. Kolbe and his young wife, who had been attacked by the Hottentots
at Schmelen’s Hope, had come here for refuge. They had lost nearly
everything. It seems they had quite recently occupied the place, and that
the poorer natives had settled in great numbers by them. Kahikenè, one of
the four or five principal chiefs in Damara-land, had also trecked there
with many of his men and large herds of cattle. He had always behaved in
a very friendly way to the missionaries; but this was the first time that
either he, or any of the influential Damaras, had encamped within easy
reach of a mission station. Kahikenè showed no distrust, but lived in the
friendliest relations with Mr. and Mrs. Kolbe; and they had sincerely
hoped by his means to get a firmer footing than they then had in
Damara-land. Just at this time, one night a troop of mounted Hottentots
galloped up to the place, firing at and murdering all they could catch.
Kahikenè narrowly escaped; the Hottentots scoured the country in every
direction, and a most fearful night was passed. In the early morning,
Jonker came reeling drunk to the mission-house, ordered the door to be
unbarred, and behaved in the coolest way,—demanded some breakfast, and
so forth; and then departed with his men, and the oxen, and what else
they had robbed. It is very difficult to find out how many people are
killed or wounded in occasions like these, as hyenas soon devour the
dead bodies, and those who survive scatter in all directions; so that
no clue remains towards the numbers missing. I saw two poor women, one
with both legs cut off at her ankle joints, and the other with one. They
had crawled the whole way on that eventful night from Schmelen’s Hope to
Barmen, some twenty miles. The Hottentots had cut them off after their
usual habit, in order to slip off the solid iron anklets that they wear.
These wretched creatures showed me how they had stopped the blood, by
poking the wounded stumps into the sand. A European would certainly have
bled to death under such circumstances. One of Jonker’s sons, a hopeful
youth, came to a child that had been dropped on the ground, and who lay
screaming there, and he leisurely gouged out its eyes with a small stick.
I had no reason to think that this outrage on Mr. Kolbe’s station was any
worse than the usual attacks that the Hottentots and Damaras make upon
one another; but the Damaras are savages, and are not supposed to know
better, while Jonker is a British subject, born in the colony, and his
best men are British subjects too. Missionaries and teachers in great
numbers have been amongst them, or their fathers, for years and years;
and the home of these people, though now they have trecked on to the
tropics, is properly on the borders of the Orange River.
I was very anxious to obtain something like an authentic history of these
Hottentots, and of the Damaras, during the last few years, and I begged
Mr. Hahn, who was eminently qualified to give me one, to do so; and as
it will illustrate my story I will now give its substance, mixed up and
corrected with what I have since gathered from various quarters, or made
out for myself.
The agents in this history are Namaqua “Oerlams,” or Namaquas born, in
or near the colony, often having Dutch blood and a good deal of Dutch
character in their veins. Among these, Jonker is a chief. The Namaqua
“Hottentots” look at these Oerlams with great jealousy, and consider them
almost as aliens; they do not approve of their intelligence and mixed
blood, but nevertheless make common cause with them against the Damaras.
It must be recollected that Hottentots are yellow, and not at all black.
I could pick out many complexions far fairer than that of my own sunburnt
face among them. But the Damaras are quite dark, though their features
are good and seldom of the negro type. Oerlam was a nickname given by
Dutch colonists to the Hottentots that hung about their farms; it means
a barren ewe—a creature good neither for breeding nor fattening, a
worthless concern, one that gives trouble and yields no profit. However
all things are relative, and what these Oerlams were to the Dutchmen,
that the Namaqua Hottentots are to the Oerlams.
The Europeans that have visited the country between the latitudes of
Angra Pequana and Barmen, are some ten missionaries, the same number
of traders, five or six runaway sailors, who have acted as servants to
these, and two travelling parties besides my own. The first was that of
Sir James Alexander, who explored this country upwards from the Orange
River fifteen or twenty years ago, and whom the traders and missionaries
followed; the other was that of Mr. Ruxton, the well-known American
traveller, who sailed to Walfisch Bay, but was prevented by the traders
that were there from entering further into the land, and who had to
return in the same ship that brought him. There is no difference whatever
between the Hottentot and the Bushman, who lives wild about the hills
in this part of Africa, whatever may have been said or written on the
subject. The Namaqua Hottentot is simply the reclaimed and somewhat
civilised Bushman, just as the Oerlams represent the same raw material
under a slightly higher degree of polish. Not only are they identical in
features and language, but the Hottentot tribes have been, and continue
to be, recruited from the Bushmen. The largest tribe of these Namaqua
Hottentots, those under Cornelius, and who muster now 1000 guns, have
almost all of them lived the life of Bushmen. In fact, a savage loses
his name, “Saen,” which is the Hottentot word, as soon as he leaves his
Bushman’s life and joins one of the larger tribes, as those at Walfisch
Bay have done; and therefore when I say Oerlam Hottentot or Bushman, the
identically same yellow, flat-nosed, woolly-haired, clicking individual
must be conjured up before the mind of my kind reader, but differing in
dirt, squalor, and nakedness, according to the actual term employed;
the very highest point of the scale being a creature who has means of
dressing himself respectably on Sundays and gala-days, and who knows
something of reading and writing; the lowest point, a regular savage.
Of the very smallest tribe of Bushmen I met none in my travels.
The Oerlams, then, some thirty years since, were near the Orange River,
and Jonker was a chief of secondary importance amongst them. He fought
his way into notoriety, and with success his little tribe received fresh
recruits. The Namaqua Hottentots asked his assistance in attacking
their northern neighbours, the Damaras, the pretext being constant
quarrels, the ill-treatment that their kindred the Bushmen were receiving
throughout the country, and last, not least, the fine herds of oxen that
only waited to be plundered. Jonker accordingly trecked up, helped the
Hottentots, and then settled alongside of them. His tribe now became
larger and more efficient; he bought guns and horses from the Cape with
the oxen that he stole, and continued robbing the Damaras on his own
account.
In consequence of a representation sent by Sir James Alexander to two
Missionary societies, stations were formed at Jonker’s head-quarters;
and, in 1840, he had been so far influenced, that he agreed to leave
the Damaras at rest, and to take care that the other Hottentots should
do the same, for he had become by far the most important chief among
them all. The way in which peace was made and kept for three years was
highly creditable to the missionaries concerned in it; a great deal of
trade was carried on in Jonker’s werft. A blacksmith’s shop was put up
there, and iron things, assegais, choppers for cutting wood, beads,
and so forth, were made in great quantities and sold for cattle, which
again were exchanged with traders from the Cape for clothes, guns, and
such-like things. But this did not long last; the traders sold their
goods on credit; Jonker and the others became deeply in debt, and as the
only way of paying it off involved themselves once again in the endless
Damara quarrels. It appeared that one Damara chief and his tribe had
been invited to a feast, and when these were attacked, and nearly all
killed, Jonker after much persuasion got a commando together to revenge
the injured party, and started. Once on a raid, the Hottentots did not
much care whom they attacked, and began by robbing a werft under Kasheua,
who had nothing to do with the matter in question, drove off their
cattle, and rode after the natives—men, women, and children, shooting
them down in all directions; this he repeated elsewhere till a large herd
of cattle were brought together, and then he returned. Cornelius’s tribe
of Hottentots hearing of Jonker’s success, followed his example; they
rode in a friendly way to one of Kahikenè’s villages, (Mr. Kolbe’s friend
at Schmelen’s Hope) and as the Damaras were employed in bringing them
milk after the usual fashion, they attacked them and massacred all they
could. From this time up to the Schmelen’s Hope affair, nothing else had
occurred but fightings and retaliations between the Namaquas and Damaras.
I have the details in full of many of them, but they are all alike, with
little more than the name and place varied. The consequence is, that
although the Namaquas have no trade whatever with the Damaras, a steady
export of Damara oxen goes on southwards to our colony in droves of from
200 to 800 head of cattle, which are bought here with far too little
inquiry as to how they have been obtained. In fact I am assured in every
quarter that of late years the news of a trader’s waggon being on the
road has been the signal for a general raid upon the Damaras.
Jonker had up to the present time acted very fairly, but rather
despotically to all the whites. He had always protected their persons
and property, and had often stood their friend against the other
Hottentots. Even the Damara missionaries were greatly indebted to him
for the security they enjoyed; for the belief was, that any harm done
to them would be instantly retaliated by the much-dreaded horsemen of
the Hottentots. But Jonker liked to have his own way, and soon became
heartily tired of advice and admonition; and more lately his plundering
disposition and that of the Hottentots had become so thoroughly roused,
that the rebuking presence of the missionaries was felt to be extremely
irksome and galling, and he constantly expressed his determination to
rid himself of them. Still they entertained no personal cause for alarm,
but the attack on Schmelen’s Hope had placed the matter on a different
footing, and their position was become avowedly very perilous.
The Damaras, from their suspicious nature, always believed the
missionaries and other white people to be merely a species of Hottentot,
and acting as spies to Jonker. They argue thus,—“You come and go without
harm, passing through their country; you must therefore be as one of
their people;” and now that the Damaras had been killed all round Mr.
Kolbe, and he himself not murdered, they firmly believed that he went
there merely as a decoy to bring Kahikenè within Jonker’s reach. There
was nothing revolting in such a line of conduct in the Damara mind,
for they seem to have no perceptible notion of right and wrong, but it
was considered to be a simple fact, and as such they acted upon it, by
entirely gutting the Schmelen’s Hope house the instant that Mr. and Mrs.
Kolbe had made their hurried retreat from that place to Barmen.
Jonker had never, even when on the best terms with the whites, permitted
any of them to enter Damara-land; the traders were peremptorily refused
permission to go there; and more lately, when Mr. Hahn had got everything
in readiness at Barmen to explore the interior, a troop of men were sent
who drove away all his ride, pack, and waggon oxen, and detained them
till the season for travelling was gone by; the reason being, that if a
free intercourse were established between the whites and Damara-land, the
Damaras would soon buy guns and weapons, which would place them on more
equal terms with the Hottentots. It can easily then be conceived with
what temper Jonker and the others had heard of my landing, and intention
to explore; a plan of sending men down to Walfisch Bay, and to cut me
off there, was, as I found out afterwards, publicly discussed. Help or
countenance from the Damaras was the last thing I could expect, for
they would treat me as a Hottentot, and again, my men were so totally
undisciplined and devoid of pluck, and had already cast back so many
longing regrets towards the Cape, that I felt that the least check, in
the first instance, to my success would dash the whole enterprise.
At the Cape my plans had already been thwarted by the emigrant Boers, who
chose to cut off all communication with the north by the one side of the
Karrikarri desert; and here were the Oerlams, their offset as it were,
trying to do the same on the other. The cases were as similar as could
be; both parties were guided by British subjects,—both were effectually
barring out civilisation and commerce from Central Africa, and what I
felt most peculiarly vexatious, both were barring out _me_.
Now when I was in Cape Town there was a very general feeling that the
interior of South Africa would become an extensive and open field for
colonial commerce; since the discovery of Lake ’Ngami had shown a way
to it. Hence it was doubly annoying that the emigrant Boers, whose
treatment of the blacks was not very many shades better than that of the
Oerlams, should not only keep us from these countries, but also generate
a hatred on the part of the blacks against white faces, which years of
intercourse on our part might not efface. His excellency the Governor,
guided by these views, took advantage of my intended expedition, and
also of Mr. Oswell’s, who was then in the neighbourhood of Lake ’Ngami,
by formally requesting each of us to establish “friendly relations” on
the part of the Cape Government with the black tribes who were subject
to the attacks of these marauders. We were simply to convey expressions
of good-will and strong assurances that the proceedings of the Boers met
with no countenance on the part of the colony. I, therefore, knowing
that Jonker still felt some fear of and respect for the Cape Government,
wrote him a long letter in legible characters, which I was assured could
be deciphered by some of his people. I told him how much displeasure the
emigrant Boers had caused,—that his actions were as bad as theirs,—and
that therefore he would probably be regarded with the same displeasure
as they, if he persisted in attacking the Damaras now that he had been
warned. I ended with an assurance that I should call the Damara chiefs
together, and express to them what I had been requested to do in the case
of the nations threatened by the emigrant Boers.
After I had written my letter in English, I had it translated into simple
Dutch, and written on a magnificent sheet of paper, and, finding a
messenger, sent it by him to Jonker, who lived fifty miles off, under a
high range of hills which was distinctly visible from Barmen.
Mr. Hahn spoke highly of Hans, and strongly advised me not only to take
him into my service, but also to buy up his stock of oxen and sheep, as
it would save me infinite trouble; and this I did. I paid him, by cheque
on Cape Town, 71_l._ for fifty oxen and a hundred sheep and goats. Of
these about fifteen were more or less trained, and two or three were
ride-oxen. It was the best bargain I could possibly have made, for a
month’s barter among the Damaras would never have bought so many. The
poverty of the land began to strike me, and the extreme inconvenience
of having no currency, which makes bartering a very different matter
from buying at a shop. I was grieved, too, to find that very many of
my articles of exchange were ill-chosen and worthless, and also that I
should require a very large troop of slaughter oxen, as hardly any game
seemed to exist in this part of the country.
I only staid one whole day at Barmen, and then returned to my cart at
Otjimbinguè, riding the sixty miles between the two places in a day and
a half, which is very fair travelling for an ox.
I found everything in order under Andersson’s management. I heard that
the night I left them some lions were roaring in the most awful manner
close round the encampment. They seemed to be trying to get at the mules,
who luckily did not break loose. The men were excessively frightened, as
well they might be, for they could see nothing in the dark night, and
the lions could at any moment have leaped over the slight fence into
the midst of them. The morning showed their spoors, as they had crawled
round, and close to the bushes that made the fence.
Hans was now formally installed in his office, and the breaking in of the
new oxen for the waggons began. Yokes were borrowed from the missionary,
and a heavy tree felled for the animals to draw. The first ox that we
lassoed by the leg was very vicious: he threw himself down, and broke his
thigh-bone, and I had to shoot him. The next sprained his ankle, and then
got savage, and chased everybody, running upon three legs. He at length
took refuge among some thick dabby bushes, which were thronged with
hornets, and, what between the mad charges of the animal and the stings
of the hornets, we were fairly beaten off, and had to leave him the whole
day by himself.
This was a bad beginning; but after infinite labour three or four were
inspanned: they were caught, then made fast between two tame oxen, and
there yoked. The same operation was repeated for a few days; but we did
not make much progress, the animals were so very fresh and vicious. It
must be recollected that Damara cattle are far wilder animals than those
we see in England, and infinitely more difficult to break in. There is a
game-like and thorough-bred look about them. Many of them will face and
charge a lion, as a buffalo would. My ride-ox, Frieschland, who had once
been badly scratched and bitten, became furious if he heard a lion’s cry
near him. Hans suggested driving them down to the Bay, and then, when a
little tired by the journey, and accustomed to having a number of white
men about them, they would be more submissive; I decided on trying this
plan, and an early day was fixed for the start.
In the meantime we had ceased to stare at the strangeness of our new
friends, the Damaras. Numbers came to my kraal every day, to look in at
us in a friendly manner, and to see if there was anything for them to
pilfer. Timboo began to make himself intelligible to them, and was quite
delighted at each word or phrase that he found to be the same as in his
own language.
The mules and horses were just recovering their condition, when that
fatal scourge, the distemper, broke out amongst them. First one fine
mule was found to be ill, and to stand with difficulty; a little froth
gathered about his nose and mouth; in an hour he was lying on the ground,
and in another hour dead. I was distressed beyond measure, as I knew the
disease would not rest with him; neither did it,—two more mules were
infected, and died also; but my last horse still was in good health. He
gave me one good gallop after a giraffe. I saw him far off, coming down
the long slope on the other side of the river, and cantered round him.
As I got nearer and rode gently, I passed two other individuals, each
stalking the same beast; one was my faithful Hans, and the other, a brute
of a lion. I gallopped up to the giraffe, and put a large bullet through
his ribs, which sickened him at once. I then rode in front of him, as he
slowly kept on his road at a pace between a walk and a trot; but when I
began to re-load, I found to my intense disgust, that my powder-horn had
jolted out of my pocket. I could not turn the giraffe; he forged steadily
on at about seven miles an hour, and, as the evening was closing in, I
had to leave him to go where he pleased. I offered a good reward for my
powder-flask, which I could not easily spare; and men, women, and boys
ran off the next day on my horse’s spoor, and found it. I never carried a
powder-flask loose in my pocket again. Other Damaras followed, and got my
giraffe for themselves.
In return for the meat of the dead mules, the Damaras worked at
strengthening my kraal, building me a hut in it, and digging a well. I
had logs of wood or branches of trees planted upright in the ground at
intervals all round, and plenty of dabby bushes wattled in between them.
I made a good gate to the whole; for I wished to feel, that when Timboo,
John Morta, and I remained behind, and the rest of the party were gone
down to the Bay to fetch the waggons, I might have a place of security
against pilferers and night marauders.
When the holes had to be dug for planting the uprights, I was infinitely
amused at the adroitness with which the Damaras made them. I should have
used spades, and, in default of those, I really do not know what I should
have done, but the natives each took a common stick, pointed at one end,
and, holding it like a dagger, broke up the ground with it; they then
scratched out the loose earth with their left hand, working in this way
until holes were burrowed deeper than the elbow, and only some six inches
in diameter. Savages have so many occasions for scratching up the ground,
as in digging for deep roots, for water, when the wells are partly choked
up, and such-like, that the Damaras often carry a stick for the purpose
among their arrows, in their quiver. The Bushmen do the same, and this
method of digging is called in Dutch patois “crowing” the ground; thus,
“crow-water,” means water that you have to crow for, and not an open
well, or spring.
To return to my horse; the day arrived when he was doomed, and the fatal
distemper made him its last victim. It appears that distemper is most
fatal in the months of September, October, and November, and that it
generally ceases with the first rains. The Hottentots were hardly able
to contend with it at first, but by degrees places were found in the
Hottentot country, one on a high table-mountain, where the sickly season
could be passed by them in safety; some few horses had had the distemper
and recovered, and these were kept at hand. Jonker had always a few of
these about him. The exchange price of a horse among the Hottentots here
is from eight to ten oxen, but they were hardly ever sold, as a horse
is invaluable for marauding purposes. Cattle cannot be swept off by a
few men without their aid, for as soon as the attack is made, the oxen
run off in all directions, and it is quite out of the power of a man on
foot to overtake and turn them, but they are quite at the mercy of a few
horsemen.
There were large herds of zebras about, that came down nearly every
afternoon to drink, but I soon gave over trying to shoot them. It here
required a very long stalk, as the broad open river-bed had first to be
crossed; and there were four or five hangers-on about the place with
their guns, who would run down and have their shots; besides these, there
were savages with their bows and arrows. Often, after an hour’s hard and
careful manœuvring, the game was seen to be startled, and a ball from a
zealous sportsman was whizzing at them from some ridiculous distance. The
captain of the werft made good and steady bags of game with his bow and
arrows, getting a zebra about every other day; but then he had to slave
at it, and often follow the wounded animal’s spoor for great distances.
The lions also killed several, and they supplied the natives pretty well.
The Damaras were always on the look-out, and, guided by the vultures,
appropriated in the morning whatever beasts the lions had left half eaten.
I employed myself in breaking in my remaining mules to carry packs and
saddles; they were too few now to draw my cart, but use might be made of
them in some other way. They were troublesome, sensible creatures, not
kicking at random, but always with an aim. We had several tumbles, but
succeeded in teaching them the elements of their duty.
It is much more difficult to break in animals in the open country than it
is in an enclosure, because, when you let them go, which you cannot help
doing sometimes, they gallop off, and it takes a very long time, often an
hour, and plenty of running, to turn and catch them again; besides this,
each chase scares and frightens them all the more.
Eight days had now passed since I had returned from Barmen, and a
fortnight since the cart first arrived here, in Otjimbinguè. The time
had been spent pretty actively, a great deal had been learnt, one very
bad character weeded from among my men, and on the evening of the ninth
day all the party, except Timboo, John Morta, and myself, went down
under the care of Andersson to the waggons. They took all the oxen and
a sufficiency of slaughter sheep with them, the remainder being in
charge of John Allen, the English lad whom I found living with Hans, and
doing work for him. John Allen was not yet in my service, but I engaged
him afterwards; he was a most trustworthy, hard-working clever lad,
and originally a sailor. There was now no anxiety about the food and
safety of the Bay party, for Hans knew every inch of the road, and was
thoroughly _au fait_ in all that related to oxen; but I did anticipate
with much fear that the animals would never be broken in within any
reasonable time. Everybody prophesied ill; but they had done so from the
beginning, and I felt convinced that the hardest part of the journey, the
first step, was over. I now had an establishment of oxen and men, and a
few good servants amongst them, and it was precisely in possessing myself
of an establishment that my great difficulty had lain.
There was a ride-ox for every man that went to the Bay, and they trotted
off on the evening of October 17th. Stewartson went back with them. I was
very sorry to part with him, as he had been an amusing comrade and of
great service to me. My proposed expedition to Erongo had therefore to be
postponed, and I determined to go there on Hans’s return.
I now lived in great part at Mr. Rath’s house, copying his dictionary of
Damara words, and hearing the results of his observations on the people.
Timboo continued learning the language; and I waited with anxiety for an
answer from Jonker. The time passed pleasantly enough. I put my map of
the country, so far as I had gone, into order, practised a good deal with
my sextant, but made very little progress indeed in the language; I could
find no pleasure in associating and trying to chat with these Damaras,
they were so filthy and disgusting in every way, and made themselves very
troublesome. My mules were watched and taken out to graze by two natives,
whom I fed and paid at the rate of a yard of iron wire per month.
After a time, no reply having arrived from Jonker, I engaged a Hottentot,
who had four or five trained oxen, to take me to Barmen. He was a
respectable old gentleman, who spoke Dutch perfectly, and every now and
then earned something by doing odd jobs for the missionaries. His honesty
was unimpeachable; his family large; the ladies of it were thoroughly
Hottentot, and the younger ones were dressed in leather skirts, that
showed off their peculiar shapes to great advantage. Half of my things
were put on ox-back, half on the mules. Timboo and I rode an ox and a
mule between us. John Morta got a mount now and then, but he disliked
both animals exceedingly. The mule curved his back and cocked his ears
and switched his tail much more than was pleasant among the sharp rocks
and abominable hakis thorns. These hakis thorns have overspread the whole
country on this side of Tsobis; the tree is seldom more than fifteen feet
high, with a short straight stem and a spreading bushy head; the thorns
are all curved (hakis is the Dutch for hook), and, consequently, they do
not hurt you like other thorns when you tumble into a bush, but only when
you try to get _out_ of it. My hands were cruelly torn with these thorns,
and as I was still in bad condition, all the scratches festered; it was
very painful, I could hardly close my hands for pain. Besides these,
there were the “black thorn” and the “white thorn” (I take the names as I
heard them); the first produces crisp tasteless gum in great abundance,
the other a very sweet gum, that tastes and feels exactly like jujubes,
but has a great tendency to ferment.
We travelled on very quietly to Barmen, as John Morta was lame, and there
was no hurry. We were four days in going there. I like gipsying work
excessively, making a temporary home of a pretty spot and then going on
without regret at leaving it.
A heavy thunder-storm swept by us, the first we had yet seen, and the
harbinger of the rainy weather that was to provision me, as far as water
was concerned, for my approaching journey. Deluges of rain and peals of
thunder passed down the Swakop, such as only tropical countries can show.
Jonker’s answer reached me at Barmen; it was rambling and unsatisfactory,
begging that I would come to his town and discuss the matters. The
letter, instead of having been sent by a direct messenger, had been
passed from one person to another, so that it had occupied a month in
travelling from the blue hills that bounded the horizon before me. I
thought this highly disrespectful, and hardly knew how to act, when three
days later brought intelligence of a Hottentot raid of a more murderous
and extensive description than any that had taken place previously.
Eleven whole werfts had been swept away; the Hottentots had passed
within twenty miles of where I was, and fugitives came from every side
telling of their misfortunes. Now this was too bad; but I determined to
have patience for a little time—a traveller must learn patience—and I
wrote Jonker another civil letter. I took the ground of supposing that
he had not understood my last one, and I explained myself over again. My
intentions were simply these: if he still intended to obstruct the way to
Damara-land, in spite of the long, the carefully worded and well indited
letters that I had sent him, and which explained fairly enough what the
feelings were with which the Cape Government regarded marauders like
himself, I would try if I could not do something personally to further my
own plans of exploring as I liked. I had no idea of undertaking a piece
of Quixotism in behalf of the Damaras, who are themselves a nation of
thieves and cut-throats; but I was determined that Jonker’s contempt of
white men should not be carried so far as to jeopardise my own plans. In
fact, if he did not care a straw for me, as the bearer of the wishes of
our common Government, I would take my own line as an individual who had
a few good guns at command, and would do my best to force my point.
Whatever I was to do must be postponed till my men came, so I busied
myself as usual with the milder occupations of latitudes and longitudes,
and mapping. I built a wall, on the top of which I mounted my tent; a
hut was made opposite for my two men, and the whole was well bushed in
with thorns. I dined most days with Mr. Hahn, who gave me most full and
accurate information about both Damaras and Hottentots. Timboo improved
very much in the language, and was the life and soul of the place,
while John Morta watched over my kraal like a dragon, and made the very
children cry out with terror when he scowled at them. Mr. Hahn and I
had numbers of the natives up to question them about the country to
the north, but very little could be learnt. At last a man came to Mr.
Hahn and said there was a great lake ten days off, of which he heard
I had been in search, and that he would take me there, and the name
of the lake was Omanbondè. Its direction was somewhere between north
and east. This was just what I wanted—a point to aim at, something to
search for and explore. It seemed so very absurd to bring a quantity
of men and oxen, and charge the scarcely penetrable hakis thorns which
hemmed us in on every side, without something definite to go after. The
name was pretty; the idea of a lake in this dusty sun-dried land was
most refreshing, and, according to my temperament, I became immediately
sanguine and determined to visit it.
A nation called the Ovampo were said to live in that direction, a very
interesting agricultural people, who, according to Damara ideas, were
most highly civilised. I wished much to go to them; they were the only
people worth visiting that I could hear of; but I could find out very
little regarding them. These savages were as ignorant of the country two
days’ journey off as an English labourer usually is. My friend, who told
me of Omanbondè, told me also that I could get to the Ovampo by way of
that lake, and he told me much more. He mentioned most particularly a
remarkable nation, who were deficient in joints both at the elbow and
knees. They were therefore unable to lift anything to their mouths by
themselves; but when they dined, they did so in pairs, each man feeding
his _vis-à-vis_.
We had, after a long drought, a most terrific thunder-storm: the
lightning flashed so continuously that I could read a newspaper by its
light without stopping, my eye taking in enough words by one flash to
enable me to read steadily on until the next one. It lightened in three
different parts, and we were in the middle. There were some flowers in
front of me, and the lightning was so vivid, and its light so pure, that
I could not only see the flowers, but also their colours. I believe this
is a very rare thing with lightning. There were four savages running in a
line, about 100 yards off, on their way to their huts: after one of the
flashes, only three remained; the other was struck dead. Mr. Hahn and I
picked him up. It is curious how little a negro’s features are changed by
death; there is no paleness. His widow howled all night; and was engaged
to be married again the succeeding day.
The Swakop ran violently after this storm, pouring vast volumes of turbid
and broken water for three days down what had hitherto been an arid sandy
channel.
Mr. Hahn’s household was large. There was an interpreter, and a
sub-interpreter, and again others; but all most excellently well-behaved,
and showing to great advantage the influence of their master. These
servants were chiefly Hottentots, who had migrated with Mr. Hahn from
Hottentot-land, and, like him, had picked up the language of the
Damaras. The sub-interpreter was married to a charming person, not only
a Hottentot in figure, but in that respect a Venus among Hottentots. I
was perfectly aghast at her development, and made inquiries upon that
delicate point as far as I dared among my missionary friends. The result
is, that I believe Mrs. Petrus to be the lady who ranks second among all
the Hottentots for the beautiful outline that her back affords, Jonker’s
wife ranking as the first; the latter, however, was slightly _passée_,
while Mrs. Petrus was in full _embonpoint_. I profess to be a scientific
man, and was exceedingly anxious to obtain accurate measurements of her
shape; but there was a difficulty in doing this. I did not know a word
of Hottentot, and could never therefore have explained to the lady what
the object of my foot-rule could be; and I really dared not ask my worthy
missionary host to interpret for me. I therefore felt in a dilemma as
I gazed at her form, that gift of bounteous nature to this favoured
race, which no mantua-maker, with all her crinoline and stuffing, can do
otherwise than humbly imitate. The object of my admiration stood under
a tree, and was turning herself about to all points of the compass,
as ladies who wish to be admired usually do. Of a sudden my eye fell
upon my sextant; the bright thought struck me, and I took a series of
observations upon her figure in every direction, up and down, crossways,
diagonally, and so forth, and I registered them carefully upon an outline
drawing for fear of any mistake; this being done, I boldly pulled out my
measuring-tape, and measured the distance from where I was to the place
she stood, and having thus obtained both base and angles, I worked out
the results by trigonometry and logarithms.
Mr. Hahn gave me a very interesting account of the first establishment
of the Damara mission. He was permitted to leave Jonker’s place after
much trouble, and encamped amongst the negroes in company with Mr.
Rath and Mr. Bam. None of them knew a word of the language. No European
had ever as yet learnt it, and the natives laughed at them, and annoyed
them most excessively; they were mobbed and could do scarcely anything.
At last, a lazy fellow, with his nose half-bitten off by a hyena,
attached himself to them. He happened, besides being lazy, to be also a
particularly intelligent man, and soon understood what the missionaries
were driving at, when they endeavoured to get at the pronouns and tenses
of this tongue of prefixes. He was of the greatest use to them, and,
mainly through his aid, they have, after five or six years’ labour, fully
acquired the language. Their grammar and dictionary were to have been
sent in 1852, to the professor of philology at Bonn, and have probably
been received by this time.
This man’s nose was seized by a hyena while he was asleep on his
back—very unpleasant, and an excellent story to frighten children with.
I could hardly believe it until a case occurred—quite _à-propos_. An old
Bushwoman, who encamped under the lee of a few sticks and reeds that she
had bent together, after the custom of those people, was sleeping coiled
up close round the fire, with her lank feet straggling out in the dark,
when a hyena, who was prowling about in the early morning, laid hold of
her heel, and pulled her bodily half out of the hut. Her howls alarmed
the hyena, who quitted his hold; and she hobbled up the next morning to
us for plaisters and bandages. The very next night the old lady slept
in the same fashion as before, and the hyena came in the same way, and
tugged at her heel just as he had done the previous evening. The poor
creature was in a sad state; and I and one of Mr. Hahn’s men sat up the
next night to watch for the animal. I squatted in the shade of her house;
my companion covered a side-path, and the woman occupied her hut as a
bait. It was a grand idea, that of baiting with an old woman. The hyena
came along the side-path, and there received his quietus.
All along the country about us was in the utmost confusion; but we were
not annoyed at Barmen. Once indeed men came with the news that a body
of Damaras had been seen prowling behind the rocks that form a broken
background to the station; and we got everything ready for an attack, and
watched through the night, but nothing came.
The fugitives from a lately dispersed werft were staying at Barmen; their
cattle had been scattered all about the country, and three men went out
on a three or four days’ excursion to look after them. When they returned
they came to the station yelling and leaping, and the whole population
turned out and joined them in their war-dance. I never witnessed a more
demoniacal display; their outrageous movements, their barking cries, the
brandishing of the assegais, and the savage exultation of man, woman,
and child at the thoughts of bloodshed, formed a most horrible scene. We
heard that the meaning of it all was, that the Damaras, who were looking
after their lost cattle, had found two of the robbers in the act of
driving some of their herd a few miles from this place, and that they
had caught the men and killed them. The story seemed improbable on very
many accounts, and as the scene of the slaughter was no great distance
off, the interpreter and two or three men were sent on the spoor to find
out what they could. They returned with the tale that in the middle of
a river-bed they had come to a place where the sand was much trodden
down, and some blood was dashed about, and from that spot footsteps led
in two directions, and with each set of footsteps there was the mark of
something being dragged; the first spoor led to a bush on one side of the
river where a man lay dead, the other to a thick hakis thorn cover, but
nothing could be seen under it though the sand was disturbed. Looking
further they found a spoor that went thence by itself right up the
river-bed. The interpreter followed it; it was that of a person crawling
and dragging himself, and the wretched man whose track it was was found a
mile off under a tree in a most pitiable state, with the back of his neck
cut through to the bone. It was in the forenoon of the day before that he
had been wounded, and it was now past the early morning, but he was still
able to speak. He said—and further inquiries corroborated the story—that
he and the man that lay dead were loitering about digging roots, when
they saw a fire and the three Damaras, from Barmen, eating meat over it;
an ox lay slaughtered by their side. They offered to feed them if they
would help to carry as much meat to Barmen as they could, so they agreed
and went on. Arriving at the river-bed, the three men fell upon their two
porters, knocked them down with their knob kerries, and struck them till
they were nearly insensible, and then hacked at their necks with their
assegais. This one was left for dead, but he recovered, and succeeded in
crawling from under the thorn bush to where he was found. The tenacity
of life in a negro is wonderful. The object of the murder proved to be
simply this—The three Damaras had found cattle belonging to their werft
but not to themselves; they were hungry and killed an ox to have a good
gorge, and then, not knowing how to get out of the scrape of having
killed their friends’ cattle, they determined to lay the guilt upon these
two unhappy men, and therefore murdered them. It would never do to leave
this man to die where he was, so I went with water, a litter and some
bandages. The first man’s throat was cut quite through, and he had long
been dead; the second man I found under the shadow of a tree with his
head between his two hands on his knees and insensible, but we roused him
up, his lips were cracked with thirst and he could not speak. I could
never have believed that a man with a wound like this could have survived
an hour; all the back sinews of his neck were severed to the bone, and
the cut went quite round his neck, but only skin deep near the jugular
vein and windpipe. The head was perfectly loose upon his shoulders, and
heavily bruised, and his skin was torn with the hakis thorns. I put him
on the litter, but his head rolled so shockingly from side to side as the
litter moved that I was obliged to make two cushions of grass, one on
each side of his head, to steady it. At Barmen he was not able to give
any further account, as he became delirious and died in a few hours.
I had sent messages to the different chiefs trying to explain what
the instructions were that I had received at Cape Town. The way of
authenticating messages in this part of the world is curious; it is by
giving some token to the messenger which he shows as a guarantee that
he really comes from the person he professes to represent, just as our
ancestors who were not clever at writing sent their signet rings. I could
not tell what to send; it ought to be something very characteristic and
not worth stealing—an article that neither grease, rain, nor dirt could
spoil, and impossible to be broken. All my things were reviewed, but
none were suitable except a great French cuirassier’s sword in a steel
scabbard, one that I had bought years before in Egypt. This was just the
thing. The Damaras adore iron as we adore gold; and the brightness of
the weapon was charming in their eyes. They had no idea of its use, as
swords are unknown to them, but they considered it as a large knife. I
therefore girded my messenger with it in the presence of his companion,
and Mr. Hahn translated for me a short message to this effect—That I came
from a great chief and a large nation who did not rob as the Namaquas
did, but wished to be friends and not enemies with the Damaras, and to
send traders into their country; that our land was very fertile, and we
did not want any other, but we wanted cattle, and our traders would bring
iron and buy them; that the Damaras must not think when our people come
that they are spies, for they are friends, and they must treat them
kindly. The messengers then repeated what they had heard, to show that
they recollected it, and were given a sheep to cut up and carry for their
provision, and started off. I received civil answers on the messengers’
return; but the Damaras are all so hostile to each other, tribe against
tribe, that I found it impossible to bring the chiefs together. Still I
was glad that I had sent my messages, as it was a demonstration, and that
might be of some immediate good to me.
CHAPTER IV.
I go to meet the Waggons.—Start for Erongo.—En route.—Damara
features.—Gabriel in a Scrape.—The Mountain Erongo.—Chase
Zebras.—Ghou Damup Huts.—A Black Coquette.—Return to
Waggons.—Leave Otjimbinguè.—Mishaps.—How to encamp and water
Oxen.—Arrive at Barmen, thence to Schmelen’s Bay.—Ride
to Eikhams.—A doomed Sufferer.—Visit Jonker.—Conference
with him.—Swartboy and Amiral.—Ride on to Rehoboth.—Umap’s
Judgment.—Obtain Interpreters.—Return to Rehoboth.—Murder a Dog
and pay for it.—Conference at Eikhams.—Legislating.—Proposed
Conference.—Mules run quite away.—Schmelen’s Hope.—Dates.
In the last week of November I received the welcome news of Andersson’s
arrival at Otjimbinguè with the waggons. The oxen had taken them up
in five long stages from Scheppmansdorf, working by night and resting
thirty-six hours between each pull. It was impossible for me to leave
Barmen, as matters were now pending between me and the native chiefs, and
I daily expected to hear some news of Jonker’s movements. On December
4th, Andersson rode over to me, and his and Hans’ performances with the
unbroken oxen and two heavy waggons were loudly praised by everybody.
All had gone well; Andersson had shot his first rhinoceros, my men had
worked fairly, all except one waggon-driver, who, besides laziness and
insolence, had been caught in the act of stealing to a great extent. He
was a man I had determined to get rid of some time before, and I now only
waited until I could engage somebody to take his place before I did so.
Nothing in particular transpired. I failed in learning more about
Omanbondè, and returned to Otjimbinguè.
I went a few days before Andersson, as I wished to visit Erongo with
Hans, before starting with the waggons. I left the mules at Barmen, and
rode back on ride-oxen which Andersson had brought for me. The mules were
troublesome creatures, requiring too much watching; they constantly tried
to run away, and when off, their pace was so good that the men had runs
of many hours before they could overtake and bring them back. They gave
me great anxiety at first, but now I was quite tired of their tricks and
hardly cared what became of them.
I arrived at Otjimbinguè about the 10th of December, and found the
waggons drawn up on the cliff under a thick roofing of reeds, and with
reeds stacked all round them. Every thing looked most perfectly in order,
and I felt delighted with Hans’ management. My waggon gear had required
much putting in order; the trek-tows or ropes to which the yokes were
fastened were quite rotten; they were remarkably good pieces of rope when
I bought them in Cape Town, so much so as to attract the critical eye of
the sailors; but nothing of hemp or cotton stands this climate. I do not
know why, but string, yarn, shirts, and thread all become useless after
a short exposure to the air. Hans had therefore saved the hide of every
ox that had been slaughtered, and had either dressed it to make reims
and such-like things, or else twisted it up raw to make into a trek-tow.
We still wanted one hide, which a gnu was kind enough to afford us. Hans
wounded him after a long stalk; but though the animal got off for the
time, he was steadily followed by Hans and John Allen for hours, till
night-fall; they then slept on the track and took it up again the next
morning; in a couple of hours they found the beast on three legs, at
bay, under a stone, where he was shot and flayed. Gnu is literally the
only hide, besides that of oxen and koodoos, that is fit for a trek-tow;
almost all other animals have either too small and too thin skins, or
else the opposite extreme, while gemsbok and zebra hides, which are of
the right thickness, are the worst of leather.
I stopped a day at Otjimbinguè, and then rode off with Hans, John St.
Helena, and Gabriel, to the mountain Erongo; it was partly an excursion
to buy oxen and sheep for my journey, and partly to see the country, and
that remarkable stronghold of the Ghou Damup. The drought was so great,
no constant rain having fallen, that troops of Damaras were flocking
in from all sides to the comparatively abundant water of the Mission
station. One of the captains, who was in advance of the rest of his
people, offered to go back with me as guide. He said he would take us to
different werfts on our road, where we might barter as much as we liked,
but that he dare not take us to Erongo, as his people and the Ghou Damup
who lived there were always fighting together. I took a few articles of
exchange, some of each of the different things that I had, and we all
started in the afternoon.
Our native followers included two Ghou Damups, who were to introduce
us to their relatives on Erongo, in the same way as the captain was to
recommend us to his friends on the road.
We emerged from the broad valley of the Swakop, after three hours’
travelling, then scrambled along a very stony road, off-packed for a
couple of hours in a water-course, and travelled on till day-break,
when we came to the first Damara village, where, after a good deal of
explanation and long waiting, we were tolerated and allowed some milk.
Hans was my only interpreter. A little bartering took place here, and
some sheep were bought. We then rode on down a broad grassy plain,
bounded on the left by high mountains, and some more bartering took place
at midday; our oxen on each occasion being put under the charge of the
captain of the tribe, who had them watered and sent out to grass. I felt
nervous at being amongst such numbers of armed ill-looking scoundrels
as these Damaras are; their features are usually placid, but the least
excitement brings out all the lines of a savage passion. They always
crowded round us and hemmed us in, and then tried to hustle us away from
our bags and baggage. They have an impudent way of handling and laying
hold of every thing they covet, and of begging in an authoritative tone,
laughing among themselves all the time. It is very difficult to keep
them off; the least show of temper would be very hazardous among such
a set of people, and it is hardly possible to amuse and keep them in
order without a ready command of their language. I must say that these
savages are magnificent models for sculptors, for they are tall, cleanly
made, and perfectly upright; their head is thrown well back, and their
luxuriant but woolly hair is clustered round an open forehead; their
features are often beautifully chiselled, though the expression in them
is always coarse and disagreeable. Their whole body shines with grease
and red paint (if they can afford those luxuries), and though they are
the dirtiest and most vermin-covered of savages, yet the richer class
among them are well polished up, and present an appearance which at a
short distance is very imposing and statuesque. They call clothes by the
same name that they give to the scum of stagnant water; and I must say
that, in personal appearance, these naked savages were far less ignoble
objects than we Europeans in our dirty shirts and trousers.
We arrived at our guide’s werft in the afternoon, and I was thoroughly
fatigued from heat and want of sleep, and a pretty long ride; but Hans
kept watch and bartered perpetually. I could find no shade—there scarcely
ever is shade in Damara-land—but dropped asleep for two or three hours
in the full sun, which made me sick and poorly. Gabriel had recovered
a little of the spirits that he had lost by travelling, and was now
becoming impudent to the Damaras; he had a quick angry temper when
annoyed, (having already tried to stab two of his fellow servants), and
now that the Damaras were thronging round us and teasing us a great
deal, I was in much alarm lest some imprudence of the lad’s should give
them a pretext for an attack. If fighting had once commenced, we should
have been as full of assegais as St. Sebastian ever was of arrows, and
our guns would have availed but little. Just at this time, as we were
all squatting in a ring, except Hans and John St. Helena, who were a
little to one side and out of the way, some hungry native dogs paid
our saddle-bags a visit, and gnawed at the leather. Gabriel took a
rhinoceros-hide whip to frighten them off, and one snarled, but retreated
to his master through the middle of the ring. Gabriel rushed, quite daft,
after the dog, and gave a tremendous slash with the long supple whip at
him, but he quite over-reached his aim, and the chief got the benefit
of the cut full on his legs. Another instant and Gabriel was prostrate,
while the chief, like a wild beast, glared over him; the muscle of
every Damara was on the stretch. Every man had his assegai. My gun lay
by my side, but I had sense enough not to clutch at it. I tried with
all my power to look as steady and unconcerned as I could, and I must
partly thank the sun which had baked my face into a set expression, for
success. It was a fearfully anxious time to me, though it lasted but for
a moment; gradually the savage’s grasp relaxed, the Damaras around fell
back into _nonchalant_ attitudes, and at length the ferocious expression
of the chief’s face somewhat smoothed down, and he rose and allowed the
disconcerted Gabriel to sneak off, but kept the whip as a trophy, and
possibly as a memento of wrongs received. When we were about to start, I
made myself as civil as I could, and then gently took hold of the whip,
and he allowed me to coax it out of his hand, so all ended well.
We had bought four or five oxen and a few sheep, which we intended to
drive with us to Erongo, the broad table-mountain that now lay eight
hours in front of us and bounded the horizon. It was five hours’ travel
to the next water, but it took us much longer, for we had some hunting by
the way. The heat became fearful, and fever was upon me; I could hardly
sit the journey out, and was extremely glad to get to the bed of the
Canna river, (a tributary of the Swakop) where an hour’s “crowing” and
digging gave enough water for the oxen. After a good meal, as the evening
was clear, we were again in the saddle, and pushed on for the mountains,
the length of whose escarpment from east to west was fifteen miles. Its
height by rough sextant measurement was 2800 feet. In one part of it
there was a break, the mountains rising like parapets on either hand, and
to this break we steered. It was pitch dark when we got there, and glad I
was to lay my throbbing head to rest.
In the morning I dispatched the two Ghou Damups up the hill to tell the
inhabitants of our arrival, and to request guides from them. I spent the
morning in sleeping under huge overhanging slabs of limestone, enjoying
to the full “the shadow of a broad rock in a thirsty land.” In the
afternoon we rambled about trying to climb the hill, and to obtain a good
view of the adjacent country. The rocks that composed Erongo were here
in huge smooth white masses—often hundreds of feet without a fissure—the
hill seemed built by some Cyclopean architect. Immense round boulders of
the same stones were strewed here and there at its base. Our Ghou Damup
returned in the evening with a promise that guides should be sent us
early the next day. We put our articles of exchange into small packs,
as men had to carry them up the steep mountain by the footroad. When
cattle are sent up, they are driven round to a different and more distant
entrance, which we did not care to visit. It is just practicable for oxen
and no more.
[Illustration: TRAVELLER WITH PACK-OXEN.
Drawn on Stone by W. L. Walton. Printed by Hullmandel & Walton.]
We had a grand chase after some zebras in the early morn; a large herd
had ventured into the recess in which we were encamped during the night,
and as they returned smelt our fire and headed back. We heard them, and
everybody ran to cut them off, some with guns and some without; the
zebras made a round and galloped through a narrow gorge within arm’s
length of those who were there. We could not carry our sleeping things
up the mountain, as they were too heavy, but I took a small plaid. I was
very unwell, but tried to battle off my fever. John St. Helena, Gabriel,
and the Damaras, were left to watch the cattle below—while Hans and I
and the Ghou Damup climbed for two hours over smooth slabs, most of the
time without shoes for fear of slipping. The slabs over which the only
path lay were disjointed from the main rock, and enormous fissures lay
between them and it. When we travelled along the side that sloped towards
these fissures it was to me very nervous work, for my feet would not
grasp the rock, and if I had tumbled I should have explored much more of
the mountain than I desired. The measurement of these slabs is not in
feet but in hundreds of feet. Once on the top, the air was deliciously
cool, and the boulders strewn about gave shade to sit under when we
pleased. Leopards are very numerous here; they have nothing wild to feed
on except baboons and steinboks—however the Ghou Damup have plenty of
sheep and goats, and these the leopards attack. The summit of Erongo is
a succession of ravines clothed with thorn-coppice, and a great deal of
cactus; the effect is pretty, and I should much like to live there for
summer quarters. Along the ravines, a few wild fig-trees grow. After a
couple of hours of up and down walking, in which we started a magnificent
leopard, we arrived at the chief’s werft, and I liked its situation and
effect very much,—it was not in the open flat, like those of the Damaras,
who fear the neighbourhood of any cover which might conceal an advancing
enemy, but among trees. It was also built more durably. The Damara huts
have but one room; they are like those I described at Walfisch Bay;
these were rather complicated. The frame-work of the hut was generally
made by growing trees, a clump of which was selected and their lower
branches thinned; then the tops were bent down and _pleached_ together;
the trees in the middle dividing the huts into two or even three rooms.
The shape on the outside was like a snail-shell, the entrance faced to
the leeward. Going into the chief’s hut, the entrance led straight into
the main apartment, on either side of which were rooms, one of them for
the chief’s wife. There were plenty of utensils about, such as wooden
milk-bowls, pipes, and so on: there was a stuffed ottoman, and the whole
place had a great appearance of comfort. The chief was a gentleman,
and very courteous. Though Hottentot was his language, yet he spoke a
little Damara, in which language we talked to him. He had a charming
daughter, the greatest belle among the blacks that I had ever seen, and
a most thorough-paced coquette. Her main piece of finery, and one that
she flirted about in a most captivating manner, was a shell of the size
of a penny-piece. She had fastened it to the end of a lock of front
hair, which was of such a length as to permit the shell to dangle to the
precise level of her eyes. She had learnt to move her head with so great
precision as to throw the shell exactly over whichever eye she pleased,
and the lady’s winning grace consisted in this feat of bo-peep, first
eclipsing one eye and languishing out of the other, and then with an
elegant toss of the head reversing the proceedings.
Her papa would sell me no oxen nor sheep; he insisted that he had none,
though the place was full of tracks. But these people are very cunning to
strangers, lest the stranger should think proper to steal their cattle. I
very much regretted that I had not a good interpreter, as I had taken a
fancy to the chief, and should have liked to have had a long conversation
with him. He was not paramount over the mountain, but there were one or
two more captains. Indeed, he assured me he could not give me guides
over the hill, as his men dare not travel about it. I was obliged to
return, for I had my time limited in many ways; else I should have liked
to have fully explored the place. The fever that was on me increased
hourly, and I was anxious to return. The night was bitterly cold, but
I curled myself in my thin plaid round the fire, and got through the
long hours somehow or other. The chief and I interchanged presents; we
bought a few goats, and returned as we came. The rocky slabs looked more
dangerous and slippery than ever, but no accident occurred. The next
evening we slept at the werft, where Gabriel had distinguished himself. I
felt wandering, and was delirious during most of the night, but could sit
on ox-back well enough the next day—it was Christmas day, but I dared not
stop to do it honour. We rode on five hours. Hans shot four zebras. The
Damaras gave us milk in exchange for their meat, and that was our dinner.
The next night I was again ill, but less so than before; and the ensuing
day I rode through to Otjimbinguè: the distance between it and Erongo is
about twenty hours’ travel. The result of my journey was, that I bought
twenty-five oxen and thirty or forty sheep (four common guns had been
bartered for twenty oxen), which was a material addition to my stock.
Andersson, who had had a slight fever like myself, was there in full
vigour; he had been in an almost hand-to-hand combat with a lion, for
the beast was on one side of a small bush, growling at him, whilst he
was on the other. He shot the lion. A stirring night scene had occurred
here, which Andersson witnessed. As the evening closed in, some people
saw a lion kill a giraffe on the opposite side of the river: the alarm
was given; everybody took firebrands; and it was quite dark when the
mob arrived at the place. They ran unconcernedly up to the giraffe, and
frightened the lion off it, who kept roaring and prowling about them
close by, whilst they cut up the meat.
I determined to leave my cart at Otjimbinguè, as I had hardly mules
enough to take it; neither could I spare Timboo to drive it. It was
thatched over against the side of the Mission house; and Mr. Rath kindly
took charge of the mule’s harness.
Two days after my return from Erongo, my first experience in waggon
travelling began: I hated it from the first, and never became reconciled
to it: I disliked its slowness, and the want of independence about it.
In a rugged and wooded country long détours have to be made to avoid
obstacles which ride and pack-oxen go across without difficulty. Roads
have to be explored, bushes cut down, and the great stones rolled out of
the way. The waggon is a crushing, cumbrous affair, and according to my
ideas, totally unfitted for the use of an explorer, except in moderately
level countries. I was never happier than when I left it behind, and took
to the saddle.
The oxen were excessively wild, and seemed to have quite forgotten
what they had learnt. It took us from an hour and a half to two hours
to inspan the two waggons, notwithstanding we had so great a force of
men, most of whom were acknowledged to be thoroughly acquainted with
the management of oxen. We had a succession of mishaps the whole way to
Barmen: it took us seven days to go the seventy miles; and my men had no
light work of it. The rainy season was daily expected, and when it comes,
violent torrents constantly sweep down the Swakop: this was unpleasant,
as its bed had to be crossed perpetually, and it was invariably in the
midst of its deep sand that the oxen came to a halt, and resolutely
refused more work for that day. On one occasion the sticking-point was a
steep sand-pitch, of about six feet high, out of the river-bed. The oxen
drew the waggon till its fore-wheels reached the top of the pitch, and
there it stuck. We tried everything, but the pull was entirely beyond
their power; indeed, they were far too wild to exert themselves together.
It really seemed as though we should remain fixed there, till the oxen
had been thoroughly broken in by other means, or till the river swept us
away; however, I recollected the manner in which our ancestors, in the
times of the Druids, are said to have managed their large stones, and
tried that plan on my waggon: that is to say, I lifted one wheel with the
lifter, and had a flat stone put under it, then the other, and did the
same to that, and so I continued raising the hind-wheels alternately,
until the back end of the waggon was lifted up some three feet on two
piles of stones. I had of course to be careful in making my buildings
very firm, and in scotching the fore-wheels, lest the waggon should run
back. I now built a causeway from the piles up to the fore-wheels, and
lastly, put smooth stones not only under these, but also for a few paces
in advance of them. That completed the task, which only required two
hours to execute, for there were plenty of flat stones about, and I had
ten or twelve men to carry them. I then inspanned a team, who trotted
away with the waggon quite easily along my pavement.
The water was all “crow-water,” and my herd of oxen and sheep were all
watered by hand. The way we set about choosing our place for encampment,
and making it, was this: as the waggon still moved on, we kept a look-out
along the river-bed, till some indications were seen of water, such as
holes or small wells dug by Damaras, who had been camping about. If the
yield of water appeared sufficient, and if there was any show of grass
near, the waggons were outspanned. The place chosen was by a tree or at
the side of some bush, where the requisites of a smooth ground to sleep
upon, shelter from the wind, abundant thorn-bushes to make a sheep’s
kraal of, and neighbouring firewood, were best combined. The Damaras were
then sent with axes to cut thorn-bushes for the kraal; the white men went
with spades to dig a couple of wells out, and make them broad and deep,
and the cattle-watchers were off with the oxen and sheep to grass—two
men to each flock or herd. They often fed a couple of miles away from
us. Any idle hand fetched enough firewood to start two cooking fires, on
one of which the iron pots for the dinners of myself, Andersson, Hans,
and John Morta, were placed; on the other, those of the waggon-men. The
Damaras had an iron pot between them, but they never had food given them
till late, or else they stopped working, in order to eat it at once.
Usually we had to slaughter something. The waggon-driver and the men’s
cook generally killed the sheep; if an ox was wanted I shot him. Thus
a great many different things were going on at the same time: the men
were digging wells, slaughtering and cutting up, cooking at two fires;
the Damaras were watching cattle, cutting thorn-bushes, and carrying
firewood. When the wells were deepened sufficiently, a hollow trough was
scooped out in the sand, and a piece of canvass laid on it; the oxen
were then sent for; and while Damaras stood in the well with a wooden
“bamboose,” a sort of bucket, ladling out water into the canvass, the
oxen were driven up by threes to drink. But unless the ground is very
porous the canvass sheet is hardly necessary. In this way one gives drink
at the rate of about an ox a minute at each well—and sheep drink very
fast indeed; it seldom required an hour to water my herd after the wells
were once cleared out.
The thorn-branches for the kraal are laid round a circle, each alongside
the other, in the direction of radii: the cut ends are inwards, and
the broad bushy _heads_, not the _sides_ of the branch, make the outer
circumference. Sheep and goats pack into so small a space, that their
kraal has never to be more than twenty feet diameter; but they must have
one, or else every kind of accident would occur, for they are by no
means so domestic as oxen, and very stupid. If it were not for a kraal
the hyenas, who serenade us every night, would be sure to do constant
mischief, and scatter the flock over the country. Oxen, unless thirsty,
or hungry, or cold, or in a restless, homesick state of mind, never leave
the waggons, but lie in a group round the fire, chewing the cud, with
their large eyes glaring in the light, and apparently thinking. We made
no kraal for them. To continue: as the evening closes in the sheep are
driven into their kraal, the door is bushed up, the Damaras get their
meat, and make their own sleeping-places, and we get our dinner. Then I
make a few observations with my sextant, which occupies an hour or so,
and everybody else has some mending or some other employment. Timboo
gets out my rug and sleeping things; the firewood is brought close to
the fire; and we lie down in two large groups, Andersson, Hans, John
Morta, and myself, round one fire, and the waggon-men and Damaras round
the other, and all gradually drop off to sleep, the Damaras invariably
being the last awake. It is a great mistake to suppose that “early to
bed and early to rise” is the rule among savages. All those that I have
seen, whether in the north or south, eat and talk till a very late hour.
I grant that they get up early, but then they sleep half the day.
When we outspanned a few hours from Barmen, I rode on in the evening,
very anxious to learn if anything new had been heard from Jonker. It was
all very unfavourable. No actual attack had taken place, but the Damaras
were scattered, and bands of them were prowling about their country.
Not one of my Damaras would go on with me. A guide that I had picked
up at Otjimbinguè refused to proceed. There was a growing fear among
my own men; and Jonker’s previous personal threats to me, such as they
were, were corroborated. I therefore determined to make some sort of
demonstration which would bring him into better order: and in doing this
I was confirmed by a rather humble request which I had received from him
when I was at Barmen, that I would visit him at his place, from which
I gathered, either that he intended to play some tricks upon me there,
or else that he felt he had gone too far, and was penitent. In either
case my presence would bring matters to a crisis, and get rid of that
uncertainty and delay which would breed discouragement among my men, and
be fatal to my scheme of travel. I wished to force some open admission
from the man that his late conduct towards the missionaries and the
Damaras had been infamous, and to do it in such a way that the Damaras
should hear about it, and understand that I was in no mood either to abet
or to obey the Hottentots.
Barmen was a bad place for me to encamp at, as grass was extremely
scarce; so I moved on to Schmelen’s Hope, which was the Ultima Thule
of discovery in Damara-land; there a strong ox-kraal was made, and the
deserted and half pulled-down house put in order; and leaving Andersson
in charge, I took Hans, John Morta, and one of the waggon-men, who spoke
very good Dutch, and started for Jonker. I previously gave it out among
the Damaras that I was gone to make peace between the Hottentots and
them. I packed up my red hunting-coat, jack-boots, and cords, and rode
in my hunting-cap: it was a costume unknown in these parts, and would, I
expected, aid in producing the effect I desired. I started on the 16th
of December. It was about a three days’ ride; but as none of us knew
the road, we strayed a little, which made us longer. I saw a horrible
sight on the way, which has often haunted me since. We had taken a short
cut, and were a day and a half from our waggons, when I observed some
smoke in front, and rode to see what it was: an immense blackthorn tree
was smouldering, and from the quantity of ashes about, there was all
the appearance of its having burnt for a long time: by it were tracks
that we could make nothing of; no footmarks, only an impression of a
hand here and there. We followed them, and found a wretched woman, most
horribly emaciated; both her feet were burnt quite off, and the wounds
were open and unhealed. Her account was that many days back she and
others were encamping there; and when she was asleep, a dry but standing
tree, which they had set fire to, fell down, and entangled her among its
branches: there she was burnt before she could extricate herself, and
her people left her. She had since lived on gum alone, of which there
was vast quantities about; it oozes down from the trees, and forms large
cakes in the sand. There was water close by, for she was on the edge
of a river-bed. I did not know what to do with her; I had no means of
conveying her anywhere, or any place to convey her to. The Damaras kill
useless and worn-out people: even sons smother their sick fathers; and
death was evidently not far from her. I had three sheep with me, so I
off-packed, and killed one. She seemed ravenous; and though I purposely
had off-packed some two hundred yards from her, yet the poor wretch
kept crawling and dragging herself up to me, and would not be withheld,
for fear I should forget to give her the food I promised. When it was
ready, and she had devoured what I gave her, the meat acted, as it often
does in such cases, and fairly intoxicated her: she attempted to stand,
regardless of the pain, and sang, and tossed her lean arms about. It
was perfectly sickening to witness the spectacle. I did the only thing
I could: I cut the rest of the meat in strips, and hung it within her
reach, and where the sun would jerk (i.e. dry and preserve) it. It was
many days’ provision for her. I saw she had water, firewood, and gum in
abundance, and then I left her to her fate.
We had a little shooting on our way, and I also had an opportunity of
climbing a high hill, which is a very conspicuous landmark, whence I
had a wonderfully fine view both of the country I had visited and also
a glimpse of that which I hoped soon to explore. We scrambled over some
very rugged and thorny ground for five hours, having quite lost our way,
but making a cast, came down on the waggon-road at a place which was
recognised by Hans as being three or four hours from Eikhams, Jonker’s
village: it was an immense kraal, formed by a strong stockade, in which
Katjimasha (a Damara chief) intrenched himself once when he and Jonker
were allies, and robbed the other Damaras in company. Some years back
they had dissolved partnership, and Katjimasha not feeling safe,
absconded with all his men to Damara-land, of which he is now one of the
principal chiefs: here I made my toilet, and refreshed my trusty ox, and
in the cool of the evening rode down upon Eikhams. Hans knew the place,
though not the road we had travelled to it, and pointed out a hill, round
the corner of which the village lay. Even Ceylon (my ox) caught the
excitement, and snuffed the air like a war-horse. We formed together,
gained the corner of the hill; Hans recognised Jonker’s hut, and we, I
cannot say dashed, but jogged right at it. An obstacle occurred, and
happily was surmounted, which might have much disconcerted the assault:
it was a ditch, or little ravine, that a torrent had made; it was rather
deep, and four feet wide; but I was in hunting costume, and I am sure
Ceylon knew it, for he shook his head, and took it uncommonly well;
in fact, oxen, if you give them time, are not at all bad leapers. The
others followed in style. So far was well. The huts of the place were
all in front, and Jonker’s much the largest. Everybody saw us, and was
looking at us. There is great etiquette in these parts about coming to
a strange place, but we defied all that, and I rode and rode, until my
ox’s head not only faced, but actually filled the door of the astonished
chief. Conceive the effect. My Dutch was far from fluent, so I rated him
in English, and after a while condescended to use an interpreter. He
never dared look me in the face, as I glared down upon him from my ox.
I then rode away in a huff, and took up my quarters in the village, and
received in great state the humble messages which he sent me.
Now all this may seem laughable, but Oerlams are like children, and the
manner which wins respect from them is not that which has most influence
with us. To go a step higher,—to the burly broad-limbed Dutch colonists:
I must relate a rather amusing instance of the views some acquaintances
of mine among them entertained of the _physique_ of those high officials
in England, whose enactments wielded their destiny. It was after the
anti-convict agitation; and the friends I allude to expressed the utmost
surprise, and even disbelief, at hearing that the then Colonial Minister
was not a person of six foot stature, else how could he have dared to
oppose their wishes. I inquired further, and found that report commonly
painted his lordship as a kind of ogre or violent giant.
I desired Jonker to come to me with his chief people, and I lectured
them soundly. We had three or four interviews. I spoke in English, and
was interpreted both into Dutch and Hottentot. I saw clearly that I had
made a favourable impression upon them. I insisted upon a full and ample
apology being written to Mr. Kolbe, and an assurance given of future
forbearance and justice being shown towards the Damaras. Jonker begged
that Cornelius, the chief of the red people, should be called to his
place, and such other people of importance in these parts as could be
brought together; and he also mentioned his willingness to enter into
any feasible plan for the establishment of better order in the country.
The four chiefs hereabouts are Jonker and Amiral, who are Oerlams;
Swartboy and Cornelius, who are pure Hottentots. Messengers were at once
despatched to Cornelius and Amiral; and I, wishing to see Rehoboth, rode
over there, and undertook to bring back Swartboy. His tribe is a large
but not a strong one. A long time ago he was as bad as any of the rest,
if not worse; but Sir James Alexander, when he came into the country,
frightened him into order, and since that time missionaries have settled
in his place, and obtained considerable influence over him. Swartboy’s
present position was merely a passive one; but his character carried much
weight with it, and I desired to make him a party to what Jonker and
Cornelius should arrange together. I wished also to make him friendly to
myself. The other chief, Amiral, an Oerlam, was far off. He had always
treated the whites particularly well; but his son and heir and part of
his tribe were said to have been robbing the Damaras of late. Neither
Jonker nor any other Hottentot has supreme power in his tribe; for these
people are most tenacious republicans, and insist upon a council of
elders finally ratifying everything that is proposed. But Jonker is by
far the most influential man in the whole country, and has his own way
in everything. I believe that on great emergencies he dispenses with
the deliberations of the council. I had a long conversation with Jonker
upon those parts of Damara-land which he had seen. He had made two long
excursions with a large body of men on each occasion: one by Erongo, to
somewhere near Cape Cross; the other, in which he tried to reach the
Ovampo, but was unable to proceed further than Omanbondè, on account of
the exhausted state of his oxen. He and his men had brought back all
kinds of wonderful and impossible reports about the lake Omanbondè;
but the information which he gave me himself was, so far as it went,
perfectly accurate. He spoke much of the native Bushmen that he found
there, and who went freely among the Ovampo. This surprised me much, as I
had no idea that the Hottentot race existed so far to the north. Jonker
was perfectly familiar by report with the river that formed the further
boundary of the Ovampo.
A very intelligent Englishman, a blacksmith, who lived at Rehoboth, was
returning there at the time I proposed starting from Jonker’s, and I
travelled in his waggon. A great part of the distance, we went through
broad plains, bordered by high and distant hills, and full of grass, but
hardly any water. The last stage, from water to water, was eleven hours’
travel, with a little pool from a previous storm in the middle; but this
failed on our return. Rehoboth is situated on a bare white limestone
rock, with a hot spring of mineral water gushing out—a situation anything
but pleasant; yet the village is very orderly and neat.
I heard the full particulars of a late judgment and punishment by Umap,
an independent chief of a very small tribe, though he had, at least, an
equal claim with Cornelius to the chiefdom of the red people. Umap’s son
became ill, and wasted away; the guilt was fastened on some neighbouring
Bushmen, who were accused of charming away his life. Umap, therefore,
had a pit dug, about five feet across, and seven or eight deep, and he
made a bonfire in it; then he took the eight Bushmen and women, on whom
his suspicion had fallen, and put them down alive into this pit, covered
them over with hot earth, and made a second fire above their grave. The
incident occurred before I landed at Walfisch Bay, but I had not had the
story corroborated till now. Umap is not considered otherwise than as a
very respectable Hottentot; but he is classed as one of the old school.
I met Swartboy travelling in his waggon, and we had a couple of hours’
conversation, in which I was very favourably impressed with him. He was
a reasonable, good-hearted, but rather timid old man. He promised to use
his influence, as far as he could, towards furthering any arrangements
which would lead to peace in the country, and said he would meet the
other captains at Eikhams at the time appointed. I was excessively
annoyed to hear of the doings of the man I had discarded as being a
confirmed bad character. He had been making an improper use of my name,
declaring that I had sent him on some special message; and that unless
he was well fed and taken care of, I should come with a complete army of
men, &c. &c. He had frightened Swartboy’s people into great civility, and
then stole cattle from them, and drove them off, while Swartboy’s people
dared not punish him. He was said to be fifteen hours’ off, and, though
I had but two days and three nights to spare, I was determined to ride
after and catch him if I could. I am for flogging men for stealing, or
attempt at murder; and this was a case that came within my code, so I
borrowed oxen and was off. The night was too dark to start in, till about
one o’clock in the morning, when I rode very fast in three stages to
the place, which we were able to reach during the late afternoon of the
next day. To my grief the fellow had trecked southwards in the morning,
and was now many hours further; and had also stated his intention of
travelling steadily on. My oxen were knocked up, and so were we; and
overtaking him now was out of the question, hungry as we were. As soon
as the pot was put on the fire, we all fell fast asleep, and forgot our
dinner till the midnight chill awoke us. Trotting on ox-back for many
hours is very severe work, if the animals as they usually do, require
much urging. The creatures had eaten, and were fit to return on the
forenoon of the next day; and we returned late in the night to Rehoboth.
I there obtained some valuable additions to my stock of oxen. Timmerman,
the one I had just ridden, I bought off-hand: he was a tame, sturdy ox;
I also got two couple of front oxen, and some hind oxen. These are the
important ones of the team; and if good, the rest are easily made to
do their work. I also hired a black waggon-driver, Phlebus, who knew
nothing of his own language, but had been a trained Hottentot and Dutch
interpreter; and Swartboy very kindly gave me his henchman, Onesimus,
who, besides being by profession his life-guardsman, was his interpreter
to the Damaras. These two were most accurate renderers of whatever they
were told to say, as could be easily judged from the answers of the
persons addressed. Timboo interpreted loosely from either English or
Dutch into Damara, but he knew none of these languages well: he had a
patois of his own. People at first find conversation by interpreters a
bore; but after a little use it becomes no greater hindrance, as it is
no greater delay, than dictating or writing a letter. Savages, who are
naturally sententious, fall very readily into the system; and here, where
the Hottentots and Damaras are so often brought into contact, every chief
is well accustomed to it.
We were a good deal troubled for the want of water on our return; the
little pool I mentioned was dried-up, and we had taken no water with us,
for want of a vessel to carry it in. Our Damaras, who drove the cattle,
were quite knocked up under the excessive heat, and a Ghou Damup, whose
charge it was to carry the iron pot, lay down somewhere altogether
exhausted. At night we arrived, and all of us drank water till we were
quite ill. I continued resolving to drink no more, and then rewarded my
resolution with one more mouthful. One cannot help drinking, the water
seems to have no effect in quenching the thirst. The next day we rode but
a short distance, as we had to wait for the two men who were missing,
and they might be badly put to it. However, they never came. We thought
the Ghou Damup had stolen the pot, and absconded in an old soldier’s
coat, with which I had just rewarded his fidelity. There was considerable
doubt if we should find water for the remainder of the journey; and, as
our stomachs had been thrown out of order, I hardly liked to go so far
without taking some: I could not think what to use as a water vessel,
when my eye fell upon a useless cur of ours, that never watched, and
only frightened game by running after them, and whose death I had long
had in view. Dog-skin is the most waterproof of hides, so I despatched
the cur and skinned him. His death was avenged upon me in a striking
manner, for during the night a pack of wild dogs came upon us, scattered
our sheep who were not well kraaled in, and killed them all. We traced
the carcasses of some in the morning by the vultures that settled upon
them. Two goats alone remained, which I had bought at Eikhams. Oddly
enough, just as we were starting, the goats disappeared: we beat every
bush for half an hour, but could not find them. At last we became tired
of the search, and continued our journey, reaching Eikhams at night. To
our wonder and amazement, as soon as we arrived, we met the faithful lost
Ghou Damup, not only with the iron pot on his head, like a helmet, as he
usually wore it, and red coat on his back, but also driving the identical
goats we had lost, and which were under his peculiar charge. He had found
them walking along the waggon spoor; they must have run on ahead before
we first lost them, and then fallen into the hands of the Ghou Damup, who
had himself passed us without knowing it. He felt he had done wrong in
staying behind, but he said he was very tired. He had found some roots on
the way, and lived on them. After his story, he brought me a whacking
big stick, quite as a matter of course, that I should beat him for what
he had done.
The water-skin I had made was not of much use, as the day was
comparatively cool. Being fresh from the animal, it had to be used with
the hair inside. It held the water very well, but gave a “doggy” taste to
it. Swartboy and Cornelius were waiting for me; the latter was anything
but a chief, either in manner or appearance. Nothing had been heard from
Amiral; it was barely possible that any answer should have been received,
owing to the distance.
Besides the three chiefs present, there were a great number of the
influential men. I used as interpreters, Phlebus, my new waggon-driver,
a missionary schoolmaster, and a Griqua: these all spoke Hottentot and
Dutch perfectly, and the last two a little English also. I knew enough
Dutch myself to be able to check any gross mistake in the rendering from
English to that language, and the three interpreters were checks upon one
another in the rest. The schoolmaster spoke; the others interrupted if he
was not accurate.
We met together more than once. The meetings were long and very orderly,
many people speaking, and all to the point. These men evidently felt they
had gone much too far, and openly acknowledged that the system of robbing
had done much mischief to themselves. No planting or sowing was going on;
the Hottentots were idle and restless; there was no law in the country;
and the Damaras harassed them with frequent retaliation. They begged me
to suggest some system on which they could proceed; and also to draw up
some laws which would at least meet the common cases of cattle robbing
and murder. I was rather diffident of success; but in these wild parts
a trained legislator is hardly to be expected to travel, and the best
must be made of what materials are at hand; so being convinced that I had
already gained a favourable footing amongst them, and that what I said
would be attended to, I thought the matter well over, and made my _début_
as a lawgiver.
As every one of my new friends were robbers by profession it would never
do to make much ado about theft, for if I did nobody would enforce the
law. I therefore simply made theft finable at double the number of oxen
stolen, together with a mulct upon the people of the werft to which the
criminal belonged, if, as was usually the case, they concealed him. The
spoor is so certain and honest a witness, and facts become so notorious,
that there is little difficulty about questions of evidence. In this
spirit I drew up a few laws which Cornelius and Jonker discussed, and to
which they fully assented. I also endeavoured to restrain the jealousies
and quarrels between the Oerlams and Hottentots by inducing Cornelius
and Jonker to make a mutual agreement that criminals should be punished
by the captain of the country where the crime was committed, and not, as
heretofore, by his own captains.
The greater part of the Hottentots about me had that peculiar set of
features which is so characteristic of bad characters in England, and
so general among prisoners that it is usually, I believe, known by the
name of the “felon face;” I mean that they have prominent cheek bones,
bullet shaped head, cowering but restless eyes, and heavy sensual lips,
and added to this a shackling dress and manner. The ladies have not
universally that very remarkable development which was so striking in
Petrus’ wife at Barmen. It is a peculiarity which disappears when one
of the parents have European blood, while other points, more especially
the absence of white at the root of the finger nails, remain after many
crosses with the Dutch. Some few of the lads and girls have remarkably
pleasing Chinese-looking faces.
Jonker is decidedly a talented man, and seems in full vigour though
upwards of sixty years of age; his remarks were particularly shrewd, and
his descriptions concise and graphic. He came out quite as a diplomatist
in the long conversations I had with him, artfully trying to turn the
conversation to his own ends. I could not make out that there were more
than forty horses belonging to Jonker and his men; neither they nor
any others would sell me one; they said they could not possibly spare
them. Those I had seen were sorry, half-starved creatures, but with
many good points about them. They were all from the country about the
Orange River. I endeavoured to appoint a general meeting at Schmelen’s
Hope for the Hottentot and Damara chiefs, where I would feed them well,
and cement peace between them, as far as such an affair could do it. A
time was fixed—about a fortnight thence—but it never came off. Everybody
mistrusted his neighbours, and only Swartboy, who was my guest there for
a couple weeks, was present. Kahikenè sent a very friendly message, and
I was quite enough satisfied with what I had done. The missionaries were
highly gratified at my good fortune, and I had great pleasure in sending
to Mr. Kolbe the apology and the promise that I had made Jonker write to
him.
Matters now looked more sunshiny. There were nearly 100 oxen in my kraal,
and 60 or 70 sheep. My waggon-driver, who had stolen and who latterly had
been insolent, I paid in articles of exchange and dismissed. Gabriel, at
his own wish was left behind. A dozen Damaras agreed to go with us up
the country, and Kahikenè, our friend, lay in our way. Hans and I rode
short exploring excursions to find a road by which we could take the
waggon out of the bed of the Swakop, and found one with great difficulty.
Andersson then rode a wider sweep to see whether the country away from
the Swakop looked open enough for a waggon. He went over a great deal of
country, and returned with favourable news in five days, but he hardly
saw a Damara, the land was so thinly peopled. We then made ready for our
start, though the five mules had run quite away; they were traced through
Barmen and Otjimbinguè to Tsobis, a distance of more than 100 miles,
and there the chase was given up. I may as well anticipate my story and
mention that they, or rather three of them, arrived at Scheppmansdorf;
they had crossed the Naanip plain by instinct. The whole distance these
runaways had travelled by themselves, viz., that from Schmelen’s Hope to
Scheppmansdorf, is eighty-five hours’ travel very nearly, which at the
rate of two and a half miles per hour gives 212 miles.
A few incidents occurred at Schmelen’s Hope; first a plague of
caterpillars that covered the ground, then a swarm, but not an utterly
destructive one, of locusts, and, lastly, a flight of migratory storks,
who made great war upon the locusts. We were perpetually teased by some
hyenas—they came most impudently in amongst us as their peculiar spoors
showed (the hind and fore feet being of unequal size), but we never could
catch them; at last the dogs overtook one on a bright moonlight night and
held him at bay. I was asleep and was quite undressed when their sharp
barks awoke me, and I had only time to put on my shoes. The dogs and
hyena were on the other side of the Swakop, which here is exceedingly
broad, about 300 yards, and by the time we had floundered through the
sand to the other side the animal had retreated among the rocks and
hakis thorns into the deep shade, but the dogs held well to him. I
sorely regretted the leather trowsers that were left behind, as my bare
legs were scarified and bleeding. I could not see the hyena, except one
glimpse when he brushed against my leg. At last the dogs surrounded him
in a patch of moonshine, four or five feet from where I was, and I put a
bullet through his back bone. The chase and the skurry made as exciting a
piece of sport as I ever witnessed. We had some rifle shooting at geese
and ducks, and Andersson slew a pan—the African bustard, and probably
the best flavoured and most tender game that exists: John Morta cooked
it with the utmost skill. I had returned from Jonker’s on the 8th of
February, and for three weeks we remained at Schmelen’s Hope, waiting for
the Damara chiefs, breaking in the oxen and hoping for the rains. It is a
charming place, and almost a sufficiency of game was killed to feed us.
CHAPTER V.
Personnel.—Commissariat.—Daily Allowances.—Start on the
Expedition.—Damara Obtuseness.—Inability to count.—Information
withheld.—Kahikenè sends to us.—Arrive on the high
Tableland.—Superstitions on Food.—Meet Kahikenè.—His
Difficulties.—Gives me Advice.—Information about the
Road.—Four Oxen stolen.—The Culprits are punished.—Recognising
lost Oxen.—Hear of another Road.—Reach Omatako.—African
Puma.—Eshuameno.—Chipping the front Teeth.—View from the
Hill.—Ja Kabaca.—Climb Omuvereoom.—A Snake.—Seriously
obstructed by the Thorns.—Reach Otjironjuba.—How to make
Soap.—We catch some Bushmen.—Learn a little and travel
on.—Doubts about our route.—Arrive at a Werft.—Are guided
onwards.—Omanbondè.—Hippopotami.
The morning of March the 3rd found us packed up, and starting for our
exploring journey. We tugged along the heavy Swakop sand, and outspanned
after three hours at a fountain, passing at length into a country which,
I believe, no European eye had ever before witnessed.
I may now review our caravan: it consisted of two waggons, both filled
with things; the large one had a solid deck over all, and was curtained
into two compartments; Andersson slept in the front one and I in the
back if the ground was wet. Spare guns were lashed inside this waggon,
and canvass bags for books and for other etceteras, but we could never
make the waggon a place to read in with any comfort, for it was far
too full of articles of exchange. The small waggon was the receptacle
for the men’s sleeping clothes, besides its regular freight. Nobody
slept in it except during heavy rains. John St. Helena drove the large
waggon and led the way; Phlebus the small one. John Williams, Onesimus,
and John Allen were all engaged as leaders, but in practice Onesimus
always led the large waggon and any odd Damara led the other. Hans, John
Morta and Timboo were the remaining servants. My natives were constantly
changing. I am quite unable to give the names of the Ghou Damups, for two
reasons: the first, perhaps a sufficient one, is that they are totally
unpronounceable to any European mouth, and altogether beyond the powers
of our alphabet to represent;—the second, that they were invariably
christened afresh by my men as soon as they entered my service. The sort
of names these negroes answered to will perhaps convey a better notion of
their character and style than a longer description—there was a “Grub,”
a “Scrub,” a “Nicodemus,” a “Moonshine,” and a “Toby.” The Damaras
generally retained their own names; they were much the more stylish of
the two. My Damara party at starting was something as follows:—
Name. | Use. | Where from.
Kambanya | Generally useful | “Given” me by Mr. Hahn.
“Rhinoster” | A Guide | Hired from Otjimbinguè.
“Bill” | Andersson’s henchman. | Picked up by chance.
Kernerootie | { Excellent runner, } | Sent me by Mr. Rath.
| { used on every } |
| { emergency } |
Kahoni | Anything | Picked up by chance.
Old Kahoni | Nothing | ” ” ”
His Son | Cattle Watcher | ” ” ”
Piet from Mozambique | Conversational | { Timboo’s friend, a
| | { runaway slave.
The grown-up ladies were the wives of Kambanya, “Rhinoster,” and old
Kahoni. There were numbers of occasions on which I should have turned
old Kahoni away, if he had not been possessed of a little daughter, the
nicest, merriest, and slimmest of Damara girls, about eight or nine years
old. She won my heart, and I was obliged to tolerate the rest of the
family that I might retain her. Besides these twelve I have mentioned,
there were two or three others, hangers-on, whom I have forgotten, and
perhaps never knew, and the women had three babies, so my party may be
considered as about ten Europeans and eighteen natives, or twenty-eight
in all.
As regards commissariat, my biscuit and every kind of vegetable food was
eaten up. I had much too great a weight to carry to be enabled to lade
the waggons with provisions also. I had plenty of tea, coffee, and a very
little sugar; there were some few trifles besides. The oxen and sheep we
drove with us were to be our sustenance, and they alone, excepting now
and then a chance head of game. If these oxen strayed by night, and were
lost, we should be little better than the crew of a ship in the broad
Pacific, who had broached their last cask. The charge of these quadrupeds
was now to be my anxiety and care, day and night, for a loose ox in
Damara-land is as quickly appropriated as a dropped sovereign in the
streets of London.
In estimating cattle as so many days’ provision, the calculation I
acted on was as follows. A sheep gives twenty meals, no bread or other
vegetables being allowed, and a man cannot work _well_ with less than
two meals a day. A sheep therefore feeds ten people for one day. An
average ox is equivalent to seven sheep, and it therefore feeds seventy
people for one day, or thirty-five for two, or twenty-four for three. I
cannot accurately say what the quantity of food is that different kinds
of game afford, as waste always goes on when one is slaughtered, but, as
a rough allowance, I considered—
1 Springbok, or roebuck equal to 1 sheep.
1 Hartebeest ” 2 ”
1 Zebra, or gnu, or gemsbok ” 4 ”
1 Giraffe ” 2 oxen.
1 Black or Keitloa rhinoceros ” 3 ”
1 White ” 4 ”
I possessed seventy-five oxen and one calf; of these fifty-seven had
been inspanned, including the ride and pack-oxen. My ride-oxen were
Frieschland, Ceylon, Timmerman, Buchau and Fairland. Andersson had
Spring. All these would also carry packs as a matter of course, but
there were others simply pack-oxen. Hans had three ride-oxen, six cows,
and five calves; John Allen had two ride-oxen. There were also two
heifers that belonged to some of the other men. Gross total of oxen,
and cows and calves, ninety-four; but my own flock of sheep was reduced
to twenty-four. I had therefore (allowing twenty slaughter oxen) full
provisions for two and a half months for all my party, independently of
game. This was not nearly as much as I should have liked, but I trusted
to buy more on my journey, and also to get some shooting.
_March 4th._—This was our most difficult day: the Swakop ran through
a gorge so broken and narrow, as not to admit a waggon, and the only
road we could find out of it lay for some considerable distance along a
narrow ridge of jagged rock with a precipitous fall on our left. Hakis
thorns and ravines made the country quite impenetrable everywhere else;
our road was horrible; the waggon crashed and thundered and thumped, but
somehow or other got safe over. If I had to undergo two or three more
such days of journeyings, the waggons would have to be left behind. The
oxen were dreadfully wild; there was no guiding or restraining them down
hill, but they tossed themselves about and charged like wild buffaloes;
it still took us an hour and a half to inspan the two waggons, and every
man was actively employed. We went only three hours, and slept at the
furthest watering-place that Hans and I had explored. Now we had to trust
to the guides, whose ideas of time and distance were most provokingly
indistinct; besides this, they have no comparative in their language,
so that you cannot say to them, “which is the _longer_ of the two, the
next stage or the last one?” but you must say, “the last stage is little;
the next, is it great?” The reply is not, it is a “little longer,” “much
longer,” or “very much longer;” but simply, “it is so,” or “it is not
so.” They have a very poor notion of time. If you say, “Suppose we start
at sunrise, where will the sun be when we arrive?” they make the wildest
points in the sky, though they are something of astronomers, and give
names to several stars. They have no way of distinguishing days, but
reckon by the rainy season, the dry season, or the pig-nut season. When
inquiries are made about how many days’ journey off a place may be, their
ignorance of all numerical ideas is very annoying. In practice, whatever
they may possess in their language, they certainly use no numeral
greater than three. When they wish to express four, they take to their
fingers, which are to them as formidable instruments of calculation as
a sliding-rule is to an English school-boy. They puzzle very much after
five, because no spare hand remains to grasp and secure the fingers that
are required for “units.” Yet they seldom lose oxen: the way in which
they discover the loss of one, is not by the number of the herd being
diminished, but by the absence of a face they know. When bartering is
going on, each sheep must be paid for separately. Thus, suppose two
sticks of tobacco to be the rate of exchange for one sheep, it would
sorely puzzle a Damara to take two sheep and give him four sticks. I
have done so, and seen a man first put two of the sticks apart and take
a sight over them at one of the sheep he was about to sell. Having
satisfied himself that that one was honestly paid for, and finding to his
surprise that exactly two sticks remained in hand to settle the account
for the other sheep, he would be afflicted with doubts; the transaction
seemed to come out too “pat” to be correct, and he would refer back to
the first couple of sticks, and then his mind got hazy and confused, and
wandered from one sheep to the other, and he broke off the transaction
until two sticks were put into his hand and one sheep driven away, and
then the other two sticks given him and the second sheep driven away.
When a Damara’s mind is bent upon number, it is too much occupied to
dwell upon quantity; thus a heifer is bought from a man for ten sticks
of tobacco; his large hands being both spread out upon the ground, and
a stick placed on each finger, he gathers up the tobacco; the size of
the mass pleases him, and the bargain is struck. You then want to buy a
second heifer: the same process is gone through, but half sticks instead
of whole ones are put upon his fingers; the man is equally satisfied
at the time, but occasionally finds it out and complains the next day.
Once, while I watched a Damara floundering hopelessly in a calculation
on one side of me, I observed Dinah, my spaniel, equally embarrassed on
the other. She was overlooking half a dozen of her new-born puppies,
which had been removed two or three times from her, and her anxiety was
excessive, as she tried to find out if they were all present, or if any
were still missing. She kept puzzling and running her eyes over them
backwards and forwards, but could not satisfy herself. She evidently had
a vague notion of counting, but the figure was too large for her brain.
Taking the two as they stood, dog and Damara, the comparison reflected no
great honour on the man. Hence, as the Damaras had the vaguest notions
of time and distance, and as their language was a poor vehicle for
expressing what ideas they had, and, lastly, as truth-telling was the
exception and not the rule, I found their information to be of very
little practical use.
I had spent more hours than an untravelled European would easily give
me credit for, in questioning and cross-questioning Damaras about the
distances we had to go over. Mr. Hahn and Mr. Rath severally, at Barmen
and Otjimbinguè, had helped me to the utmost of their ability, and yet,
on starting, I could not tell whether Omanbondè lay five days off or six
weeks. As a proof of the extreme difficulty of worming out facts from the
Damaras, I may mention that Okandu Fountain, which lay only five miles
from Schmelen’s Hope, and where we slept the first day, was unknown by
the missionaries. At Schmelen’s Hope itself there is only vley (pool)
water and wells, which a dry season might exhaust, and though abounding
in grass, trees, and garden land, the place was reluctantly abandoned,
and the head-quarters of the Mission were established at Barmen, which
has much fewer natural advantages. When Mr. Kolbe, at a subsequent
period, went to Schmelen’s Hope, he merely occupied it as a branch
station. Now, constant inquiries have been made for years as to whether
there were any fountains near Schmelen’s Hope, but without success,
and yet this one, lying in full sight and right in the middle of the
river-bed, had never been spoken of to the Missionaries or discovered by
them. This is not at all an isolated case of the difficulty of getting
the information you want from the savages; they are intensely stupid, and
lie for lying’s sake. One man at Otjimbinguè told me, that if I started
now to Omanbondè, and travelled as fast as I could, it would take me so
long that I should be an old man when I came back.
My plan of journeying was this; to move steadily on, and whenever I came
across water, after three hours’ travel, to stop; in this way my oxen
would keep fresh for any severe exertion they might be called upon to
make, and I should also have more time to learn particulars about the
country, which would be of essential use if I returned in the dry season.
The necks of the oxen had also to become hardened to the yoke; if a raw
was established the beast would be useless.
On the third day’s travel, the long slope, which is the water-shed of the
Swakop, was surmounted, and quite new scenery lay before us. In front
rose the two magnificent cones of Omatako, each appealing as perfect as
that of Teneriffe; to the far left were many broken mountains, some of
which must look down upon Erongo; more northerly lay the long escarpment
of another Ghou Damup mountain, Koniati; and to the westward of north,
a very distant blue hill was seen, which had to be passed on our way to
Omanbondè. The sandy soil was covered with thin dry grass, and a scanty
thorn-coppice, without under-wood, overspread the land.
As we travelled on, some messengers met us. They were sent from the Chief
Kahikenè, who begged me to visit him. He lay at a large vley in front,
whither he had moved to meet me. The messenger brought a magnificent
black ox as a present from him; it was larger than any in my drove,
though I had some fine ones amongst them.
We had now finally lost sight of Jonker’s hills and all the broken
ground of the Swakop, the summits of whose highest mountains were below
us. We had mounted steadily up, and were journeying on a high plateau
6000 feet above the level of the sea, as measured by a boiling-point
thermometer. On this plateau Omatako, Koniati, and other hills stood.
Almost immediately after leaving a large tributary of the Swakop, we
came upon a river-bed, running in exactly the opposite direction, and
this we followed; it is called Okaroschekè, or “naked” river—the story
being, that one rainy season, when the water was flowing waist-high,
some Damara women tried to cross it to get at the berry-trees which
grew on the opposite bank, and stripped to do so, leaving their skin
aprons on the ground; when they were on the other side a torrent of
water came down which swept their aprons away, and left them without
clothing. The Damaras are very particular about wearing something,
however little it may be, and look upon complete nakedness as a great
disgrace. Another somewhat refined practice that they have is, that no
hunger will drive them to eat raw or even underdone meat. They have
numberless superstitions about meat, which are very troublesome: in the
first place, each tribe, or rather family, is prohibited from eating
cattle of certain colours, savages “who come from the sun” eschewing
sheep spotted in a particular way, which those “who come from the rain”
have no objection to. As there are five or six different “eandas” or
descents, and I had men from most of them with me, I could hardly ever
kill a sheep that everybody would eat; many were martyrs for a long
time to their consciences, but hunger converted them all at last. Goats
are an abomination to every Damara, whatever his eanda may be. Another
superstition is that meat is common property. Every slaughter is looked
upon as a kind of sacrifice or festal occasion. Damaras cannot conceive
that people should eat meat as their daily food. Their chiefs kill an ox
when a stranger comes, or half a dozen oxen on a birth or circumcision
feast, or any great event, and then everybody present shares the meat.
When I stayed near werfts I could not at first ensure my men getting food
enough to eat, for the strange Damaras came about them and begged their
share, “cursing” them if they refused. The curse is supposed to have a
withering and blighting effect. For this reason meat is never an article
of exchange at anything like its real value in Damara-land. A freshly
killed ox would not buy a live sheep. Damaras have a great respect,
almost reverence, for oxen. They keep them to look at, as we keep fallow
deer; and though a nine-shilling gun will buy five fine oxen, yet that is
no proof of the cheapness of cattle with the Damaras, but rather of the
dearness of guns amongst them. Any man, not himself possessed of cattle,
may be murdered without fear of the consequences, if payment of two oxen
be made to his relations, as that by the custom of the country is amply
sufficient blood-money. Milk, the great article of diet among the richer
Damaras, though used in such profusion, can rarely be bought, for there
are some superstitions about it also. Each Damara, who lives entirely or
chiefly on milk, the rest of his food being pig-nuts, drinks from one to
two gallons daily. Now it is reasonable to suppose that a day’s provision
of meat would be exchangeable for one of milk, especially as meat is
more prized, and the greater dainty of the two; but it is not so, nor
indeed anything like it. If a head of game be shot and bartered with the
natives, it will be found a difficult matter to obtain a single gallon of
milk for a whole gnu or zebra. Sweet milk can hardly be ever obtained,
because Damaras, like all other milk-drinking nations, use it only when
sour, and the cow is milked into the tainted vessels. They firmly believe
that a cow’s milk will fail her if they milk her into anything freshly
washed and clean. The milk of these cows actually does fail them if the
calf be taken away. It is the same with those in parts of South America.
_March 12th._—We had arrived at the place where Kahikenè waited for
us. He and about forty magnificently made and well-armed Damaras were
standing under the trees. As the waggons came near, the men all fell
into a single file, according to their usual custom, which Kahikenè
headed, and they walked up to me. He had quite the manners of a chief,
and received me very well. I gave him some gilt ornaments as presents,
which, although he was in mourning, he put on in compliment to me: the
Damaras strip off their ornaments when in mourning. He had been in great
distresses of late. After Jonker had attacked him, and scattered his
people at Schmelen’s Hope, Omagundè’s son, who was encamped two days in
front of us, followed up the attack, and killed some of his children, and
took others prisoners, leaving only one lad with him. The greater number
of his oxen were also taken, and he was left almost destitute, with but
the remnant of a tribe, and was now about to make a last desperate attack
upon his enemy. A few years ago, Kahikenè was the most powerful chief
in Damara-land, and, like Katjimasha, had once allied himself with, and
afterwards had separated from, Jonker. Subsequent to this separation,
Jonker attacked him, and he made a bold retaliation the next night. Ever
since that he had been a marked man with the Hottentots, and werft after
werft of his had been swept away, until he was reduced to the condition
in which I found him.
He was the only friend among the Damaras that the missionaries ever had,
and his friendliness and frankness to me and my men interested all of us
without exception most thoroughly in his favour.
He had brought his men together to make one quick and last attack upon
the werft of Omagundè’s son, and the usual superstitious ceremony was
gone through of dragging a berry bush after him wherever he went. I
offered to go to Omagundè’s son and see if I could not get his children
and some oxen back for him; for it is a very common custom among the
Damaras that when one tribe has utterly ruined another they should then
give them back a part of what they had taken, as an act of clemency,
which should secure them against retaliation; and it was but natural that
Damara chiefs should pay some little deference to my mediation, since I
had just checked the Hottentots from laying hands on their cattle. But
Kahikenè was too proud to receive back part and compromise the matter,
though he said that he knew his expedition was but a forlorn hope, and
that he would be killed. He said that his best soldiers were gone, and
that those with him were but arrant cowards, who would leave him at the
first danger. He made these complimentary speeches quite loud, while all
his men were sitting around us. He showed us all the scars and cuts with
which he was covered, and gave the history of them in an easy chatty way.
He criticised my arrangements, and said that I was much too careless in
the way I travelled and encamped—that I ought never to allow many Damaras
to mix in with my men, because if they made one of their sudden attacks
I should be overpowered directly. He recommended the greatest caution in
trusting the Damaras. I knew too well the truth of much that he said,
but my waggon-men were far too negligent for me to keep up anything like
the discipline I should have wished amongst them. At very little trifles
they were ready to show discontent, and if I had pushed them too much
they would have turned back and left me. Kahikenè assured me, and I had
heard from other quarters also, that Omagundè’s son would not let us pass
through his country. I wished to send messengers to him, but no Damara
dared to go. His feelings were anything but favourable towards whites;
not long before he had sent men who stole Mr. Hahn’s cattle. After a
great deal of expostulation had passed he condescended to return them,
but cut their tails off before doing so, and kept them as trophies.
I asked Kahikenè about the country ahead, and he gave me much information
very concisely and well; his intellect and manner contrasted most
strongly with those of the other Damaras. Indeed a chief over many men,
whether savages or not, must have something in him, or he could never
keep them together. He said that he used to send trading excursions
to the Ovampo, but not by Omanbondè, and to quite a different part of
their country to that which I proposed visiting. His trading parties
kept alongside but far from the sea. There were different points on the
route from which it could be seen. The journey to the Ovampo occupied two
months (moons). The men stayed one month there and then returned. The
Damaras were friendly along that route, and so were they at Omanbondè,
but between where we then were and Omanbondè, Omagundè’s tribe cut off
all communication. He said that the road was very broken, and that I
should never get my waggons along it.
An incident occurred in which Kahikenè behaved very well to me. One
morning three of my best front oxen and another slaughter ox were gone.
They were instantly spoored, and the tracks of Damaras driving them found
by their sides. I called Kahikenè up and told him that I did not for a
moment believe that he was privy to the theft, but that they were taken
from me when under his protection, and that he must get them back. I am
sure that he was very much touched by my giving him credit for sincerity,
for of late he had been hearing of nothing else but distrust and
desertion on every side. He sent instantly after the cattle, and half a
dozen of my own Damaras went also. My men returned after a day’s absence,
as they were afraid of going further, but Kahikenè’s men had kept to
the spoor. Intelligence at length came that three of the four oxen were
recovered, and one front ox had been killed; six thieves were taken
and were detained a little distance off till further orders. Kahikenè
regretted extremely the loss of the front ox; he said he knew that it was
as disastrous an accident to our team as cutting off a leg is to a man,
but that any oxen of his that I chose to take were quite at my service.
Then as to what should be done with the thieves; he looked about him till
a stout horizontal bough of one of the large camelthorn trees caught
his eye, and he proposed to hang them in a row upon it. Against this
scheme I used all my eloquence, as I did not like such strong measures;
at length Kahikenè stated the case fairly enough; he said the thieves
had been guilty both to me and to him—to me for the theft, to him for
their audacity in taking oxen when I was under his protection; that the
punishment due to them for the first part of the matter was my affair,
and that I could remit it or not as I pleased, but that for his part he
must vindicate his own rights. I could of course make no answer to this,
so he sent men who clubbed or assegaied four of the culprits, but two
escaped. I never could learn the full particulars of the matter. Of the
two that escaped one was brought to me a few days after, when I was on
the road; he was brought in the evening, and I did not like punishing
and letting him go then, as he might revenge himself in the night. It
is not easy to secure a powerful supple-limbed negro, so that he cannot
slip loose, but in this case I hand-cuffed his wrists, one on each side
of the stem of a tree, and made my fire near him that he might not be
too much chilled during the night, and in the morning I gave him a most
severe flogging and let him go. One of the four culprits who had been
left for dead we also found. He was fearfully bruised with the clubs,
and perfectly stripped, but had crawled to the same watering-place—a
vley—that I was encamped at. His punishment had been, I thought, amply
sufficient, and I gave him a meal, and let him go, but I sadly fear, from
what I heard long subsequently, that some of my Damaras followed and
assegaied him.
Kahikenè’s men had in the meantime frightened mine about Omagundè’s
people, and they were quite panic-struck and mutinous, and fairly refused
to go any further. Andersson here was of the greatest assistance to me.
He would have accompanied me alone, and Timboo I think would not have
failed us. The waggon-men knew I was in their power. If the cattle had
been moderately tame, and the country at all open, Andersson and I could
ourselves have taken the waggons back to Barmen, and, leaving them there,
ridden on; but the character of the expedition and of the country made us
as dependent on a large body of men as a frigate is upon a large crew.
Hans had not been long enough with me to become thoroughly attached to
my cause, and he had a very disagreeable time of service, owing to the
laziness and jealousies of the waggon-men, and would then have been very
glad to have discontinued it. I earnestly longed to place a broad tract
of country between me and the Mission stations, and then I knew that the
waggon-men would hesitate before they ran away and crossed it alone. I
persuaded the men, instead of going north through the hostile country,
to turn to the left and travel westwards to Kahikenè’s head-quarters. We
passed by a great many kraals, in few of which were there more than ten
houses, generally only five or six—probably 100 head of cattle and not
more, belonged to each kraal. Of these, twenty or thirty were the chief’s
own property, taken care of by the people who occupied the huts, together
with the other oxen which were their own. The perquisites for taking care
of the chief’s cattle consisted of the milk of the cows, and occasionally
a calf or lamb.
The Damaras have a wonderful faculty of recollecting any ox that they
have once seen, and whenever I came to a new werft the natives always
went up and down among my oxen to see if any that had been stolen from
them were among the number. I found a great advantage in having bought
the majority of mine from Hans, for they had been in his hands for four
years, and no Damara could lay a claim to any of them, but in those I
bought myself I had to be very careful, as they were pretty sure to have
been stolen at some time or another, and might, according to the custom
of the land, be reclaimed at any moment by their former possessors.
Hans and John Allen were very quick at recollecting oxen: I never could
succeed in doing so myself: but it is perfectly essential to a traveller
here that some trustworthy persons of his party should be able to pick
out his own oxen from any drove in which they have become mixed; for,
depend upon it, the strange Damaras will give no help on those occasions.
When fresh oxen are bought, the old ones butt and fight them for a few
days before admitting them into their society, and during the time of
probation the new oxen are always trying to run off and get home again.
Now the tribe from whom they were bought may be lying at eight or ten
scattered kraals, to any one of which the ox that had been bought but
a few hours before and seen for a few minutes only, may have made his
escape. He has to be picked out from among 500 or 600 head of cattle, and
this the Damaras can do with perfect certainty. They do not seem to know
the sheep or to care much about them, but their thoughts and conversation
run upon oxen for the greater part of the day.
By dint of excessive badgering and cross-questioning I found out that
it might be possible after all to turn Omagundè’s flank. I had now two
or three Damaras who had once been that way, and my men were willing to
go on. We bought a few oxen here. Some zebras were shot and given to
Kahikenè’s people. He made a last endeavour to persuade me not to go up
the country, but in vain; and we separated with some regret, I going on
my journey and he to his hopeless attempt against Omagundè’s people. I
took a few men from his werft, and by dint of constant bartering, started
with 100 oxen, twenty-seven goats and thirty sheep. Poor Kahikenè! of all
the Damaras I saw in my year and a half journey, none had so thoroughly
ingratiated himself with my party as he had. We tolerated a few others,
but became really attached to him.
_March 18th._—The high cones of Omatako were full in front of us, and the
next wells were a long distance on the other side; however we met with
pools of rain-water and trekked on in three or four hour stages. At one
place John Morta was beginning to make his fire under a bush, when he
retreated in great alarm, as he found the place occupied by a puff-adder.
The next day we saw our first herd of wild animals; I counted about 100
hartebeests in one place, and Andersson 400 gnus in another. We shot some
game, and Andersson started what he thought was a puma. The natives talk
a great deal about such an animal existing; they describe it as a very
shy creature, and hardly ever moving about in the day-time, of the same
colour and general shape as a lion, but smaller, and with no mane. The
animal Andersson caught a glimpse of answered the description perfectly.
It might have been a young lion, but its movements were not those of a
cub. It jumped up close by him, but was among the thick bushes and out of
sight before there was time to fire.
We had a very fatiguing day in going round Omatako. The ground was open,
but heavy, and the oxen sadly exhausted. We came to a small river-bed on
the other side of it, which Andersson had reached in his long ride from
Schmelen’s Hope, and encamped by a pool of water that remained in that
part of its course. The stream was running breast high with water when
Andersson saw it, but it was now utterly dry.
The next day, after crossing the river-bed with difficulty, as its banks
were so high, we arrived at the wells that we had heard of, and to
which the Damaras guided us straight enough. Now was the question how
to proceed; we had been travelling due north from Kahikenè’s werft, but
the next certain water-place was by a hill (Ja Kabaca) that looked very
distant indeed to the north-east, and the sun was so powerful and the
ground so sandy, that vley water could in no way be depended on. In front
of us, to the north, was the hill Eshuameno, so called from a grand feast
the Damaras once held there, on occasion of “chipping” the front teeth of
a number of children. Most negroes, as is well known, chip their teeth,
and in different ways, according to their tribe. The Damaras knock out a
wedge-shaped gap between their two front teeth; the ladies say, it makes
them lisp charmingly.
I left the waggons at the wells and rode on with a couple of men for
five hours, till I got to Eshuameno. We found no water there, but
off-packed among some thick thorns, where the most pitch dark of nights
brought us to a stand-still. In the morning I went up the hill, both
to view the country and to get bearings of Ja Kabaca, by which I could
determine its distance from the waggons, and whether or no it would
be practicable to reach it in a single stage, should water fail us. I
was very anxious about the matter, so I took a protractor up the hill
with me, and protracted all my bearings on the spot, by which I had
a better idea of the country than I could obtain before for want of
well-selected observing stations. I had a very wide prospect indeed from
the top of Eshuameno. Southwards I could clearly see Diambotodthu, which
is only some twenty-five miles from Schmelen’s Hope. Northward extended
a wide flat of the most barren country. There seemed to be no grass
whatever upon it, but it was studded over with low scrubby bushes; while
eastwards, in which direction we had to travel, the ground was covered
with trees and grass. The results of the survey were satisfactory to
me, and I determined to risk going across the plain to Ja Kabaca. I was
assured of plenty of water being found there. As we returned the rain
fell in torrents, in a perfect sheet of water. This was delightful, as it
would fill the vleys for us; but we felt rather cold and hungry when we
arrived, after our five hours’ ride through it. The little waggon was too
full of things for the men to use it for shelter, but they had contrived
some tenting, which was sufficient for the occasion.
_March 22nd._—We were again _en route_. In four hours a fine vley was
discovered, and there of course I stopped. I cannot take liberties with
my oxen; they are disheartened as easily as my men, and I am always
afraid of their sticking in the bushes. As for the men, they drink like
fishes. I can only carry four meals of water for them.
The next day we arrived at some large wells, in which again there was
a sufficiency of water. The cattle were very restless at night, and
constantly straying; Hans preferred their lying loose and picking up
grass during the night to making a kraal, but I was sadly afraid that
some morning they might be missing, and have fallen into the hands of
Omagundè’s people. Except my cattle, I had not one day’s provision;
no biscuit, no flour, nor anything of the sort; I felt that I had now
committed myself in earnest. There was no certain water between these
wells and where I first met Kahikenè. A month of drought would exhaust
every vley on the road, and then unless I rode right through Omagundè’s
country, the journey would be quite impossible even for ride-oxen. I told
a great many stories, I am afraid, to my men. I impressed upon them the
certainty of soon arriving at a better country, and talked a great deal
about some large fountains near Omatako, as a baiting place on our way
home, but which I had not really much faith in.
The next day, by starting early and keeping a steady even pace, we
arrived at Ja Kabaca, and passing along its rugged base and between it
and Omuvereoom, arrived late in the afternoon at a wretched vley, which
we discovered after an anxious search. It would be a waste of time to
enlarge on the horrible stuff one often had to drink at these small
vleys, as it can so easily be conceived. Fancy a shallow pool from ten
to twenty yards across, and from six to twelve inches deep, in which a
herd of wild animals, say fifty zebras, have been splashing and rolling
themselves all night, and which they have left in every respect like the
water pumped out of a farm-yard; and where wild animals are wanting, the
oxen, in spite of every precaution, will do the same.
The two mountains between which we were now encamped, Omuvereoom and Ja
Kabaca, were said to be great strongholds of Bushmen and Ghou Damup, so
Hans, Andersson, and I, made an expedition up the first of these, to see
if we could catch any, and persuade or compel them to guide us. The first
name means “a door,” or “a pass;” the second is derived from a proper
name.
Since leaving Kahikenè we had not seen a single person beyond our own
party. We rode our oxen to the foot of Omuvereoom, which was about an
hour and a half off, and leaving them with our Damaras, went up a hill,
in some parts the most rugged that I ever climbed. We first steered for
a green patch, in which the telescopes had shown us water: there we
found deserted huts, but nothing else, neither could we see any recent
tracks; but at one place, hearing what we thought was a halloo, Hans and
I scampered up hill after it. I was utterly blown, and had just mounted
up on a kind of natural step, when, while I was balancing myself, I found
that I had put my foot on the tail of a great dark-green snake, who was
up in an instant, with his head as high as my chest, and confronting me.
I had, though used up with my run, just sense and quickness enough left
to leap over the side of the rock, and came with a great tumble among
some bushes; the snake, too, came over after me, I can hardly suppose in
chase, because he did not follow me when we were at the bottom together;
but I ran after him a long way, for I was not hurt, throwing stones at
the reptile. A Damara, who was some way behind, was carrying my gun, and
I had not even a stick.
Resuming our search, we came to where the hill was so broken that I
could not get on. Huge jagged rough stones, many as big as a small
house, were piled up, and thrown about in all directions, with deep
fissures between them; just the place for a man to fall and break his
legs. We found altogether two or three small fountains, but no people.
There were some giraffe-spoors high on the hills. Giraffes are wonderful
climbers: koodoos are the best; but I think that giraffes come next to
them, even before the zebras. From the hill we swept the country with our
telescopes, and caught the glimmer of distant water between the trees:
there was to be our next halt. The Damaras pointed north-east, as the
direction of Omanbondè, but said that it still lay a great way off. We
“marked” the vley as well as we could, and took the waggon there,—three
hours’ travel before breakfast. The water-shed was now obviously to the
eastward, the distant country dropping down most perceptibly. I had
been hoping to see fewer thorn-trees, but here they were worse than
ever. My oxen would not face them: a single bush threw the whole team
into confusion: the oxen plunged and tossed, and got their heads out of
the yokes; and often the waggon-men could not get up to the fighting
creatures on account of the thorns. Flogging is of little or no use;
the animal is essentially perverse and vicious, and calls for almost
superhuman patience. From eleven A.M., till night-fall, we were labouring
through the thorns, that threatened soon to become impervious. Our
clothes and hands were sadly torn; but still we pushed on steadily. Not
a blade of grass was to be seen; and when we outspanned, a pitch dark
night had set in; the oxen were roaming about,—we could hardly see them
in the thick cover. When the morning broke, a few oxen remained, and the
rest were gone. Away went half the men, without any breakfast, running
a steady pace, for we feared the oxen might get back even to Kahikenè’s
werft. They were overtaken beyond the vley, as they were walking steadily
back. In the meantime I had gone on to see how far we were from the
stream Otjironjuba, our next watering-place. To my delight, I found it
close by, only an hour and a half off, full of running water, and like a
trout-stream, with meadows of grass about it. It came out from a cliff of
Omuvereoom.
In the evening we brought the waggons up, and encamped beside it, about
two miles from the hill. Here we staid two days, in happy idleness,
climbing the hill, bathing, shooting francolines, and having a good
clothes-washing.
I must here make a digression on the subject of soap, an article that
we had to make for ourselves, as I found that I had not brought nearly
enough from Cape Town. This is one instance out of a vast number in
which the missionary or the traveller is thrown upon his own resources.
Our process of making it took a week or ten days to complete. It was as
follows: the cook having saved as much fat as he could from the meat,
until his store accumulated to half a bucket-full, or more, and a great
quantity of wood, or shrub-ashes, having been collected, those plants
alone being used whose ashes taste acrid, a savage was set to work at
making two very large clay pots, which is an easy thing to do when proper
clay can be obtained; in one of these we put the ashes, and let water
stand upon them; in the other, under which a fire-place was built, we
placed the fat. A Damara of sedentary disposition was then employed to
superintend the process to the end, he or she having simply to keep up
the fire under the grease-pot, and from time to time to ladle into it a
spoonfull of the ash-water, or ley. This ash-water is sucked up by the
grease; and in ten days the stuff is transformed into good white soap.
The difficulty lies in selecting proper ashes. Those of most plants make
the soap too hard; those of others too soft; but when the _juste milieu_
is hit, all goes on excellently. The missionaries have now brought their
soap-making to perfection; they only use the ashes of two plants, both of
which grow in abundance near Otjimbinguè; and practice has taught them
the exact proportion in which they should be mixed to make “a superior
article.”
From the top of Omuvereoom, about Otjironjuba, nothing but a wide bushy
extent could be seen. The brook sprang from several boggy spots, and fell
in pretty cascades down the hill.
_March 29th._—We started very early from our agreeable resting-place, and
followed the Otjironjuba: it soon disappeared in its sandy bed; and after
three hours the country had become so arid, that I outspanned, to let the
oxen take a good drink at the last pool of water we could see. The rain
now came down in such deluges that the harness, of undressed leather,
became too soppy to handle, and the men could not hold the oxen in the
reins when they had caught them; so we stopped there all night.
_March 30th._—We again started early, and strayed a great deal; for we
had no certain point to aim for, and our chief object was endeavouring
to avoid the thorns. The guides were sulky, and could not, or would not,
tell us anything. We pulled on for many hours with thick thorn-bushes
about us, and not a drop of water to be seen, as the sandy soil had
sucked up the rain: however, the oxen went well. Towards evening we
turned down a long vista, and the waggon was moving noiselessly over the
soft ground, when we saw five or six Bushmen and women squatted in a row
on the ground, with their backs towards us, crowing pig-nuts. They did
not see us till we were close upon them. We caught a man and woman, and
made them show us the water. A little man, who got away from us, was very
funny, and stuck to his wife manfully. He danced about her with a bow and
arrow, making offers to shoot at us, and was in a wonderfully excited
state of mind. We did not approve of the arrow, and let him and his wife
go their ways. These people were thorough Namaquas in feature, but darker
in colour, exactly like the Walfisch Bay people. The man we caught was
tall, certainly above six feet. One sees now and then very tall, bony
men among the Hottentots; though, as a race, they are diminutive. He had
his wallet full of young birds, just taken out of the nest, linnets and
such-like, to eat. He gave us much better information than the Damaras.
Phlebus said that the man talked backwards and forwards, and that he
could hardly make out what he said. Anyhow, when he did, the answers
were very direct. The Bushman name for Omanbondè is Sareesab: as to its
size, I heard exactly the same variety of accounts that I did among the
Damaras. The man said that the water of it was as broad as the heavens;
the woman, that it was perfectly dry; but both agreed that there were
hippopotami in it. There could be no doubt about the animal meant; they
used the ordinary Hottentot word for them, and mimicked their actions so
completely, that it was evident they had seen them; and where hippopotami
are there water must be. They gave us a very true account of its
distance, calling it four long days for a man on foot.
Phlebus and Hans shot a brace of gemsboks. The water we slept by lay
among reeds, and seemed to be the head of an ill-defined water-course,
down which we went.
_March 31st._—We picked up the gemsboks by the way, and passed a large
and deep vley, in which there were some red and white geese. There are
geese and ducks on every large pool of rain-water. They must be taking
advantage of the rainy season, and travelling hither in search of food.
We saw a very large heron, or crane, an immense creature, and Andersson
shot him. The guides sauntered about two miles behind the waggons, and
the Damaras were become very slack and careless: one of them, Kahoni,
was impertinent, and refused to answer me, or to do what he was told, so
I had him down on the ground very quickly; but this time I did not whip
him, because he became penitent and communicative.
We came to a halt at a vley, where the water-course led northerly, and
the thickest of thorn-bushes penned us in elsewhere. The guides wanted us
to go due south, and strike upon the Omaramba river-bed. It was on the
upper part of this river-bed that Omagundè’s son lay; but the point where
we now should strike it would be far out of his reach. This Omoramba ran
into or out of Omanbondè,—I had never been able to make out which—and
there never was a want of well-water along it. We held a council on our
plans; but the thorns were so thick to the southward, and the distance
we had to go so uncertain,—it might be one day, it might be five,—that
I abandoned the idea of attempting it. I thought the water-course we
were on must be a tributary of the Omoramba, and determined to follow
it, especially as its direction was straight towards our point. We
were losing sight of all landmarks; nothing was to be seen but a wide
undulating plain, black with dense thorn-bushes; to the west was Ja
Kabaca, and by its side commenced the long range of Omuvereoom, high and
escarped at first, but fining down by slow degrees towards the level
of the plain. As we continued _en route_ next day, the water-course
still befriended us: its bed was never sand, but hard ground, covered
with sward, and here and there holding a pool of rain-water; and the
thick bushes were crowded on either side. It seemed as though we were
travelling along “a ride,” cut through a thick cover. We now, for the
first time, came upon elephant spoors,—huge things, indeed. There were
about twenty tracks made where the ground was soft; but it now was
hardened, and the waggon jolted heavily over them.
_April 2nd._—We came upon ox-tracks, and other indications of a Damara
werft, and following a path, came upon it. The men dispersed in great
consternation, but we caught some women, who were too heavily laden
with anklets to run fast, and pacified them with tobacco. In a short
time the men came back, and we were soon excellent friends. A fine tall
Damara, about six feet seven inches in height, offered, in the course of
conversation, to guide us to Omanbondè. He said that we should arrive
there in three days. We still were perfectly unable to understand how
large the water was, as no two people said the same thing.
_April 3rd._—Six hours took us to another werft. After the first two
hours we left our old friend, the Vley River, as we called it; and the
bushes being more open, and fewer thorn-trees among them, we followed
our guide across country. The captain of this werft was a very shrewd
fellow, and a jolly, humorous sort of man. He was convinced that we were
Hottentot spies; but for all that, we became great friends. At about
the point where we now were Omuvereoom was identified with the plain.
There were no thorns at all about here, but the country was covered with
high green-leaved bushes; the wood was very brittle, so that the waggon
crashed through trees whose stem was as thick as a man’s thigh, and we
had not to use the axes. Indeed, we have very seldom had occasion to
employ them, considering the country that we have pushed through. The
captain told us all sorts of tales about the Ovampo and their king,
Nangoro. He had visited them two or three times. Nangoro, he said, was
the fattest man in the world, and larger than either of my waggons. His
size has made a great impression upon the sparely-built Damaras, for
whenever I talk about him they allude to it. Every man I have talked to
about the Ovampo speaks well of them.
_April 4th._—We started in company with our tall guide, travelling three
and a half hours—slept without water. The next day we were to reach
our goal. Infinite were the conjectures on the size and appearance of
Omanbondè. We had looked over my mackintosh boat to see that it was in
good order, and agreed to settle on its banks and have a fortnight or
three weeks pleasant shooting in return for all the trouble and annoyance
that we had undergone. We tried not to expect very much of a lake for
fear of disappointment, but agreed that it could not be less than fifteen
miles by eight. Five hours’ travelling over undulating ground brought
us on the brow of a hill, below which lay a broad grassy river-bed 500
yards across—this was the Omoramba; up it was a projecting rock, and
round that Omanbondè. On a hill-top in front was a cluster of camelthorn
trees, (Omanbondè means camelthorn trees,) and below that the lake was
said to lie. Forwards we went with our nerves strung to the highest pitch
of excitement; we rattled the waggon on as fast as we could walk, turned
the corner, but another provoking reach of the river-bed was before us.
Then we plunged through a field of dry reeds, and were walking on, when
the guide loitered behind and seemed to be looking about for something.
The truth slowly dawned upon our minds that we were _then_ in Omanbondè,
and that the guide was actually looking for the water. It was really too
ridiculous that our magnificent lake should be reduced to this. However
there proved to be perfect truth in the story of the hippopotami. The
fact is, that a country like Damara-land is as different after a heavy
rainy season to what it is after a dry one, as the sea-beach is at
different times of the tide. Our ill-luck was that we travelled in one
of the driest years known; and Omanbondè, which is a reach of the broad
Omoramba, of some nine miles long, bears every mark of having been full
of water. The course of the Omoramba, as I found out long afterwards,
is towards the great river of the Mationa country, and up it during the
rainy season hippopotami travel; many have been killed at Omanbondè;
one a few years back actually travelled up to Okaroschekè, and thence
his spoor led into the Swakop, that is not more than a couple of miles
apart from it. He died in the Swakop, and his carcase was washed down and
eaten by the Ghou Damup at Tsobis. Many Hottentots who were familiar
with hippopotami, from having been born on the Orange River, which used
to abound with them, saw fragments of the animal; Jonker told me the
story and I have no reason to disbelieve it, but from the appearance
of Damara-land during the dry season, one would as soon expect a
hippopotamus to have travelled across the great Sahara as from Omanbondè
to Tsobis. There is not a drop of water, except in wells, (which the
beast could not get at,) between Omanbondè and the little fountain two
hours from Schmelen’s Hope. We encamped by the side of Omanbondè near
some wells of excellent water, to which hundreds of desert partridges
flew every night. My men had had enough of travelling, and wanted to
return; however I had my own way with them. I made them what presents I
could. Their shirts were torn to rags, and I served out all the calico
which I had taken as an article of exchange to make them new ones. I gave
an assegai to each of my Damaras, and did my best to put the men into
good humour, and then made ready to go on to the Ovampo.
CHAPTER VI.
Mistake a Lion for an Antelope.—Explore a Road.—Reach
Palms.—Return and bring the Waggons.—Experiences of African
Travel.—Guide decamps and we find another.—Settle at
Okambuti.—The first Elephant.—Waggon breaks down.—Make a Strong
Camp.—Chapupa’s History.—Savages _versus_ Europeans.—Ride on
to the Ovampo.—Method of searching for Water.—Damaras are bad
Guides.—Find some Bushmen.—We start, but are ordered back.—The
Ovampo Caravan.—Chikorongo-onkompè.—Pronunciation of the letter
L.—Salt, not a Necessary of Life.—Damaras never eat it.—Return
to Chapupa’s Werft.—Arrange a Present for Nangoro.—Dressed and
tanned Leather.—Hear of Kahikenè’s Death.—Damara Creed.—Eandas
and Omakuru.—Ceremonies.—Huts and Finery.—Chaunts and
Music.—Damara Language.—Prefixes.
Thus closed an era in the journey; the first great point was reached, the
furthest that the Hottentots from Namaqua-land had ever seen—for they had
travelled as far as Omanbondè in one great expedition; they went in great
numbers and returned in some distress after a few months’ absence.
Curiously enough I arrived at Omanbondè the day year that I had left
England.
Now that my oxen were becoming a little more manageable, and the men
accustomed to travelling, I had hopes of making better progress than
I had done, and of soon reaching a far more interesting country than
that which I had now nearly crossed. I staid two days at Omanbondè
walking about, putting my map in order, and strolling with my little
rifle to shoot guinea-fowls or francolines. There was very little game
about, and I had neither patience nor endurance to run on their spoors
till I found them. One day as I was sauntering about in this way, I had
rather a fright; my rifle was loaded with the merest puff of powder
and a round ball, when I caught a sudden glimpse of an animal standing
on a mound about 200 yards off. I saw him through the thick boughs of
a bush, dropped to the ground directly, and made a careful stalk. I
fancied it was a koodoo, and I hoped that I might secure the animal if
I could get very near to him. I crawled for about ten minutes amongst
the abominable thorns and never showed myself once until about forty
or fifty yards from the mound, and then I poked my rifle very gently
between the branches of a thorn-tree, and raised myself up slowly on a
level with it. To my bewilderment I saw that my game was no koodoo, but a
fine black lion with a glorious mane, standing like a statue and looking
right at me. His attitude was picturesque, but armed as I was I should
much rather have viewed him at a telescopic distance. There was nothing
to be done but to put a bold face upon the matter, so I showed myself
at once and walked slowly away. I was in an awful flight; I was sure
the animal must be hungry, as there was so little game about. He let me
walk some fifty yards without stirring in the slightest. He might have
been daguerreotyped as he stood. Then he made a bound and trotted away,
certainly as much astonished at the interview as myself, for unless he
was a great traveller he could never before have seen a white man or one
dressed in clothes.
I am not sure whether or no Omanbondè is the head of that branch of
the Omoramba; it begins quite abruptly, but I found that it also ended
abruptly, and yet after a short distance the river-bed recommenced; in
fact the place is like a trough with sides and ends to it. The Omoramba,
eastward of the place, is a succession of troughs, but whether there
are others to the west of Omanbondè I do not know; there are two, and
very likely more, that lie parallel to it and at a short distance to the
northward. We arrived on the 5th of April, and on the 8th I was again in
my saddle, and set out on my trusty Ceylon to explore a road out of the
Omoramba, which, seemed even more impracticable, with regard to thorns,
than any place I had yet seen. I longed for the free and luxuriant
vegetation of the tropics, and to emerge from a country that was scorched
with tropical heat, but unrefreshed with truly tropical rains. Timboo,
John Allen, two or three Damaras, and the tall guide accompanied me; we
rode three or four hours down the Omoramba and then turned to the left,
and in four or five hours off-packed by the side of one of the most
agreeable of objects—as the harbinger of richer vegetation—a magnificent
palm. Three hours the next day took us past a large pool of water, and up
to another where there was a werft. Here I felt very much at the mercy of
my teasing hosts, who took the liberty of annoying me in every way. I had
no meat, and they would neither sell nor give me anything, and I feared
we should have to return without food.
We were too tired to watch all night, but slept almost without a
fire, lying on our valuables, and with the oxen tied short up to us,
as we feared some theft. The next morning, having been satisfied of
the goodness of the road, I returned and rode in eleven hours back to
Omanbondè, where I arrived before dusk on the 10th. On the 12th the
waggons started, and were taken successfully out of the river-bed. An
accident to my best rifle—a long two-ounce one—happened in the evening;
some giraffes were coming near us, and we ran through the bushes and
surrounded them. Andersson, who had the rifle, crawled near to one that
Hans had wounded and knocked him over, but the rifle burst or rather
cracked with the shot; the breech giving way just beneath the nipple. I
suspect that the bullet had become slightly dislodged by the jolting.
We encamped of course by the carcase and had a feast. I see now that
the best way of feeding savages is not to give them a steady allowance,
so many pounds of meat a day, but to starve them the greatest part of
their tune, and to gorge them now and then: besides, it is much the
most _convenient_ way of feeding them. There is no doubt that alternate
privation and luxury is congenial to most minds.
The two waggons somehow became separated; mine was as usual ahead, but
the other tried a short cut to overtake us, and lost our spoor. We were
playing at cross purposes, each trying to find the other for hours; at
last we encamped at Okatjokeama, the werft I had before explored.
The Damaras who had been so impudent to me and my small party were, as
usual, highly civil to my large one; had it been much greater they would
have given me presents. I saw clearly the truth of what a Portuguese
traveller, whom I have quoted before, told me, that it was not safe to
beg but better to force the natives to be hospitable, and that if Africa
is ever to be thoroughly explored, the only way to do it is in company
with a well-armed force of men (natives of course).
In a despotic country travelling is easy enough if the good-will of the
reigning savage be once obtained, but in a place like Damara-land, where
every chief is independent, and has to be persuaded or coerced, the case
is very different, and when tribes are changed it will take years to
persuade the new tribe that the traveller is not a spy. A large body of
men forces its way, and the man who commands it can say to a chief—“I
wish to be friends, and here are presents for you to show that I am
friendly, and also here are things of exchange to buy what I want. Bring
me these or I take them.” Many Portuguese traders travel after this way,
but stronger measures have to be resorted to in enforcing the discipline
of the travelling party, and in compelling civility from the natives,
than Englishmen generally would like to adopt. It would be a tedious
journey indeed for a man, however well qualified, to attempt to travel
as a native would, and to go far into Africa. He would be stopped for
months or years at each frontier. We can see this from the case of the
missionaries, who have every opportunity of winning respect and regard
from the natives they are amongst, of learning their language and their
customs, and who have also every desire of extending their spheres of
action; yet a long time elapses between each step that their stations
advance, and when they do so it invariably is under the strong influence
of some chief that they are even then led on. The traveller who tries to
dash at it has many difficulties indeed to encounter.
These scoundrel Damaras wanted to misdirect us, and to send us eastwards
instead of northwards, to find out the Ovampo, but the women of the tribe
let out the secret to the wives of my Damaras, and the wives of course
told it to their husbands, who told it to me, so that their plans failed.
The tall guide took great pains to explain to us how innocent he was of
all guile, and that he would take us on to the Ovampo and do everything
we wanted, and also that it would be very convenient if I paid the calf I
had promised him in advance, as he had an opportunity of sending it home
now, which he would not have again. I mistrusted my friend—I never did
trust a Damara out of my sight—but he teased me and I gave him the calf.
Timboo was quite won by his agreeable address, and lent him his horse-rug
to sleep upon. The rascal of course sent away the calf, and decamped
with the rug the next night. Another savage took us on, and we came to a
little bit of a water-hole, then to another, on the succeeding day, where
there was a large werft, and we fraternised strongly with the people of
it. They confirmed what we had heard, of there being elephants ahead,
and pointed out a number of coppice-covered knolls, all about which
the animals were said to be feeding at that very time. We had passed
through a broad belt of palms, high, magnificent trees, with fan-shaped
leaves and prickly stems, bearing clusters of fruit exactly like that of
the North African doum palm, that is to say, a ruddy, dry fruit, with a
fibrous kernel that no power we had at command could make any impression
upon. I brought some specimens home with me, and they are planted at Kew
Gardens. Ivory was very common as an ornament among these Damaras, our
present guide sported a long string of ivory beads, which he wore like a
halter, it dangled from his neck down his back as far as his heels. The
size of these beads, which were carefully made, tapered gradually down,
from nearly the size of billiard-balls to that of hazel-nuts. He would
not sell his cherished ornament, though he very kindly offered to lend it
to me for a day or two, if I wished to wear it.
_April 17th._—We arrived at Okambuti, where the werft of the principal
chief of these parts, Chapupa, was then lying. We were assured that
there were elephants about, who drank regularly at some neighbouring
fountains, and we found the spoors of five. One was said to be a savage,
single-tusked, old bull, and we made a long but unsuccessful hunt after
him; as he walked faster than we could, a whole day’s severe labour was
on that occasion unrewarded. Some time later, the Damaras went out in a
large body to attack him with assegais, for he had come close up to their
werft. They surrounded the animal in that daring way in which African
savages are used to attack them; but although several arrows were shot
and assegais thrown, no serious harm was done to him. A dog belonging
to one of the natives ran in upon the elephant, and while the owner was
trying to get the dog back, the elephant caught the man with his trunk
and threw him violently to the ground. All his ribs seemed to be broken,
and he soon died. There were no guns on the spot at the time of the
occurrence. The elephant went away for a few days, but returned again,
and came close up to the waggons. He received seven bullets, but the two
last were unnecessary, for he was evidently dying after receiving the
fifth. The Damaras had a grand feed off him.
I did not wish to waste time in Damara-land, and tried to persuade
Chapupa to give me a guide to the Ovampo, but after many excuses he
flatly refused. Okamabuti is on the Damara frontier, and a Bushman tract
of considerable breadth separates the two countries. I had heard every
imaginable account of the distance hence to Nangoro’s place, but settled
in my own mind that it must be somewhere between a five and a twenty
days’ journey. I therefore made ready to trek on to one of the fountains
that the elephants frequented, and to stay there for a little until I
could bribe a guide to show me the way on. There were a great many things
to be done which required at least a fortnight’s rest; the waggon sails,
which were torn in shreds, had to be well mended, ox-hides had to be
dressed and then cut up into reims; saddle-bags were wanting, the men’s
shoes were worn out; more ride and pack-oxen had to be broken in, and I
had a great deal of country to map up, and several observations to work
out.
On the 19th of April we had started for the fountains when an accident
occurred that detained me much longer than I had expected. I ought
to have premised that the character of the country had entirely
changed; instead of small bushes some magnificent timber trees began
to appear, forming belts of forest as regular in shape as the designs
of an ornamental gardener could have made them, but offering a very
considerable impediment to waggon travelling. The oxen were very fresh,
and as soon as they were inspanned bolted down a slight descent with the
waggon; there was a stump in the way; it looked a rotten affair, such as
we had constantly crushed over, but it really was a hard sound piece of
wood. The off fore wheel of the large waggon came against it, and crash
went the axletree and ever so much more of the wood-work—and there we
were!
[Illustration: CHAPUPA, A DAMARA CHIEF.]
We did not sit one moment with our hands in our pockets and lament, but
brought the other waggon up alongside, and at a proper distance off,
and then outspanning worked diligently at making a regular encampment.
It would never have done to appear disheartened. We were in a complete
jungle, but that we soon cleared sufficiently out of our way; a space was
then hedged in round the waggons, half of which was made into a strong
ox-kraal, and round this I made my five married couples of savages build
their huts at equal distances, that they might act as a watch over it.
In this sort of work the day passed, and I most heartily congratulated
myself that the accident had happened where it did, near water and near
friendly Damaras, and in almost the only place that we had seen, since
Schmelen’s Hope, where wood fit for a new axletree could be obtained.
I did not dare to trust myself to one of unseasoned wood, as it would
not have stood a day’s work through such country as that we were now
travelling over, and if the next break-down should be in a spot far from
trees, grass, or water, we might find ourselves in very great difficulty.
I therefore determined to ride with Andersson on to the Ovampo, and
to leave Hans behind in charge of the waggons—which he undertook to
repair. Curiously enough, though there were so many timber trees, yet
we searched for hours before we could find two that were fit for our
purpose—straight, not too large, and not worm-eaten. These were cut down
at once and brought to the camp. The next day found us busily engaged
in strengthening the encampment and making it comfortable. The space
between the waggons was awned over, the stumps of bushes rooted out of
the ground, the fore part of the broken waggon prized up, the wheels &c.
taken away, and stones built under it, and some very active days were
thus spent.
Chapupa passed most of the time with us; he had been much indebted to
Nangoro for assistance in some Damara squabbles and fightings, and was
tolerably intelligent and friendly. It seemed that the Ovampo carry on
a cattle trade with the Damaras at this point. Two Ovampo caravans,
each consisting of from twenty to thirty men on foot, come here with
beads, shells, assegais, wood-choppers, and such-like things, which they
exchange for cattle. They obtain the beads and some of the assegais from
the half-caste Portuguese traders who frequent their northern frontier.
Some years back the then principal Damara chief received the Ovampo with
great civility, and allowed them, as usual, to travel about and barter as
they liked; but when they had sold everything and brought a fine drove
of cattle together, the chief attacked and robbed them. Chapupa was at
that time a second-rate captain, and having been himself robbed he sent
to Nangoro for help, which was given; their men joined together, killed
the obnoxious chief, and then divided his cattle between them; and
Chapupa now lives in great plenty, and shows the greatest respect towards
all the Ovampo. He evidently did not wish to take the responsibility of
himself sending me on to Nangoro, as he feared that I might be a spy, and
that Nangoro would find fault with him for allowing me an opportunity of
learning the road; but he begged that I would wait till the next Ovampo
caravan came, when I should have an excellent opportunity of returning
with it.
However, on the 25th of April, a man offered himself as guide; I asked
him how soon he would be ready: he replied, as was very true, that he
had nothing to pack up, only his assegai to take with him, and would
start directly. These savages look with great contempt at our wants, and
indeed no European could be a match for them in fatigue-work for two or
three days; yet, on the other hand, in a long steady journey the savages
very quickly knock up, unless they adopt some of our usages. They cannot
endure the cold for many nights without a rug to cover them. The midday
sun gives them a headache, and they require a cap. Their sandals do not
keep out the thorns, and they have to make shoes, and they cannot do more
than a week’s work on pig-nut diet. A savage who makes a dash at work for
three or four days gets through it well enough, and a long rest sets him
to rights again after his forced exertions; but where there is no such
rest, but in its place a steady continuous strain, then he fails unless
to a considerable degree he adopts our dress and habits.
_April 26th._—We started; John St. Helena, Timboo, John Williams,
Andersson, and myself were all on ride-oxen; we had three carrying packs,
and a few others loose, with a small drove of sheep: I also took half a
dozen Damaras with me. We passed vast numbers of old elephant tracks,
but saw no fresh spoors, and halted after proceeding a short distance,
but the next day we made a long tedious journey from sunrise to sunset,
getting among hills and quite losing our way. We passed a magnificent set
of pitfalls, which the bushmen who live about these hills had made; the
whole breadth of the valley was staked and bushed across. At intervals
the fence was broken, and where broken deep pitfalls were made. The
strength and size of the timber that was used gave me a great idea of
Bushman industry, for every tree had to be burnt down and carried away
from the hills, and yet the scale of the undertaking would have excited
astonishment in far more civilised nations. When a herd of animals was
seen among the hills the Bushmen drove them through this valley up to
the fence; this was too high for them to jump, so that they were obliged
to make for the gaps, and there tumbled into the pitfalls. We had seen
no people about, but at night when we off-packed, the hill-top in front
of us blazed with fires. I presume that more trees were being burnt to
make a second set of pitfalls. It was no encouragement to us to see these
fires, for three or four bushmen, each with one meal’s provision of
water, might have walked over from a great distance, and made them, and
therefore I had no reason to expect to find near at hand the water that
we already were in want of for the oxen.
_April 28th._—After some hours’ travel the guide confessed that he had no
idea where we were; so we separated to look for tracks, some climbing one
hill and some another. The day was hazy, but Andersson made out something
like green grass, five or six miles to the north-west, and the guide
found a bushman who directed him in that very course; so we went there,
and found not only dry rushes but also a troop of baboons. This was a
sure sign of there being water somewhere near, and after looking about a
little we came upon wells. We generally found water by observing geese,
ducks, baboons, parrots, doves, and little birds (not linnets) in flocks.
Guinea fowl are seldom more than three hours from water. Plovers I have
seen much further. Fresh converging tracks of men or animals of course
indicate it, but old _paths_ only mislead; these generally are made when
the ground is soft during the rainy season, and lead to some vley which
is dry at all other times. In practice, when looking out for water, the
first sign that gives hope is a flock of Guinea fowls, then following the
lay of the country every distant tree is carefully scanned until a parrot
is seen, which, as the bird is fond of perching on the very topmost
branches, is, even at great distances, a conspicuous object. A parrot is
seldom more than half an hour from water, nor baboons either. Continuing
a sharp look-out, and taking a likely course doves are seen flying about,
and little birds are found in all the bushes, and they are close upon it.
The well and fountain that we were at was called Otchikango; a bold range
of hills bounded it on one side, and along their foot a considerable
sheet of water appeared to have lain in the rainy seasons. The guide
recognised the place as the station he had wanted to take us to, and
promised that there should now be no further mistakes.
_April 29th._—We went on, and after straying for three and a half hours,
came again to a nonplus; we had cleared the mountains, and a thick mass
of shrubs lay before us. The guide had been following an old elephant, or
some other wild beast path, instead of the Ovampo track. I made him climb
a pretty stiff hill with me, the cactus and broken stones of which he
did not at all like,—but it was of no use to us. A wide forest extended
below, without a landmark, so we came down and returned to Otchikango.
The Damaras are bad guides considering that they are savages, and ought
to have the instincts of locality strongly developed. On subsequent
occasions, in retracing our routes over wide extents of country, it
was a common amusement to try each other’s recollection of the road by
asking what would be the next object or next turn of the path that we
should come to. But it is difficult to compare a European’s idea of a
country with that of these savages, as they look at it in such different
ways, and have their attention attracted to such entirely different
objects. A Damara never _generalises_; he has no one name for a river,
but a different name for nearly every reach of it; thus the Swakop is a
Namaqua name; there is no Damara word for it. A Damara who knew the road
perfectly from A to B, and again from B to C, would have no idea of a
straight cut from A to C: he has no map of the country in his mind, but
an infinity of local details. He recollects every stump or stone, and the
more puerile the object the more strongly does he seem to recollect it.
Thus, if you say; “I intend to sleep by the side of the great hill where
the river-bed runs close under its foot,” he would never recognise the
place by the description, but if you said, “under the tree, a little way
on the other side of the place where the black and white ox lowed when
the red ox was in front of him, and Koniati dropped his assegai,” &c.
&c. every savage in the party would understand the exact locality. The
Damaras pick out their way step by step; they never dream of taking a
course and keeping to it. All their observations are directed to spoors,
sticks and stones, and they perpetually look down on the ground and not
round about them.
We had, as usual, been such early risers, that plenty of daylight
remained, which we occupied in watching the baboons and climbing about
their hills. We had made so zigzag a journey that I mapped out this
mountainous region very satisfactorily. Towards evening I saw Andersson
walking like a chief, with a long string of Bushmen at his heels; they
had come together on the hill-side, and he brought them to the camp. We
lavished favours of tobacco and such-like things upon them, showed them
their faces in a looking-glass that I always carried with me, chiefly for
that purpose, and finally succeeded in persuading some of the party to
guide me to the next place—Otchikoto. One Bushman was to remain all night
as a hostage; the others were to tell his wife, and to bring next day
what they required for the journey. I am sure that Bushmen are, generally
speaking, hen-pecked. They always consult their wives. The Damaras do not.
Our new friend became uneasy at night-fall when his companions had left
him alone, so we watched him alternately throughout the night to see
that he did not run away. I do not think the poor fellow slept a wink.
I am sure he did not in my watch, for I constantly caught his bright
eye gleaming distrustfully round, whilst he pretended to be asleep. In
the morning we went on with him, and stopped at a place which was full
of grass, about an hour off, till his companions should come to us by
a short cut over the hills. After a little time three Blacks were seen
running from the direction of Otjikongo. As soon as we could make them
out clearer, the Bushmen and Damaras all called out “Ovampo,” and so it
was.
They were part of the long-expected caravan which had arrived immediately
after we had started, and as our spoors and way of camping of course
excited the greatest curiosity among them, three men were despatched
to bring us back. They were ugly fellows, immensely muscular, and most
determined looking; they insisted that we should go back; we laughed at
them; they took our Bushman aside, and used all kinds of threats to him,
till he hardly dared proceed. In the mean time I was much struck by the
cool fearless bearing of the men and their peremptory, yet not uncivil
manner; and seeing at once that I had quite a different style of men to
deal with from either Bushmen or Damaras, I acknowledged that it was but
reasonable that they should desire to know something of a stranger before
they could allow him to pass into their country, and I returned with them
to the encampment we had that morning left.
My new acquaintances were entirely a different looking race from the
Damaras, but very like the Ghou Damup. They were ugly, bony men, with
strongly marked features, and dressed with a very funny scantiness of
attire. Their heads were shaved, and one front tooth was chipped out.
They carried little light bows three and a half feet long, and a small
and well-made assegai in one hand. On their backs were quivers, each
holding from ten to twenty well-barbed and poisoned arrows, and they
carried a dagger-knife in a neat sheath, which was either fixed to a
girdle round the waist, or else to a band that encircled the left arm
above the elbow. Their necks were laden with necklaces for sale, and
every man carried a long narrow smoothed pole over his shoulder, from
either end of which hung a quantity of packages. These were chiefly
little baskets holding iron articles of exchange, packets of corn for
their own eating, and water bags.
The Ovampo were twenty-four in number, with a tall enterprising-looking
young man as captain. I admired greatly the neatness and order of their
encampment, and their demeanour was really polished. We soon became
good friends, and I killed a young ox for them and for ourselves; they
added some corn, which was a most grateful change of diet to us. They
paid us every attention, but refused most decidedly to let any of
their party guide us, and insisted that we should return with them to
Chapupa’s werft, promising at the same time that when they had finished
their bartering and returned they would take us with them. The first
question that Chikorongo-onkompè (their captain) asked us, was whether
we were rain-makers. I regretted that we were not, else we could travel
when we liked and where we liked, and be independent of guides. He told
us a long and minutely circumstantial lie—at least he afterwards denied
every word of it—to the effect that rain-makers were in great request
in Ovampo-land, and that a tribe of them lived by the great river that
bounded it to the north, and that Nangoro sent a woman with several
presents to these people. If rain was scarce in any year they killed and
eat the woman, and had a fresh one sent to them. He also said that the
Bushmen on our road to Nangoro’s were very ferocious, and that he and his
companions had been fighting with them as they came by, and that now they
were more exasperated than ever. These were the only two lies that I have
ever heard from an Ovampo. The second was natural enough; as to the first
I cannot yet understand why he took such pains to invent and tell it.
Chikorongo-onkompè, or “Chik,” as I will for brevity’s sake call him,
spoke Damara language perfectly, but with an accent, and so did Katondoka
and Netjo, the next in command, but the others could barely make
themselves intelligible. Their own language is most musical and liquid,
and they speak it in a slow singing manner. It seems nothing but L’s,
which is curious, as the Damaras do not possess that letter and cannot
pronounce it. It is odd enough that Damara children, who say L as all
other children do when they try to pronounce R, should as they grow older
reverse matters, and forgetting how to pronounce the L, always say R
instead of it; thus Mr. Kolbe’s name was changed to Korube; my man, whom
we nick-named Bill, was called by the Damaras “Biro.” They took infinite
pains to master my name, which after various transformations settled into
Bortonio—the “io” being an affectionately diminutive affix. Andersson’s
name was too full of consonants for them; they gave it up in despair, and
called him Kabandera, (the bird-killer). Many of the Ovampo and Damara
words are much alike; thus if you say “bring fire,” it is “et omuriro” in
Damara, “ella omuliloo” in Ovampo.
The Ovampo way of encamping is very characteristic, for they do not
sleep by the side of a large burning log of wood, but instead of that go
to great pains in collecting stones about the size of bricks, and make
two or three rows of small fires, perhaps five in each row, placing the
stones round each of them in a rude circle of two feet diameter, so as
to confine the ashes and keep the brands from falling about; then they
lie down and go to sleep between the fire-places. They arrange these
encampments with great regularity, and the plan of them is certainly a
good one in countries where there may be a sufficiency of dry sticks and
brush, but no large firewood; for by keeping up the fires throughout
half of the night, which one or two men can easily do, the stones become
hot enough to radiate for some hours longer when the fuel has become
exhausted and every body has dropped off to sleep; again, from the men
sleeping so close in between the hearths, they receive the full benefit
of whatever heat is afforded. We, like the Damaras, simply made a
roaring fire and slept to the windward of it, for we always had plenty
of firewood. I never liked sleeping between two large fires on account
of the smoke, and of the great danger of sparks. Hans’ bed was more than
half burnt under him one night, but some sheepskins that he was lying on
kept him from being scorched, and saved his powder-flask. When a heavy
log that is half-burnt through breaks and falls with a crash, it scatters
burning cinders all about, which the wind will often carry some distance.
The Ovampo had little pipkins to cook in, and eat corn (milice) steeped
in hot water; they also eat some salt, which the Damaras never take by
any chance. In fact the Damaras could not get it, for there is no salt
in their land. There are salt-springs in the lower part of the Swakop,
near where we first struck it when we left Scheppmansdorf, and there
are large saltpans, as I afterwards found out, in Ovampo-land, and also
in the far east, but none whatever in Damara-land. In Europe it is
generally supposed that salt is a necessary of life, but here we never
found it so; I was once on a riding excursion with Andersson and three
other men for six weeks, and a pill-box full of salt was all we used.
We had then nothing else whatever but meat and coffee, the latter of
which, after a certain degree of “condition” has been obtained, is also
a very unnecessary superfluity, and one that I could at any time abandon
without regret. The Namaquas occasionally use salt, but they set no store
upon it. There is no doubt that people who live on meat and milk would
require salt much less than those who live on vegetables, but half the
Damaras subsist simply on pig-nuts,—the most worthless and indigestible
of food, and requiring to be eaten in excessive quantities to afford
enough nourishment to support life. The Hottentots by Walfisch Bay, who
live almost entirely on the ’nara gourd, and who have the sea on one
side and salt-springs in front of them, hardly ever take the trouble to
collect salt, which they certainly would do if they felt that craving
for it which distresses many Europeans. The last fact that I have to
mention with reference to salt, is that the game in the Swakop do not
frequent the salt rocks to lick them, as they do in America. I visited
these salt rocks (below Oosop) when there had been plenty of game about,
and when the spoors of a month old were perfectly distinct, yet no tracks
led to the salt which hung down like stalactites from the rock, from one
to twenty feet above the ground, at a place where a small brack-spring
dribbles over it, and which was perfectly accessible, and in full view.[1]
The Ovampo were very quiet and sociable; they always seemed to make
a point of giving orders in a low tone of voice, and if possible
aside. They _can_ count, for they explained to me at once the number of
Nangoro’s wives, 105, using their fingers rapidly to show the number.
They also counted my oxen as quickly as I could have done it myself. The
next day we returned with them, and on the morrow reached my werft. The
Ovampo traders then separated into bands, and went about the country
bartering. Chik alone remained behind and received such oxen as were from
time to time sent to him. He spent most of his time with me, and told me
a great deal about the Ovampo and Nangoro. We found that it would require
more than a fortnight’s steady travel to get there. My cattle were
becoming very thin, and I could ill spare the three weeks that the Ovampo
kept me waiting. The grass on this side of the Omoramba was different to
that on the other, and the sheep fell off sadly from the change of food,
and were hardly worth eating; their tails, once so full of luscious fat,
as is the case with all African sheep, were now reduced to cords. There
was no game about for us to shoot, and the steady consumption of an ox
in every three days told heavily upon my slaughter-cattle. Chapupa would
not sell me anything. I think he dared not for fear of offending his old
customers—the Ovampo—and the market was not extensive enough for all of
us. I therefore saw clearly that my head-quarters had no chance of being
removed further to the north unless I met with a sufficiency of game in
Ovampo-land to support my party, or unless my articles of exchange would
buy me an abundance of provisions there. I exhibited all that I had to
Chik, and he told me what to take, and what to leave behind; but showed
very little rapture about anything except some red beads and some bars
of iron. At my request he arranged a present for Nangoro. An ox was
essential, then a handful of red beads, and I added my steel-scabbarded
sword, a looking-glass, and a few other things. I took the great crown,
but said nothing about it.
I had always plenty of employment for my men; they dressed some hides
and made them into good saddle-bags, and also into packing reims, which
have to be no less than sixty feet long. It is perfectly impossible to
pack-oxen with a short reim, for their hide is so loose, and their sides
so shaky, that the packs require eight or ten turns of reim round them
on the ox’s back before they are properly fastened. The tugging that is
necessary is enormous. It requires two skilled hands and one native to
pack an ox. The native holds him by his nose-reim (or thong); the things
are placed on his back, the middle of the reim on the top of them, and
the loose ends are pulled under the ox’s belly from the opposite side.
Then each packer puts his foot against the ox’s ribs, and, holding
tightly his end of the reim, pulls at it with all his might and main,
till the ox’s waist is considerably, and even fashionably, compressed;
then the reims are crossed over his back, and the loose ends again drawn
through under his belly, and another pull is given and so on, till the
reim is exhausted; finally the ends are tied.
My savages never could pack; they had not strength enough to do it.
It is true that Damaras do sometimes put things on the back of an old
worn-out ox that has not energy enough to kick them off; but they could
never pack, as we did, 150 pounds’ weight on young oxen that had to be
driven through thick cover, and amused themselves with trying to rub
their pack off against every trunk or bough of a tree that they could get
at.
We never had a sufficiency of leather to make reims of; in fact, we
always wanted leather, and I would gladly at any time have exchanged
a live ox for a dressed skin. It takes at least two days to dress
an ox-hide, and two days’ provision is nearly one ox. If game was
slaughtered, the Damaras eat so much that they could not work at dressing
the hide, which is a most laborious job to undertake, and must be
entered upon willingly, or the hide is spoilt. When a hide is dressed,
in order to cut it into reims, the projecting edges are first trimmed
off, and then with a knife the remaining part is cut spirally round and
round the whole way from the circumference to the centre. The reim or
band for packing purposes ought to be about an inch thick, and of very
regular breadth throughout. A reim, or any other piece of ox-hide that is
dressed, is more limp than if it had been tanned; but it feels greasy,
and is a nasty thing to handle. Tanned leather is abused by Hottentots
and Dutchmen, but I conceive that is simply because it is an innovation
upon their ideas. If I travelled again, I should invest largely in it,
and only use dressed leather when I had nothing better. Wet ruins the
latter, for it makes it soppy and extensible; drought makes tanned
leather rotten, but not if a very little fat be rubbed in occasionally.
All my tanned leather things lasted admirably, and far outwore the rest.
I had, whilst waiting for the Ovampo, some fresh oxen broken in, and
among them Kahikenè’s fine black ox. I did so because news arrived one
evening that Kahikenè was killed, and I wished to keep a memento of
him, and not to eat his present. It appeared that he went to Omagundè’s
son’s werft immediately after we had parted, and made a bold charge.
When the fighting was at its thickest, all Kahikenè’s men dropped off,
and ran away, leaving him and his son alone. My old servant, Piet, from
Mozambique, remained a little time with him, and shot two men with his
gun, but then became frightened, and made his escape. An arrow struck
Kahikenè; and as he fell to the ground, Omagundè’s men speared him
through and through with their assegais. His son, a fine intelligent lad,
rushed up to him in despair, and was murdered by his side.
As I have brought my narrative to the time when we were about to leave
Damara-land behind us; and as we had already lived five months in it,
and of course had seen much of the manners and habits of the people, it
will be a good opportunity for me to mention them in order, and more
fully than I could have done before, without anticipating or breaking the
thread of my story.
To commence with their name. It is in their own language “Ovaherero,”
or the “Merry People;” but those who are settled towards the interior
are always called “Ovampantieru,” or the “Deceivers;” for what reason I
am totally unable to find out. Damup, which is the Namaqua name for the
people generally, has been corrupted by the Oerlams and Dutch traders
into “Damara,” and by this title they have always been known to the
whites. Like the word “Caffre,” it is an established name, and also
a convenient one; for it supersedes all distinctions of locality and
of tribes, which Ovaherero does not; in addition to this, it is very
pronounceable, and therefore I prefer adhering to established usage, and
calling these savages by it, rather than by words in their own language.
Next, as to their jumble of ideas, which, for want of a better name must
be dignified by that of their religion or creed—
In the beginning of things there was a tree (but the tree is
somehow double, because there is one at Omaruru, and another near
Omutchamatunda), and out of this tree came Damaras, Bushmen, oxen, and
zebras. The Damaras lit a fire, which frightened away the Bushmen and the
oxen; but the zebras remained. Hence it is that Bushmen and wild beasts
live together in all sorts of inaccessible places, while the Damaras and
the oxen possess the land. The tree gave birth to everything else that
lives; but has not been prolific of late years. It is of no use waiting
by the side of the tree in hopes of capturing such oxen and sheep as it
might bear.
[Illustration: DAMARA WOMAN.]
Again, notwithstanding that everything comes out of the tree, men have
in some separate manner a special origin or “eanda.” There are six
or seven eandas, and each eanda has some peculiar rites. The tribes
do not correspond with the eandas, as men of every descent are to be
found in each tribe. The chiefs of tribes have some kind of sacerdotal
authority—more so than a military one. They bless the oxen; and their
daughters sprinkle the fattest ones with a brush dipped in water every
morning as they walk out of the kraal. They have no expectation of a
future state; yet they pray over the graves of their parents for oxen and
sheep,—fat ones, and of the right colour. There is hardly a particle of
romance, or affection, or poetry, in their character or creed; but they
are a greedy, heartless, silly set of savages. Independently of the tree
and the eanda, there is also Omakuru; he can hardly be called a deity,
though he gives and withholds rain. He is buried in several different
places, at all of which he is occasionally prayed to.
The Damaras have a vast number of small superstitions, but these
are all stupid, and often very gross; and there is not much that is
characteristic in them. Messengers are greased before they set out on a
journey, and greased again when they come back; of one sort of ox only
grown men eat; out of one particular calabash of milk only grown men
drink, and so on _ad infinitum_. A new-born child is washed—the only time
he is ever washed in his life—then dried and greased, and the ceremony
is over. Some time during boyhood the lads are circumcised, but at no
particular age. Marriage takes place at what appears to be the ages of 15
or 16, but as the Damaras keep no count of years it is scarcely possible
to be certain of their ages; my impression was that the Damaras were not
so precocious as black people usually are. The teeth are chipped with
a flint when the children are young. After death the corpse is placed
in a squatting posture, with its chin resting on its knees, and in that
position is sewn up in an old ox-hide (the usual thing that they sleep
on), and then dropped down into a hole that is dug for it, the face
being turned to the north, and covered over; lastly, the spectators jump
backwards and forwards over the grave to keep the disease from rising out
of it. A sick person meets with no compassion; he is pushed out of his
hut by his relations away from the fire into the cold; they do all they
can to expedite his death, and when he appears to be dying, they heap
ox-hides over him till he is suffocated. Very few Damaras die a natural
death.
The huts are wretched affairs—I have already slightly described them—the
women are the builders. They first cut a number of sticks eight or nine
feet high, and also strip off quantities of bark from the trees which
they shred and use as string; holes are then “crowed” in a circle of
eight or ten feet across, in which the sticks are planted upright,
their tops are next bent together and pleached and lashed with the bark
shreds—this makes the frame-work; round about it brushwood is woven
and tied until the whole assumes a compact surface; a hole for a door
three feet by two, is left in one side, and a forked prop is placed in
the middle of the hut to support the roof; the whole is then daubed and
plastered over, and the work is completed. As the roof becomes dried
and cracked with the heat of the fire, and indeed as it generally has a
hole in it for a chimney, the Damaras lay old ox-hides on the outside
upon its top, weighting them with stones that they may not be blown
off; these they draw aside when they want ventilation, but pull them
over at night when they wish to make all snug. The furniture of the hut
consists of a couple of ox-hides for lying and sitting on, three or four
wooden vessels, a clay cooking pot, a bag of pig-nuts, a leathern box
containing a little finery, such as red iron earth to colour themselves
with, and a small skin of grease. There may perhaps be an iron knife
and a wood chopper; everything else is worn on the persons, or buried
secretly in the ground. When they sleep, the whole population of the
hut lie huddled up together like pigs, and in every imaginable position
round the small fire. They have nothing to cover themselves with. The
children, before they can walk, are carried in a kind of leather shawl at
the mother’s back; afterwards they are left to shift for themselves, and
pick up a living amongst the pig-nuts as well as they can. They all have
dreadfully swelled stomachs, and emaciated figures. It is wonderful how
they can grow up into such fine men. The Damaras do not dance much, only
on great occasions, when they perform war-dances; neither do they sing
together, although they are very fond of chaunting solos in a sing-song
air, inventing the words as they go on, and having a chorus to break in
now and then. I have seen one guitar amongst them, but it was I think an
Ovampo importation; their only musical instrument is their bow. They tie
a piece of reim round the bow-string and the handle, and bind them up
tight together, then they hold the bow horizontally against their teeth,
and strike the tense bow-string with a small stick. A good performer can
produce great effect with it; they attend more to the rhythm than the
notes, and imitate with its music the gallop or trotting of different
animals to perfection. The baboon’s clumsy canter is the _chef d’œuvre_,
and when well executed makes everybody roar with laughter.
The natural colour of the Damaras is by no means easy to determine,
except during the heavy rains which wash off the layers of grease and
red pigment with which they so plentifully besmear themselves. In dry
weather the Damara comes out ruddy and glossy, like an old well-polished
mahogany table; he is then reeking with oil, his features are plump and
smooth, his appearance genial and warm, but a few hours’ steady deluge
quite alters the man. His skin becomes dead-looking and devoid of all
lustre—there is not a tinge of ruddiness in it; it is not even black,
but of a pale slate colour, or like old iron railings that want fresh
painting, and the Damara, when cleaned, becomes a most seedy-looking
object.
Concerning their language I shall say little, as it can only interest
philologists, and for their benefit a most copious manuscript grammar
and dictionary has already been sent by the Rev. Messrs. Hahn and Rath,
to Bonn. Its grammar is much the same as that of the Sichuana and Caffre
languages; which are said to be kindred to that of nearly every known
negro language in Africa. It is highly flexible, so that when a new word
is once obtained they can express immediately and intelligibly every
derivative from it. Thus if they learnt the word “bread” they would have
no difficulty in forming the word a “baker.” The great clumsiness of the
language is its want of comparatives and of adjectives. It has one great
but not peculiar beauty in the prefix which every substantive possesses.
These prefixes have all a special power which it is not easy to define,
but which is soon caught up by the learner. To take a simple instance,
Omu is the prefix that signifies manhood; Otji, a thing. Now Omundu is
simply a man; but by saying Otjimundu, the idea of an inanimate thing
is superadded to the idea of a man, and the word expresses an old crone.
The prefix of the substantive which governs the sentence is continued or
hinted at through all the declinable words in it, and gives a bond of
union to the whole. The vocabulary is pretty extensive; it is wonderfully
copious on the subject of cattle; every imaginable kind of colour—as
brindled, dappled, piebald—is named. It is not strong in the cardinal
virtues; the language possessing no word at all for gratitude; but on
looking hastily over my dictionary I find fifteen that express different
forms of villainous deceit.
[Illustration: DAMARA WEAPONS, ETC.]
CHAPTER VII.
Damara Helpmates.—Marriage Tie.—Caravan to Ovampo-land.—Yearly
Traffic.—Otchikoto.—Improvised Chaunts.—Reach an Ovampo
Cattle-post.—Archery Practice.—The Parent Tree.—We reach
Ondonga.—Corn, Beans, and Palms.—Fruit-trees.—Native
Beer.—Density of the Population.—Encamp by Nangoro’s
Village.—Cannot obtain Pasturage.—Nangoro pays us a
Visit.—Ovampo Belles.—We go to a Ball.—Description of
Dances.—Charms and Counter-charms.—Nangoro’s Palace.—The
Great River.—Prospects.—The King is crowned.—His lawful
Successors.—The Queens’ Duties.—Ovampo Dentists.—Surgical
Practice.
_May 22nd._—The Ovampo and ourselves were all in readiness, and we
travelled for a couple of hours to a place of general rendezvous. I was
very curious to see what our caravans would consist of, as it would give
an accurate idea of the amount of trade and communication that goes on
northwards from Damara-land. There are four of these caravans yearly,—two
to Chapupa’s werft, and two that travel between those Ovampo and Damaras
that severally live near the sea. Kahikenè had told me of these last; and
I have since heard much fuller particulars about them.
We had fifteen ride and pack-oxen, eight slaughter; two cows, one calf,
thirty sheep, and three goats. Goats are very useful to furnish leather,
in case anything should be torn, or bags have to be made; they do not,
however, travel quite so well as sheep.
We encamped as usual at night, letting the oxen graze about us, not
dreaming of any accident, when a Damara, who was going through the trees,
luckily came upon a lion, who was crouching at one of my ride-oxen,
almost within springing distance. The lion, of course, decamped, as
lions always do when they are discovered at their wicked practices;
and we had the satisfaction of hearing him roar hungrily throughout
the night. The cry of a lion as he walks about, when he is baulked of
sport, is plaintive, and not unmusical; but I never hear them utter it in
the menageries in England. It was quite a new sound to me when I first
listened to it; and I should never then have guessed it had come from
a lion unless I had been told so. Another very peculiar cry is that of
the zebra; at a distance it sounds more like the roo-coo-cooing of a
dove than anything else. We cut bushes and kraaled in the oxen during
the dark; and as I had now only a small drove with me, and plenty of
Damaras, I came to a resolution to make a kraal every night for the
oxen, and so relieve myself of all anxiety about them. I had found it
such a luxury both at Schmelen’s Hope and Okamabuti, to have kraals
to drive the cattle safe into at night-fall, for, dismissing from our
minds all care about them, we could then sleep undisturbed throughout
the night. The men of my party were, besides myself and Andersson, John
Allen, John St. Helena, and Timboo. I had five picked Damaras with four
wives. The women are very useful, for they carry the men’s things,
and make their huts, and cook for them, leaving the men unhampered and
disengaged, ready to run and drive the oxen, and do anything that might
be wanted. Damara women have not much to complain of: they are valuable
helpmates; and divorce themselves as often as they like. The consequence
is that the marital rule depends not upon violence nor upon interest, but
upon affection. A wife costs a Damara nothing, for she “crows” her own
pig-nuts, and she is of positive use, because she builds and plasters
his hut, cooks his victuals, and carries his things when he moves from
place to place. A Damara seldom beats his wife much; if he does, she
decamps. This deference of husband to wife was a great difficulty in the
way of discipline; for I often wanted to punish the ladies of my party,
and yet I could not make their husbands whip them for me, and of course
I was far too gallant to have it done by any other hands. They bored me
to death with their everlasting talking; but I must own that there were
many good points in their character. They were extremely patient, though
not feminine, according to our ideas: they had no strong affections
either for spouse or children; in fact, the spouse was changed almost
weekly, and I seldom knew, without inquiry, who the _pro tempore_ husband
of each lady was at any particular time. One great use of women in my
party was to find out any plan or secret that the natives I was encamped
amongst were desirous of hiding. Experience tells us of two facts: first,
that women delight in communicating everybody else’s secrets to each
other; secondly, that husbands and wives mutually tell one another all
they know. Hence the married women of my party, whenever I staid near
a werft, had very soon made out all the secrets of the inhabitants,
which they retailed directly to their husbands, and they to me. It was
a system of espionage which proved most effectual. A difficulty arising
from women’s gossipings had occurred at Okamabuti, in which Chik behaved
very well. My man Kambanya told his wife, who told other wives, who told
their husbands, that the Ovampo intended to rob and murder me as soon
as I arrived in their country. The story, by passing through so many
hands, had acquired several circumstantial details, quite enough to make
it worth inquiring into; so I, not knowing the origin of the tale, had
Chik up in judgment before me, and taxed him with what I had heard. He
protested his innocence; and then I said that to clear himself he must
investigate the report, which he did in a most masterly manner; and
traced the whole affair down to the unhappy Kambanya, who had fabricated
the story to dissuade me from going, and from taking him to Ovampo-land,
so Kambanya was whipped, and my friendship with Chik cemented all the
stronger.
_May 23rd._—We rode on six hours, to the second place of rendezvous,
Ootui, and there found all the Ovampo at their encampment, and parties
of Damaras under every bush; and as we travelled on next day, I counted
in our caravan 86 Damara women, nearly half of whom had yelling babies
on their backs, and 10 Damara men. Our party consisted of 14, and the
Ovampo of 24; making about 170 souls in all; 206 head of horned cattle
were driven along, independently of my own, and were the result of Ovampo
barter; and of these three-fourths were cows or heifers.
The 86 women went on various speculations,—some to get work in
Ovampo-land, some to try and get husbands, others merely to sell their
ostrich-shell corsets. Chik thought the caravan a little above the
average; therefore, as there are altogether four caravans, we may
consider 800 oxen as the annual export of Damara-land to the north; in
exchange for which at least half of the Damaras are kept supplied with
weapons and ornaments, the other half deriving theirs from the Namaquas
and the missionaries to the south. The Damaras have no communication
whatever with any other country, a broad land dividing them from the
natives to the east, and the sandy tract by the sea-shore bounding them
to the west.
_May 24th._—Arrived at Otchikango, the baboon-fountain, passing a very
curious circular hole in the middle of a chalky patch of ground; it was
exactly like a bucket, ninety feet across, and thirty feet deep: its name
was Orujo: the sides were perpendicular, the bottom flat; and in the
middle was a small well, down to which a person could easily scramble.
All the ground about is limestone; and wherever there is a bare patch
of it, numbers of circular holes, like miniature Orujos, are to be
seen: generally they are about the size that would just admit a round
lucifer-box; some a few sizes larger; several about a foot across; and in
these trees are often growing just as they would in a flower-pot: those
that are open make dangerous pitfalls. The effect is very curious. Mr.
Oswell tells me that by Lake ’Ngami he has met with the same things.
_May 25th._—For the third time we left Otchikango, and travelled all day,
till four P.M., passing over some very rugged ground and dense thorns,
such as no waggon could get across: it was a pass over a low chain of
hills. The encampments at night were very pretty. There were fires in all
directions. Everybody was in the best of spirits. The Ovampo sang their
manly chorusses with charming effect. We had no water, but were to reach
a wonderful place, Otchikoto, on the morrow, at eleven,—which we did.
_May 26th._—Without the least warning we came suddenly upon that
remarkable tarn, Otchikoto. It is a deep bucket-shaped hole, exactly like
Orujo, but far larger, for it is 400 feet across: deep down below us lay
a placid sheet of water, which I plumbed, leaning over from the cliff
above, to the enormous depth of 180 feet, the same depth within five or
six feet at four different points of its circumference. The water could
be reached by a couple of broken foot-paths, to the top of one of which
the oxen were driven to drink out of a trough, and a line of men handed
up bambooses of water from one to another to fill it. There were small
fish in the water; it is curious how they got there. I was told that
fish were also to be found in the fountain-head of Otjironjuba, but I
did not see them. There were infinite superstitions about Otchikoto, the
chief of which was, that no living thing which ever got into it could
come out again. However, John Allen, Andersson, and myself, dispelled
that illusion from the savage mind, by stripping and swimming all about
it, under the astonished gaze not only of the whole caravan, but also of
quantities of Bushmen who lived about the place, and who came to greet
the Ovampo, with whom they are on the best of terms.
Although the Ovampo live on the borders of a great river, yet none had
ever been seen swimming. It appeared that alligators were so numerous in
its waters that the natives feared to venture in. Chik had been extremely
friendly up to the present time, but he now began to look with some
suspicion upon us; the fact of our having swum about Otchikoto alarmed
him—it looked like magic. Again my Damaras were always teasing the others
by saying that we were cleverer than the Ovampo—a fact which these would
not admit; but now it was proved beyond doubt, and the whole eighty-six
females sang songs about us; one matron improvised, and all the others
joined in a shrill chorus, like “tirri-tirri-tirri.” The self-esteem of
the Ovampo had certainly been wounded. Chik at first ridiculed guns. He
had seen guns in Benguela, but they must have been worthless affairs, and
badly handled, for he laughed at any comparison between them and arrows;
however, by degrees he became frightened at seeing what they really could
do. There was a duck swimming about the water, not more than sixty yards
off, but it looked very much further, as things below one always do, and
I shot him very neatly with my little rifle: and again, the next day,
Andersson was shooting some birds on the wing for specimens, and Chik
became so frightened that he would not pick them up. We had great fun at
Otchikoto; there was a cave there full of bats and owls, which we swam
to and explored. The place swarmed with doves, and every now and then a
white hawk swooped in amongst them. The Bushman captain fraternised with
me, and we interchanged smiles and small presents.
_May 27th._—We travelled through the everlasting thorns and stones for
nine hours, and off-packed at wells—wretched affairs, that we had to sit
up half the night to clean and dig out.
_May 29th._—We came on ox spoors. Old Netjo, who is a family man, was
beside himself with joy, and kept by my side pointing out all the
indications of the neighbouring Ovampo. Passing a reedy, boggy fountain,
we came an hour after to Omutchamatunda, which then was thronged with the
Ovampo and their cattle. We were received very hospitably, and had a tree
assigned us to camp under. The Ovampo gave us butter to grease ourselves
with; but as it was clean, and as they also brought corn, I preferred
eating it. There was a little game about, and we had some shooting, and
also a bathe and a battue of ducks and partridges. No corn was grown
here, neither were there any women; it was simply a cattle-post, and far
from the corn country of the Ovampo.
_May 30th._—We passed the grave of the god, Omakuru; the Damaras all
threw stones on the cairn that covered it, singing out Tati-kuru!
Tati-kuru! (Father Omakuru). Came to Etosha, a great salt-pan. It is
very remarkable in many ways. The borders are defined and wooded; its
surface is flat and effloresced, and the mirage excessive over it; it
was about nine miles in breadth, but the mirage prevented my guessing at
its length; it certainly exceeded fifteen miles. Chik said it was quite
impassable after the rainy season; and it must form a rather pretty lake
at that time. We arrived late in the evening at another werft, on the
south border of the grand flat, Otchihako-wa-Motenya, which appears to
extend as a grassy treeless estuary between wooded banks the whole way
hence to near the sea. The Ovampo here could not believe that I was able
to express sounds by writing on paper, so I jotted down the names of a
number of people, one after the other, and then read them out. I may
as well give a few of them, as a guide to the rhythm of the language:
Kangŭrà, Entongò, Epingà, Angèrò, Andāhè, Akoosà. I planned a shooting
match; there were a great many naturalised Bushmen on the spot, and
as all the Ovampo carry bows, I had a large archery meeting. I put up
a sheep-skin (which gives a target of about three feet by two), and
placed the men eighty paces from it. The prize was tobacco; there were
twenty competitors, and each shot six arrows, so that 120 shots were
made; but out of these 120 only _one_ hit the target fairly, and another
brushed it. At very near distances, as from five to ten yards, the men
shot perfectly. I have frequently given prizes to Damaras, Bushmen, and
Ovampo, to shoot for, but I have only seen wretched archery practice,
far worse than that of our societies in England. I suppose I have been
unfortunate; but though I have taken some trouble to see good practice,
not only with bows and arrows, but also with rifles, I have never
witnessed performances that approached to the accuracy which shooters
often profess to attain, although I certainly have seen lucky shots made,
and indeed have made them myself. Andersson made a beautiful one at an
ostrich in Damara-land. The bird was standing 280 yards from him, in a
thick but rather low cover, which concealed its body, while its neck
stood high, in bold relief. Andersson stalked up to within that distance,
but as the creature was alarmed, and the ground immediately in front was
exposed, he could not get nearer. He aimed, of course, high up the neck,
intending to hit the body, but the elevation was a little too great, yet
the aim proved so perfect, that he shot him dead through the neck.
Katondoka was sent on to tell Nangoro the news of the approach of the
caravan, and to carry a message from me to him; and now came our hardest
stage of all. It was nineteen hours’ actual travel, and told cruelly on
the oxen; for they were weak, and had been badly off for grass on the
road. We crossed the flat in four hours, keeping close by its easternmost
margin; to the west it widened out, and stretched to the far horizon.
Four hours from the north border of the flat we passed a magnificent
tree. It was the parent of all the Damaras. The caravan stopped awhile,
and the savages danced round and round it in great delight. We slept
without water. In the morning we had some delays with the oxen, but
travelled from early day-break, passing an empty well at eleven, and
another a little later. We pushed through thick thorns the whole time,
and had begun to disbelieve in Ondonga, when quite of a sudden the
bushes ceased: we emerged out of them, and the charming corn country of
the Ovampo lay yellow and broad as a sea before us. Fine dense timber
trees, and innumerable palms of all sizes, were scattered over it;
part was bare for pasturage, part was thickly covered with high corn
stubble; palisadings, each of which enclosed a homestead, were scattered
everywhere over the country. The general appearance was that of most
abundant fertility. It was a land of Goshen to us; and even my phlegmatic
waggon-driver burst out into exclamations of delight. Old Netjo’s house
was the nearest, and he therefore claimed the right of entertaining me
the first, and to it we went. He had two or three wives, and a most
wonderfully large family, to every member of which he presented us. Then
he took Andersson and myself over the establishment, and showed us his
neat granaries and thrashing-floors, and his cocks and hens: the pigs,
he regretted, had been sent out of the way; and lastly, Mrs. Netjo, No.
1, produced a dish of hot dough and a basin of sour milk, on which we
set to work, burning our fingers as we pulled off large bits, which we
dipped into the milk and swallowed. Then we went on to Chik’s house,
who encamped us under a magnificent tree, and took our cattle under his
charge. He told me that we were still a long day’s journey from Nangoro,
and that the whole of our way there would lie through a corn country like
this.
The harvest was now over; but the high stubble was still standing, and
in it the oxen were allowed to feed. There was at this time hardly any
other pasturage for them. The Ovampo have two kinds of corn; one is the
Egyptian doura (or exactly like it), a sort of hominy; and the other
is a corn that was new to me, but kindred, as I am told, to the Indian
“badjera:” its head is cylindrical, and full of small gray seeds, which,
though not larger than those of millet, are so numerous that each head
contains a vast deal of nutriment. Both kinds of corn grow to much the
same height, about eight feet; and in harvesting the reapers bend down
the stalks and only cut off the heads. As we journeyed on the next day
our surprise at the agricultural opulence of the country was in no way
decreased. Chik told us a great deal about the tenure of the farms, and
the way they dig them. Each farmer has to pay a certain proportion of
the tobacco that he grows to Nangoro (tobacco is the chief circulating
medium in Ovampo-land); but the corn can be planted without any drawback
upon it. The fields are hoed over before each sowing season, and the corn
planted. The manure from the cattle kraal is spread over the ground.
They plant beans and peas, but adopt no systematic rotation of crops.
The palms that grew here were of the same sort as those that I saw near
Omanbondè; but the fruit of these was excellent, exactly like those of
the Egyptian doum, while that of the others was bitter. The other trees
that I observed were fruit trees: they were sparingly scattered over the
country; but nearly all that I saw were of magnificent size, as large
as those in any English park; their foliage was so dense and green that
a real shade from the sun could be obtained, which never is the case in
Damara-land, as the straggling stunted thorn, with its few shrivelled
leaves, offers little more of a screen to its rays than an English tree
in winter time. The fruits are of two kinds, one, which I never saw
myself as it was not the season for it, was a kind of cherry, according
to Timboo’s authority, who recognised at once all the produce of his own
country (Masapa, by Moviza) here in Ovampo-land. The other is a very acid
fruit, not unlike an apple in shape, colour, smell, and size, but with a
stone in it. No other tree stands in the corn country of the Ovampo, or
at least gives any feature to the landscape.
Ondonga, for that is the name of the land, is most uniform in its
appearance; and I should think no stranger could recollect his way
for any distance in it. I don’t know what we should have done here,
if I had brought my waggons. We could never have taken them across
the Ovampo fields, trespassing everywhere. The roads that the natives
and we travelled were only pathways through the stubble; and we were
particularly requested to keep to them. There was hardly any grass
whatever, it was perfectly eaten up; and the Ovampo oxen had been sent
away to distant cattle-posts on every side to get food. They were now
being driven back in small herds to eat off the stubble upon the farms of
their owners. By each homestead were five or six cows and a quantity of
goats, very small, but yielding a great deal of milk. To give water even
to these was a great difficulty, for the wells have to be dug twenty or
thirty feet deep through the sandy soil before water is reached; and then
it oozes out so slowly that only a very limited supply can be obtained.
There had been great trouble in getting even my small drove of cattle
watered; but Chik said that there were some vleys still left, which were
Nangoro’s property; but to which he would probably allow my oxen to be
driven. The Ovampo make a great fuss about water; if I wanted any to
drink I had to buy it with beads. I was greatly pleased with the mutual
good-will and cordiality that evidently existed among the Ovampo; they
were all plump and well fed; even the blind old people, who are such
wretched objects in Damara-land, were here well tended and fat. They
looked shy at me; but Chik had been impressing upon me during the whole
of our journey that his countrymen would all keep away until Nangoro had
seen and approved of me, then they would come from all sides, and be as
civil as possible. Chik introduced me to some of his most particular
friends, who were very hospitable indeed, stopping us on the road, and
giving us beer and biscuits, and such-like luxuries. The beer is not to
be despised, although it is very thin and sweet; it is made from crushed
corn and water, and takes two or three days before it is quite ready. I
should think that a person must drink immense quantities before he could
become intoxicated with it, but two or three tumblers full make one
sleepy.
We travelled short stages, sleeping one night at the house of one of
Chik’s friends who kraaled our oxen in. I was much afraid of their
straying in the night, as if they did so they might cause all sorts of
damage. I felt ill at ease in Ovampo-land, because I was no longer my own
master. Everybody was perfectly civil, but I could not go as I liked, nor
where I liked; in fact I felt as a savage would feel in England. My red
coat was the delight of all the little boys and girls, plump merry little
things, who ran after me shouting and singing as happy as could be. The
Ovampo took much interest in seeing the oxen packed and ridden; they
had never seen them used in that way before, and carefully examined the
saddle-bags, and the way they were put on.
To gain some idea of the amount of the Ovampo population I counted the
number of homesteads that I passed, and found that I saw, on an average,
thirty in each hour’s ride, about three miles. From the undulating nature
of the country, and from the number of palms, I considered that I could
only see a mile and a half on either side of me, and therefore these
thirty farms would take up a square of three miles in the side, or nine
square miles; that is, in round numbers, three farms would occupy a
square mile; allowing from thirty to forty souls in each farm, it gives
a population of a hundred persons to a square mile. There is no town
whatever in Ondonga, for the population is entirely rural.
Travelling on we passed a few Damaras who had lately arrived, from
Omaruru to make amends to Nangoro for some thefts which the natives on
that side of the country had been committing against the Ovampo. A little
further we met four Ovapangari who had come south from the great river;
they were frightened and suspicious, and Chik would not interpret for me
to them.
At last a particularly fine clump of trees came in sight, and there Chik
said we were ordered to stay, Nangoro’s palisading being only a quarter
of a mile further. Here we off-packed, and made a kind of encampment. I
pitched my tent, and we made as good a screen as we were able with the
saddle-bags, and a few palm branches, but we had hardly any firewood,
grass, or water. After a great deal of trouble I made Chik obtain for us
the use of some wells close by, but we had to wait half the day till they
were disengaged. Then I could find no place to send my oxen to feed. No
kind offer was made of a stubble field, and Chik would not bestir himself
much. He was always saying, “You must wait; Nangoro will come down and
see you to-morrow, and then he will arrange everything;” but in the
meantime my oxen were starving. The Ovampo kept away from us, and Chik
was almost the only person that we were allowed to communicate with. We
all felt uncomfortable, I never for a moment expected any attack from the
Ovampo, but I had considerable misgivings that they purposely intended to
keep my oxen in low condition that I might be less independent.
[Illustration: CAMP IN OVAMPO-LAND.
John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1853]
Ondonga is a very difficult place to get away from. Indeed if anything
had occurred to make it advisable for me to force a quick retreat
I hardly know how I should have done it. It would have been very
questionable if we could have found our way back by Netjo’s house; for,
as I mentioned before, the country is remarkably uniform, intersected
with paths, and quite destitute of natural features to guide us. It is
also slightly undulating, enough so to limit the view to a mile or two
ahead. There was vley water, if we did not miss it, near to Netjo’s;
and thence there remained a journey of twenty-one hours, two hours in
Ondonga, and nineteen in the thorns and flats, without water; and as part
of this lay over a bleak country the stage was too severe a one for any
weak ox to endure. I found that some Ovampos had been tampering with my
Damara cattle-watchers; one, a man whom I had taken from Chapupa’s werft,
became impudent, and instead of driving my cattle to grass, kept them on
a bare place for half the day; so I took active measures upon his back
and shoulders, to an extent that astonished the Ovampo and reformed the
man.
_June 6th._—Nangoro did not come, but sent us a little corn as a present,
and requested us to fire off our guns, as he wished to hear what kind
of noise they made. We had plenty of ammunition, and therefore amused
ourselves with some rifle practice, which several Ovampo watched from a
short distance with great interest.
_June 7th._—The oxen looked dreadfully thin. I began to fear that they
would die, and then we should have to abandon our luggage and get back
on foot—an exertion which I had little fancy for. However about midday
Chik came in great excitement to tell me that Nangoro was on his way
to me, so I smartened things and made ready for him. There was a body
of men walking towards us, and in the middle of them an amazingly fat
old fellow laboured along; he was very short of breath, and had hardly
anything on his person. This was the king himself. He waddled up looking
very severe, and stood in the middle of his men staring at us, and
leaning on a thin stick very neatly shaped, that he seemed to carry about
as a sceptre. I hardly knew what to do or what to say, for he took no
notice of an elegant bow that I made to him, so I sat down and continued
writing my journal till the royal mind was satisfied. After five or six
minutes Nangoro walked up, gave a grunt of approbation, and poked his
sceptre into my ribs in a friendly sort of manner, and then sat down.
He could, I believe, understand Damara well enough, but he persisted in
making Chik interpret for me into Ovampo. Nangoro had quite a miniature
court about him; three particularly insinuating and well-dressed Ovampo
were his attendants in waiting; they were always at his elbow and laughed
immoderately whenever he said anything funny, and looked grave and
respectful whenever he uttered anything wise, all in the easiest and most
natural manner. I gave Nangoro the things that I had brought as a present
for him, regretting excessively that I could spare him nothing better.
In fact all my gilt finery was but little cared for by these people. It
would look as _outré_ for an Ovampo to wear any peculiar ornament as it
would for an Englishman to do so. The sway of fashion is quite as strong
among the negroes as among the whites; and my position was that of a
traveller in Europe, who had nothing to pay his hotel bill with but a
box full of cowries and Damara sandals. I would have given anything for
ten pounds’ worth of the right sort of beads; half of that value would
have made a really good present to Nangoro, and franked me into the
good graces of all his people. As it was he was rather sulky, for it is
considered a kind of insult to an African chief to visit him, and make
use of his country without commencing acquaintance by sending a tribute.
He insisted upon my giving him a cow which I, or rather John Allen, had
with me, besides the ox I had presented him with; and as there was no
help for it, the cow went. We then had a short conversation; he looked
at our guns and made us shoot with them, chatted a little, and then left
us, saying that we were free to buy and sell with his people as much as
we liked. Immediately crowds of the Ovampo, who had been gathering during
the interview, poured down upon us, laughing and talking, but taking
the greatest care not to touch our things, or to annoy us in any way.
They were a merry set, and all of them dressed, or rather ornamented,
very tidily. They wore a great quantity of beads and rings, but scarcely
anything else except a kind of cartouche box, in which they kept a tuft
of hair for painting and powdering themselves. The ladies were buxom
lasses, having all the appearance of being good drudges. Their hair was
worn short in front, but spread out behind into a broad fan. They were
decidedly nice-looking; their faces were open and merry, but they had
rather coarse features, and shone all over with butter and red pigment.
They seemed to be of amazingly affectionate dispositions, for they
always stood in groups with their arms round each other’s necks like
Canova’s graces. They hummed sentimental airs all day long, swaying
themselves about to the tune, and completely ruined the peace of mind
of my too susceptible attendants. I began to buy corn and beans from
them; the women brought small baskets full, often only a handful each,
and were paid in beads. I had brought a bar of iron, half an inch thick,
and four feet long, that procured me 100 pounds of corn at once. Timboo
was the most successful bargainer; he sat in the middle among the beads,
and twenty or thirty corn-selling damsels crowded about him. He was in
his glory, chaffing and chattering in a most original patois all the day
long, for he had picked up a few Ovampo words, and many of the Ovampo
knew a little of Damara.
Every night Nangoro gives a ball, to which the _élite_ of Ovampo-land
have a free _entrée_. He kindly sent me an invitation by Tippoo, that
one of his three courtiers under whose protection we had been especially
placed. As soon as night sets in, the guests throng together from all
sides, and as the country is full of palms, one member of each party
generally picks up a dried, broken-off branch, and lights it as a torch.
It gives a brilliant flame, and the effect of the many lights on every
side is particularly pretty. I went, about eight o’clock, down the sanded
walk, between quickset hedgerows, that leads to Nangoro’s palisading.
When we had entered it, we turned to the right, into the dancing-court,
which was already filled with people who talked and flirted just as
though they were in an English ball-room.
There was a man with a feeble guitar, or banjo, in one corner, and a
powerful performer on the tom-tom in front of him. The first dance was
remarkable as a display of dexterity, though I hardly think of elegance;
it was undertaken by twelve or fourteen gentlemen, all the others
looking on. The dancers were ranked in double files, and _dos-à-dos_;
they then “_passéed_” from side to side with a tripping operatic step,
but a wary and cautious eye. Every now and then one of the performers
spun suddenly round, and gave a most terrific kick right at the seat of
honour of the gentleman whom he then found in front of him. This was the
dance; there was a great deal of dexterity shown both in delivering and
avoiding the kick which, when successfully planted, hit with the force
of a donkey’s hoof. I observed that the three courtiers danced very well
and very successfully, indeed I would not have found myself _dos-à-dos_
with Tippoo for any consideration. The ladies applauded the dance most
vociferously. After this came a promenade; we were all jammed together
into a compact mass, and then stepped round and round the court to the
sound of the tom-tom, tapping the ground with our feet in regular time.
Dance number three was for the Bushmen, a large kraal of whom lay close
by Nangoro’s palisading; they are his body-guard. This dance was entirely
mimicry, either of animal steps or anything else they liked, and then
a grand promenade closed the evening. I saw only thirty or forty of
Nangoro’s wives there. I suppose that the others, being old, did not
dance. They wear a copper armlet as a sign of distinction.
I had a difficulty with Nangoro, from not having complied with one of
the principal Ovampo customs, on first entering the country. I did not
like it, though if I had had a proper idea of its importance, I should,
I suppose, have submitted with the best grace I could. The Ovampo are,
as all blacks and most whites, very superstitious; a particular fear
seems to possess them of a stranger charming away the life of a person
he may happen to eat with. Why dinner time should be the season when the
charm has most power I do not know; but such is considered to be the
case. Accordingly, counter-charms are used; sometimes one is in fashion,
sometimes another; now, Nangoro, when a young man, being a person of
considerable imagination, framed a counter-charm for his own particular
use, and this being of course taken up by the court, is at present the
fashion of the whole of Ovampo-land, and it was to this counter-charm
that I personally objected. The stranger sits down, closes his eyes, and
raises his face to heaven; then the Ovampo initiator takes some water
into his mouth, gargles it well, and, standing over his victim, delivers
it full in his face. This ceremony having once been performed, all goes
on smoothly, though I am inclined to think that, like vaccination, it
requires to be repeated at intervals, as its effect dies away. Old Netjo
yielded to my objections the day I dined in his house, as Chik had done
when I first met him, and compromised the matter by rubbing butter
between my eyes instead. But Nangoro’s mind was not so easily satisfied;
he was harassed with suspicions; and though he invited me to drink beer
at his palace, yet he contrived to be out of the way when the beer was
brought in, and made the three courtiers sit down with me instead.
The plan of all the Ovampo houses is intricate, but Nangoro’s was a
perfect labyrinth, and I could never find my way about it. Conceive walls
of palisading eight or nine feet high, the poles of which are squared,
smoothed, and driven in so close together, that it is only here and there
that an arrow could be shot out between them. With these an irregularly
circular place of about one hundred yards across is walled, one entrance
being left, and to that entrance a broad double pathway leads, which
is marked and divided by slight hedges. Within the outer circle other
walls of palisading are placed in various ways; on one side a passage
leads to the cattle kraal, in another place there is one leading to the
dancing-court; passages lead to Nangoro’s rooms, to the granaries, to
the threshing floors, to the women’s apartments, and to those of the
attendants and of the three courtiers. I tried to sketch out the plan
several times, but my head would never take it in.
Nangoro came to my encampment one morning for a chat, and to see the
guns fired; we talked about the countries to the north, and of the great
river, which was four long or five easy days’ journey ahead, but towards
visiting which I could obtain no offer of assistance from him. He told
me that the traders (Portuguese) who went there never crossed it, but
that his people went to them and were ferried across by the Ovapangari.
I had become quite familiar with this river by hearsay, as nearly every
Ovampo had been there, and many Damaras also. There were some runaway
slaves from Benguela who knew all the places marked in the usual maps, as
Caconda, Bihe, Quinbumba, and so forth, and spoke of the houses of many
stories with great wonder. The river runs from east to west, and with
a very rapid current, so much so that boats never went up it, but only
ferried from side to side; the breadth of the river was so great, that
though a man’s shouting could be heard perfectly across it, yet his words
could not. They said it was very deep, and full of alligators. It ran
down to near the sea, and there it ended in a large pool, percolating,
of course, like very many other large African rivers, through the sands.
In this pool were great numbers of hippopotami, and the sand between
it and the sea was so soft and treacherous that people could not walk
over it. The names of the people who lived along it I have put down on
the map at the places they were described to inhabit. The Damaras call
them all “Ovampo.” The traders who go down to this river to barter have
occasionally horses (their spoor, neigh, and gallop, all being mimicked
to me). They bring brandy, beads, and assegais, to exchange for ivory
and cattle. These traders must be very nearly black, because not only
the colour of our skin but the straightness of our hair was a constant
marvel to the Ovampo. They wondered if we were white all over, and I
victimised John Allen, who had to strip very frequently to satisfy the
inquisitiveness of our hosts. Nangoro positively refused to believe
in the existence of any country which was inhabited by whites alone.
He seemed to consider them as rare migratory animals of unaccountable
manners but considerable intelligence, who were found here and there, but
who existed in no place as lords of the land.
In all the inquiries that I made I had much trouble in worming out my
information, for Nangoro was not at all communicative; and Chik, from
some cause or other, became daily more distant and reserved. The subject
of the oxen was always a sore one. Nangoro would not give me the use
of his stubble-fields, or the right of watering my oxen at the wells
before his own had drunk; the consequence was that they remained hanging
about till noon, and then were driven off two or three miles to a piece
of ground as barren as Greenwich Park in summer-time. They came home
every evening thinner than they were the day before, and were now in
a wretched state: the poor things were becoming very weak indeed, and
we were perpetually talking over the chances of their breaking down
on the return journey. It was exactly eighty hours actual travelling
from Okamabuti, or allowing two miles and three quarters an hour, two
hundred and twenty miles; of this, nearly sixty miles, partly choked
with thorns, partly as bleak as Salisbury Plain, had to be travelled
without water. This, of course, would be nothing to animals in good
condition, and in a European climate; but it was a very different matter
to me in Africa. I had been given to understand from the first that I
must neither go back nor go on without Nangoro’s express permission; so
that we were always under some anxiety. Of course I did all I could to
please him; but still, either from want of consideration on his part
or intentionally, things did not go on smoothly. Once when he was in a
good humour I produced my theatrical crown, which I had not shown him
before, and gave him a long discourse upon it. I told him that the great
captains of our country usually wore a head-dress of that description,
and that I therefore begged he would do me the favour of wearing it, as
a memento of my visit to him. It had a contrivance behind for altering
its size, and I stretched it to its full extent, for Nangoro’s head was
like a bullock’s, and then put it on him with great solemnity, patting
it down to make it sit tight. I must say that he looked every inch a
king. The three courtiers were in ecstasy, and Nangoro himself gave every
sign of self-satisfaction when I held up a looking-glass before him to
show the effect; and afterwards carefully sketched him. Nangoro, in the
first instance, had views with reference to me to which I confess I
showed but little inclination; it is really a great drawback to African
explorings that a traveller cannot become on friendly terms with a chief
without being requested and teased to receive a spare wife or a daughter
in marriage, and umbrage taken if he does not consent. It is, I know,
very ungallant to betray tender secrets, and I would not do so on any
account, if the charming Chipanga was ever likely to read this book;
but I cannot help hinting at the subject, as it not only illustrates
a phase of African life, but also indicates a direction in which any
adventurous fortune-hunter may successfully push his addresses. For the
benefit of those gentlemen I must explain how matters stand. Nangoro is
king by virtue of his deceased first wife; by her he has no children.
Chipanganjarà married that lady’s sister, who also is dead, leaving one
daughter as heiress to the kingdom; and this daughter is Chipanga. She,
greasy negress as she was, never forgave me the “spretæ injuria formæ.”
[Illustration: NANGORO, KING OF THE OVAMPO.]
I observed that some wild ducks and geese flew over our encampment every
morning and evening, and begged Tippoo that I might be allowed to go to
the water where they drank. We walked a couple of hours due east, and
came to a long succession of vleys, where droves of Nangoro’s cattle
were watered. There was no grass near, or else I should have insisted
on encamping there. Beyond the vleys the thorns began again. Elephants
come down at times in great numbers, and do much mischief to the corn. I
fancy that game is very abundant in the neighbourhood of the great river,
although there must be a great deal of cultivated ground adjacent to
it. The course of the river is very long, and its stream is undoubtedly
swift, because although a considerable slope might be allowed for from
Nangoro’s werft northwards to its bed, still the height of the bed at
that place above the sea can hardly be less than 3000 feet. To the
westwards of north the river is formed by the confluence of three others;
and in that country the Ovabundja live: it is marshy and flooded, and
the people live in houses built on poles.
It is very remarkable that between Chapupa’s werft (where the waggons
were left) and Nangoro’s, a distance of 220 miles, we had not crossed a
single river-bed. There was the mark of one little rivulet about four
feet wide, near Otchikoto, and that was literally all. I could obtain no
answer from Nangoro as to whether or not I might proceed. Chik, who was
our only medium of communication, put off everything with a “to-morrow.”
We were so teased with his procrastination, that we christened him
“Mahuka,” which was his favourite word. I went to Nangoro’s to see his
wives at work, threshing corn. They make meal by pounding the grain in a
stone mortar; everything was scrupulously clean and tidy. The granaries
are in shape and manufacture exactly like our common bee-hives, though
considerably larger, about four feet in diameter; these are placed with
the point downwards, each in a rough frame-work on three legs, which
raises it a foot from off the ground; into the bee-hive the grain is put,
and the whole is thatched and plastered over: in Nangoro’s granary rows
and rows of these were standing.
I have no fancy for their houses; they are so absurdly small. They are
circular, five and a half feet across, and three feet high, with a
conical thatched roof above all; the door is two feet high, and one and
a half broad. Nangoro sleeps in the open air under a shed, as he is too
fat to creep into one of these houses. Each hut is occupied by an entire
family: a husband, a wife, and a few small children; and when the door
is closed by the mat, and a cozy fire made in the middle of the hut, they
must find the atmosphere particularly genial and sweet. Their utensils
are remarkably neat; they have wooden cups, beer ladles, spoons, and so
forth. I regretted much that I had not enough things of exchange to buy
some of these which took my fancy. Their dagger-knives were creditably
made, and very pretty. The knife was set into a wooden handle, and fitted
into a wooden sheath; but both handle and sheath were in part covered
with copper plating, and in part wound round with copper wire beaten
square. There is plenty of copper in this country. The Bushmen brought us
quantities of ore at Otchikoto.
Tippoo took me to see a blacksmith; but his bellows were scarcely larger
than an accordian, and were worked in a similar manner. He was not a
successful artificer. I had occasion to make inquiries for a professional
gentleman, a dentist, as one of my teeth had ached so horribly that I
could hardly endure it. He was employed at a distance; but I subsequently
witnessed, though I did not myself undergo the exercise of his skill.
He brought a piece of the back sinew of a sheep, which forms a kind of
catgut, and tied this round the unhappy tooth; the spare end of the
catgut was wound round a stout piece of stick, and this he rolled up
tight to the tooth, and then prised with all his force against the jaw
till something gave way. I saw the wretched patient sitting for the rest
of the day with his head between his knees, and his hands against his
temples.
The practice of surgery is rather rude among the Ovampo. Timboo had run
a thorn very deeply into his hand; it did not remain in, but the prick
caused a painful abscess, which pointed and partly broke. He applied to
the Ovampo doctor, whose measures were simple: he squatted down, resting
Timboo’s hand upon his knee, and then grasped a tough stick with both
hands, with which he energetically kneaded down the swelling. Timboo
endured the operation without a cry; but a black can bear anything.
There are no diseases in these parts except slight fever, frequent
ophthalmia, and stomach complaints. I kept a bottle full of eye-water for
the sufferers from ophthalmia, and stuck a feather into the bottom of its
cork, with which I could paint the eyes of a whole row of patients one
after the other.
[Illustration: OVAMPO WEAPONS, UTENSILS, ETC.]
CHAPTER VIII.
We are ordered to return.—Hesitation.—The Slave dealings
here.—Future of Ovampo-land.—A Field for Missionaries.—Best
way of getting there.—Slavery and Servitude.—Giving Men
away.—Arrange my Packs.—Start Homeward.—Leave Ondonga.—The Oxen
suffer severely.—Reach Okamabuti.—The Waggons are safe.—Start
for Omaramba.—Okavarè.—Elephants visit us.—Ice every
night.—Pass Omagundè.—Reach Barmen.
On one occasion Nangoro told me that he would send Chik back with me to
my country. I promised to take him as far as that of the Hottentots,
where he could see some of my countrymen; but that my country was so
far off, that if he went to it, he would never find his way back again;
besides, it was cold, and he would die there; so it was agreed that Chik
should go back with me to Barmen. I was very glad of this arrangement,
as I wanted to obtain fuller information from him than I possessed. I
wished to make a small vocabulary of the language of the Ovampo, and
learn something more than I could observe of their manners and customs;
but here in Ovampo-land Chik would scarcely answer a single question. He
constantly replied, “You must not ask these things; Nangoro will think
that you want to take away his life.” And he became quite sulky if he
was pressed. Indeed, I have no conception to this day whether or no
the Ovampo have any religion, for Chik was frightened and angry if the
subject of death was alluded to.
My articles of exchange were now reduced to a few handfuls of beads; and
I could not stay longer in the country. A man can no more travel without
things of exchange here than he can without money in England. I therefore
insisted upon being allowed to leave Ondonga, where my cattle were dying
by inches, and where I was eating up my food, and could afford to stay no
longer; and I begged hard for a guide to take me on to the river, or to
some place where I should find pasturage and game.
_June 13th._—Nangoro sent me word “that day I might buy and sell; that
the next day I must come and take leave of him; and the day after that I
must go back to Damara-land.”
Now came the question what was to be done. The river was four long
days ahead. It was a goal to reach, and in itself probably well worth
visiting. Its commercial importance might be great, as it appears to
offer a high road into the very centre of Africa, through countries
which, if as healthy as Ovampo or Damara-land, leave nothing to be
desired on that score. It was precisely the most interesting point of my
whole journey. Ought then a visit to it to be abandoned because Nangoro
would not let us go? Or ought we to push on for it at all hazards? On
the other hand, the river was well known to, and frequented by traders
from Benguela; there would therefore be no difficulty in fully exploring
it from that side; and probably infinitely more could be learnt by
inquiries properly made at Mossamedes than anything that I could report
from having seen it with my own eyes during so cursory a visit as I
proposed. Now, as to the risk I should run by temporising with Nangoro
until I had obtained permission to go there. My oxen would entirely knock
up, and probably die; and then what could I do? Even if I walked back to
the waggons, leaving things of the greatest value to me in Ovampo-land,
the want of ride-oxen would be felt most seriously throughout the return
journey. They were everything to me. It was on them that I explored the
roads, followed tracks, and made the most successful expeditions. If
Omagundè, through whose pasture grounds I must return, was to attack us,
as I thought he most probably would, it must be by the ride-oxen alone
that we should have a chance of escaping. I could not spare them nor risk
losing them. It would be impossible to replace them before many months,
as it is not one ox out of forty that will make a ride-ox, for only those
are fit to break in that show far less gregariousness of disposition than
oxen ordinarily do. The beasts that walk first, and lead the herd, are
the only oxen that can be ridden with any comfort or success; the others
jib and crowd together, and fight with their horns, when you try to urge
them on, and the whole caravan comes to a stand-still. It takes half a
year to break in an ox to anything like travelling purposes; he has not
only to learn to be quiet, but also to bear a weight on his shoulders.
Now, with great trouble I had collected together fifteen efficient ride
and pack-oxen: they were the stay of my party in cases of difficulty or
danger, and I would not for any but the weightiest considerations run
the risk of losing them. With no better supply of water and pasturage
than they were now allowed, I felt sure that though they might reach
the river, and even return to Nangoro’s, yet that they would never see
Damara-land again. I also feared that the Portuguese traders might play
me some tricks, as these half-castes are by no means scrupulous, even
less so than traders are elsewhere; and I could not help thinking of
the way in which our own countrymen had behaved to the late Mr. Ruxton,
when he landed at Walfisch Bay, with a view to explore the interior. I
confess that greatly annoyed as I was at being unable to visit the river,
I could not help feeling that Nangoro’s refusal to let me proceed was all
for the best, and I accommodated myself to his orders, and put myself in
readiness to start on my return.
I made many inquiries as to whether there were any slave-dealings between
the Ovampo and the Portuguese; but I was always answered in the negative.
I afterwards heard at St. Helena that slaves were not exported from the
south of Benguela, because they never thrived when taken away, but became
homesick and died. This is exactly what I should conceive of the Ovampo;
they evidently have strong local and personal attachments; they are also
very national, and proud of their country.
I should feel but little compassion if I saw all the Damaras under the
hand of a slave-owner, for they could hardly become more wretched than
they now are, and might be made much less mischievous; but it would be
a crying shame to enslave the Ovampo. To me, as a stranger, they did
not behave with full cordiality; and it was natural enough that they
should not; but among themselves the case was quite different. They are
a kind-hearted, cheerful people, and very domestic. I saw no pauperism
in the country; everybody seemed well to do; and the few very old people
that I saw were treated with particular respect and care. If Africa is to
be civilised, I have no doubt that Ovampo-land will be an important point
in the civilisation of its southern parts. It is extremely healthy, and
most favourably situated for extending its influence. From the sea-coast
it must be accessible; and inquiries really should be made at Mossamedes
about the river which bounds it. A ship cruising along the sea-shore
there can see nothing at all, for the coast is a low sandy desert, which
extends quite out of ken of people afloat: it is behind this strip of
desert that the habitable country begins, and probably _through_ the sand
of it that the river percolates. It is very much to be wished that some
explorer would make an attempt from Little Fish Bay, or thereabouts. It
would be a far easier undertaking than that which I have gone through,
because the starting-point is an inhabited place, where every necessary
can be bought with money. Full information could be obtained there on all
the articles of exchange, and horses could be procured. Black men, who
speak Portuguese, can readily, I am assured, be found; and there is so
large an export of skins and ivory (according to Portuguese authorities)
from Benguela, that there must be excellent shooting somewhere in the
country. I will guarantee the healthiness of the lands to the south of
the river; and the Portuguese declare the same of those to the north.[2]
I also earnestly recommend this land to the notice of all who are
interested in missionary enterprise. The Ovampo have infinitely more
claims on a white man’s sympathy than savages like the Damaras, for they
have a high notion of morality in many points, and seem to be a very
inquiring race. It would be an easy country to secure a footing in, as
the king’s good-will has alone to be gained, and not that of numbers of
independent captains, who never settle by the missionaries, but come
suddenly with their cattle, eat off all the grass near, and then move on
to a fresh pasturage.
I should have said that I use the word Ovampo in the Damara sense, in
which it includes all the corn-growing tribes to their north. These seem
to be of precisely the same race, manners, and customs; and they speak
one language. I have seen men from several of them; and whenever I asked
the Ovampo, they said that all their neighbours were just like themselves.
On my voyage back to England, as I was very anxious to determine the
question of how the Ovampo river was connected with the sea, and whether
it afforded a good road up the country, I waited a month at St. Helena
for the chance of a vessel to take me to Little Fish Bay; owing, however,
to the suppression of the slave-trade, none of our cruisers called there
as they used frequently to do, neither was it expected that they would do
so: I therefore abandoned the attempt.
But a traveller who, starting from the north, desired to make the
expedition, should go in the first instance to Rio, and thence plenty of
opportunities would offer of crossing over to Africa.
Though no slaves are exported from the countries in which I travelled,
yet there is a kind of slavery in the countries themselves. It is not
easy to draw a line between slavery and servitude; but I should say
that the relation of the master to the man was, at least in Damara and
Hottentot-land, that of owner rather than employer.
I cannot speak with certainty of the exact standing in which the Damaras
and the Bushmen severally live among the Ovampo. The first are employed
principally as cattle-watchers; the second, who are even more ornamented
than the Ovampo themselves, are a kind of standing army; but I have great
reason to doubt whether either the one or the other class is independent.
The Ovampo, as I have mentioned, looked down with much contempt on the
Damaras; and there is not a single instance, so far as I could learn, of
an Ovampo-woman marrying a Damara, and settling in Damara-land; but the
reverse is a very common case. The Bushmen appear to be naturalised among
the negro-tribes, and free in the border-lands between them to a distance
very far north of Ondonga. I cannot say how far; but I certainly think to
the latitude of Caconda. I believe them to be a very widely spread race.
Of the Ghou Damup I lost all trace in Ovampo-land. The Namaqua Hottentots
and Oerlams, in all their plundering excursions, capture and drive back
with them such Damara youths as they take a fancy to, and they keep them,
and assert every kind of right over them. They punish them just as they
please, and even shoot them, without any one attempting to interfere.
Next in the scale of slavery are those Damaras, Ghou Damup, or Bushmen,
who place themselves under Hottentot “protection,” and on much the same
footing as those among the Hottentots, are the paupers that are attached
to different werfts among the Damaras. These savages _court slavery_. You
engage one of them as a servant, and you find that he considers himself
your property, and that you are, in fact, become the owner of a slave.
They have no independence about them, generally speaking, but follow a
master as spaniels would. Their hero-worship is directed to people who
have wit and strength enough to ill-use them. Revenge is a very transient
passion in their character: it gives way to admiration of the oppressor.
The Damaras seem to me to love nothing: the only strong feelings they
possess, which are not utterly gross and sensual, are those of admiration
and fear. They seem to be made for slavery, and naturally fall into its
ways. Their usual phrase with reference to the missionaries is, “Oh, they
are wise, but weak;” but Jonker and the Hottentots are, I could almost
say, their delight. They wonder at their success.
All over Africa one hears of “giving” men away: the custom is as follows.
A negro has chanced to live a certain time in another’s employ; he
considers himself his property, and has abandoned the trouble of thinking
what he is to do from day to day; but leaves the ordering of his future
entirely to his employer. He becomes too listless to exist without a
master. The weight of independence is heavier than he likes, and he will
not bear it. He feels unsupported and lost if alone in the world, and
absolutely requires somebody to direct him. Now, if the employer happens
to have no further need of the man, he “gives” him, that is to say, he
makes over his interest in the savage to a friend or acquaintance; the
savage passively agrees to the bargain, and changes his place without
regret; for, so long as he has a master at all, the primary want of his
being is satisfied. A man is “given” either for a term or for ever; and
it was on this tenure that I held several of my men. Swartboy gave me
his henchman; Kahikenè, a cattle-watcher; Mr. Hahn, a very useful man,
Kambanya. As a definition of the phrase “giving a man,” I should say
it meant “making over to another whatever influence one possessed over
a savage; the individual who is given not being compelled, but being
passive.”
Before starting on my return I bought as much corn as I could carry back,
which also proved to be exactly as much as I could buy with my stock of
beads. I knew by this time pretty well what weights the different oxen
could carry, and arranged their saddle-bags accordingly. I always carried
a couple of spring balances with me when on ride-oxen, and as they each
marked up to forty pounds, by using the two together I could weigh up
to eighty pounds, which was as much as I ever wanted on this occasion,
though afterwards when ivory had to be earned I was put to shifts for
weighing it. It saves infinite trouble in packing to have the two
saddle-bags of exactly the same weight, and I am sure that no practice
will train the hand to judge with certainty whether they are so; a small
heavy thing always feels lighter than its real weight, and a bulky thing
heavier. I have constantly tested the guesses that practised muleteers
and camel-drivers have made of the weights of things, and often convicted
them of great mistakes. In my waggon I carried a steel-yard, and knew
and registered the weight of everything I carried.
I mentioned that the Ovampo had fowls; they are very pretty small
bantams, and I bought three—thinking that being a new breed they might
have some points about them which would be valuable to poultry fanciers;
they eat very little, and laid eggs every day. I put them in an Ovampo
basket, covered it with a piece of skin, and made one of the Damara women
carry it on her head.
_June 15th._—We left Nangoro’s in company with Chik, and with Tippoo,
who did the honours for Nangoro. The oxen kicked excessively with their
packs. Kahikenè’s black ox ripped up with his horns two of the bags of
corn that he carried, and galloped about, kicking and tossing like mad.
We caught him at last, and had him down, and sawed off the tips of his
horns on the spot. We were about three hours in doing four miles, and had
to encamp under a tree; the first start is always the most troublesome
part of a journey.
_June 16th._—Travelled four hours and slept at the vley. The oxen were
so stiff that I had to take them on by easy stages. They strayed in the
night, and were not recovered till past midday. Spooring is out of the
question in Ondonga, as the ground is trodden up everywhere. Luckily the
oxen had done no damage, only a little trespass, and we went on to Chik’s
house, where we stopped. There was evidently no means of getting water
for the cattle before leaving Ondonga, so we made ready to be off very
early. The morning came, and, to our surprise, Chik would not go with
us. We persuaded him to go as far as Netjo’s, whom we knocked up out of
his snug hut in the chill early morning, and wishing him and his family
an affectionate adieu, gave him the last beads that we had, and started
away on our old track to Damara-land.
It was with the greatest relief that I once again felt myself my own
master, and could go when I liked and as I liked; anything for liberty,
even though among the thorn-bushes.
I was sincerely grieved that Chik would not return with us, as he was a
person of great consequence in the country, and I had hoped that by his
means the Damara-land Missionaries would be enabled easily to extend
their stations among the Ovampo, which was an object they had long hoped
for. They would also have had leisure to learn from him enough of the
Ovampo language to make themselves independent of an interpreter. I
believe Chik wanted to go, but he could persuade no companions to join
him, and, naturally enough, did not like to go alone.
The oxen went very steadily and quickly, and although we had often to
adjust their packs, yet we made eight hours’ actual travelling by four
o’clock; they seemed to know they were going home; we then stopped in
a grassy place, and the oxen had the first good meal they had enjoyed
for more than a fortnight. It was quite pleasant to watch their lank
sides distending. There was no time to be lost, so that we were up and
packed and off before day-break. The night was bitterly cold, and when
we started the Damaras and ourselves carried firebrands, breathing their
smoke to keep us warm. We travelled five hours and came to the edge of
the flat. There are wells of brackish water there. The oxen were utterly
tired, for we had gone quickly, and the sun was intensely hot after a
cold night. I thought the oxen might choose to drink the water though we
could not, so I off-packed and tried them, but they refused although now
forty-eight hours without water. They would not eat either. We packed up
again after noon and struggled over the flat. The oxen were dead-tired;
they tripped their legs together and looked as miserable as could be,
but just before night-fall we reached the wells; there is no shelter nor
firewood here, but the bleak wind sweeps over the flat, and tired as we
were we had to watch the oxen all night. They drank excessively, and then
wandered restlessly about in the dark, so that during my watch I could
hardly keep them together, though running and walking a great part of the
time.
That night fairly broke the constitutions of Frieschland, Timmerman,
Buchau, and Kahikenè’s ox, and severely tried all the others. The first
four were never the same oxen again that they had been before. We stayed
at the wells till the forenoon of the next day, and then pushed through
the Ovampo werft at the south border of the flat, and off-packed at
Etosha.
_June 21st._—We arrived at Omutchamatunda, which we now found deserted,
except by a few Bushmen. We pushed on the day after to beyond Otjando,
and then following our old spoor we arrived safely at Otchikoto; there
we took a day’s rest, and amused ourselves in bathing. I made some
fish-hooks out of needles, and caught about a hundred small fish, which
we eat. We could hear nothing of the waggons from the Bushmen. News
travels very slowly in these parts.
Even at Otchikango no information could be obtained. Ootui was deserted,
and we were sick with anxiety. If Chapupa had played false with Hans,
what should we do?—a handful of men on worn-out beasts, with all the
savage Damaras and a dried-up country in front.
_June 30th._—Three hours from Okamabuti, we came upon Damaras; they
said that the waggons were to have started that very morning to rejoin
Chapupa, who had changed his encampment some days previously. Hans, they
said, was well, but they knew nothing more. We rode to Namboshua, took a
drink of water there, and then, two hours after, came upon our waggons’
spoor, and upon Okamabuti at the same time. We anxiously examined the
now deserted kraal for tokens that all was right. We found John Morta’s
cooking fire still burning, and unmistakable signs of his handiwork
about, so that no harm had happened to him. Phlebus’ spoor was recognised
directly; he had a large foot and walked flatly, and we found some signs
of John Williams. As the cattle kraal was well trodden down, my oxen were
probably all well; after a long search and comparing remarks, we rested
satisfied that no great mishap could have befallen the party, and that
Hans had trekked on, either for better pasturage or for some other good
reason. It was clear, from what the Damaras said, that the waggons were
not very far off; and as the news of our arrival would reach them the
same night, I off-packed the tired beasts and intended to give them a
good feed in the morning—waiting till Hans either sent me some Damaras
or came himself to take me on. As we were off-packing, to my dismay I
found that we were one pack ox short, and he was the animal that carried
my MSS., nautical almanac, gun tools, bullet moulds, and numberless
nick-nacks, that were particularly necessary to me. One never counts
oxen on the road; they are so gregarious, that, as a general rule, it is
quite unnecessary. In this case we had all been pressing forwards and
riding in front of the drove, and none of us could tell whether we had
seen the lost one since our first start. It was a very awkward case, for
the country was stony in part, and, where not stony, ploughed up with
the spoors of the lately migrating Damara oxen. Tired as they were, two
of my men and three Damaras went back after him, and, strangely enough,
at Namboshua, and by one of those chances that travellers are so often
indebted to, one of these Damaras came right upon him as he was lying
down, tired, among some thick trees; he was, of course, brought back in
triumph.
The next morning a posse of my Damaras came running joyfully to me; they
had heard of my arrival at the waggons the previous night, and came to
tell me the news and escort me to them. My party had trekked on with
Chapupa, to be near him for the sake of protection, as the Bushmen had of
late been stealing a great deal in the neighbourhood.
_July 1st._—After three or four hours’ ride, I recognised the burly form
of my faithful servant Hans, on the look-out at the top of a hill. To my
extreme relief I learnt that all had gone on well; that Chapupa, although
troublesome, had done no mischief; that several sheep had been bought,
that the oxen were well, and the axletree was as successful a piece of
carpenter’s work as the one that had been broken. Chapupa had bought
things and never paid for them, and, being in disgrace, sneaked away from
me. Kasupi was our principal friend now; he said that it was absurd to
try to go back the way we came, as of all the watering-places at which
we drank between Kutjiamakompè and Omanbondè, a journey of three weeks,
not more than two now remained that were not dry. He said that we must
return by the Omaramba, where we should find both water and grass, and
that he would guide us there and start us. A lad made his appearance, who
said that he knew the Omaramba road perfectly, and under these escorts we
proceeded. Numbers of Damaras wished to join me: I allowed a few to do
so, and my party now numbered thirty-four. We returned by our old road
to Okatjokeama, and then turned to the left. At a werft there I found
my old guide who had stolen the horse-rug and run away from me. He had
the impudence to wear it before my eyes. He was six feet seven inches
high, and large in proportion, and therefore too heavy for me to give a
shaking to, and I dared not whip him, so I only pulled the rug off his
back and rated him soundly.
We hit the Omoramba and followed it to the confluence of its two
branches. Game began now to show, and we had no need to kill any oxen. We
had some charming hunts—one after wild boars. Kasupi could not, any more
than the other Damaras, give me much information about the road _down_
the Omoramba. It seemed most unfavourable to waggon travelling. They said
the Omoramba ran between hills where Ghou Damup lived, and the Damaras
dare not go there.
If my ride-oxen had not been so entirely worn out, and the country so
arid, I should have much liked an excursion in that direction, which, as
I have since discovered, would be a most interesting route. Now, however,
it was out of the question.
_July 12th._—My entire werft at Okavarè consisted of eighty cattle, and
110 sheep and goats; of these many belonged to the men, and not to me. I
had only seventy cattle and eighty sheep and goats: of these about forty
were useful waggon oxen, and fifteen ride and pack, leaving me a surplus
of fifteen slaughter oxen and the eighty small cattle. My articles of
exchange were at a very low ebb indeed, although I had a small further
supply at Walfisch Bay. I had no reason to expect getting more than ten
oxen with them in Damara-land; but when I arrived among the Hottentots,
I intended to sell one of my waggons for forty or fifty oxen, which can
always be done; and thus becoming independent, should have amply enough
for a second excursion on a smaller scale.
We now trekked steadily up the Omoramba, and one day’s work was like
another’s. There were wells every two, three, or four hours, but deep
ones, and choked with sand, which we had on every occasion to clear out,
working for hours, and often half through the night. The river-bed is
sometimes a broad reach of sand with high banks, sometimes imperceptible,
except to a very practised eye. Thorns of course hem it in.
The few incidents that occurred on our return journey were these. One
night we slept close to water-holes: our encampment was anything but a
quiet one; and the dogs barked all night, as they almost invariably did.
We had watered the oxen out of a heavy wooden trough that Damaras had
made and left at the wells, and this trough blocked up the pathway down
to the largest well. In the morning, to our surprise, we found elephant
spoors all about us: three large ones and two calves. They had pushed the
trough to one side, and walked down to the well till their trunks could
reach the water, and had stamped the sand in, and made a great mess of
our handiwork. Then they had walked close round us till their minds were
satisfied, and finally moved off straight away across country.
A very large springbok was shot, which we weighed against a large and fat
sheep that we killed. The first was 120 pounds; the second, 112 pounds.
Damara sheep stand much higher than our English sheep, and have no wool;
the hair of their hides is like that of a calf. Hans sold two of his curs
to some of the Damaras for two oxen each. I cannot conceive what could
have induced them to make such a bargain. They were keen upon dogs, for
they offered four oxen for another one, “Watch;” but he was too useful to
me in worrying night marauders to be spared.
We had a fine night for chevying hyenas. After one was killed, and
everything was silent, I sent a Damara out among the bushes to imitate
their howl, that we might hear the others answer, and know where they
were. He did it so successfully, that all the dogs were at him in an
instant, and he was bitten.
_July 17th._—Our old friend the hill Omuvereoom came into sight. The air
was very thick and cold at nights. The sky had quite an English November
appearance. We found ice about us nearly every morning since leaving
Ondonga. For the last three weeks I have observed that there is a vast
deal of electricity in the air, every woollen thing crackles when rubbed
with the hand. My large black dog “Wolf” is quite a powerful electrical
machine when his back is stroked down.
_July 25th._—We arrived at Ontikeremba, where there are a great many deep
wells, about four feet in diameter, and thirty feet deep. A row of four
men contrived to hand up the water out of them; but it was as much as
they could do. I can hear nothing of the proceedings of the Hottentots,
during my absence, but learnt the full particulars of Kahikenè’s death.
The bed of the Omoramba is now that of a small sandy streamlet; yet
wells are found in numbers along it.
_July 26th._—At Otjikururumè we came in full sight of Diambotodthu, and
Omatako was right before us.
_July 28th._—Left the Omoramba, along which we had been travelling every
day (except two) for more than a fortnight; and on July 29th arrived at
Okandjoë.
We had now passed through the midst of Omagundè’s country; but he had
moved to where Kahikenè had been staying, and therefore I saw nothing of
him. Crowds of Damaras and nearly one thousand head of cattle were at
Okandjoë, where there is copious well-water. I sent in a civil way to beg
the use of two wells for my cattle; but the Damaras were very impudent,
and refused. We therefore seized upon the wells, and the Damaras became
obliging and highly courteous.
It gave us quite a home feeling to see the hills that we knew so well
round about us. I was now safe as regards water; for by my map I knew the
distance to Kutjiamakompè, and thence, happen what might, I could pass
through to Schmelen’s Hope. We heard some news of the missionaries here,
that Mr. Hahn had been to Omaruru, and also that the Hottentots had been
quiet, and not plundering.
_July 31st._—Arrived at Kutjiamakompè, and were once again on our old
waggon-spoors. It was strange to see how the dry season had altered the
place: I should never have recognised it at a cursory glance. The fine
sheet of vley water was now baked earth, and we drove over it to wells
which were on the other side.
_August 1st._—In the clear evening we passed over the ridge which
separates the water-shed of the Swakop from that of the Omoramba. The
Schmelen’s Hope Hills, and those by Jonker, and opposite to Barmen, rose
into view at once, and we took our farewell leave of the beautiful cones
of Omatako and the other high landmarks that had so long guided us.
We found water at Okamabondè, and next day at Okandu, whence I sent a
messenger on to Barmen with a note.
_August 3rd._—We rested at Schmelen’s Hope, and, August 4th, arrived
safely at Barmen, being a year all but ten days from the time when I
sailed from Cape Town, and five months from the day that the waggons
left Schmelen’s Hope; of these five months ninety days were employed in
journeying onwards, independently of such excursions as were made from
time to time to look out for roads. It occupied fifty days of travel
to reach Nangoro’s from Schmelen’s Hope, and forty days to come back
again. The return distance was 168 hours, or about 462 miles, and we were
forty-nine days on the road, nine of them being days of rest or necessary
delay. This gives, including stoppages, an average of nine and a half
miles a day, which is very fair travelling for a continuance, even over
known roads.
CHAPTER IX.
The Waggons are condemned.—Messengers to the Cape.—The
Kaoko.—History of Damara-land.—Ghou Damup Genealogies.—Start
for Elephant Fountain.—Excessive Drought.—Engage Eybrett.—Sell
my Cart and Mules.—Travel from Eikhams.—Shooting Giraffes in
the Dusk.—Elephant Fountain.—Numerous Pitfalls.—Plundering
Expeditions.—The Kubabees reach ’Ngami.—Trouble of taking
Observations.—Leave Waggon and ride to the East.—Engage
Saul.—Hans and a Lion.—We enter the Bushman Tract.—Rhinoceros
Skulls.—Hear of the Kubabees Hottentots.—Start for
’Tounobis.—Shoot a White Rhinoceros.—Reach ’Tounobis.—Elephant
in a Pitfall.—Prepare for Sport.—Night-Watching for
Game.—Rhinoceros Veal.—Opera-glasses.—Herd of Elephants.—Fights
and Frolics.—Bulk of the Rhinoceros.—A Picturesque
Finale.—Spring Hares.—Remarks on my Route.—Unicorns
and Cockatrices.—Bushmen Springes.—Setting Guns at
Night.—Description of Plate.—Poisoned Arrows.
During my absence some little news had been received from Europe, for an
Englishman had arrived by ship and settled near Walfisch Bay, to try his
hand at cattle-trading; and one newspaper had been received through his
means. Of my own family I heard no tidings, and of course had been unable
to receive any since I had left England, a year and four months previous
to this time.
The missionaries receive their communications once in every two years,
unless, by some chance accident, a post can be dispatched by ship from
Cape Town. They tried to establish sets of messengers from Rehoboth to
the Orange River, but the road is so long and difficult that the plan had
to be abandoned. One of these messengers murdered his comrade, and said
that he had been eaten by a lion; at another time the letters were spoilt
by the rains: on every occasion there was some delay or accident.
I was delighted to find that the Hottentots had remained very peaceable,
only those under Cornelius having done any mischief to the Damaras during
my absence. Confidence was being restored, and troops of Damaras were
gathered about the watering-places and pasturages of the Swakop, which
had long been abandoned on account of their dangerous proximity to Jonker.
Now, as regards my own plans, the waggons were pronounced scarcely fit
for an overland journey to the Cape. The tires of the wheels were worn
out; the mended axletree was of doubtful wood; and the waggons were
altogether become rickety. On the other hand, the missionaries expected
a vessel some time not earlier than December, and we were now at the
beginning of August. If, then, I returned by the ship, I should have
August, September, October, and half November, to do what I liked in, and
leaving Barmen not later than the end of the first fortnight in November,
I could easily push down to the bay in time to join the vessel.
As a way of ridding myself of the waggons and all my remaining
properties, I should arrange with Hans to act as agent for me to convert
them into oxen, and drive them for sale down to the colony, by which
means I should recover some part of their value.
Then in order to occupy the fifteen weeks that I had to spare, I intended
to make a quick journey to the eastward, both for the purpose of seeing
something of the Hottentots, and also to find out whether, as I had at
first been assured was the case, the Karrikarri Desert was interposed as
an impracticable barrier between the sea-coast countries and Lake ’Ngami.
I divided my party into two: one waggon went down with Hans to the bay,
to bring back all the articles of exchange that I had left there; and the
other waggon, together with all my ride-oxen, went with me by Jonker’s
village on my road to the east.
To make matters more secure, I dispatched messengers to the Orange River,
in obtaining whom Swartboy very kindly assisted me; and among my letters,
I wrote one to the agent of the missionaries in Cape Town, offering to
bear a certain part of the expense of the vessel, on condition that it
was dispatched not earlier than the 1st of December, or later than the
last of January. We then busied ourselves for a week in packing, and in
repairs, and in enjoying Mr. Hahn’s kind hospitality.
Mr. Hahn had made an excursion to Omaruru during my absence, in company
with Katjimaha’s sons. It is a spring, situated in the neighbourhood of
extensive pasturage, a very important place to the Damaras, and about
four and a half days’ travel from Barmen, being a little way beyond
Erongo,—the Ghou Damup mountain that I have already mentioned. Omaruru
is a rendezvous for the caravans that travel between the Damaras and the
sea-side Ovampo; and immediately north of it begins a broad barren tract
called the Kaoko, which those caravans have to cross, and which, though
now very thinly inhabited, appears to have been the original home of the
Damara nation.
I heard of the safety of three of my mules who had travelled down to
Scheppmansdorf and taken up their quarters there; they grazed, strayed,
and slept just where they pleased, for the Hottentots could not manage
them. They were five in number when they ran away from me at Schmelen’s
Hope, but two of them must have been killed on the road by lions; they
certainly did not die of starvation, for the other three arrived at
Scheppmansdorf very plump and in good condition.
I ought to mention that the horse distemper does not appear to exist at
Scheppmansdorf: five or six horses have at different times been kept
there, but none have suffered from the disease.
I had much satisfaction in comparing the results of my inquiries with
those of Mr. Hahn, with regard to the earlier history of Damara-land.
It appears undoubted that seventy years ago not a single Damara existed
in the parts where I had been travelling, but that they all lived in
the Kaoko, while tribes of Bushmen and Ghou Damup possessed the entire
country between the Orange River and the Ovampo, excepting only the Kaoko
on the north-west, and the central Karrikarri desert on the east.
The Ghou Damup, though treated kindly by the Bushmen, were always
considered as inferiors, and the two races never intermarried. The Ghou
Damup lived then, as they do now, about the hills, and the Bushmen on the
plains. I saw an old Damara, and an old Ghou Damup who remembered this
state of things, and several who were born just after it was put an end
to; among these was Katjimaha himself who looks about sixty-five years
old.
The Damaras at that time made a sweeping invasion eastwards, right across
the country, to the very neighbourhood of Lake ’Ngami, and attacked the
Mationa (as they call the people who live there).
Subsequently the Mationa retaliated and invaded the land as far as Barmen
on one occasion, and on a second attack passed up the Omoramba as far as
Omanbondè. The last Mationa invasion took place about twenty-two years
ago. The result of all this fighting was that the Bushmen tribes have
been exterminated or driven out of the whole pasture country between
Barmen and Okamabuti (the place where the waggon broke down), and the
Damaras inhabit it in their stead. Eastwards, they are now separated
from the Mationa by only a broad strip of barren country. The Ghou Damup
live in large communities about a mountainous district on the lower part
of the Omoramba, where they appear to be by no means an impoverished
nation, but agriculturists and traders with the Ovampo and other nations
to the north. My own belief is, that very long ago the Ghou Damup were
the aborigines not only of the present Damara-land but also of the whole
country to the south of it half way down to the Orange River, and that
they are of a race in every respect kindred to the Ovampo. The Bushmen
appear to have invaded and thoroughly conquered the Ghou Damup, for they
not only exist as the superior caste of the two, but have also taught
them their language, to the entire exclusion of whatever other one they
may at some former period have possessed. Those Ghou Damup that I saw
have no tradition of any other language than that they used; but the
tribes who live on the lower parts of the Omoramba were described as
speaking several languages; and some of these were said to be ignorant of
Hottentot.
All these bits of information were derived from very many sources; some
I received from persons in Damara-land, some from Ghou Damup among the
Namaquas, and the rest from Bushmen who lived far to the east of them.
The Ghou Damup are abused and tyrannised over by everybody, but servitude
has become their nature, and the very name of Ghou which they themselves
adopt and use is far from complimentary. Like many other Hottentot names
it is not translatable to ears polite. The missionaries for delicacy’s
sake call them “Hill” Damaras, because they live on the hills.
A standing joke against the Ghou Damup is, that they trace their descent
from the monkey tribe. An old man amongst them gave me the following
history of his family; he worded it very neatly:—“My great uncle was a
baboon, and lived on excellent terms with the rest of the family, but
the following occurrence caused his separation from it. My grandfather
had been gambling, and lost all the ornaments, &c., that he had on his
person, but wishing to continue the game, requested his brother the
baboon to go to my great grandfather, the famous Hadji-Aybib, and beg
enough beads from him to form another stake. My great uncle the baboon
went, but passing a Hottentot werft by the way, in which were many
fierce dogs, before unknown in the country, he became so alarmed at
their barking and snapping at him that he ran to the hills, and never
dared face man again. Why should not we and the baboons be brothers?”
said the old gentleman. “Everybody persecutes us alike. We both live on
the hills, eat the same roots, and ‘crow’ for them with our hands in
the same manner!” Hadji-Aybib, my friend’s great grandfather, married a
Bushwoman for his second wife, who annoyed her step sons by her hauteur,
and twitted them on account of their vulgar habits and low connections.
Influenced by her, Hadji-Aybib cruelly treated his Damup progeny, and
they on their part earnestly longed for his death. One day he was
missing, rumour gave out that he was killed, and the sons gave way to the
greatest paroxysms of merriment, during which they behaved in such an
unseemly manner before the eyes of their fine lady Hottentot connections
that on Hadji-Aybib’s return,—for he was not killed after all,—they were
obliged, from absolute shame, to hide themselves away from his presence,
and fled to the hills, bearing with them the reproachful name of Ghou
Damup.
_August 13th._—Our party separated, one detachment _en route_ to the
bay, and Andersson, Timboo, John Morta, Phlebus, and myself, travelling
towards Lake ’Ngami. I took only five or six of the most active Damaras
with me, and appointed the neighbourhood of Jonker’s werft as a place of
rendezvous for both parties at the beginning of November.
The dryness of the country was now really alarming; all the
watering-places that remained were crowded with cattle, and every blade
of grass within miles of them was being eaten off. Over a great part of
Damara-land rain had not fallen more than ten times during the whole
rainy season; and a mortality from actual starvation had already begun
among the cattle, and the year will probably be remembered and named by
the Damaras as that of the great drought.
It was therefore no easy matter for me to travel about; but I had one
advantage on my side, which was, that on the road, when far away from
watering-places and the grazing limits of the cattle by them, I often
found grass, and there I outspanned to sleep, and let the oxen feed, then
travelling on in the morning I came to the next watering-place at the
middle of the day, when the cattle of the natives were all sent off to
the fields, and the wells were disengaged. I thus ensured an evening’s
meal to the oxen, and also one in the early morning, if they chose to eat
it, and water in the middle of the day, but no more.
On the road to Jonker we found hardly any grass, and I do not know how I
should have been able to keep my cattle at his place, if it were not that
a valley was left unoccupied, owing to a superstitious feeling arising
from a cattle-watcher having been lately murdered there by the Damaras.
Jonker received me very kindly, and I expressed to him how glad I was to
hear of the excellent manner in which he had kept order among his people
during my absence. He had, I knew, been put to very great trouble in
doing so, as the disposition to pillage is general among the Hottentots,
and requires a far more despotic ruler to repress than Jonker or anybody
else in this republican part of the world is allowed to be.
I found a man settled here who was of great use to me, and whom I
engaged; he was white, and born in the Cape; spoke English and Dutch
perfectly, and was brought by the missionaries here as half-carpenter,
half-schoolmaster. He, however, did not suit them, and had for a long
time been dismissed their service; I found him installed as Jonker’s
prime minister. He spoke Hottentot very fairly, and had a winning manner
about him that vastly smoothed down the minor difficulties of my way;
and though he was always getting himself and us into scrapes, yet he had
a marvellous faculty of creeping out of them again. Eybrett, for that
was his name, undertook to guide me to Elephant Fountain, a deserted
station on the northern frontier of Amiral’s tribe. No waggon had passed
that road for years, and the way led along a country which was rarely
travelled over, owing to its being a border district between the Damaras
and Namaquas.
Elephant Fountain and the country immediately adjacent had been the
Ultima Thule of missionaries and traders, but the Oerlams, under Amiral,
had recently extended themselves about forty miles further to the east,
and on their late shooting excursions had reached a point considerably
more distant. I was assured that the appearance of the land would be
found to alter considerably, the thorns and rugged hills of Damara-land
giving place to broad plains, and grass, and timber trees. Beyond was the
desert which had hitherto been considered quite impassable, except for
men on foot, after the rainy season, and which therefore barred out the
lands of the west coast from those of Central Africa.
It was principally with a view to try if this desert were really
impassable that I proposed now to travel, and my object was to strike
upon some road that led from the colony up to Lake ’Ngami. The Lake
itself I was indifferent about reaching, for it is of no great size,
and might prove a very unhealthy place for us, who had been accustomed
so long to the pure air of a high plateau. It was two years since its
discovery, and there was every reason to suppose that it was by this time
perfectly well known. Lastly, I should never get on amongst the blacks
there without an interpreter, being, as they are, deadly enemies to
the Damaras, from whose side I should have come. I also looked forward
with much pleasure to a little sport, for game had been so scarce in
Damara-land that it made shooting a real toil.
I sold my cart and harness which were lying at Otjimbinguè, and the three
mules which were at Scheppmansdorf, to Jonker; he gave me twenty oxen
and forty milch goats for them; but all my efforts to buy horses were
unavailing. He, however, gave me a mount to Rehoboth, where I went to
induce Swartboy to meet Jonker and Cornelius, and settle many matters
that were in dispute between them, and also to overawe Cornelius and keep
him in better order, for he had lately been stealing a great deal of
Damara cattle.
My Hottentot interpreters now were Eybrett and Phlebus; but Eybrett was
an educated man, and could interpret from English to Hottentot at once,
so that I generally employed him. He was an excellent interpreter into
Dutch when he chose to take pains.
We had between us a motley command of languages; for including those
of Europe, one or other of the party could converse fluently in nine
different languages—English, French, Swedish, Dutch, Danish, Portuguese,
Hottentot, Damara, and Movisa; besides having some acquaintance with
German, Arabic, Caffre, and a smattering of Ovampo.
It will be tedious to describe my journey now as minutely as I did that
in Damara-land, for it was much the same thing over again—uncertainty
of the way and want of water; but we had become far quicker and more
self-confident in emergencies, and were altogether a very active and
efficient body of men. Among my Damaras I had two of the smartest men and
best runners that could be found in the country; all of them, indeed,
were picked men, and they had become much attached to us, and worked very
well, and willingly.
In a few hours from Eikhams we had emerged from the valley of the Swakop
on to the high plateau. Thence we followed the Quieep River easterly:
this we left for the Noosop, crossing a broad plain, and having some
shooting; we then followed the Noosop, and game began to appear in
abundance. We passed one great herd of springboks that were migrating;
they eat up the grass almost as locusts would on their way. It was by no
means so numerous a herd as is often seen in Bechuana country; but the
tufts of white hair on the backs of the males were as thickly scattered
over the country as daisies on a lawn. We never had to kill oxen,—only
sheep now and then, for the sake of the fat; for all the game was very
dry; and where you have no vegetables, fat becomes an essential element
of food.
It was a great drawback to us that elands were hardly ever seen in this
country: they are the staple food of sportsmen in Bechuana-land, and are
very fat.
We discovered how to shoot giraffes on foot from Andersson having gone
successfully after a herd in the dusk of the evening, when we found that
they allowed him to stalk close up to them. They see very indistinctly in
the dark. He shot at two, who did not run far when wounded, but seemed
bewildered. He fired all his bullets away at them, and brought one to
a stand-still, and the other to a slow walk; but they would not fall.
He could only find one pebble in the sandy soil to fire out of the gun,
instead of a bullet, and that seemed to have no effect upon the animal:
he then thought of hamstringing them; but though he nicked the skin of
one deeply, yet as he struck out both with his horns and heels when he
did so, it was too dangerous to continue the attempt. In despair, he
took his rifle-barrel (which was a common thick thing) from the stock,
and kept flinging it at the giraffe’s head like a knob-kerrie, and at
length the beast dropped. In the morning the other one had walked away;
and though he was tracked a couple of miles, yet he could not be found.
We jerked the giraffe, that is, cut the flesh that we did not eat into
strips, and dried them in the sun. The skin was of great service to us,
as our shoes were worn out, and wanted new soles. It is strange to see
in how small a compass the meat of the whole animal packs up when it is
dried.
Something was shot every day till we came to Kurrikoop, and there we
slept out by the water. A buffalo, a gnu, five zebras, two hartebeests,
and three roebucks were “bagged” in two nights. The natives of the place
had a grand feast: and so had we.
At Elephant Fountain we found Amiral, and about forty men, who had just
arrived there, _en route_ for a shooting excursion to the east. They
take their waggons with them for some days, and then make an encampment,
whence they journey short distances on ride-oxen, and shoot what they
can, bringing the meat back jerked to the waggon. It was delightful to
hear people talk familiarly of the rhinoceros as an everyday kind of
game, and we longed for a raid upon them. I had not yet seen a single
rhinoceros. One was shot by Andersson and Hans when they went down to the
bay, but I was not then present. On the last shooting excursion Amiral’s
men had “bagged” forty of them.
Elephant Fountain is a rather copious spring on the side of a black
thorny hill, above a narrow river-bed. Herds of animals come here to
drink; and the ground at the principal place is bored full of pitfalls.
By arranging the bushes in different ways, different sets of paths and
pitfalls can be used at pleasure, and the animals are unscared by the
smell of the blood of their companions, who may have been caught and
slaughtered the preceding evening. No less than thirty-four zebras were
entrapped in one night. We could not of course shoot here, as it might
frighten the game away, and there was no great temptation, as only zebras
and roebucks came to drink. There were a great many lions about, some
of whom had lately taken two men, who had sat up watching for game; but
none troubled us. In the day-time, while we were waiting for Amiral, a
few animals were shot, and jerked as food for the party that was to stay
with the waggon, for I intended to let it stop here, and to ride on with
Andersson, Eybrett, and Timboo, leaving John Morta and Phlebus behind.
Elephant Fountain acquired its name from the enormous number of tusks
that were found in the water of this place. When the Hottentots settled
there, the pool into which the water runs was overgrown with reeds, and
harboured lions and hyenas, and all kinds of wild beasts. So the reeds
were burnt down, and the pool cleared out: it was not at all a large
one, perhaps twenty-five paces across; but in the mud at the bottom of
it they found quantities of elephants’ bones and tusks, so that a trader
bought enough ivory to fill more than one, and I think two waggons with
it. Elephants were then numerous at the place, but they have now quitted
it.
A very fatal intermittent fever occurs here, and has depopulated the
place more than once; it breaks out in April, and rages for two or
three months. It does not extend to the west of the place; I cannot say
whether or no it does to the east. Amiral told me that the Mationa, or
Bechuanas, as he called them, occasionally visited him; but that, having
no interpreter, he could not converse with them. One large party of
chiefs had just left Wesley Vale. He said that the Bushmen had always
told him that the desert to the east was impassable; but that from time
to time they had found springs in their hunting excursions; and that very
likely there was a way across it, if the Bushmen would only choose to
point it out. It seemed that the desert was bare sand opposite to Wesley
Vale, four days south of Elephant Fountain, but covered with grass at
this latitude. I therefore had good reason to hope that we should turn
its flank. Last year a large party of Kubabees Hottentots (who live a
few days east of Bethany) rode up to the north, passing alongside of
Amiral’s country; but far to the east of it, they came to a place called
“Tounobis,” whence they made plundering excursions on all sides: some
against the Damaras, and some against the Mationa, who lived on Lake
’Ngami itself. A nephew of Amiral’s, who could write Dutch, was in the
expedition, and sent Amiral a letter about it. He described the boats
that were there, and said much about the alligators, who killed very many
of their dogs. The Hottentots made a most murderous excursion, having
fallen upon a village that was situated on the river, connected with the
west of the lake, and cut every person’s throat they could lay hands
on. They then robbed the huts and decamped with their booty. Carosses,
made of skins that were unknown to them, were amongst the plunder. The
lake itself they did not dare to go to; a hill or mountain was pointed
out to them, at the foot of which not only the lake, but a large werft
of natives were; and these they did not venture to approach. I was told
that I should probably see the Bushmen, who guided them. Amiral was very
anxious to lay hold of these Bushmen, and require them not to guide
strangers, as the harm which the Kubabees Hottentots had done would
probably be retaliated on his head.
It was most likely on a visit of expostulation, or as spies, that the
Mationa chiefs had been to Wesley Vale; but as no interpreter could be
found, the interview ended in nothing but an exchange of presents. I
heard that there was a woman born among the Mationa, but now naturalised
in Amiral’s tribe; and I sent messengers long distances to try and bring
her, but she was not to be found—only her two half-caste children, who
knew nothing but Hottentot.
The country appeared to have become quite devoid of all landmarks, only
a few rising heads and long undulating ridges being visible, which I
could make no use of in triangulating. I had brought my triangulations
to within eleven hours of Elephant Fountain, and, indeed, with a slight
gap, to Elephant Fountain itself; but here it seemed that they must
cease, so I took a great number of lunars, to fix as accurately as I
could the position of the place. I had done the same at Okamabuti, which
was the northern limit, or near to it, of my network of triangles; that
of Walfisch Bay was given by Captain Owen’s survey, and I had taken many
sets at Barmen, as a check upon the whole. These were all observed with
a large sextant, for which I had contrived a stand; but in travelling on
ox-back I was obliged to leave this behind, as being much too cumbrous to
carry, and packed a small but excellent circle among plenty of stockings,
&c., in a fishing-basket, which I made a man strap on his back. With
this circle I had already taken sets for longitude at Ondonga, and I
proposed now doing the same at the most eastern point I should arrive at,
filling up the intermediate places by a careful dead reckoning, checked
by latitudes. I had so few subjects of interest in the journey, that
taking sets of observations, which would be a great nuisance to a person
under any other circumstances, was to me a source of occupation and a
great pleasure, and I slaved at it. It requires some care to “pit” one
observation against another, so as to eliminate the error of a doubtful
instrument.
The packing and unpacking is troublesome, and an instrument cannot be
left for a moment unguarded, or the goats will butt at it, the sheep and
dogs run over it, or the oxen brush against it; and it is cold work,
having to leave the fire, that its glare may be avoided, and to wait for
the culminating of one star after another.
We were detained longer than we ought to have been at Elephant Fountain,
by a break-down of Amiral’s waggon, just as he was starting, but, as
it was a light vehicle and the roads were level, a piece of green wood
was made into an axletree, and we were ready to proceed in two days.
Our dates were, left Jonker, August 30th; arrived at Elephant Fountain,
September 14th; proceeded, September 19th.
Hardly a Hottentot lived at Elephant Fountain, but there were large
werfts of Berg Damaras there, who of course belonged to Amiral. I
therefore felt no fear whatever at leaving my two men, for there is
security of life in the country of the Hottentots, and we parted in high
spirits for a six weeks’ tour, my time being limited by the expected
arrival of the ship at Walfisch Bay, from which I was now distant 156
hours (390 miles), or, with a single span of oxen, at least a month’s
journey off.
We rode over to ’Twas in eleven hours, following the track of Amiral’s
waggon, and there we found a large werft. I engaged a Dutchman, by
name Saul, whom I found there. He was to take two or three pack-oxen,
and to pack them himself, and to help my party in everything. He was a
well-known shot, spoke Hottentot perfectly, and was just the man I wanted.
It seemed to me that, small as Amiral’s tribe was, it was infinitely the
most civilised of all I had seen, and seemed possessed of more resources
by far than either Swartboy’s or Cornelius’. I mean that, with the usual
articles of exchange, whatever was wanted, might be found and bought
there with far more facility than elsewhere. The others keep no “stock in
hand” of anything, but scramble on from hand to mouth. If you want a pair
of leather trousers made, the goat must be killed and the skin dressed,
for nobody cares to keep a spare piece of leather. In the same way with
carosses, each man has his own sleeping things, but no overplus by him to
sell. Every Hottentot has his ride-ox, which he will not dream of parting
with until he has broken in another one to take its place, and there
is a want of _capital_ everywhere, so that although a traveller may be
abundantly supplied with articles of exchange, and the natives around him
by no means badly off, yet it does not at all follow that he will find
anybody to barter with him as he journeys through their country.
_September 24th._—We left ’Twas on our shooting excursion. I took no
dogs: mine were useless curs for anything else but night-watching; and
under the guidance of Saul we travelled five hours and a half, passing
a succession of little springs on our way. Early the next morning we
went three hours to the place of rendezvous, and Amiral came shortly
afterwards: numbers of other Hottentots soon dropped in, and we had
a very merry evening, telling tales, and talking about the habits of
animals. Of course we had lion and elephant stories in abundance. I was
curious to know what animals here were the most fatal to man, and we
counted over all the deaths that we could think of. Buffaloes (though
not common here) killed the most, then rhinoceroses, and lastly, lions.
Areep, the predecessor of Cornelius, as chief of his tribe, was killed by
a black rhinoceros. It is curious how many people are wounded by lions,
though not killed. A very active Damara, who was some time with me in
Damara-land, but who stayed behind as I journeyed up the country, was
in a dreadfully mangled state when I returned. He had found a lion in
the act of striking down his ox, and rushed at him with his assegai: he
gave him a wound that must have proved mortal, for the assegai went far
into his side; but the lion turned upon him, and seizing him, bit one
elbow-joint quite through, and continued worrying him until some other
Damaras ran up and killed the animal. My servant, Hans, had a very narrow
escape some time since. He was riding old Frieschland (the most useful ox
I had, but now worn out by the Ondonga journey) along the Swakop, when he
saw something dusky by the side of a camelthorn tree, two hundred yards
off. This was a lion, that rose and walked towards him: Hans had his
gun in his gun-bag by the side of his saddle, and rode on, for there is
no use in provoking hostilities single-handed with a lion, unless some
object has to be gained by it, as every sportsman at last acknowledges.
The coolest hand and the best shot are never safe, for a bullet, however
well aimed, is not certain to put the animal _hors de combat_. After the
lion had walked some twenty or thirty yards, Frieschland, the ox, either
saw or smelt him, and became furious. Hans had enough to do to keep his
seat; for a powerful long-horned ox tossing his head about and plunging
wildly is a most awkward hack for the best of jockeys. The lion galloped
up. He and Hans were side by side. The lion made his spring, and one
heavy paw came on the nape of the ox’s neck, and rolled him over; the
other clutched at Hans’ arm, and tore the sleeve of his shirt to ribbons,
but did not wound him, and there they all three lay. Hans, though he was
thrown upon his gun, contrived to wriggle it out, the lion snarling and
clutching at him all the time; but for all that, he put both bullets into
the beast’s body, who dropped, then turned round, and limped bleeding
away into the recesses of a broad thick cover; and of course Hans, shaken
as he was, let him go. There were no dogs to follow him, so he was
allowed to die in peace; and subsequently his spoor was taken up, and his
remains found.
Probably many more people are killed by lions than one hears of, for
the most frequent victims are paupers who scatter themselves about the
country, squatting on the ground and crowing pig-nuts; they become so
absorbed in their occupation that a lion could easily crouch behind
and spring upon them. Numbers of people are reported to be missing in
Damara-land, but no one cares to search out their fate. I made a list
once of the people I had met with who had been wounded by lions, but I
have lost it. It was a very long one. The wounds were always bad ones to
heal. They frequently became almost well, and then broke out afresh.
_26th._—We were now fairly _en route_, and had entered the Bushman
country; we travelled along the brow of a long ridge that rose insensibly
to perhaps 1000 feet above a wide plain, which stretched far away to the
east, and was covered with timber trees;—this was the margin of the great
desert. I was told that we should continue journeying along this ridge
till we reached the furthest point that Amiral’s men had yet travelled
to, and thence our course would, if we intended to go to ’Tounobis, lie
across this plain.
The news of our shooting expedition had spread far and wide, and Damaras
flocked like crows from all quarters to share in the food. The place
where we slept on the 26th was a charming spot, among blackthorn trees,
lighted up by fires in all directions, round each of which were grouped
parties of our guests. We steadily rode on, keeping ahead of Amiral’s
party, and on the evening of the second day we arrived at the first great
shooting-place. It was a picturesque gorge in the ridge which led down
to the plain, and in which was a succession of small springs. Rhinoceros
skulls were lying in every direction, but strangely enough only one spoor
could be seen. The whole of that night did Saul and I watch without
seeing anything but a jackal. It was very disappointing, but the animals
clearly were not there. We therefore pushed on. Saul had told us that
the rhinoceroses would begin trooping in at night-fall, and that we
should continue firing at them till day-break, and I had believed him.
Forty were killed here about a month since; I could not doubt it, for I
counted in a small space upwards of twenty heads; but I suppose that a
vast number were also wounded, and that the whole game was fairly scared
from the place. Amiral’s men were hard up for food; each man came on his
ride-ox, and carried nothing with him.
On the 28th we arrived at the furthest place the Namaquas had explored
to. We saw about a dozen fresh spoors of elephants, and a few of
rhinoceroses. I tried all I could to make the people encamp out of
ear-shot of the water but they would not. No elephants came that night,
but a rhinoceros, a lion, a hyena, and a gnu were “bagged.” The Damaras
were only allowed the carrion, as Amiral’s suite of forty men all had to
be fed: these poor people were in a sad state; they searched for pieces
of old rhinoceros hide, the skin of animals that had been slaughtered
here before, and which had dried in the sun before wild beasts had had
time to devour it. This cooked in the fire and beaten with stones to make
it soft enough to chew is not at all bad, and I have often eaten it; but
there was not enough of it to feed the whole crew of Damaras, neither
were there pig-nuts here for them to crow, and they were, consequently,
in great distress.
Several Bushmen came to us here, of the tribe that lived at ’Tounobis;
the Namaquas can hardly understand them; they laugh excessively at the
odd double way in which they pronounce their clicks. One man, the son of
the chief whose name means “Buffalo,” was much the most intelligible,
and I engaged him at once as guide. He told us all about the Kubabees
Hottentots, how they came, and where they went, whom they killed, and
whom they robbed, and gave us every particular. All the Bushmen were well
acquainted with the great waters to the north-east (the lake ’Ngami and
its rivers), and described the boats on them, and mimicked the alligators
and hippopotami. They had heard also of the Soun Damup, that tribe of
Ghou Damup that live in an independent state along the lower part of the
Omoramba, and pointed out the direction of their country. They knew of
waggons having gone to Lake ’Ngami, and said that they had some things
which were given to them by the people who travelled in them, whom they
particularly described. They however protested that the country was, in
this peculiarly dry season, impassable beyond ’Tounobis.
How far this place was we could not well make out, but it certainly was
a long journey without water; tired and footsore as the oxen were, I was
determined however to attempt it. The Bushmen declared that the game
was all scared away from where we were; but that we should see immense
quantities at ’Tounobis. One informant asserted that the buffaloes
were so thick upon the ground that we should have great difficulty in
driving the waggons through them. But they all agreed that near ’Tounobis
it would be dangerous to travel at night, as the wild animals would
certainly charge us and our oxen when we met them on the way.
We started for ’Tounobis on the afternoon of Oct. 1st with Amiral and
half of his men; after about three hours we came to a little well that
the Hottentots who were before us had just drank dry, and, going on, to
our delight saw two huge white rhinoceroses, three or four hundred yards
on one side of us. They are indeed immense creatures, so far longer than
the black ones, and their horns so much larger. The rhinoceros now in the
Regent’s Park Gardens is a black rhinoceros; it is much the most vicious
of the two kinds, but nothing like the size of the other. We all tumbled
off our oxen, some twenty of us (the others had returned to Amiral’s
waggons), and ran helter-skelter through the bushes, each his own way,
till we were pretty near them, and then, as one trotted up to see what
was the matter, a volley was blazed into him, that bowled him over like
a hare. The other one took a sweep and escaped unshot. The rapidity
with which the slaughtered one was cut up was perfectly astonishing. I
minuted the whole occurrence; it only took twenty minutes, and we were
in our saddles again thirty-five minutes after we had left them. It
must be recollected that three-penny pocket-knives are not the best of
instruments to make an impression on rhinoceros hide. There is no knife
so good as a common butcher’s knife; as a general rule, soft steel, or
even iron, is far better than hard steel, because you can sharpen the
first on any bit of stone, and the metal does not splinter when it comes
against a bone.
We followed an elephant path, which went as straight as a Roman road. I
took its direction several times with an azimuth compass, and it did not
vary four degrees. We travelled till past nine, having been on the move
for six and a quarter hours.
The next day, starting very early, poor Timmerman and Frieschland both
knocked up; they had never recovered the Ondonga journey: we drove them
as far as we could, but it was no use, and as we of course could not
wait in the middle of the plain without water, we had to leave the poor
creatures to their fate.
This day we managed eleven hours’ actual travelling, and could have
easily pushed on again at midnight, but the Bushmen begged us not, as we
were coming to where the rhinoceroses were very numerous, and assured us
that if we started in the morning we should arrive at ’Tounobis before
the heat of the day. This we did; we passed along a labyrinth of wild
beasts’ paths, put up one rhinoceros, and, after four hours, a valley in
front where smoke rose among the trees announced that we had arrived at
’Tounobis. We hurried to the water to look for spoors, and now we were,
without any doubt, in a game-country. The river-bed was trodden like the
ground in a cattle fair by animals of all descriptions. The water lay in
pools among rocks, and there were evident marks of where the water had
stood at the preceding evening, and the depth to which it had been drunk
out by the animals during the night; by the sides of these holes were the
circular walls of loose stones, two or three feet high, that the Kubabees
Hottentots had built up as screens, from behind which to shoot.
A little way off were crowds of Bushmen; we went to them, and found them
clustered round one of a series of deep uncovered wells, about twelve
feet across and eight or ten deep, and very close together, into which an
elephant had been pushed the preceding night by his comrades, as they had
scrambled in droves to drink, and there he lay, just killed, and great
pieces of flesh were being cut off and hauled up from his carcase.
All this was delightful, and we off-packed our lean oxen in the highest
spirits about a quarter of a mile from the water, in the midst of a thick
grove of trees. Amiral encamped near us; we made a kraal and settled down
for at least a week’s pleasuring. As soon as the elephant was disposed
of, I collected all the chief Bushmen in a ring, and gave them tobacco
and so forth, and began asking them about the country further on ahead.
One of my men came to say that he had just found a Bushman cooking with
a large iron pot; this was a sure sign of the neighbourhood of civilised
man. The Bushman said that it was given to them by people from a waggon
some distance to the east, and who had gone to the lake during the
previous rainy season. The man who had guided the Kubabees Hottentots
lived here—Toes-u-wap was his melodious name. He and the other Bushman
wore great numbers of elephant hair necklaces, with three or four beads
strung on each of them; they are, as I now find, worked after the manner
that the English ladies call “tatting.” Old Buffaloe’s son and Toes-u-wap
were the only two who could understand much of the language of the
Hottentots; they interpreted for us to the other Bushmen as well as they
could, but our conversation was far from fluent. Several of these Bushmen
knew the Mationa language, and as I had a little MS. Sichuana dictionary
with me, I asked the Sichuana names for sixty words; of these about
twenty were identical with those in my dictionary, twenty were somewhat
like them, and the other twenty I could not find. I presume, therefore,
that their language is Sichuana, or a dialect of it. The Bushmen were
unanimous in saying that our next stage to the east was longer than the
one we had just travelled. The season was so excessively dry that all the
wells were exhausted. The Kubabees Hottentots had passed by this place
in the dry season, but it was subsequent to an ordinarily rainy summer,
and they left ’Tounobis in the afternoon, travelled all night, and next
midday drank water with reeds, after their manner, from a place where the
sand was damp; on the ensuing day they came to a Bushman werft, and so on
every day till the fifth, when they reached a Mationa cattle-post; they
call it Eisis in Hottentot, Chuèsa in Mationa language; from there the
hills that border the great water (river or lake I am not sure which) can
be seen. There is said to be much game there.
We had great difficulty in making the Bushmen distinguish between the
lake and the rivers; they called the whole water-country by one name—Tl’
Annee. However, I will not enter at length into these details, as more
accurate information will certainly be received before long from the
whites, or whiter races, who are now steadily pushing northwards.
We repaired the circular walls of loose stones that were to form our
shooting-screens. The lower they are the better, generally speaking,
as being less likely to attract attention; but when it can be managed,
a wall about two feet nine inches high is much the most convenient
to shoot over, as a man’s position is not cramped when he kneels down
and fires from behind one of these: they ought to be six or seven feet
across. A hole in the ground is sometimes made instead of a wall; but
generally speaking, the neighbourhood of large watering-places in these
parts is a mass of limestone rock, into which one cannot dig.
It is one of the most strangely exciting positions that a sportsman can
find himself in, to lie behind one of these screens or holes by the side
of a path leading to a watering-place so thronged with game as ’Tounobis.
Herds of gnus glide along the neighbouring paths in almost endless files:
here standing out in bold relief against the sky, there a moving line,
just visible in the deep shades; and all as noiseless as a dream. Now
and then a slight pattering over the stones makes you start; it jars
painfully on the strained ear, and a troop of zebras pass frolicking
by. All at once you observe, twenty or thirty yards off, two huge ears
pricked up high above the brushwood; another few seconds, and a sharp
solid horn indicates the cautious and noiseless approach of the great
rhinoceros. Then the rifle or gun is poked slowly over the wall, which
has before been covered with a plaid, or something soft, to muffle all
grating sounds; and you keep a sharp and anxious look-out through some
cranny in your screen. The beast moves nearer and nearer; you crouch
close up under the wall, lest he should see over it and perceive you.
Nearer, nearer still; yet somehow his shape is indistinct, and perhaps
his position unfavourable to warrant a shot. Another moment, and he is
within ten yards, and walking steadily on. There lies a stone, on which
you had laid your caross and other things, when making ready to enter
your shooting-screen; the beast has come to it, he sniffs the taint of
them, tosses his head up wind, and turns his huge bulk full broadside on
to you. Not a second is to be lost. Bang! and the bullet lies well home
under his shoulder. Then follows a plunge and a rush, and the animal
charges madly about, making wide sweeps to right and left with his huge
horn, as you crouch down still and almost breathless, and with every
nerve on the stretch. He is off; you hear his deep blowing in the calm
night; now his gallop ceases. The occasional rattling of a stone alone
indicates that he is yet a-foot; for a moment all is still, and then a
scarcely audible “sough” informs you that the great beast has sunk to the
ground, and that his pains of death are over.
The animals are picked up in the morning; but it is not very easy to
find them. Spooring is, in most cases, quite out of the question, on
account of the numberless tracks. The Bushmen jerked every particle of
the meat of all the animals that we killed, excepting that which we used
ourselves. I like rhinoceros flesh more than that of any other wild
animal. A young calf, rolled up in a piece of spare hide, and baked in
the earth is excellent. I hardly know which part of the little animal is
the best, the skin or the flesh.
The Hottentots shot away a great many bullets at rhinoceroses, and did, I
dare say, a great deal of mischief; for they lie six or seven together
in each shooting-screen, and blaze volleys at long distances—often thirty
or forty yards—at the rhinoceros. The consequence is that they “bag”
but very few, compared to the number that they fire at; the others most
likely linger on for a few days, and then lie down and die elsewhere.
One night Andersson and myself were lying out together when a rhinoceros
came, that I fired at. Something smaller was following at its heels; but
we could not see what, on account of the shade of the dark bushes. It was
a brilliant moonlight; and we were foolish enough to leave our screen,
and poke about after the animal, which luckily we never found. In the
early morning Andersson went to look for the game that had been shot; and
first followed the spoor of the rhinoceros we had been seeking. He soon
found the animal lying dead among the bushes; and he walked carelessly
up, with rifle over his shoulder, when as he was just upon the animal, a
full-grown calf rushed out from behind its dead mother right at him. He
had a very narrow escape, for the creature brushed by him in the narrow
pathway: he was about as large as an ox, and his spoor was half size. Had
we come upon them the preceding night, we should have run some risk. On
one occasion a rhinoceros that he fired at, brushed down the stones of
one side of his shooting-place.
If I were to travel again on a shooting-tour, I should certainly
take a large opera-glass with me. It is one of the most perfect of
night-glasses, besides being the most useful of telescopes. I should
think it would put a man’s sight in the dusk on a par with that of wild
beasts generally; and it is so portable and manageable an instrument,
that I should never lie out watching for animals without one.
Since my return to England I have often amused myself at night in trying
their powers, which certainly are marvellous. At sea they are coming into
general use, and more than one naval officer of considerable experience,
in chasing slavers, has assured me of their great superiority over the
ordinary cumbrous night telescope. Talking of these things, I may add,
that a powerfully magnifying telescope is of very little use in tropical
Africa; the air is always seething and waving from the heat, so that
images are seldom sufficiently distinct to be worth magnifying.
I generally used the “direct” telescope of my sextant for day purposes;
it is in fact a small single opera-glass, and I liked it very much.
Elephant shooting was out of the question at ’Tounobis for men in our
position, without horses and without dogs. The river-bed is perfectly
bare, and very light in colour, from the quantity of slabs of limestone.
I should be extremely sorry to be chased by any animal over it. The
Hottentots made such a noise that the elephants only came down twice
whilst I was there; the first time we ran up to them and fired among
their legs; there were fourteen in the herd, fine fellows, standing in a
row fronting us in the open moonshine. None of us dared go nearer than
sixty yards; we there had the shelter of a low slab in the limestone, but
beyond the ground was quite flat. I should think the legs were the best
part to fire at in these cases, because if the bullet strikes the bone it
is sure to break it, and an elephant on three legs is like a waggon on
three wheels, quite brought to a stand-still; and, again, if the bone be
missed, the wound, if any, is only a flesh wound, and does not kill the
animal. Our shots produced no effect, except some very angry trumpeting
from the elephants, who first faced us and then decamped. The second time
we let them alone, and a young bull fell into one of the wells, which
we shot. I think I would have given anything for horses at ’Tounobis. I
should have enjoyed myself amazingly if I had had them.
There were no lions whatever there; they and rhinoceroses do not hit
it off together, and are seldom found in numbers at the same place. A
rhinoceros is a sulky morose brute, and it is very ridiculous to watch a
sedate herd of gnus bullied by one of them. He runs among them and pokes
about with his horn, while they scamper and scurry away from him in great
alarm. He surely must often kill them.
For my own taste, I should like to spend nights perched up in some tree
with a powerful night glass watching these night frolics and attacks. I
really do not much care about shooting the animals, though it makes a
consummation to the night work, as the death of the fox does to a fox
hunt, but it is the least pleasurable part of the whole. Great fun seems
to go on among the different animals; jackals are always seen and are
always amusing; their impudence is intolerable; they know that you do
not want to shoot them, and will often sit in front of your screen and
stare you in the face. Sometimes, whilst straining your eyes at the dimly
seen bushes about you, the branched stem of one gradually forms itself
into the graceful head of some small antelope. The change is like that of
a dissolving view, the object had been under your notice for a minute,
yet you could not tell when it ceased to be a bush and became an animal.
The young rhinoceroses must be much chased by the hyenas and wild dogs,
for you never find one, either young or old, whose ears do not show marks
of having been sadly bitten.
I do not think an elephant gives anything like the idea of bulk and power
that the white rhinoceros does. An elephant is so short, and so high upon
his legs, that he looks what jockeys would call “weedy” in comparison
to the low and solid rhinoceros. The largest of these that we shot was
eighteen feet long and six high; the head and neck forming, I should say,
a third of the entire length. If a creature of this size be imagined
against the wall of a room, an idea may be formed of his immense size.
Their rush is wonderfully quick; they seem to me to get up their speed
much quicker than a horse or any other animal I know. I really think
that if a rhinoceros and horse caught sight of one another at the same
instant, when not more than ten yards apart, the beast would catch the
steed. Their movements are amazingly rapid when they receive a bullet.
_Oct. 7th._ I had a most picturesque finale to a rhinoceros hunt. The
Bushmen came to tell me that a black rhinoceros was lying wounded under
some trees, about an hour off, and very savage, so I went to him and
put him up with a bullet as he lay twenty-five yards from me. After the
scrimmage which ensued, I ran after him, he going a lame trot and I as
hard as I could pelt, putting three or four bullets into him at long
distances, and loading as I ran. At length we came to the edge of an open
flat that was about 200 hundred yards across. At the further side of that
was a mound, on the top of which stood a fine overshadowing tree, and
in the middle of the flat was a scraggy rotten stump, and two or three
dead branches. The rhinoceros went across this, climbed the mound, and
stood at bay under the tree. I did not much like crossing the open flat,
but I thought I could certainly run two yards to his three, which would
take me back in safety among the bushes, so I went my best pace to the
middle of the flat, keeping the dead branches between me and him; they
were a mere nothing, but a rhinoceros’ sight is never keen, and his eyes
were, I dare say, dim from his wounds. As soon as I came to the tree,
I dropped down on my knee, steadied my shaking hand against one bough,
for I had run very far and was exhausted, and, resting the muzzle of my
heavy rifle in the fork of another, took a quick shot and gave the beast
a smart sharp sounding blow with a well-placed bullet. He did not start
nor flinch, but slowly raised his head, and then dropping it down, poured
volumes of crimson blood from his mouth. He did this again and again; at
length he staggered a very little, then he put his fore legs out and
apart from each other, and so stood for some seconds, when he slowly sunk
to the ground upon his broad chest and died. I sketched the scene from
memory when I returned, regretting that I had not had a pencil with me
at the time to do it more justice, for the dying beast with the branched
tree above him was quite a study for an artist. Having shot animals till
we were tired, a pleasant moonlight evening was spent on much smaller
game—the spring-hare, as the Dutch call it. It is a creature about two
feet long, shaped like a kangaroo in body and tail, but with a different
head; it burrows and lives in holes all day, but at night frisks about
and grazes.
We and the Bushmen arranged ourselves in large circles, enclosing fresh
patches of ground each time, and then beat up towards the centre. We
generally enclosed two or three of these funny creatures, who hopped
about in the oddest way, and we rushed in and assassinated them with
sticks. The sinews of their powerful tails form excellent materials for
sewing carosses.
I worked hard to fix the longitude of ’Tounobis, which I did more
successfully than I could have hoped, as my instrument was a small
and not very legible one, and for want of oil I had to read off the
observations by firelight.
The Bushmen assured me that the character of the country between that
place and the lake was of exactly the same description as that around us,
a sandy soil with not unfrequent dried-up vleys, and covered with trees,
but by no means so thickly as to impede the progress of a waggon.
In fact, if a person wanted to go from Walfisch Bay to the lake, he
would have an excellent waggon-road after he had left Eikhams (Jonker’s
place), one day behind him. He should follow the Quieep River as far as
it goes eastwards, and then make a straight course for Kurrikoop, taking
the chance of vley water by the road; from Kurrikoop, through Elephant’s
Fountain to ’Twas, all is excellent; thence he should follow the foot
of the ridge and not the top of it, as we had done, sending the oxen to
water up the gorges. In the twenty-one hours’ journey to ’Tounobis, three
or four large vleys are passed, in which water would lie for many months.
From there onwards I should have no fear whatever in the rainy season,
even if the Bushmen refused to guide me, because the character of the
country is adapted for holding water; but from Damara-land to the Ovampo
no person could think of travelling without guides, unless there was a
recent track to follow. If he once strayed from the path he would be
hopelessly involved in the thorn thicket.
I fancy that the Bushmen spoke truth about the want of water ahead,
as the droves of animals who had congregated in the neighbourhood of
’Tounobis continued drinking every night, the repeated firing being
insufficient to drive them away; it seemed as though they had no other
neighbouring watering-place to go to.
As the Bushmen learnt to understand our Hottentot a little better, we had
some long talks about the animals on the river that joins the western
end of the lake; that there are many there quite new to the Hottentots
is beyond doubt, as several carosses were stolen by the Kubabees and
brought back south, and the skins that many of these were made from were
quite unknown to them. The Bushmen, without any leading question or
previous talk upon the subject, mentioned the unicorn. I cross-questioned
them thoroughly, but they persisted in describing a one-horned animal,
something like a gemsbok in shape and size, whose horn was in the middle
of its forehead, and pointed forwards. The spoor of the animal was, they
said, like that of a zebra. The horn was in shape like a gemsbok’s, but
shorter. They spoke of the animal as though they knew of it, but were not
at all familiar with it. It will indeed be strange if, after all, the
creature has a real existence. There are recent travellers in the north
of tropical Africa who have heard of it there, and believe in it, and
there is surely plenty of room to find something new in the vast belt of
_terra incognita_ that lies in this continent.
Of another fabulous monster, the cockatrice, a most widely spread belief
exists. The Ovampo, the Bushmen of this place, and Timboo, all protested
that there is such a creature, and that they had often seen it. They
described it as a snake, sometimes twelve feet long, and as thick as the
arm; slender for its length, with a brilliantly variegated skin; it has
a comb on the head exactly like a guinea-fowl, but red, and has also
wattles; its cry is very like the noise that fowls make when roosting—I
do not mean crowing, but a subdued chucking; its bite is highly
venomous, and it is a tree snake. I heard an instance of ten cows having
been bitten one after the other; they said that sometimes people when on
their way home at night hear a chucking in the tree, and think that their
fowls have strayed, and as they are peering about under the branches to
see where they are, the snake darts down upon them and bites them. It
appears to be a particularly vicious snake. I have generally heard it
called “hangara.” I never heard of its possessing wings.
Since my return I have had my attention directed to a recent book,
Mr. Gosse’s “Notes of a Naturalist in Jamaica,” in which he mentions
the prevalence of the same belief there, and relates several reported
facts relative to the creature. In the Penny Cyclopædia, under the head
cockatrice, many old drawings of these snakes are reproduced, and are
worth looking at; they differ much in character from one another, and
seem to have been derived from different originals. I can give no clue to
the fable of the cockatrice’s eggs.
The Bushmen of ’Tounobis are far superior to the Damaras in the art of
catching animals; their springe is a very simple one. I admired the
simplicity of the method by which the antelopes were induced to leap into
the middle of it; an unpractised hand would have made a fence as though
he were laying out a steeple-chase course, but the Bushmen simply bend a
twig across the pathway, which does not in the least frighten the animal,
but which, in the gaiety of his heart, he overleaps. The pitfalls
are neatly made; there is, however, nothing in them which an English
gamekeeper would not contrive as well.
I must take this opportunity of explaining to the uninitiated how to
set a common gun (as a spring-gun) to shoot game in the night. The use
of such a contrivance is obvious. Hyenas, perhaps, vex and trouble you
night after night, and it is a horrid bore to sit up through the cold
when sleep is in these tropical climes so peculiarly grateful, simply
for the chance of shooting the worthless animal; it is far simpler to
have a gun in his path, and let him pull the trigger himself, to his
own destruction. Again, as to lions, they do real mischief; and, after
all, they are not noble animals whose character entitles them to the
privilege of a code of honour, but skulking, troublesome creatures, who
give infinite annoyance, and will seldom wait to be shot at. In England
one thinks differently, but a traveller who has large herds of cattle
with him is only too glad to exterminate lions out of the land, and a
spring-gun is the best way of doing this. This is my creed, though I
personally am guiltless of its use upon the king of beasts. The way of
setting a gun is very simple; everybody has a sort of general conception
how an animal when he chests a string shall in some way pull the trigger,
and be shot, but without a more definite notion considerable difficulty
would in practice be found in making the necessary adjustments. The plate
(next page) will explain how to do it. A piece of stick is lashed across
the narrow part of the stock of the gun in such a way as to have a
slight play backwards and forwards; a string from the lower part of the
stick is fastened to the trigger, one from the upper leads through the
ramrod tubes (the ramrod being taken out), and passes across the pathway;
it is evident that when an animal pushes the string the gun will go off.
A few points have to be observed; one is, that the string should not be
too tight, else as soon as it is touched the trigger will be pulled, and
the bullet make only a skin wound in front of the animal’s chest. The
other, a very important point, is that the height to which the gun is
lashed should be such as to send the bullet through the beast’s heart, or
thereabouts. The rule is, that for a hyena the barrel should be as high
as a man’s knee from the ground, but for a lion a span (or eight inches)
higher. Neither the string nor the stick that is lashed to the stock, and
which acts as a lever, should be too strong, lest, if the animal carries
all before him in a rush, they should not break, but the gun be torn from
its supports and smashed.
When a lion’s death is determined upon by means of a spring-gun,
advantage is taken of the first animal that he kills; this is probably
found half eaten, and the lion is sure to return to his prey the ensuing
night. Bushes are then put round the carcase, a doorway is made to one
side of a couple of posts, against these two posts the gun is lashed, and
the trigger-string passes across the doorway to the opposite side (see
plate).
[Illustration: SETTING A COMMON GUN AS A SPRING-GUN.]
[Illustration: HOTTENTOT METHOD OF CARRYING A GUN ON HORSE OR OX-BACK.
Drawn on Stone by W. L. Walton. Printed by Hullmandel & Walton.
John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1853]
I have never seen instances of native poison doing much mischief; that of
the Damaras is in practice very harmless. I have seen plenty of people
who had been wounded by poisoned arrows, and have dressed their wounds,
but saw no great harm experienced from them. The poison becomes so hard
and dry on the arrows that it will not dissolve. The Bushman poison is
far stronger and more complicated; the manufacture of it is kept secret,
but many ingredients are put into the composition. Beside vegetable
poisons the Bushmen assured me that the poisonous black spider (a kind
of tarantula) is an important ingredient. It seems to be for its size,
the most venomous of creatures. Death is very frequently the consequence
of its bite. Amiral’s son, who was with me, had lingered between life
and death for a long time after having been bit by one, and his escape
was considered as a singular piece of good fortune. I saw one once; it
happened to be among my bed clothes, and was a nasty creature with huge
nippers; though a very quick runner it had comparatively short legs. When
I teased it with a little twig it snapped its nippers together and made
quite a noise with them.
Throughout our journey we have had great good luck as regards poisonous
animals, nobody but Timboo having been bitten, and that only by a
scorpion, but we suffered pretty severely from hornet’s stings, both at
Otjimbinguè and elsewhere; the oil from our tobacco pipes was the panacea
in all these cases.
CHAPTER X.
Hear the Fate of my Two Oxen.—Plan an Attack to
avenge them.—Make an Attack on Two Werfts.—Catch some
Culprits.—Hottentot Passion for Onslaught.—Return to
Eikhams.—Best sort of Travelling Compass.—MS. and other
Almanacs.—Watches and Alarums.—Large Packs of Lions.—A
Tale learnt from Tracks.—Accidents with Guns.—Methods of
carrying them on Horse-back.—Description of the Plate.—Saddle
Arrangements.—Travelling Dress.—Colours most suited for
Sportsmen.—Bright Colours of Skulking Animals.—Rationale
of them.—Join Hans’ Party.—Begin to break up the
Expedition.—Travel down the Swakop.—Reach Walfisch Bay.—Whales,
Sharks, and Ostriches.—Retrospects.—Leave Africa.
In a week the Hottentots became tired of ’Tounobis; they said that
their wives were left without provisions, &c., and Amiral said that he
must return. I had no object in staying longer, for I became tired of
massacring the animals, and it is better when on a journey not to rest
oxen longer than a week, unless you can afford at least a month’s delay,
as their galled backs become half healed, and they lose their working
condition, without having time to really recruit their strength. My oxen
were all in a very poor way, but I now cared little, as I was homeward
bound. We left ’Tounobis Oct. 10th, and arrived safely at Okomavaka, with
no incident except a fright from all the oxen having run away the second
night that we were on the road.
My first inquiries were about the fate of poor Timmerman and Frieschland,
and I at last found out their history from some wandering Damaras,
for they never can keep a secret. The two oxen had both returned to
Okomavaka, but a lion caught Timmerman, and in the morning the Damaras
found him half eaten; they then spoored and found Frieschland whom they
stabbed and eat. I discovered who the man was that actually killed my ox;
he was Kaipanga, the captain of a werft of these wandering Damaras, and
who naturally had decamped when he heard of our arrival.
I therefore held a consultation with Amiral on the subject, whose eyes
glistened with pleasure at the notion of a raid upon the Damara werft. I,
of course, stipulated that we should have no firing, but only catch the
culprits and flog them. I had been desirous of witnessing the arrangement
of a Hottentot attack, and this case occurred opportunely, so I desired
Amiral to manage everything in exactly his own way, which he did. He
found out where Kaipanga was staying; it was opposite to a gorge two
hours ahead of us, and down in the flat at the foot of the ridge, but far
from it and among the trees, and quite two and a half hours away from the
watering-place there.
Amiral then told everybody that we were going home as quickly as we
could, for we had no time to spare to make further inquiries about
the lost oxen, and on we went. Our first day was three hours, and we
purposely overshot the gorge which was our mark, that the Damaras who
were on a keen look-out might be convinced that we knew nothing of
Kaipanga’s rascality, and were really going home in good earnest.
Amiral’s men slept a couple of miles away from mine, so as to disarm all
notion of a concerted expedition, but at one o’clock in the morning the
old scamp got up quietly with about half his men and joined me. I left
sufficient people behind to resist any Damaras in case they attacked the
camp during my absence, and we were all off under the escort of Amiral’s
spy at two. It was a very dark night, and we scrambled down the gorge and
through the trees of the plain till about four o’clock, when we stopped,
as there was some doubt as to where we were, and runners were sent ahead
in all directions to explore the country for a mile or two round. Just as
the first streaks of light appeared in the sky the wished-for information
came; there was no time to be lost, and we all ran in a glorious state of
excitement across the country. The light quickly increased, and by the
time that the sky was grey we were all behind a mound, watching keenly
for some indication of the exact position of the werft, which we were
assured was close by us. At length a slender column of smoke was seen,
and instantly the charge was ordered. Amiral, Andersson, and myself,
with four or five others, were to go straight on; ten men were to make
a sweep, and run down upon the werft on the right and ten on the left.
Nobody was to fire unless the natives used their assegais. Off they were;
our party walked slowly to give the others time, but the dogs of the
werft heard us; in an instant the alarm was given, and no time was to
be lost, so we in the centre were obliged to make a rush prematurely;
almost every Damara was off helter-skelter. We caught a few women and
one man; they said that Kaipanga, the chief, whom we were in search of,
was at another werft close by; that he _had_ killed the ox and his men
had eaten it, and that if we would spare them and not kill them they
would show us the way. All this questioning and answering took little
more time to say than it does to read, and we were off again, but the
daylight had become quite strong, and before we were at the next werft
the sun was about to rise. We could not hope to encircle it, so we ran
crouching through the bushes on and into it with much better success
than we could have expected. The Damaras were not half a minute out of
it when we arrived, and were running in all directions. The country was
rather open, and there was a mound close by, to the top of which some
of our men ran directly. This acted like flying a kite over a moor; it
made all the runaway Damaras lie still at once, lest they should be
seen, and in this way we gained time to examine their werft for proofs
of guilt, and were able to spoor them more leisurely. We found no meat
in the huts, but a broken marrow-bone was there. In the main hut was a
large piece of ox-hide, half dressed, from which the hairs, as usual,
had been removed; we took it out to the light; a few scattered hairs
remained, and they were whitish-yellow, which was Timmerman’s peculiar
colour. A woman who was found in the werft confessed to the skin, and
away we went in chase as before. The huts were such wretched affairs that
it was not worth while to destroy them in retaliation for the robbery.
We had now some long and severe running; with horses we could have done
what we liked, but on foot the naked Damaras were more than a match
for us. However, we took two men captive, whose looks almost warranted
their being hung without any other proofs of their guilt, and we tied
them together and drove them home with several women, whom we kept in
different detachments. It was a long time before we were all collected
together, as the men were dispersed over the country, and we had no water
till ten o’clock, nor did we arrive at the encampment with our prisoners
till midday.
After an hour’s rest we tried the men, examining them separately.
Amiral’s shrewdness astonished me beyond measure. He was quite in his
element, and wormed out the whole story with the greatest dexterity, and
the judicial scene was closed with a business-like application of a new
rhinoceros-hide whip.
I had gained quite an insight into Hottentot onslaught by these few
hours’ experience, and could perfectly understand how engrossing must
be the excitement which they yield to savage minds. Compared with
these, shooting lions and rhinoceroses must be poor sport to them. The
last brings simply into play the faculties of a sportsman, and is an
occupation dangerous enough to be disagreeable, but negroes are the
woodcocks of Africa, the beau ideal of the game tribe, and they are
pursued not with that personal indifference every one must feel towards
quadrupeds, but with revenge, hatred, and cupidity. The Hottentot runs
to the raid boiling with passion and hungry for spoils. He is matched
with an equal in sight, hearing, speed, and ingenuity; the attack and
the pursuit call forth the whole of his intelligence. If the negro has
a perfect knowledge of the country on his side to aid his escape, the
Hottentot has had time for forethought and preparation in the attack
to match that advantage. The struggle is equal until the closing scene
when the deadly gun confronts the assegai. Then come the tears and
supplication and prayers for mercy, which must be music to the ears
of the Hottentot, as he revels in his victory and pauses before he
consummates it. I have a pretty fixed idea that if English justice were
administered throughout these parts of Africa, a small part only of
the population would remain unhung. But we must not be too hard upon
the negro and Hottentot morale on that account, for we little know
what fearful passions exist in our own European minds until they are
thoroughly roused. A young terrier or kitten seems the most harmless and
mildest of creatures until he has been brought into contact with rats
and learnt the luxury and taste of blood, and many an instance may be
found along the distant coasts of this wide world where a year or two
has converted the Saxon youth, who left his mother all innocence and
trust, into as diabolical and reckless a character as ever stabbed with a
bowie-knife.
Two more ride-oxen were now knocked up; they were Buchau and Sweetland. I
left them under the care of Saul, near to whose werft we had now arrived,
and whom I paid off. Travelling on we managed to take the remaining
oxen to Elephant Fountain, which we reached 22nd of October; we had left
’Tounobis 10th of October; the entire distance between the places is 53
hours, or 146 miles, which gives our pace of travelling as usual, viz.
ten and a half miles a day. It is very remarkable how steady the pace of
travelling is. I minuted with great care all our journeys from Omanbondè
to Ovampo-land, and the whole way from Ovampo-land to ’Tounobis, and
thence again to Eikhams, invariably registering the time of every
stoppage. The going and returning journeys seldom differed one hour in
thirty. Thus, from Okomavaka to ’Tounobis we were twenty-one and a half
hours going, and twenty-one and a quarter returning, and so on; but when
the hours are reduced into miles, much less accuracy must be expected. I
allow two and three-quarter miles an hour, which is near enough to give
general ideas of distance; indeed, if a traveller has the geographical
positions of the main points of his journey laid down, and also knows
how long in actual travelling it will take him to get from one point to
another, he is furnished with all the information he can require.
I had by this time reduced my method of travelling over unknown ground to
a principle which I will mention here, for want of a better opportunity.
When a given direction has to be followed, which is learnt by the
pointing of the natives, the compass is of course the guide by day, but
it is very important to have one that is not too delicate, or when you
rein up to look at it, so long a time elapses before it settles that
the animal becomes fidgetty and disturbs the needle again. By far the
best pocket-compass to have, is one that has a glass bottom as well as a
glass top to it, like those which are commonly hung up in the cabins of
ships, only, of course very much smaller, say one inch across. The pivot
on which the needle turns is fixed in a hole drilled through the bottom
glass. Concentric with the needle, and turning stiffly round its cap, is
a small piece of brass, shaped, say, like a fish, so that its head could
never, even by the faintest light, be mistaken for its tail. The top
glass of the compass should unscrew.
Before starting, having determined in which direction you intend to
proceed, take off the top glass and adjust the head of the fish so that
it shall point in that direction; there is now no chance of error or
confusion; you forget all about the needle and only think of the fish.
When it becomes dark, you have simply to hold up the compass between your
eye and the sky, and the fish can be seen quite plainly; but an ordinary
compass can never be deciphered after dusk. If any doubt remains, the
light of a cigar or a piece of white paper held below the compass will,
when you look down upon it, bring out the fish quite clear and distinct.
It is much better to hang the compass by three threads, like a scale-pan,
than simply to hold it in the hands; the threads take the place of
gimbals, and, besides, being more compact in the pocket, are also less
likely to get out of order. For a pocket-compass, no great accuracy
is required; if the traveller can depend upon it to a point, that is
quite sufficient. Where any bearings for mapping purposes are wanted,
nothing inferior to an azimuth compass should be used, and one of these
I invariably carried in a case sewn on to my shooting-belt, so as to lie
in the small of the back. An almanac should be calculated and written
out for the latitudes and longitudes in which the traveller intends to
go. A simple approximation to accuracy is all one wants, and the same
almanac would do for hundreds of miles; the information required is as
to the times of sunrise and set, and of moonrise and set, the bearings
of all these; and if the same particulars be given for a few zodiacal
stars, it will be found of great use. Again, the times of culmination
and the proximate altitude of three or four latitude stars should be
stated for every night, and for a given latitude—those stars I mean
which come to the meridian soon after dusk, and are of such meridian
altitudes as to come within the range of a sextant. Occultations should
of course be put down, and, if the traveller has a telescope large enough
to observe them, the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites also: one lunar
distance to the nearest degree should be copied for every day, in order
to check the date; but for longitude purposes recourse must be had to
that surpassingly excellent but most cumbrous and ill-bound of English
publications, the “Nautical Almanac”—a work printed on blotting-paper,
that is spoilt by rain and torn by wind, and which requires as much care
in packing and in using as the instruments it is designed to accompany.
All the times made use of should be _apparent_ times. The chance is
greatly against a traveller’s watch going with sufficient accuracy to
keep _mean_ time. I set mine every sunrise and sunset, keeping another
one in reserve, snugly packed up among soft things, to use during lunar
and other time observations. In any moderately flat country the error
one is liable to, by setting the watch in this way, lies within five
minutes, and that is quite accurate enough even for latitude purposes. It
is a great satisfaction to have all the particulars about the moonlight
in your MS. almanac, for when one travels, it is of much importance;
the quickest journeying being done by it. Knowing the bearings of the
principal celestial bodies when they are near the horizon, is a great
check upon one’s course by night; a man soon becomes familiar with these
if he has occasion to make use of them. I should strongly urge travellers
to provide themselves with alarum watches, or alarums, in some shape or
another. Over and over again have we lost our natural rest through fear
of oversleeping our time; besides awaking the sleepers, they are of great
use in attracting attention when it is time to commence to do anything,
such as watching for a star, &c. &c.
It was a great comfort returning to the faithful John and to his pots
and saucepans, for we had lived on tough diet since we left him. Immense
quantities of animals had been caught in the pitfalls at Elephant
Fountain during our absence; they appear to have been migrating in herds,
for they are not always found in the same abundance. As my waggon was
light, I bought what little ivory I could from Amiral’s people, and took
it away with me. I sold it afterwards at St. Helena for about 70_l._ We
returned by the way which a few pages back I mentioned as the one that I
recommended for waggons to travel upon. We had a little shooting, but not
much; at one place we put up eight lions; they were not close together,
but within a space about 200 yards across, through which we happened to
drive. It was the largest pack I had seen. Fourteen is the largest I have
ever heard of. These eight were all full-grown beasts; five of them were
females. We had two falls of rain, enough to supply the Quieep River
well; indeed, we found a pool with enough water to swim in at the place
where we outspanned.
After the first showers the landscape looked charming; the sere leaves of
the trees freshened up, and the air was laden with the fragrance of the
acacias. For the sportsman, the rain makes a _tabula rasa_ of the sand
of the country, by obliterating all old tracks and disposing the ground
to admit the sharpest and most distinct foot-mark impressions, which it
is quite a luxury to follow. It is wonderful how much may be learnt from
spoors; a few tracks will tell a long tale. Thus, a short time since,
some of Amiral’s men came upon the track of a giraffe, grazing, and
others of the party upon that of a lion crouching. Of course the spoors
were followed. Of a sudden the lion’s tracks entirely disappeared, and
those of the giraffe showed he was at full gallop; a small slippery
place, caused by a slight shower, lay in his path; by the side of it was
an ugly sharp stump, the solid relic of a thorn-tree that had been broken
down. In the slippery place the giraffe’s feet had slid, and the animal
had fallen; on the stump was blood and lion’s hair; beyond, on one side
of it, were the tracks of the lame marauder, as he limped slowly away;
on the other side, those of the giraffe at full gallop. It was therefore
evident that the lion had sprung on the back of the giraffe, and was
carried by him till he slipped and fell. The fall dislodged the lion,
who was flung upon the stump, and was injured too severely to be able to
continue the attack. The giraffe seemed not to have been much hurt, as
his gallop was a steady one, and there was no blood on his tracks.
The October rains can never be depended on; they seldom supply the
country with more than one day’s water; they are very partial, and mere
showers. These rains do more harm than good to a traveller, for, without
materially increasing his supplies of water, they cause the dry grass,
which overspreads the ground, to rot, and no food can in many places be
obtained for the oxen. The true rainy season does not begin till the end
of December; and even then it requires many falls before the arid country
is so drenched by rain as to allow the water to lie upon its surface.
As we travelled on, reports reached us of a shocking and fatal accident
which had happened to a trader, who had, while lifting up his gun,
caused it to go off, and had shot himself through the arm and side.
The accident occurred among Cornelius’s tribe, and as they were a very
suspicious set, I feared that some foul play might have been the cause of
his death; however, Cornelius took great pains in forwarding messengers
to me, with full particulars of the case, and I could not hear that
any robbery had been committed upon him. The cause of this accident
was that of four-fifths of those that occur, namely, the cock being
allowed to lie down upon the nipple instead of being kept at half-cock.
As the unfortunate man, while sitting in the waggon, drew his gun up to
him by the muzzle, it appears that the cock caught against one of the
spokes of the wheel, which lifted it a little, so that, when released,
it snapped back and the gun went off. Few as the people are who possess
percussion-guns in this remote corner of the world, there have been three
deaths and one bad accident with them.
For travelling purposes, I do not approve of carrying a gun half-cock,
because, in the very careless way that the men persist in holding their
fire-arms, the half-cock very frequently becomes full cock without their
knowing it, and the cap also is liable to fall off. I think the safest
plan with a common gun is to put a piece of thick rag on the cap, and to
let the cock down upon it. But I much prefer having a third nick cut in
the “tumbler,” by which a very low half or quarter cock is produced, the
cock just clearing the nipple and securing the cap from being dislodged;
many pistols are made in this way. I have adopted this plan for a very
long time in my travelling guns, and confidently recommend it. As
to carrying guns on horse-back, nobody that I am aware of, except a
Hottentot, and occasionally a Dutchman, knows how to do it.
Theirs is a most simple and effectual plan, which, strangely enough, has
never been adopted or perhaps even proposed for our mounted troops, and
which is incomparably superior in practice to any of the usual plans,
with all of which I am pretty well familiar.
Carrying a gun with a belt across the shoulders is objectionable in every
way; the gun jogs excessively about, and its weight is wearisome to a
degree; the rider has to go through a vast deal of struggling before he
can slip it over his head and get it in hand; and, lastly, in case of a
fall, it might injure him severely.
The next plan—that of carrying the gun muzzle downwards in a bucket
in the position that a sportsman would carry his gun over his arm—is
most unsafe; the bullet is perpetually liable to be dislodged, and if
dislodged the gun is pretty sure to burst; besides this, a complication
of straps are requisite to secure the gun to the belt of the rider, which
I find in practice a great inconvenience. Another method is, to sling
the gun, which in this case must be a short one, muzzle downward to the
back part of the saddle; so that when the rider is on his seat the stock
of the gun is behind him, and the muzzle in a bucket below his feet. In
this plan, as in the last, the bullet is liable to be dislodged, and also
the projecting stock of the gun, over which the leg has to be thrown when
mounting, is excessively in the way of a person who has to do with a
restive or frightened horse. There are straps also in this case, which
are as troublesome as in the former. Moreover, in all of these there
is a jingling and a rattling when the horse trots or canters, which is
a very unsportsmanlike sound, although it may be thought by some to be
soldierlike and dashing.
Now the Hottentot plan that I recommend I consider perfect: it is to have
a case of strong leather (see plate, p. 286) of such a size and shape as
to admit the gun-stock a little stiffly; this case, which I will call
the “gun-bag,” is fastened tightly above to rings or dees in the pommel
of the saddle; below, it is altogether unsupported except by a thong,
which passes round the saddle-girth and keeps the gun-bag from tilting
too far forwards; the gun is pushed stock downwards into the bag, the
barrel passes between the right arm and the side, while the muzzle is so
entirely clear of the person, that even in taking a drop-leap, that of an
ordinarily-sized gun never shifts into a dangerous position. Some time
is taken before a person unused to it will find out the best adjustments
for both fastenings, as they should be varied according to the rider’s
seat, but when once determined they have never to be changed. There is
no objection whatever to this plan; the hands of the rider are free, and
the gun is safe and quite out of the way. It does not cumber him, but he
feels it nestling by his side, as an inseparable and faithful companion
should do; the cocks are in full sight; a cover to keep the rain out is
most easily put on; in a moment the gun is out of the gun-bag and in the
hand, almost as quickly a whip could be raised, and it can be left on the
animal’s back when the rider dismounts. I do not think the general effect
is at all unsightly.
I should not mind riding any reasonable horse across country with a gun
carried in this way; indeed it is an invaluable plan to a traveller, for
any sized weapon may be put in it; either a little pea-rifle that could
be shot off with one hand, as a pistol, or a long heavy two-ounce weapon.
A common long shooting gun is perhaps the easiest to carry, though
all are easy enough. The other convenient saddle arrangements for a
travelling hack, are a bag to hold odds and ends on the left side of the
pommel, or where advisable, a holster for a “revolver;” behind the left
leg a sabretash, for writing materials may be hung; on the crupper of
the saddle there is no harm in having small saddle-bags, and above them
a waterproof cape, with leggings, if the season be very rainy, wrapped
up in it. With these things, gun, saddle, and all, a man would ride two
and a half stone heavier than he walks, which is nothing for a steady
travelling expedition; but if he wants to gallop off, shooting, he must
of course limit himself to a saddle and gun-bag. No two people travel
in the same dress; my own fancy lies in leather trousers, jack-boots, a
thick woollen jersey, a cotton shirt over it, and a cap. A belt supplies
pocket room.
In foot expeditions, the jack-boots must be replaced by shoes. In
Southern Africa I never could walk barefooted; independently of the
thorns, there was something in our state of health which made small
wounds difficult to heal, and caused scratches in the foot and hand to
fester. Our very Damaras could not travel even with their own sandals,
much less could we leave off shoes entirely. I was the more surprised
at this, as in previous travelling in North Africa I had become nearly
independent of them. I recollect climbing Jebel Barkal, which is a
well-known rugged hill, with very sharp stones in it, near the fourth
cataract of the Nile, barefooted.
Without shoes and stockings I think I could not even lay my feet to the
ground during the hottest time of the year. Once, owing to a mistake, I
had dismounted at a small spring of water and turned my ox loose, who
rejoined his comrades, and was driven on with them to a more copious
watering-place, a couple of miles ahead; I had no stockings on at that
time, only shoes. When I started on foot after the party, the heat of the
sand was so intense that I positively was but just able to walk, although
my skin was pretty well case-hardened. I underwent real suffering in that
short distance, but the cool of thick woollen socks, the thickest that
English sailors ever wear, was delicious when they were pulled on to my
blistered feet.
I do not think that a perfect head-dress has yet been invented by
man. A light hunting-cap is very convenient among thick trees, but it
cannot be used as a nightcap in the bivouac. As regards colours of the
dress, infinite misunderstanding generally prevails, as may at once be
perceived by the colour of the uniform in which our rifle corps are
clothed. People have an idea that because shadows are dark, and because
people who crouch in ambuscade are generally in shadows, that therefore
their clothes should be dark also. They forget that the same shade which
deepens the tint of the trees gives at the same time an extra depth to
the colour of the man’s clothes. As a first approximation to obtaining
the best-coloured dress for the purposes of concealment, one would
say, let it be of the prevailing hue of the country it is to be used
in; so that, if the clothes were dropped on the ground, they would be
positively undistinguishable from it at a short distance, whatever blaze
of light or depth of shadow fell on it. I am acquainted with no country
in the world in which “rifle-green” would answer this requirement. But,
going a step further, we find that in no case hardly is the colour of
the land one uniform hue, but that a cloth of any one colour, even
though it be of the prevailing tint, catches the eye from its mass.
It is therefore better that the colour of the dress should not be the
same throughout, but irregularly broken, and that too in a manner which
does not contrast too strongly with the disposition of the scenery,
as for instance, the stripes on a tiger’s hide being vertical are far
less conspicuous among the upright stems and reeds than if nature had
disposed them horizontally. A little experimentalizing will show another
curious and very unexpected result, namely, that if the very brightest
colours are used in spots or stripes, or in any other design, but in
such proportion that their actual mixture would have produced the sober
tint required, then, at rifle distances, unless the pattern be too large,
all individuality of the colours will be found to have disappeared, and
they will have merged into exactly the same tint that would have been
produced had the same colours been mixed together in the same proportion
on the pallet. It will also be found that a very large pattern may be
used if the margins of the various bands or spots of colour be a little
shaded off. In this way we can in a great degree account for the gaudy
liveries with which the most skulking of animals are usually dressed. The
cat tribe is almost universally decked out with spots or bars. Snakes
and lizards are the most brilliant of animals; but all these, if viewed
at a distance, or with an eye whose focus is adjusted, not exactly at
the animal itself, but to an object more or less distant than it, become
apparently of one hue, and lose all their gaudiness. No more conspicuous
animal can well be conceived, according to common idea, than a zebra;
but on a bright star-light night the breathing of one may be heard close
by you, and yet you will be positively unable to see the animal. If the
black stripes were more numerous he would be seen as a black mass; if
the white, as a white one; but their proportion is such as exactly to
match the pale tint which arid ground possesses when seen by moonlight.
I therefore protest against the usual notion that people have, as
exemplified in the choice of a rifleman’s dress. It is infinitely too
dark; and this, in addition to the squareness of the hat, makes an
object of him that is particularly calculated to attract attention. It
would be, I am sure, hopeless to stalk wary animals in such a costume,
unless the character of the country gave most peculiar facilities for
doing so. A man who wishes to dress for stalking may indulge his smart
fancies to a great extent, but should test every pattern that he selects
by viewing its effect at a slight distance, say twenty yards, the main
point of all being, that the depth of tint (leaving every consideration
of colour aside) should be neither too light nor too dark. I have
frequently amused myself by cutting out in paper figures of men, all of
the same size and shape, and painting one a rifle-green, and the others
bright blue, yellow, and red, in spots or patterns. I have then stuck up
these figures against the face of a landscape painting, and retreating
ten or twelve yards, the dark-green form of the rifleman, place it where
I would, remained a prominent unmistakable mass, while the others faded
as it were into the foliage, and could not be distinguished from it.
It requires a few trials to hit off the proportions of the different
colours used to produce a perfect result. I may add, in case the reader
might wish to experimentalise, that it saves much running backwards and
forwards in doing it to place a looking-glass some distance in front,
and, as the painting goes on, to hold the sketch up from time to time and
observe the effect in the distant reflection.
To return from this long digression to my narrative.
On the 1st of November, the eighth day after leaving Elephant Fountain,
we heard a report about Hans, which, though untrue, alarmed me
exceedingly; it was to the effect that he had shot himself, and that the
waggons lay on this side of Eikhams. I was so anxious, that I pushed the
oxen through the night, and with but little intermission we were again on
the road in the morning; we there found Damaras, who, to my great relief,
assured me that he was alive and well, and I therefore left the waggon
oxen with the men, to have drink and food, and started on first, and
walked till I had the pleasure of seeing Hans again, who, after all, had
had no accident whatever; he had every thing in perfect order, and, as
usual, had to show me some result of careful thrift and hard work.
The sense of oxen is wonderful; the two sets, mine and his, that had
been separated nearly three months, knew each other again perfectly, and
passed the night together in the most amicable way, instead of fighting
and knocking their horns together as new acquaintances always do on their
first introduction to each other’s society. I was badly off for small
cattle; of the forty goats that I had bought from Jonker, hardly one
was alive; they had all died of a distemper one after the other. Hans
gave me a terrible account of the state of the roads south; he said that
literally there was no grass whatever for great distances together. In
coming up to meet me, the oxen that he had were knocked up entirely, and
he had to send first to Jonker’s and then to Mr. Hahn’s, a journey of
many days, for assistance. My oxen were fresh enough, for they had had a
long rest at Elephant Fountain, and plenty of grass, so I had but little
fear of getting on to the Bay, especially as the road thither is entirely
down hill.
_November 5th._—I arrived at Jonker’s, and had long conversations with
him, and we parted excellent friends. There seemed a reasonable hope that
a more peaceful state of things was now entered upon, although I had
failed in obtaining from Cornelius that compensation for the cattle he
had stolen from the Damaras, which I had desired.
My plans about my personal effects were now arranged. Andersson kept
half, and with the other half I made part payment to Hans of the debt
for wages and cattle that I owed him. I took this opportunity to sell
one waggon to Jonker for forty oxen, and to buy others besides. Phlebus
was dismissed, that he might return home to Rehoboth. As Barmen was to
be the head-quarters of Andersson and of Hans also, after I had left the
country, we took on Jonker’s waggon by ourselves to that place, and there
all its contents were placed in store. Wishing the Missionaries a final
farewell, I travelled on to Otjimbinguè with the large waggon, whose
axletree had been replaced at Okamabuti, but had recently, in jolting
over a stone, split lengthways; I therefore made ready to leave it
behind, if necessary, and push on with ride-oxen; in fact, I had no time
to spare, for the animals were fast knocking up from hunger; however, by
blacksmithing and carpentering as well as we could, the waggon was made
strong enough to travel on with us.
We passed rapidly through Otjimbinguè, for there was no grass there, and
on the 21st of November reached Tsobis. Now I felt safe; happen what
might, I could reach the Bay in time to save the ship. The oxen were very
thin and weak, but there were plenty of reeds in the Swakop for them to
eat. As we moved down the Tsobis River, by the place where the first
giraffe was shot, some natives warned us of the next watering-holes at
the mouth of the river, for the Ghou Damup had poisoned the water to kill
the buffaloes that then were there. We had arrived at the Swakop before
we were aware of it; the oxen rushed, as they often do, wildly to the
watering-holes, and though we drove them away before any one had drunk
enough to hurt them seriously, yet one dog was very nearly killed. He
rolled about in agonies from the poison. The oxen became still weaker,
the change of food from dry grass to reeds quite upset them, so that we
had to rest the following day.
_November 24th._—We could just move on through the sand with hard
struggling, and the next day we arrived at a place where old Piet was
encamped, and were luxuriously treated with milk. We slept at Annāas on
the 27th, at Daviéep on the 28th; there was not a relic to be found of
my poor horse and mule that the lions had eaten there. We now travelled
principally by night. From Daviéep we arrived safely at Oosop, after
rather a hazardous jolting which the waggon underwent in going down
a steep bank, and we were then only one day’s journey from the Bay.
Andersson rode directly across the plain to Scheppmansdorf, to make
inquiries after news and to rearrange some of the packages. He was
to send back word to me immediately on his arrival. There was plenty
of grass at Oosop, and I stayed there two days, and then went on to
Hycomkap, where Andersson’s messenger reached me, saying that the ship
had not arrived.
As we had slept at Oosop on the 29th, we could, if I had chosen, have
reached the Bay on the 30th. We left ’Tounobis October 10th, so that the
entire journey would have taken us fifty-three days; but, had the country
been in a good state for travelling, I am sure that I could have done it
in ten days less, or forty-three days. I had calculated on thirty-seven
days’ actual travel, and four of rest, or forty-one days. With a change
of oxen at Eikhams or Elephant Fountain, I think Lake ’Ngami ought to be
reached in fifty days from Walfisch Bay, and with a change at Otjimbinguè
and again at Elephant Fountain, a light well-driven waggon might do it in
forty days.
At Hycomkap we had some pretty foot-chases after gemsbok calves, and
killed a few. The whole number of oxen in the drove were now 133. Jonker
had still some to pay, when he received the mules.
_December 4th._—We left Hycomkap in the afternoon for the Bay, and walked
the whole night through and the following morning besides, with only half
an hour’s intermission. The cool sea breeze fanned our faces about eight
o’clock, and to my intense delight I saw in the distance two vessels at
anchor in Walfisch Bay. We arrived there at ten in the forenoon, not
a bit tired, but highly excited. The vessels were whalers; all the
Scheppmansdorf party were on the beach, and seeing and talking to so
many people seemed quite another world to me, after my long and almost
solitary ramble. These whalers were the very first vessels, excepting
one, which had touched at the Bay since my arrival in the country. I now
put the store-house into habitable order, and settled down, awaiting the
arrival of the ship I expected, which was to bring me all my letters, my
clothes, and everything that I had left behind me at Cape Town.
Days passed, the cold was bitter, and I passed most of the day-time
rolled up in my caross. The wind whistled through every cranny, and
though the sun was vertical at noon, yet its rays never seemed to touch
us. I employed myself fishing with a seine-net, doing a little whale
fishery in the bay, and in trying to harpoon small sharks out of my
mackintosh pontoon; one gave me a capsize. I shot and captured one, and
slew but lost three others; at least, though _habitués_ of the place,
they never reappeared. I rode one day with Andersson to Scheppmansdorf,
when we saw a brood of young ostriches, each about a foot high, with
their parents, and gave chase. The creatures could run very nearly as
fast as we, and had quite as good a wind, so, having a long start, they
gave us a severe chase before we came up to them, when we slew six.
Returning from Scheppmansdorf I drove the three miles in a cart that Mr.
Bam had made himself, and as we were cantering over the plain I again
saw the ostriches, and went after them in my chariot. I soon came up with
them, and, jumping out, captured six more.
Christmas and New Year’s Day had passed, when, early in January, 1852,
as the morning haze cleared away, the sails of a schooner loomed large
before us; in a moment I was in my pontoon and paddled out to her, jumped
on board, and received my letters of a year and nine months’ interval.
They were not indeed unchequered by melancholy news; but for the
intelligence they conveyed of my own family circle I had every reason to
be grateful. Thus closed my anxieties and doubts. I had much indeed to be
thankful for. I had not lost one of my many men either through violence
or through sickness in the long and harassing journey I had made. It was
undertaken with servants who, at starting, were anything but qualified
for their work, who grumbled, held back, and even mutinied, and over whom
I had none other than a moral control. I had to break in the very cattle
that were to carry me, and to drill into my service a worthless set of
natives, speaking an unknown tongue. The country was suffering from all
the atrocities of savage war when I arrived, and this state of things I
had to put an end to before I could proceed. All this being accomplished,
I found myself without any food to depend upon, except the oxen that I
drove with me, which might, on any evening, decamp or be swept off in a
night attack by the thieving and murderous Damaras. That all this was
gone through successfully, I am in the highest degree indebted both to
Andersson and to Hans, for single-handed, I hardly know what I should
have done.
On the 16th of January I said my last adieu, and in company with Timboo,
John Williams, and John Morta, sailed away to St. Helena. The rest
remained in the country. Hans intended to make a venture in cattle and
ivory, and Andersson to investigate the natural history of the lake
district. Of the natural history of Damara-land he had made a complete
collection, but the barrenness of the country admitted of no great scope
to the naturalist. The flowers were very few and wretched-looking. I
really only know one that would look presentable in an English garden.
What few seeds I brought from Ovampo-land are now planted in the gardens
at Kew. My Ovampo fowls survived a stormy passage homewards, and laid
eggs constantly, until they came to English latitudes, and then they
all died; and my faithful cur, Dinah, is the only living animal of the
expedition, besides myself, that fate has as yet allowed to revisit
Europe.
THE END.
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
FOOTNOTES
[1] I am informed that certain New Zealand tribes not only eat without
salt, but actually look upon it with distaste and aversion.
[2] Translation from Josè Joaquim Lopez de Lima’s work on the Portuguese
Settlements in Western Africa. 1846. (Page 196.)
“To the southward of the river Longa is the fertile province of Benguela,
where, instead of sandy plains, rich meadows watered by mountain-streams
display themselves before the eye, covered with cattle and sheep, the
principal riches of its pastoral inhabitants. The soil produces all
the grains and fruits of Africa, America, and Europe, while from amid
these favoured plains arise the magnificent mountains of the Naunos,
whose lofty heads are lost in the clouds. From these mountains rush down
fertilising streams; in their bowels are found iron, copper, sulphur, and
other valuable productions, and the forests afford protection to herds of
elephants, to rhinoceroses, stags, and a thousand different descriptions
of wild animals, whose spoils constitute a principal portion of the gains
of the merchants of Benguela and Mosammedes. This fertility extends over
the cultivated plains of Bihe, Quilengues, Bumbo, Huila, Enjau, Caconda,
Galengue, and Sambos, being bounded by the country of the Mocoands, which
separates the Portuguese possessions from the illimitable deserts of sand
which form the _ne plus ultra_ of our dominion.”
N.B. I protest not only against the “illimitable deserts of sand,” but
also against the southern portion of the map which accompanies the book,
in which a magnificent but apocryphal river is made to meander through
them, and over the very ground which I have crossed and recrossed.—F. G.
[Illustration: Map of DAMARA-LAND AND THE ADJACENT COUNTRIES]
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