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

Only for a few seconds stood he thus, when his little eyes began to sparkle with a peculiar intelligence, his ears giving indication of the same by a satisfied flap or two, as much as to say, “Now I know what did it.” Then, as if determined to have his bath out, he strode back into the water, till nearly knee-deep, and once more plunged his proboscis underneath. But his design was all different, as the spectators were soon made aware by seeing a ripple on the surface of the water, a moving furrow as from the dorsal fin of a shark, but which they knew to be caused by a crocodile. And a crocodile it was; one of small size, not over six or seven feet in length. But surely the same that had made a snap at the elephant’s trunk, inflicting a wound which, though slight, was enough to account for that angry scream, with the action accompanying.

Many tales have been told of the sagacity of elephants, and many instances recorded, truthful too. But, perhaps, never one affording better proof of it, and certainly none stranger, than that the Vee-Boers were witnesses of there and then. Standing still, with trunk partly submerged, the great pachyderm kept the long, flexible feeler in constant, but gentle oscillation, playing its tip horizontally from side to side, as an angler his fly, or mock-minnow.

The bait took almost instantly. Scarce a minute had elapsed, ere the crocodile, drawing close up, under the surface, cautiously, made a second attempt to seize it. This time to get seized itself, and jerked out of the water, as if it had been but a sprat. Then the elephant again facing shoreward, strode out, still holding it in his trunk with octopus-like clasp, more than one lap of the gristly tube being around it. High in air was the reptile raised, to be hoisted yet higher, as soon as the Karl-kop set foot on land.

For it was tossed up into a tree, and fell in a fork between two branches, elastic boughs, that, closing upon it, held it as in a vice, despite all its writhings and wrigglings!

The spectators affirm that the elephant flung it into that particular crotch, with a foreknowledge of the result, though I myself rather think that the deposition was a thing of chance.

From that high eminence the ugly creature never came down, though a bullet, afterwards sent into it in mercy, brought its struggles to an end.

But before this, the Karl-kop had been permitted so depart in peace, without a shot fired at him, young Boers and all now desirous that he should go unscathed. Recalling the scare which the crocodiles had given them, they looked upon him in the light of an ally and avenger. So that without seeing, or having any suspicion of the danger so near him, he went away back upon the same spoor, to continue his lonely life and wanderings.

Chapter Twenty One.

Afloat on the Limpopo

A broad river coursing eastward for the Indian Ocean, nearly in the latitude of the Tropic of Capricorn. Drifting down it is a large raft, with many people upon it, and that which, seen from a distance, might be taken for three trek-waggons. On nearer view, however, these are discovered to be but waggon – tilts, supported on upright posts instead of wheels. Needless to say, they are the same which have been all along sheltering our party of migrating Boers, and the river the Limpopo; while the large raft is a composite structure of the three small ones lashed and braced together, with some additional timbers to give it greater size and strength. The original beams of koker-boom had been carried across the second portage, put together as before, and brought on down the branch stream, without encountering any other interruption. On reaching its mouth, however, it was deemed better to continue the voyage with the three united in one, and the union has been made. In the new arrangement the waggon-tilts still hold position on the quarter-deck, side by side and parallel to one another; while only one of the steering-oars – the central one – is retained. The sheds are also re-erected on the fore-deck, with the cargo collected into one pile, and instead of three fire-hearths, a single one now serves for all. With the thermometer often at 100 degrees in the shade it is not there for warmth, but culinary needs.

There are still a half-score of the water-horses attached, but now in tow astern, and with no one bestriding them. Nor have they been much ridden since that great crocodile scare; all along the branch stream, thence downward, the reptiles being in such numbers, and so fiercely disposed, as to make it unsafe. The horses, however, have been retained to meet certain emergencies, as when quick communication with the banks may be necessary or desirable. But there is now another tender attached, of quite a different kind; a canoe full twenty feet in length, with a beam’s breadth of about five, capable of holding a crew of eight or ten. It is of the “dug-out” pattern, hollowed from a single trunk, the handicraft of the Imacobas.

All this occupied time, more than a fortnight having been spent in the work of remodelling and reconstruction, the scene of operations being inside the embouchure of the tributary. During that period the people were, of course, compelled to live on land, and there passing sleepless nights, through the torment of mosquitoes, they are glad to get out upon the bosom of the broad river, where but few of these persecutors will follow them [40 - If a wide river, mosquitoes are rarely found far from the bank. Along the water’s edge is their favourite haunt, especially where wooded.].

As the re-embarkation has been just effected, they are as yet uncertain how the new craft will behave. But with the buoyant koker-booms holding it high in the water, its gives promise of good “floating” qualities, which has put all on board into the best of spirits. Besides, they are again experiencing that exquisite sense of pleasure derived from motion without toil, with the added delight of ever-changing scenes. The tract of country they are now traversing is different from any they have yet passed over; a vast level plain, with no mountain, not even a hill, visible on either side; treeless to a far distance, the only vegetation near being tall grass and reeds, with here and there on the higher stretches of bank a thin scattering of bushes, chiefly acacias. At a different period of the year, most of the land in sight would be under water – inundated. Even now portions of it are marsh, though it is the season of drought, and the river at its lowest. Yet is there no lack of animal life, birds especially abounding; birds of largest size and endless variety of species. Standing balanced on one leg, or leisurely winging through the air, can be seen the “Wattled” and “Blue” cranes; while on some bit of smooth sand beach may be witnessed that curious spectacle, “Caffre” cranes [41 - The “Wattled” crane (Grus carunculata). The “Blue” crane of the South African colonists is that better known to naturalists as the Stanley crane (Anthropoides Stanleyanus). The “Caffre” crane is the beautiful species with coronetted head (Balearica Regulorum); called also “Crowned” crane, and sometimes “Balearic” from its being an inhabitant of the Balearic Isles.], dancing a quadrille, with wings extended and waving about, as the gauzy skirts of ladies in a ball-room. Not far off, but solitary, is the great “Goliath heron,” as also the white egret, two kinds of flamingoes, and storks of several species; among these the gigantic “Adjutant” [42 - The Adjutant, or, as more commonly called, “Adjutant bird” (Ciconia Argali), belongs to the family of storks, of which South Africa possesses no less than seven distinct species. The species of Ardeinae or Herons, are there even much more numerous, there being fifteen of them including true herons, egrets, and bitterns.], whose beak, like a pick-axe when pointed upward with neck at full stretch, will reach to the height of a man’s head. Affrighted from their watery rest, flocks of wild geese and ducks fly to and fro; while the ostriches and great “Kori” bustards go stalking over the plain, or, approaching the river’s bank, stand gazing at the raft, half in wonder, half alarmed. High in the heaven’s above are vultures of various kinds; also eagles, kites, and others of the falcon tribe, each soaring in its own curve, with eyes on the qui vive for quarry below.

Nor are quadrupeds scarce; instead plenteous, both in number and species. Here and there a hippopotamus appears swimming about in the river, or but for a moment showing its clumsy head, with thick truncated muzzle above the surface as it rises to breathe; then going under again to leave a large eddy with floating froth and bubbles. Now and then a rhinoceros comes crashing through the reeds by the river’s edge on its way to drink, while troops of quaggas, zebras, and antelopes, the last varied in size and sort, roam over the veldt beyond.

But the spectacle most interesting of all was one afforded by the largest of quadrupeds – the elephant itself; a sight so rare as to well deserve being called wonderful; and so the old jäger, Jan Van Dorn, pronounced it – even he never having witnessed the like before.

During the time they were engaged in raft-building, they had observed elephants on the opposite side of the great river; not a single herd, but straggling bands all moving in the same direction – downward. Day after day they had noticed this stream of the great pachyderms, supposing them to be the same animals that had returned up in the night, and were thus journeying to and fro for food, or water.

Now they had evidence to the contrary, and in less than an hour after embarking. As they passed down, with eyes scanning the plain on both sides of the river, they arrived opposite a wide expanse of wet marsh, or savanna, extending away from the right bank. On this was a herd of elephants, a multitude so vast as to seem all of the elephant kind inhabiting South Africa. The ground was thick covered and black with them for miles upon miles, the whole drove certainly numbering not less than a thousand head! They were up to their bellies browsing on a green sedge – that grew luxuriantly in the wet marshy soil – no doubt the cause of their being so congregated.

To the young Boers it was a sight not less tantalising than strange, and their elders had a difficulty in restraining them. One and all were for bringing the raft in to the bank, landing, and making slaughter among the pachyderms. But the old jäger in command would not listen to this; knowing as he did, that the first shot fired would send the herd helter-skelter, even should they stand to receive a first shot.

Besides, he urged another and more convincing objection. To stalk such game on that ground, bare of trees and other protecting cover, would be attended with the greatest danger. Instead of retreating, just as likely might they charge upon the stalkers, and put them to flight, with scarce a chance of escape.

In fine, the elephants were let alone, though not without sore reluctance on the part of the young hunters. Even the baases disliked it; for it seemed almost as the leaving behind some thousands of pounds of ivory, with as many hundreds of pounds sterling. But it had to be done; the uncertainty, with peril attendant, determining the sacrifice.

And there was still another factor which just then interfered. The raft, hitherto gliding smoothly on at a fair rate of speed, had been found to be gradually slowing, and was now scarce making way at all. The cause was clear enough. Up to this point, or rather down to it, they had been carried along on the current of the inflowing stream, which here came to an end amid the more sluggish waters of the great river.

By Jan Van Dorn this new and unexpected impediment was looked upon with something more than vexation – indeed alarm – the wiser ones sharing it. Before them were long leagues of river navigation; how many they could not tell, or what time it might take to reach the sea. But they knew there was also a rainy season before them, during which the low-lying coast-land becomes a hotbed of malarial fever, almost always fatal to white men. No wonder then at their dreading delay.

It seemed a poor alternative, taking to oars; but they had hopes of again getting into a current farther down, and so took to them. Poling they did not think of now; as, despite the river being at its lowest, it was too deep for that. But there were oars in plenty, with men to man them; so out went they, to be worked with a will.

Notwithstanding, their progress was unsatisfactory, the cumbrous structure refusing to move at a speed of much more than a mile to the hour. And as still further discouragement a long reach of the river – leagues of it – stretched before them, straight as a canal, and to all appearance as stagnant. But this, at first dispiriting, after a little became suggestive. If in directness of course the stream resembled a canal, either of its banks – smooth, firm, and level as they were – might be likened to a tow-path.

Why should they not try towing? Just the idea that occurred to baas Van Dorn; to be acted upon without an instant’s delay. Quick as it could be done, the old waggon trek-trouws were spliced together, one end made fast to the raft, and the other carried ashore, with a score of Hottentots and Caffres to do the towing. Which commenced amid a chorus of encouraging cries; and soon the huge, heavy craft, with constantly increasing speed, was “walking the water like a thing of life.”

Chapter Twenty Two.

Legs Easily Broken

The towers had advanced but a very short way when an incident arose, illustrating a strange ornithological fact – indeed, so strange as to seem apocryphal. While pulling onward with shouts and laughter, they saw before them two large birds, which all knew to be Slangvreters[43 - The Secretary Bird (Serpentarius reptilivorus) called Slangvreter (snake-eater) by the Boers. It is held in high esteem by the South African colonists, on account of its services as a destroyer of reptiles; and there is even a heavy fine, imposed by law, for killing one of these birds.], – easily recognisable as such by their slender bodies, thick aquiline beaks, and long stilt-like legs. But still more, by the spike of plumelets growing out of their crowns with a backward slant; which, from a fancied resemblance to the old-fashioned quill-pen stuck behind the ear of clerk or scrivener, has earned for them the more common title of “Secretary birds.” When first observed, they were out on the open veldt serpent-hunting. One had even seized a large green snake, borne it aloft into the air, and was in the act of dashing it to the ground, where the other, with outstretched neck and vibrating wings, was waiting to pounce upon it. They were but a little out of the way of the towers, who expected to see them drop the snake, and retreat further, or carry it away. They did drop the snake, but instead of making off, drew nearer with a rush, half running, half flying; nor stopped they till close up, and direct on the path the towing party must take. Not to remain at rest there, but with continued fluttering around a mimosa-bush that grew upon the bank – all the while screaming affrightedly.

There was no mystery about their behaviour, strange as it appeared. Its cause was declared by cries, a sort of guttural rattling, which came responsive out of the mimosa, where a nest was now descried with young in it. It was an immense cluster of sticks loosely put together, through which the long legs of the two young secretaries – for there was but a pair – hung dangling down. By this the towers were beside it, and a scramble ensued to get hold of the chicks, the old birds having at length despairingly forsaken them, though still tarrying near. But the youngsters were not to be caught so easily. Nearly full-fledged and grown, before hand could be laid on either, they bolted out of the nest, and struck off in run over the veldt, flapping their wings to assist them. Half a dozen of the men followed, eagerly bent on capture. For the slangvreter is a favourite pet with the South African Dutch; often tamed and kept as a protector of the poultry-yard. But notwithstanding the swiftness of some of their pursuers, the young secretaries, running like ostriches, would doubtless have escaped, but for an accident depriving them of the use of their limbs. Traversing the line of their retreat was a fissure in the ground, and into it both tumbled head foremost, from their eyes being all on the pursuers behind. It was a dry rain-gulch, so shallow, it seemed as though the birds might easily have got out again, and continued on. So could they, and would, had their legs but held good, which they did not. Instead the young secretaries lay struggling at the bottom of the gulch; and when taken up, it was found that one had both legs broken, the other a leg and a wing!

Their captors thought little of this, knowing it a thing of common occurrence, and that the legs of young slangvreters are so brittle as often to snap in twain – even from a fall on level ground, if the birds be alarmed, and started suddenly into a run.

The captives were taken on board the raft; but, as it was known that their broken limbs could not be set again, they were humanely killed, to save them from a lingering death. But compassion had to undergo a still greater trial, at sight and hearing of the parent birds, as they flew frantically around the now untenanted nest, uttering shrill plaintive cries. But the Caffres and Hottentots, callous to pity, made light of their anguished demonstrations; and, hoisting the tow-rope over the mimosa-bush, once more bent themselves along it, and treked on, mirthful and boisterous as ever.

They had not proceeded much farther, however, before encountering another incident, of a less pleasant nature, as though meant to rebuke and punish them for their unfeeling behaviour. With the sun high up in a cloudless sky, the atmosphere had become hot as the inside of a glass-house; so sultry as soon to put an end to their merry caperings. Instead of jumping about, and playing tricks on one another, they were now contented to move soberly and slowly along – even letting the tow-rope drag the ground. The thick hawser of raw hide was no light weight in itself, to say nothing of the huge thing that needed pulling along.

Jan Van Dorn, with others upon the raft, began to chafe at the slow progress they were making; the baas at length calling out to them to mend their pace. As he spoke commandingly, expecting obedience, what was his surprise to see them drop the tow-rope as if it had been a bar of red-hot iron, and at the same time recommence capering about! But their antics were now of a different kind, both legs and arms in violent agitation, as though one and all had become suddenly afflicted with the malady of Saint Vitus! Their voices, moreover, had quite a different tone; no more in jest or laughter, but cries and exclamations betokening pain. So shouting, and wildly gesticulating, some ran out on the open veldt, others to and fro along the bank. But most of them made a rush down to the river, and plunging in, swam off for the raft. Not till they were close up to it, did the cause of their debandade become known to those on board; then by their seeing over the head of each swimmer a swarm of insects easily recognisable as bees. Each had his own escort of them; the bees infuriated, and spitefully buzzing, as at intervals they darted down to inflict their stings. All was understood now. The trailing hawser had caught upon a hive, to make wholesale ruin of it; and the incensed insects were taking revenge for the destruction of their honeyed store.

As the swimmers came on, it was seen that the Caffres, protected by their thick lanigerous mops, suffered least; while the Hottentots, with scantier covering of wool, had to keep constantly ducking their heads under water.

All this was highly provocative of mirth to the people on the raft, and most of them were now in convulsions of laughter. But not long to continue it; scarce a minute more, till they had convulsions of another and very different kind. For soon as the retreating towers climbed upon deck, the bees, forsaking them, attacked every one indiscriminately – white, black, and yellow all the same. The shouts and gesticulations, heard and seen hitherto, were nothing to compare with the racket that arose now. Women shrieked as they rushed in under the canvas tilts, tugging their children after, all in wild hullabaloo; while the young Boers leaped about, arms up and buffeting the air, as so many Don Quixotes fighting imaginary windmills. Even the trio of grave, phlegmatic baases were forced to take part in the grotesque saltatorial performance!

Nor was it so soon over, but kept up for nigh twenty minutes’ time; till the last bee got killed, or driven from the raft. But before this could be done, scarce anybody escaped without a sting; some of the towers first attacked having eyes “bunged up,” and features so swollen as to be well-nigh obliterated. Neither was this the worst, or at least the whole of it. For in addition to the physical pain, there was a mental one. They had heard of a species of bee, inhabiting that very part of Africa, whose sting is poisonous, resulting in certain death. No wonder at their apprehensions being keen, even to torture. Nor did they get over them, with full confidence restored, for days after; not till the swelling had gone down, and all suspicious symptoms disappeared.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Hippopotamus Hunting

While the battle with the bees was progressing upon the raft, the same enemy was being fought on the bank by the towers who had stayed there; seven or eight of whom could not swim. Some of these had leaped into the river, where they saw it was not of a depth to drown them, the rest running off over the veldt. Equally ludicrous was the behaviour of both parties. They in the water having waded in, deep as was safe, there stopped. But as the bees followed, and were still buzzing about their heads, they had to keep ducking under water, bobbing up and down, as boys in their first essays at diving. Those who remained on land rushed wildly hither and thither, at intervals bounding up like springboks, all the while sawing the air with their arms to an accompaniment of dolorous cries. It was some time before the towing could be resumed, every one busy doing his best to allay the pain from stings received. But as the raft had now nigh come to a stop, the voice of the head baas was once more raised in command; the hawser fished up out of the water, and again taken ashore; then a detail of fresh hands following to man it, the towage was continued as before.

But the rope was no longer allowed to trail. Heavy though it was, and still hot the sun, care was taken to keep it clear of the ground, with a sharp look-out for bees’ nests; several others that were encountered being given a wide berth.

Fortunately for all, this toilsome trek did not need to be of long duration. At the lower end of the straight reach there was a bend in the river, rounding which they once more caught the current in strength sufficient to carry the raft briskly along. So the towers were called back on board; the hawser drawn on deck, and stowed away in a coil for future service of a similar kind, should it be required.

The rafters were just beginning to congratulate themselves on the smooth, easy gliding again, with a satisfactory rate of speed, when they observed that this last was gradually increasing. But not slowly; instead, with a rapidity to give them cause for apprehension. It was a change from one extreme to the other, a revulsion of feeling sudden as complete. But an hour before they had been chafing at still water; now did they as little like it running – their minds filled with a fear of rapids below.

Just such there proved to be; a chain of them, one succeeding another, for the next twenty leagues of the river’s course. It was where the land surface sloped down from the high plateau of the interior to the low-lying belt of the coast. But luckily by a gentle incline; had there been any abrupt escarpment, a cataract in the stream would have been the consequence, and possibly the raft gone over it, so bringing the adventures of our Vee-Boers, with their lives, to a termination, there and then.

As it was, they encountered no waterfall, only rapids; which, by a dextrous use of the poles, with one or other of the Macobas all the time at the steering oar, they succeeded in safely running. It was often a close shave though, with wreckage imminent more than once. Once, indeed, the raft grounded upon a subaqueous reef, and threatened going to pieces. But what with the buoyant koker-booms, the reliable lashings of Baavian-touw, and the skill of the Lake Figam boatmen, it was got off again without serious damage.

Rejoiced were all when at length assured that the last of the turbulent rushes had been run, and they were once more in a tranquil current, with the assurance of its extending to a far distance beyond them. They had this confidence from the changed character of the stream, and the scenery on its banks. It now coursed through flat, alluvial land, on both sides wooded to the water’s edge; the trees of great height, and broad leaved, with that lush luxuriance of underwood only found in tropical forests.

Thenceforward it was all plain sailing, and easy; though the steerers had a hard enough task, and required to be continuously at it. For the stream was now winding, often nigh back upon itself like the letter S, and at times near to being as the figure 8. Here, again, it was too deep for polling, but neither were the oars resorted to. Without them the raft made way averaging a league to the hour, and with this all were contented. The Boers of South Africa, as their ancestors by the Zuyder Zee, take things easily. Besides, the rainy season would not set in for another month, and in less than half that time, barring accidents, they should reach the reported Portuguese settlement by the river’s mouth. Thence, getting out to sea, they would escape the fever danger.

Thus reliant, they allowed the raft to glide on, giving it no aid of oars, save the steering one, at which the two Macobas took turn and turn about, having all the work to do. The rest of the people did little or nothing, though the young Boers were busy enough. But with sport, not work; their activity consisting in a display of shooting skill. Large birds were all the time hovering overhead, or flying past – cranes, pelicans, flamingoes, vultures, and eagles – and to bring one of these down with a bullet was the feat on which bets were made.

Many so fell, and doubtless more would have fallen; but before they had been long thus engaged, an order was issued for them to desist. It came from Jan Van Dorn, who had just conceived a grand economic scheme, suggested by something he saw in the river. This was a hippopotamus, or rather several; for since leaving the foot of the rapids, numbers of these amphibia had been observed, some waddling about upon the banks, others swimming to and fro in the water, the cows with calves on their backs; still others at rest on the surface as if asleep, with white birds – a species of sea-gull – perched upon their shoulders. Even those moving about had each its quota of such perchers, now and then affording an amusing spectacle, as the unwieldy quadrupeds sank under water, forcing the birds to take wing with an odd air of bewilderment. Not so different was the behaviour of the quadrupeds themselves, as they saw the raft bear down upon them, and go drifting by – a sight altogether new to them. They may have seen canoes, water-horses, and other contrivances of river navigation in use among the natives, but never a craft like that – never one of such monstrous dimensions. And a monster it must have appeared to them, as at intervals it belched forth flame and smoke, accompanied by the loud reports of the roers.

With heads raised on high, the hippopotami responded to all this in loud snorts, groans, and bellowing, more in astonishment than alarm. There was also a tone of defiance in it which gratified the ear of the old jäger, making known to him that he was in a river where these animals had rarely, if ever, been hunted. This meant money, should the opportunity be taken advantage of, and he was not the man to let such a chance slip. Hence his having ordered the young Boers to cease firing at the birds, the zeekoes[44 - Zeekoe (Anglice, “sea-cow”) is the name by which the hippopotamus is known to the Dutch colonists of South Africa. It is just as inappropriate as that of “river-horse” (hippopotamus).] offering a mark better worth powder and ball. So, from that moment, not one was passed within shot-range but had a bullet lodged in its body, and a second if the first failed to kill it; sometimes a whole volley, when needed to make death sure. Rarely was there a call for such wholesale expenditure of ammunition. Most of them had slain zeekoes before, and knew the exact spot to aim at; that most vulnerable being midway between eye and ear. With marksmen skilled as they, misses were rare; and the crack of a gun might be taken as sounding the death-knell of a hippopotamus.

While engaged in this practice, they became witnesses of an odd spectacle afforded by an old bull, which had been fired at and hit just behind the ear, too far back to give him his death wound. It seemed but to drive him crazy; as he commenced spinning round and round on the water, as a sheep in a pasture field, attacked by the “turn giddies.” But he was not permitted to make many gyrations, ere a volley from the raft brought his spin to an abrupt termination, along with his life.