CHAPTER NINE.
OFF TO THE HIGHLANDS AND BLACK SNAKES IN THE BUSH.
While the settlers of this section were thus scattering far and wide, inmore or less numerous groups, over the fertile plains of Lower Albany,the Scotch party was slowly, laboriously, toiling on over hill and dale,jungle and plain, towards the highlands of the interior.
The country through which the long line of waggons passed was as variedas can well be imagined, being one of the wildest and least inhabitedtracts of the frontier districts. The features of the landscape changedcontinually from dark jungle to rich park-like scenery, embellished withgraceful clumps of evergreens, and from that again to the sterility ofsavage mountains or parched and desert plains. Sometimes they ploddedwearily over the karroo for twenty miles or more at a stretch withoutseeing a drop of water. At other times they came to a wretched mudhovel, the farm-house of a boer, near a permanent spring of water.Again, they were entangled among the rugged, roadless gorges andprecipices of a mountain range, through which no vehicle of Europeanconstruction could have passed without absolute demolition, and up partsof which the Cape-waggons were sometimes compelled to go by means of twoteams,--that is, from twenty to thirty or more oxen,--being attached toeach. At other times they had to descend and re-ascend the precipitousbanks of rivers whose beds were sometimes quite dry and paved withmighty boulders.
"It's an unco' rough country," observed Sandy Black to CharlieConsidine, as they stood watching the efforts of a double team to haulone of their waggons up a slope so rugged and steep that the mereattempt appeared absolute madness in their eyes.
Considine assented, but was too much interested in the process toindulge in further remark.
"Gin the rope brek," continued Sandy, "I wadna gie muckle for thewaggon. It'll come rowin' an' stottin' doon the hill like a bairn'sba'."
"No fear of the rope," said Hans Marais, as he passed at the moment torender assistance to Ruyter, Jemalee, Booby, and some others, who wereshouting at the pitch of their voices, and plying the long waggon-whips,or the short sjamboks, with unmerciful vigour.
Hans was right. The powerful "trektow" stood the enormous strain, andthe equally powerful waggon groaned and jolted up the stony steep untilit had nearly gained the top, when an unfortunate drop of the rightfront wheel into a deep hollow, combined with an unlucky andsimultaneous elevation of the left back wheel by a stone, turned thevehicle completely over on its side. The hoops of the tilt were broken,and much of the lading was deposited in a hollow beside the waggon, buta few of the lighter and smaller articles went hopping, or, according toSandy Black, "stottin'" down the slope, and were smashed to atoms at thebottom.
Ruyter, Booby, and Jemalee turned towards Hans Marais with a shrinkingaction, as if they expected to feel the sjambok on their shoulders, fortheir own cruel master was wont on occasions of mischance such as thisto visit his men with summary punishment; but Hans was a good specimenof another, and, we believe, much more numerous class of Cape-Dutchmen.After the first short frown of annoyance had passed, he went actively towork, to set the example of unloading the waggon and repairing thedamage, administering at the same time, however, a pretty sharp rebuketo the drivers for their carelessness in not taking better note of theform of the ground.
That night in talking over the incident with Ruyter, Considine venturedagain to comment on the wrongs which the former endured, and thepossibility of redress being obtained from the proper authorities.
"For I am told," he said, "that the laws of the colony do not now permitmasters to lash and maltreat their slaves as they once did."
Ruyter, though by nature a good-humoured, easy-going fellow, waspossessed of an unusually high spirit for one of his race, and couldnever listen to any reference to the wrongs of the Hottentots without adark frown of indignation. In general he avoided the subject, but onthe night in question either his wonted reticence had fled, or he feltdisposed to confide in the kindly youth, from whom on the previousjourney from Capetown he had experienced many marks of sympathy andgood-will.
"There be no way to make tings better," he replied fiercely. "I knowsnoting 'bout your laws. Only knows dey don't work somehow. Allers desame wid _me_ anyhow, kick and cuff and lash w'en I's wrong--sometimesw'en I's right--and nebber git tanks for noting."
"But that is because your master is an unusually bad fellow," repliedConsidine. "Few Cape farmers are so bad as he. You have yourself hadexperience of Hans Marais, now, who is kind to every one."
"Ja, he is good master--an' so's him's fadder, an' all him's peepil--butwhat good dat doos to me!" returned the Hottentot gloomily. "It is trueyour laws do not allow us to be bought and sold like de slaves, but datvery ting makes de masters hate us and hurt us more dan de slaves."
This was to some extent true. At the time we write of, slavery, beingstill permitted in the British colonies, the Dutch, and other Capecolonists, possessed great numbers of negro slaves, whom it was theirinterest to treat well, as being valuable "property," and whom most ofthem probably did treat well, as a man will treat a useful horse or ox,though of course there were--as there always must be in thecircumstances--many instances of cruelty, by passionate and brutalowners. But the Hottentots, or original natives of the South Africansoil, having been declared unsaleable, and therefore not "property,"were in many cases treated with greater degradation by their mastersthan the slaves, were made to work like them, but not cared for or fedlike them, because not so valuable. At the same time, although notabsolute slaves, the Hottentots were practically in a state ofservitude, in which the freedom accorded to them by Government had, byone subterfuge or another, been rendered inoperative. Not long beforethis period the colonists possessed absolute power over the Hottentots,and although recent efforts had been made to legislate in their favour,their wrongs had only been mitigated,--by no means redressed. Masterswere, it is true, held accountable by the law for the treatment of theirHottentots, but were rarely called to account; and the Hottentots knewtoo well, from sad experience, that to make a complaint would be in manycases worse than useless, as it would only rouse the ire of theirmasters and make them doubly severe.
"You say de Hottentots are not slaves, but you treat us all de same asslaves--anyhow, Jan Smit does."
"That is the sin of Jan Smit, not of the British law," repliedConsidine.
Ruyter's face grew darker as he rejoined fiercely, "What de use of yourlaws if dey won't work? Besides, what right hab de white scoundril tomake slave at all--whether you call him slave or no call him slave.Look at Jemalee!"
The Hottentot pointed with violent action to the Malay, who, with a calmand sad but dignified mien, stood listening to the small-talk of Booby,while the light of the camp-fire played fitfully on their swarthyfeatures.
"Well, what of Jemalee!" asked Considine.
"You know dat him's a slave--a _real_ slave?"
"Yes, I know that, poor fellow."
"You never hear how him was brought up here?"
"No, never--tell me about it."
Hereupon the Hottentot related the following brief story.
Abdul Jemalee, a year or two before, had lived in Capetown, where hisowner was a man of some substance. Jemalee had a wife and severalchildren, who were also the property of his owner. Being an expertwaggon-driver, the Malay was a valuable piece of human goods. On oneoccasion Jan Smit happened to be in Capetown, and, hearing of theMalay's qualities, offered his master a high price for him. The offerwas accepted, but in order to avoid a scene, the bargain was kept secretfrom the piece of property, and he was given to understand that he wasgoing up country on his old master's business. When poor Jemalee badehis pretty wife and little ones goodbye, he comforted them with theassurance that he should be back in a few months. On arriving at Smit'splace, however, the truth was told, and he found that he had beenseparated for ever from those he most loved on earth. For some timeAbdul Jemalee gave way to sullen despair, and took every sort of abuseand cruel treatment with apparent indifference,
but, as time went on, achange came over him. He became more like his former self, and did hiswork so well, that even the savage Jan Smit seldom had any excuse forfinding fault. On his last journey to the Cape, Smit took the Malaywith him only part of the way. He left him in charge of a friend, whoagreed to look well after him until his return.
Even this crushing of Jemalee's hope that he might meet his wife andchildren once more did not appear to oppress him much, and when hismaster returned from Capetown he resumed charge of one of the waggons,and went quietly back to his home in the karroo.
"And can you tell what brought about this change?" asked Considine.
"Oh ja, I knows," replied Ruyter, with a decided nod and a deep chuckle;"Jemalee him's got a powerful glitter in him's eye now and den--berypowerful an' strange!"
"And what may that have to do with it?" asked Considine.
Ruyter's visage changed from a look of deep cunning to one of childlikesimplicity as he replied--"Can't go for to say what de glitter of him'seye got to do wid it. Snakes' eyes glitter sometimes--s'pose 'cause hecan't help it, or he's wicked p'raps."
Considine smiled, but, seeing that the Hottentot did not choose to becommunicative on the point, he forbore further question.
"What a funny man Jerry Goldboy is!" said Jessie McTavish, as she satthat same evening sipping a pannikin of tea in her father's tent.
From the opening of the tent the fire was visible.
Jerry was busy preparing his supper, while he kept up an incessant runof small-chat with Booby and Jemalee. The latter replied to him chieflywith grave smiles, the former with shouts of appreciative laughter.
"He _is_ funny," asserted Mrs McTavish, "and uncommonly noisy. I doubtif there is much good in him."
"More than you think, Mopsy," said Kenneth (by this irreverent name didthe Highlander call his better-half); "Jerry Goldboy is a small package,but he's made of good stuff, depend upon it. No doubt he's a littlenervous, but I've observed that his nerves are tried more by thesuddenness with which he may be surprised than by the actual danger hemay chance to encounter. On our first night out, when he roused thecamp and smashed the stock of his blunderbuss, no doubt I as well asothers thought he showed the white feather, but there was no lack ofcourage in him when he went last week straight under the tree where thetiger was growling, and shot it so dead that when it fell it was not farfrom his feet."
"I heard some of the men, papa," observed Jessie, "say that it was Dutchcourage that made him do that. What did they mean by Dutch courage?"
Jessie, being little more than eight, was ignorant of much of theworld's slang.
"Cape-smoke, my dear," answered her father, with a laugh.
"Cape-smoke?" exclaimed Jessie, "what is that?"
"Brandy, child, peach-brandy, much loved by some of the boers, I'm told,and still more so by the Hottentots; but there was no more Cape-smoke inJerry that day than in you. It was true English pluck. No doubt hecould hardly fail to make a dead shot at so close a range, with such anawful weapon, loaded, as it usually is, with handfuls of slugs,buckshot, and gravel; but it was none the less plucky for all that. Theold flint-lock might have missed fire, or he mightn't have killed thebrute outright, and in either case he knew well enough it would havebeen all up with Jerry Goldboy."
"Who's that taking my name in vain?" said Jerry himself, passing thetent at the moment, in company with Sandy Black.
"We were only praising you, Jerry," cried Jessie, with a laugh, "for theway in which you shot that tiger the other day."
"It wasn't a teeger, Miss Jessie," interposed Sandy Black, "it was onlya leopard--ane o' thae wee spottit beasts that they're sae prood o' inthis country as to _ca'_ them teegers."
"Come, Sandy," cried Jerry Goldboy, "don't rob me of the honour that ismy due. The hanimal was big enough to 'ave torn you limb from limb if'e'd got 'old of you."
"It may be sae, but he wasna a teeger for a' that," retortedBlack.--"D'ee know, sir," he continued, turning to McTavish, "that MrPringle's been askin' for 'ee?"
"No, Sandy, but now that you've told me I'll go to his tent."
So saying the Highlander rose and went out, to attend a council of"heads of families."
Hitherto we have directed the reader's attention chiefly to one or twoindividuals of the Scotch party, but there were in that party a numberof families who had appointed Mr Pringle their "head" andrepresentative. In this capacity of chief-head, or leader, Mr Pringlewas in the habit of convening a meeting of subordinate "heads" whenmatters of importance had to be discussed.
While the elders of the party were thus engaged in conclave at the doorof their leader's tent, and while the rest were busy round their severalfires, a man with a body much blacker than the _night_ was secretlygliding about the camp like a huge snake, now crouching as he passedquickly, but without noise, in rear of the thick bushes; now creeping onhands and knees among the waggons and oxen, and anon gliding almost flaton his breast up to the very verge of the light thrown by thecamp-fires. At one and another of the fires he remained motionless likethe blackened trunk of a dead tree, with his glittering eyes fixed onthe settlers, as if listening intently to their conversation.
Whatever might be the ultimate designs of the Kafir--for such he was--his intentions at the time being were evidently peaceful, for he carriedneither weapon nor shield. He touched nothing belonging to the whitemen, though guns and blankets and other tempting objects were more thanonce within reach of his hand. Neither did he attempt to steal thatwhich to the Kafir is the most coveted prize of all--a fat ox.Gradually he melted away into the darkness from which he had emerged.No eye in all the emigrant band saw him come or go in his snake-likeglidings, yet his presence was known to one of the party--to Ruyter theHottentot.
Soon after the Kafir had taken his departure, Ruyter left his camp-fireand sauntered into the bush as if to meditate before lying down for thenight. As soon as he was beyond observation he quickened his pace andwalked in a straight line, like one who has a definite end in view.
The Hottentot fancied that he had got away unperceived, but in this hewas mistaken. Hans Marais, having heard Considine's account of his talkwith Ruyter about Jemalee, had been troubled with suspicions about theformer, which led to his paying more than usual attention to him. Thesesuspicions were increased when he observed that the Hottentot wentfrequently and uneasily into the bushes, and looked altogether like aman expecting something which does not happen or appear. When,therefore, he noticed that after supper, Ruyter's anxious lookdisappeared, and that, after looking carefully round at his comrades, hesauntered into the bush with an overdone air of nonchalance, he quietlytook up his heavy gun and followed him.
The youth had been trained to _observe_ from earliest childhood, and,having been born and bred on the karroo, he was as well skilled intracking the footprints of animals and men as any red savage of theNorth American wilderness. He took care to keep the Hottentot in sight,however, the night being too dark to see footprints. Lithe and agile asa panther, he found no difficulty in doing so.
In a few minutes he reached an open space, in which he observed that theHottentot had met with a Kafir, and was engaged with him in earnestconversation. Much however of what they said was lost by Hans, as hefound it difficult to get within ear-shot unobserved.
"And why?" he at length heard the savage demand, "why should I sparethem for an hour?"
He spoke in the Kafir tongue, in which the Hottentot replied, and withwhich young Marais was partially acquainted.
"Because, Hintza," said Ruyter, naming the paramount chief of Kafirland,"the time has not yet come. One whose opinion you value bade me tellyou so."
"What if I choose to pay no regard to the opinion of any one?" demandedthe chief haughtily.
Ruyter quietly told the savage that he would then have to take theconsequences, and urged, in addition, that it was folly to suppose theKafirs were in a condition to make war on the white men just then. Itwas barely a year since they had been totall
y routed and driven acrossthe Great Fish River with great slaughter. No warrior of common sensewould think of renewing hostilities at such a time--their young menslain, their resources exhausted. Hintza had better bide his time. Inthe meanwhile he could gratify his revenge without much risk to himselfor his young braves, by stealing in a quiet systematic way from thewhite men as their herds and flocks increased. Besides this, Ruyter,assuming a bold look and tone which was unusual in one of his degradedrace, told Hintza firmly that he had reasons of his own for not wishingthe Scotch emigrants to be attacked at that time, and that if hepersisted in his designs he would warn them of their danger, in whichcase they would certainly prove themselves men enough to beat any numberof warriors Hintza could bring against them.
Lying flat on the ground, with head raised and motionless, Hans Maraislistened to these sentiments with much surprise, for he had up to thattime regarded the Hottentot as a meek and long-suffering man, but now,though his long-suffering in the past could not be questioned, hismeekness appeared to have totally departed.
The Kafir chief would probably have treated the latter part of Ruyter'sspeech with scorn, had not his remarks about sly and systematic plunderchimed in with his own sentiments, for Hintza was pre-eminentlyfalse-hearted, even among a race with whom successful lying is deemed avirtue, though, when found out, it is considered a sin. He pondered theHottentot's advice, and apparently assented to it. After a few moments'consideration, he turned on his heel, and re-entered the thick jungle.
Well was it for Hans Marais that he had concealed himself among tallgrass, for Hintza chanced to pass within two yards of the spot where helay. The kafir chief had resumed the weapons which, for convenience, hehad left behind in the bush while prowling round the white man's camp,and now stalked along in all the panoply of a savage warrior-chief; withox-hide shield, bundle of short sharp assagais, leopard-skin robe, andfeathers. For one instant the Dutchman, supposing it impossible toescape detection, was on the point of springing on the savage, but onsecond thoughts he resolved to take his chance. Even if Hintza diddiscover him, he felt sure of being able to leap up in time to ward offhis first stab.
Fortunately the Kafir was too much engrossed with his thoughts. Hepassed his white enemy, and disappeared in the jungle.
Meanwhile the Hottentot returned to the camp--assuming an easy-goingsaunter as he approached its fires--and, soon after, Hans Maraisre-entered it from an opposite direction. Resolving to keep his owncounsel in the meantime, he mentioned the incident to no one, but aftercarefully inspecting the surrounding bushes, and stirring up thewatch-fires, he sat down in front of his leader's tent with theintention of keeping guard during the first part of the night.