Chapter Ten.
Farewell to Ralfontein.
“Good-bye, and a pleasant journey to you,” said Captain Jamieson, who, with his sons and daughters, had turned out at daybreak to see the last of his departing guests. “Follow the route that I have mapped out, and I stake my reputation that you will find it comparatively easy travelling.”
“Shall we come across plenty of game, Captain Jamieson?” was Tom’s eager question, as he took leave of his host. “I am very anxious to try this rifle.”
“But you had a famous chance coming up here, Tom,” laughed Frank Jamieson. “There’s no doubt that one or two of the blacks, who attacked you, fell before your aim.”
“That’s all very well, Frank,” retorted Tom, “but niggers aren’t game, you know. I want to try my hand at a tiger or buck. I should very much like to send my old form-master a handsome ‘kaross,’ made up of skins of my own shooting.”
“Well, my boy,” said Captain Jamieson, “if you knock over one-thousandth part of the game you see ’twixt this and Rondebosch, you’ll be able to present karosses to every master at Rugby, and feather-cloaks to their wives and daughters; ay, and clothe the elevens with tiger-skins into the bargain. Once more, good-bye! Hope to see you all again next year.”
“Good-bye! good-bye!” echoed his stalwart sons.
“Adieu! adieu! take care of yourselves,” chorused the young ladies. And amidst the waving of white handkerchiefs and regretful farewells the little cavalcade moved off.
Our friends had spent a very pleasant week at Ralfontein, and now they were starting on their return journey, with the twenty horses which they had purchased from Captain Jamieson. Several of their purchases were already broken to the saddle, and had also been trained to behave steadily under fire; four of these horses the Major and Mr Weston decided to retain for their own stable, to be ridden by themselves and the boys. Tom’s “mount” was a useful red “skimmel” (roan) standing just under fifteen hands; a well-looking animal enough, with good shoulders, and clean, well-shaped legs, but—like most Cape horses—inclined to be “goose-rumped.” George rode at least twelve pounds lighter than did his friend, so Mr Weston picked him out a smaller horse—a nice-looking quiet little grey.
Patrick Keown, who was an excellent rough-rider, chose a wild half-broken bay.
“I loike to combine business wid plisure,” quoth he, when he gave his troublesome nag the first bucketting. “Shure, I’ll ‘take the gay impidince out of his tail,’ afore he’s much oulder!”
Black William was mounted on an ugly raw-boned animal that matched him in colour.
The route which Captain Jamieson had advised the Major to follow lay across the Middel Roggeveldt, then over the Groote Karoo, striking into the Beaufort-Worcester track near to Kudos Kop. From thence the road followed the course of the Gamska River for some miles, passed close to the base of the western extremity of the Black Mountains, and so through the Worcester and Stellenbosch districts to Cape Town, the actual distance which the travellers would have to cover being between 300 and 400 miles.
The Middel Roggeveldt was traversed without adventure; they saw plenty of game, and Tom and George proved themselves no mean shots with gun and rifle; but, as the former truly observed, nothing happened to crow or fuss about.
The first difficulty the party met with occurred after they crossed the Newied Bergen. A small river flows at the foot of this range of mountains, the road from the north-east crossing it at a place called Hottentot’s Drift. On arriving at the drift, Major Flinders found that, instead of a shallow river, a hundred and fifty yards wide at the most, he would have to cross a small inundated plain; for the river had overflowed its banks, and laid all the low land at the foot of the Newied Bergen, under water.
It was rather awkward work getting the horses over. Some of them did not like it at all, and plunged and snorted with terror; others did not seem to mind the water, but then they must needs try to roll. However, after some trouble they were all got across; and as it was then getting late, the major ordered a “halt,” and bivouacked for the night on the banks of the river.