Chapter Twenty Three.
Before leaving Bloemfontein we met two fellow passengers of ours on the Trojan. They were brothers, and one was so ill that we never expected to see him again in this life, when lo! here he was the picture of health, entirely owing, he said, to the wonderful effects of the climate. By living and travelling for over six months in an ox-wagon, he declared, he had taken a new lease of life. Despite the fact of our lives having been insured in America, we thought that a new lease would be a comfortable thing to have by us. So we made up our minds to try the experiment.
It was not an easy thing to find a wagon which we could hire for the trip, but fortune favoured us. Mr A— met an English friend, Mr Heeler, from Pretoria, who had, like many others, managed to escape with his portable property and his wagon before the Boers beleaguered the town. He was undecided what to do until the difficulties were over, and soon consented, in consideration of a fair daily hire, to place his wagon and span of sixteen oxen at our disposal.
We provided ourselves with serviceable clothing, and were each measured by the local cobbler for a pair of strong, thick, laced shoes. But when the boy brought them in, we gazed at them for a moment, and then politely told him that some mistake must have been made, for none of our family wore number eight! They were monstrous.
But we were to leave the following day, and had to take them. We stuffed the toes and overlapped the leather when tying them up. We found, before we had been many days on the road, that our cowhide boots could brave anything, and were infinitely better for what we wanted than a stylish, neatly fitting shoe.
Laying in provisions for the wagon was like victualling a ship for a voyage. We laughed at the formidable list of canned goods that Mr A— had provided for our journey. “Good gracious!” we cried, “we can never eat all that;” but he assured us we should, and added that he expected to keep us provided with fresh meat with his gun and an occasional sheep bought from some Boer farmer. He had, however, to provide against failure in both expectations. Game might be scarce, and there are some Boers who will not sell anything to an Englishman.
Our wagon was twenty-three feet from end to end, and four feet and a half wide. With some willow wands and heavy wagon sail an excellent tent was made, thoroughly waterproof, and divided with a canvas partition into two compartments. Our trunks were packed on the floor, over which the beds were suspended on a cartel formed from laced strips of raw ox-hide.
Our stores were packed in boxes, which were securely fastened around and under the wagon, together with kettles, pans, and dishes of enamelled iron. A folding-table, several camp-stools and chairs completed our equipments, and on a muddy but sunshiny day we left our hotel, bidding good-by to our friends, and climbed on to our perches on the cartel. Four black boys, a maid, and two dogs formed our establishment. One of the large boys took the trek tow, a loose rein on the horns of the two leading oxen, and another the long-handled, long-thonged whip. There was a wild yell and a screech from them all, and the oxen started forward with a lurch that threatened to dislodge every article we had taken such pains to secure. The wagon slowly rose out of the muddy bed into which it had sunk during the past week’s rain, and getting into the road, moved at a brisk pace along.
Still brisk as it was the pace was only a walk. We thought we should never make the two or three hundred miles to Queenstown, at that pace, by the route we should take. We learned, however, that though slow it was sure. A team of oxen intelligently driven, and rested at proper intervals, will make thirty miles a day, week after week, over any sort of country, a rate of travelling that horses cannot exceed when the distance is long. At the end of three hours the oxen were outspanned to graze and the boys prepared our midday meal. The tablecloth was laid, and that tablecloth was the chief source of our solicitude throughout the trip. Oh the delight of that first meal! everything tasted so sweet. Were we not free, free as air, the sky and limitless veldt the ceiling, walls, and floor of our dining-room, with not a creature in sight? Our caterer had forgotten nothing that was necessary to make our meals model entertainments.
After an hour and a half the oxen were slowly driven up to the wagon and each one took his own proper place, seeming to know his own yoke. We trekked on over the same level plain, but as evening drew near the sky assumed a threatening aspect, and it was thought prudent to outspan and tie up in order to prepare for the reception of the impending storm. Before the yokes were removed the rain came pouring down in torrents. The boys dug a trench around the wagon under which they got for shelter, while we, safe under our waterproof tent, peered out from time to time at the storm raging around us.
Presently lightning began to flash and the thunder to roar, while the rain came down in sheets, seeming to transform the open country into a vast lake. Oh, those dreadful African thunderstorms! We thought We should never see worse storms than those of our Western prairies, but they were infants in strength compared to those in Africa.
The storm grew fiercer and fiercer, and the lightning seemed to come from the heavens in all directions in molten streams of fire. The road was full of ironstone, a peculiarity of the uplands of Africa; this seemed to attract the lightning, and the air appeared to be full of fire, accompanied by an ear-piercing crackling and booming that shook the earth. The atmosphere was black, and the darkness was intensified by the continual flashes, when suddenly there was a crash and a deafening roar that made us think the heavens had fallen. Stunned for a moment we each looked at the other, expecting that the wagon had been struck, and a great stir and lowing among the trembling oxen increased our fears.
We sat for half an hour listening to the thunder muttering fainter and fainter as it rolled away in the distance. The voice of A— summoned us from the tent. To our surprise we found the sky clear and no trace of the storm in the heavens, but an inky cloud disappearing far away on the horizon. About fifty yards ahead of the wagon was a large hole in the road that had been torn up by the fury of that thunderbolt which had so terrified us.
