Chapter Twenty Four.

To Sea and Home.

Let the reader imagine a month to have elapsed since our migrant graziers—for the time turned hippopotamus hunters—pitched their camp on the river islet. They are still in occupation of it; and proof that they have chased the zeekoes to some purpose is seen all around. Under a capacious shed, some hundreds of the animals’ teeth lie in heaps, as horns in a tannery, and beside them many bunches of jamboks, manufactured from the hides; while piles of Zeekoe-speck (Note 1) and bladders of fat rendered into lard, are heaped up everywhere. During all the month they have had a busy time of it; the young hunters killing hippopotami, while the Hottentots and Caffres did the skinning, whip-making, curing, and “trying out.”

Tempted by a chase so profitable in results, and still yielding, they had lingered till the last moment it might be safe. Perhaps too long, was the apprehensive thought of Jan Van Dorn, as one morning he waked up to behold the sky overcast with inky clouds, at the same time hearing the rumble of distant thunder. It was the very morning they had fixed upon for breaking up camp, and moving everything on board the raft. But as yet nothing had been stirred; waggon-tilts, hartebeest-houses, sheds—with all the paraphernalia—standing or piled up as ever.

Neither was hand laid upon them that day, nor on the five days following. For before breakfast could be eaten, the far-off thunder had come near, and was no longer heard in low muttering, but loud reverberation; peal succeeding peal, as if all heaven’s artillery had opened fire over their heads. Lightning flashed and forked athwart the clouded firmament, from which fell rain, not in drops, but sheets—a very swill of it.

Five days, and part of a sixth, did the downpour continue without intermission, save in the nights. But these being dark as Erebus, nothing could be done in the way of transferring effects to the raft; while during daylight so thick and blinding was the rain, that to keep under shelter was the only thing thought of.

On the morning of the seventh day, the sky cleared again, and there was a suspension of the storm. But Jan Van Dorn and Smutz knew it would be only temporary; since now, sure enough, the dreadful periodical rains had set in. So much the more reason for hastening departure from that perilous spot.

As yet, however, their only fear was the fatal malarious fever, likely to ensue. But ere twenty minutes more had passed, they were made aware of another danger hitherto unthought of. Preliminary to moving their impedimenta on board the raft, the three baases had gone down to inspect it, with a view to the storage of the cargo, now so much augmented. Never was visit of inspection shorter, or more perfunctory, nor one with more abrupt ending. In fact they could not get upon the raft at all, as the inner end of the plank, that had rested on dry land, was now several yards out in the water—bobbing up and down like a float-stick. There was no obscurity about the cause. The river had risen several feet; and, as they stood regarding it, they could see it was still on the rise. In another hour or two—possibly less—the whole islet would be under water.

Whatever the reason for haste before, it was now more than doubled. And, needless to say, all possible haste was made; a scene of activity following, with hurrying to and fro. Down came the waggon covers—canvass, bamboos and all—to be rushed on board the raft, and there dropped without waiting to set them up again; goods and chattels, all the old effects with the new, getting transferred from camp to craft in like expeditious manner.

Everything was on board by noon; and, as luckily no rain fell during the rest of that day, they had all stowed snug before night, and were ready to resume navigation; their last spell of it on that bottom of koker-booms—so hoped they, and believed.

By earliest dawn of the next day the raft was cast loose from moorings, and rowed out into the river clear of the islet. Then went it floating down, though with deck nearer the water-line than ever before. But this, instead of troubling those on board, only gave them gratification; as might be gathered from the words of Jan Van Dorn, spoken after they had got well under way. Seated beside his two associates on sheaves of jamboks, all three pipe in mouth, and eyes bent on the heaps of ivory, zeekoe-speck, and lard, the head baas thus unburdened himself:—

“After all, brothers, it’s not likely to turn out so bad for us. Look at these!” with a nod towards the varied spoils. “If we can only get them safe into the Durban market, they’ll sell for enough to make good all our losses. Ay,” he added, with a knowing wink, and a circular flourish of his meerschaum, “with a trifle of profit besides; sufficient to give us all a fresh start, and a good one, once we’ve treked back to the Transvaal.”

“Ya—ya!” was the laconic response of Blom and Rynwald; after which the three sate smoking on in silence; only now and then interchanging grunts of congratulation, as their eyes rested on the valuable commodities heaped up around them.

It is pleasant having to record, that their hopeful anticipations were realised, and to the letter. On the third day after putting off from the islet, the raft was tossing about in tidal water, where the river’s current met the inflowing surge of the sea. And here again the koker-booms behaved splendidly, bearing them well up and safe through the conflict of waters—at length to lie cabled to a staunchion on the wharf of the little seaport they had heard of, and which proved to be in existence.

Nor did fortune forsake them there. Instead, favoured them in their finding a vessel at anchor in the port—a coast-trader bound down for Natal. Overjoyed was her skipper to take them on board; so many passengers, who could well pay the passage-money, to say nothing of the large amount of freight, giving him a full cargo. It was just as if they had chartered his vessel beforehand, and he had been awaiting them.

In fine, the wanderers by land and water got safe back to their point of departure in the Transvaal, richer than they had ever been before. Nor did they leave it again, having no longer cause for expatriation. For soon after their return, ensued that strife usually called the “Transvaal Rebellion,” but by the Transvaalians themselves, the “War of Independence.”

How they won it at Laing’s Nek, and the Spitz-kop, is well-known; and among those who took part in that fierce, sanguinary fight, none bore them more gallantly, or did greater execution with their long guns, than the young Vee-Boers, whose travels and adventures are herein recorded.

Note 1. The thick layer of fat immediately under the skin of the hippopotamus is esteemed a delicacy by the Boers, who call it, when salted and cured, Zeekoe-speck, or bacon. The jelly made from the feet is also much prized, while the best kind of whips (jamboks) are those of hippopotamus hide. As is well-known, the teeth furnish an ivory of the finest quality.

The End.