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 (Note 1),—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.
Note 1. 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.