The Boers are generally very heavy men, and the small shooting-ponies that they ride appear fearfully overweighted: a pony of twelve or thirteen hands is ridden long journeys, and hunted, by a Boer of some fourteen or sixteen stone weight. The game little animal does its work well in spite of the weight it carries; and one of the surprising facts to an Englishman fresh in the African hunting-field is the pace at which the Boers thus mounted go across country. Neither whip nor spur is spared during a chase, and, not contented with the day’s hard work, these Boers sometimes on returning home take a half-mile gallop as a test of the enduring qualities of their ponies. During my experience in Africa, I was but once unfortunate enough to have a horse that I was riding knock up with me: the animal was a new purchase, and had led a life of idleness during some previous weeks. The results of its failing me were a thorough ducking and a very unpleasant journey of near five miles. It may give an idea of the manners of the civilised man of South Africa, if I detail the circumstance. I left Pietermaritzburg about three o’clock in the afternoon, and purposed resting for the night at Stony Hill, the distance being twenty-five miles. About eight miles had been accomplished, when I was attracted by a grand fight between two bulls. I watched the struggle for a considerable time, and admired the courage of each combatant: sometimes they would charge each other, and, falling on their knees, roar and bellow with mingled rage and pain. Victory for a long time was doubtful, until the strength of one appeared to be failing, and then, turning tail, he galloped off, followed by his conqueror. Finding that the sun had moved a considerable distance while I was engaged in watching the bull-fight, I pushed on faster than the usual African travelling-pace, and found, before twelve miles were ridden, that my horse appeared much distressed. The day was intensely hot, and I thought an “off-saddle” for half an hour might refresh the animal; but upon again starting I found it difficult to spur even a trot out of him. I dismounted and tried to lead him, but found he was one of those brutes that will not follow. He stuck his head out as I drew the reins tight, but would not stir an inch. Remounting, I managed to hustle him along at a smart walk; but even this I did not accomplish without considerable manual and spur labour. I had nearly five miles before me, and the sun was within half an hour of setting. Had the night been fine, a ride would have been pleasant during the moonlight; but the dark heavy clouds that were gathering round, and a drop of rain that fell occasionally, gave earnest of a coming storm. No house or resting-place was there on the road, except that for which I was making my way, and Botha’s, which latter was five miles farther. I reached Stony Hill soon after dark, and was preparing to dismount at the door of the inn, near which I noticed two waggons; when the man who kept the establishment came out, and said, “Who’s that?” I told him that I wanted a dinner, a bed, and stabling. I heard him make a remark in Dutch to some person within the building, and distinguished “verdamt Englishmensch” as two of the words. He then turned round to me, and said, “I can’t give you a dinner or a bed.” I told him that I was not particular about what I ate, but, as my horse was knocked up, I could not go farther. He said, “Well, you shan’t stop here; and if you didn’t mind sleeping in the pigsty, I wouldn’t even let you have a bed there.” I was very angry with him, and high words ensued; and I am afraid that deeds would have followed the words, had not a Hottentot near me whispered that I had better not strike the man, as he would not hesitate to use the knife when he was half-drunk. I therefore turned my tired horse again into the road, and, with a vigorous dig of the spur, retreated, from the conflict. I had now five miles of a very rough road before me: it passed over stony hills, and wound round the side of others. The night was dark as Erebus, and the road, or rather beaten track, could only be distinguished during the flashes of lightning, which now came with blinding brilliancy. My horse slipped down on his side, and nearly broke my ankle, as we were passing round a hill on the side of which the road sloped; the rain, that now fell with rapidity, having made the track greasy and slippery. Dismounting, I drove the horse before me, but had great difficulty in getting him to keep the beaten track; sometimes he would turn to the right or left, and the long grass brushing against my legs would alone make me acquainted with the fact of having left the road. I then waited for a fresh flash of lightning to enable me to regain the pathway. Strange and indistinct forms would be seen as the surrounding country was electrically illuminated; the wild animals always choosing rainy or stormy weather to wander forth from their rocks, holes, and coverts. Nearly two hours were passed in the midst of the most vivid lightning and deafening thunder, while the rain poured upon me in torrents. At the end of that time I reached Botha’s Hotel: I had to knock up the landlord from his bed; but this civil and obliging man lighted a fire for me, and brought the better half of a chicken-pie; in the enjoyment of which luxuries I soon forgot the previous disagreeables; and throwing off my wet garments, and fastening a blanket round my neck, and wrapping myself in its folds Kaffir fashion, I feasted like a Zulu chief.
Chapter Four.
Warnings against the bush—Search after a leopard—Unsteady hands—methods of hunting elephants—Speed of the elephant—Bush-travelling—Traces of the elephants—Solitude of the bush—Tracking the herd—Charge of angry elephants—The horses reached—Search for the wounded elephant—The successful shot—An unwitting escape.
I had received so many accounts from different sources as to the great dangers that were certainly to be met in the dense bush of the Berea, and also the part that extended across the Umganie for several miles up the coast, that I had hesitated attempting so rash a course as entering it until I had gathered experience from trying cautiously at first what dangers I was likely to encounter. “Elephants would catch me; tigers (ie leopards) becroup (ie stalk) me; snakes bite me,” etc.: these and other horrors would be sure to entail my return on a shutter. I frequently rode round and looked for a short distance into different parts of the bush, gathering confidence each time.
One morning early, a Hottentot man came to tell me that his master had sent him to ask if I would like to join a party going out after a leopard that had destroyed several chickens, and had also breakfasted on a half-grown pig on the said morning. I was glad of this chance, as I hoped to see some sport, and immediately shouldering my gun, and fastening a large clasp-knife in my belt, joined my guide, who led me to a house on the outskirts of the village of D’Urban, where I found a party of ten or twelve as rough-looking customers as one could desire to see: I am sure a leopard would not have had courage even to look at them. If beards or dirt made African sportsmen, I thought I must be in a very hot-bed of them.—I soon saw that the party were more of the style of sporting-men than sportsmen; they were liberally imbibing brandy and water, which they wanted to force upon me to steady my nerves; an auxiliary I begged to decline, first, on account of the hour (10 a.m.), and, secondly, because the shaking hands of many present made me doubt its steadying qualities. We started in two divisions, one taking the trail into the bush where the pig had been made pork, while the other entered where the leopard generally came out.
The cover was so very dense and thick that we were obliged to crawl on all fours, great care being necessary to prevent the triggers or cocks of the gun from getting set and caught: we were all particularly requested to be silent; but the hairy men would talk. After creeping 150 yards, we came to some of the bones of the pig, evidently just left by the leopard: we watched carefully every gloomy part of the surrounding bush to discover the leopard, but could see nothing. Suddenly a bird flitted away close to us, and one of the bearded gentlemen, who had appeared the greatest swaggerer, called for us to look out, as the leopard was coming. I immediately heard the click-click of double-barrelled guns coming to full cock, and saw a gentleman a few yards to my right pointing his gun straight at me; I shouted to him to mind what he was about, when he coolly told me he was only getting ready in case the leopard sprung; his shaking hands, however, were certainly not pleasant masters of a trigger, the slightest pressure on which would have sent an ounce of lead through me.
I withdrew as soon as possible, as I was convinced there was no chance of seeing sport with these cock-tail gentry, who, it is almost needless to add, saw nothing of the wild animal, and returned soon to their nerve-steadying specific. The leopard had been seen retreating by two Kaffirs, who happened to be passing on the opposite side, immediately we entered the bush: we could not have been within 300 yards of the monster, therefore, at any time.
With most South-African sportsmen the elephant is one of the last of the wild animals which he is fortunate enough to see: it was my first. The view was not a long one, still it is well impressed on my memory.