Sporting Scenes amongst the Kaffirs of South Africa

by Alfred W. Drayson

This settler had been a frequent sufferer from the depredations of Bushmen, and they had only lately robbed him of horses and cattle. He now kept a dozen dogs always about his premises; these creatures saluted any arrival with noise enough to wake the dead. He hinted that, having found the arm of the law not quite quick or powerful enough to prevent these robberies, he had taken the liberty of protecting himself, and following up the thieves rather quickly. On one occasion he stopped four of them from ever repeating their wickedness; how he did this so effectually, I could but guess. He showed me their bows and arrows, and I was supposed to infer that he had, by the power of argument, persuaded them to give up vice, and lead a peaceable life. My friend told me that elands were sometimes in sight of his house, as well as hartebeest, and occasionally quaggas; that all the kloofs contained bucks, pheasants, and guinea-fowl. There was another visitor at the house, a Dutchman, a relation of my host’s wife, with whom I now became a great ally, he being a thorough sportsman, and having slain every four-footed animal in Africa. I had frequently heard his name mentioned as a most daring elephant-hunter, and was delighted in hearing his accounts given in the plain matter-of-fact way that brought conviction at once. He acknowledged that he had but little love for Englishmen, and still less for the English soldier; he gave a very plain reason for his antipathy. He was used with what he considered great injustice by the government on the frontier of the colony; appeal after appeal remaining unnoticed. At last, angry and disgusted, he sold his lands at a great loss, and started with his wife, children, goods, and cattle to join the emigrant farmers, who were then settling themselves in the Natal district, at that time unoccupied by white men. There he thought with the rest that the laws and regulations of the English would not annoy them, and that after conquering, with a great sacrifice of life and hard fighting, the treacherous Zulu chief, Dingaan, they would be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their victories. Not so, however; a party of English soldiers shortly came up to Natal, and the officer laid down laws for them all. This was more than the Dutch could stand. They considered themselves as an independent colony, and owned no allegiance to Her Majesty. A fight was the consequence, in which the Boers besieged the English troops, and were nearly driving them to surrender, when reinforcements were landed and the Dutch defeated. Most of them “trekked” into the interior after this, to avoid the English dominion, and amongst them was the visitor here. He gave me a description of the night attack made by our troops on the Boers’ camp at the Congella, and its disastrous result, in which about sixteen of our men were killed and thirty wounded. He stated that, whatever idea our English commander had had, he never could have surprised the Dutch, as they had Kaffir and Hottentot spies, who were on the look-out all day and all night; and before the last ox was inspanned at the guns, the Boers had received information that the troops were coming to attack them, and had made their preparations accordingly. The hardships that the troops endured in the camp, rather than surrender, afford one of the numerous examples on record of the wonderful gameness and heroism of the English soldier. Having met with a severe check in the attempted surprise of the Boers’ camp, a little handful of men stood a siege for upwards of a month, although they were short of provisions, and had but little hope of being relieved. Had this affair taken place in Europe, each actor in the scene would have been immortalised for his endurance and gallantry. An extract from the despatch of the commander will give some idea of the hardships they underwent:—“Upon inquiring into the state of provisions this day, I found that only three days’ issue of meat remained. I therefore directed that such horses as were living might be killed, and made into biltong. We had hitherto been issuing biscuit dust, alternating with biscuit and rice, at half allowance. The horseflesh, of which there was but little, we commenced using on the 22nd, and, by a rigid exactness in the issues, I calculated that we might certainly hold out, although without meat, for nearly a month longer.” The party were at length rescued by a detachment landed from the Southampton frigate, who drove the Boers back and eventually made terms with them. The Boer gave me the whole account in detail, but it might only weary the reader were I to write it. He praised the courage of the English, but said that they were not slim (cunning) enough for the Kaffirs and Boers.

The Boers have generally a question to ask, or a story to relate. They gave me one or two very interesting accounts of the interior, and I was at last asked to tell an adventure of some kind. I did not think that I was likely to amuse my hearers much; for if I related some of my African adventures and experiences they would have thought them as ridiculous as I did the following. When returning from a rough voyage of seventy-eight days from the Cape, a custom-house searcher came on board our ship at Gravesend, and tried to awe us with the dangers that he there met during a strong easterly wind. “Ah!” said he, “when it blows hard, the sea gets rather lumpy here, I can tell you!” He was a cockney, and this had been the limit of his travels.

I had, however, wonderful things to tell, and was obliged to be cautious how I related them, lest my veracity should be called in question: all my precautions were, however, useless. A young Boer, totally illiterate, and more ignorant than the generality of these people, was, in his own opinion, a very clever, sharp sort of fellow, who could not easily be imposed upon.

My story was not about herds of antelopes consisting of thousands, of attacks made on troops of elephants or buffaloes, or of lions carrying off horses from under the very eyes of their owners. I simply wished to tell the Boers what sort of a place London was, which I mentioned as about half its real size, that I might not astonish too much. I gave them a description of the large shops, and at last tried to describe Saint Paul’s Cathedral. I told them that it was so large that at least four thousand people could stand at the same time inside the building; and that it was so high that if your own brother happened to be at the top, and you at the bottom, you would not be able to recognise him. I was at once told by the young Dutchman that this could not be true; my host, however, came to the rescue, and said that he himself had seen the building, and it was, in reality, even larger than I had stated. The Dutchman would not have it so, at any price, but asked, with a knowing look, “if the wind ever blew in my country,” or “if it ever rained.” I told him it did both, the latter pretty often. “Then,” said he, “that big place that you have spoken to me about cannot exist; it could not be built so strong as to stand more than a week; it would be blown down or washed away. You see that the Deutch mensch (Dutchmen) cannot be humbugged so easily as you thought.” Perfectly satisfied at his flattering discovery, he walked out of the room and took his place for the night in his waggon, and I have no doubt communicated to his admiring Hottentot driver how he had shown the Englishman that he was a clever fellow.

I have generally found that the most reasonable men are the purely uncultivated and the most highly educated; the intermediate states appear to carry out the saying, that “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” A very short time ago I met a gentleman who erred much in the same manner as the Boer. I happened to mention the daring and perseverance of a celebrated African hunter, and that his sporting accounts were very interesting, when the gentleman to whom I refer told me that he had no patience with this hunter. His words were to the following effect: “I am no sportsman, as I never fired off a gun in my life, and therefore I cannot judge of his shooting. But I have read his book, and that story about pulling out the rock-snake carried such an air of untruth about the whole thing that I never wish to hear more about him.” I asked why a man should not catch hold of a rock-snake if he liked, and in what was the air of untruth. “Why,” he sapiently remarked, “it would have stung him to death at once.” I immediately withdrew from the argument, but could not help thinking that this gentleman ought never again to be able to look a rock-snake, or any other of the boa species, in the face. The boa has many faults, but to accuse him of possessing poison, which I presume the gentleman meant when he said “sting,” is really too bad. Had this snake’s ghost known of the accusation that was brought against his whole species, and possessed one-half the wisdom that is attributed to the serpent, he would have risen, and hissed an angry hiss against so barefaced a libel. A man who enacts the part of a critic ought at least to know something of the subject on which he was speaking, and in this case should certainly have been aware that snakes are not rigged with a sting in their tails, like wasps, that none of the rock-snakes or boa-constrictors are poisonous, and that, as a rule, few snakes over eight or ten feet in length have the venom fangs. The want of knowledge neither prevented the Dutchman in Africa from disbelieving the existence of a building like Saint Paul’s, nor the Englishman in England from casting disbelief on the mode of killing a snake in Africa.

One evening I had strolled to a kloof about three miles from my friend’s house, to make a sketch and shoot a guinea-fowl. I walked quietly up the kloof, and sat down amongst some thick underwood, where I could just get a peep at the mountains which I wanted to draw. I selected a good concealed situation, as my bush habits had become so much like nature that I should have considered it throwing away a chance of a shot at something if I had sat out in the open. I had succeeded in putting down the view on paper, and was finishing its details, when I heard a little tap on a tree near me; I looked up, and on the stem, some fifteen feet high, I saw the arrow of a Bushman, still quivering in the bark. I drew back quietly, and cocked my gun by the “artful dodge;” not doubting that these rascals had seen me enter the ravine, and were now trying to pink me with their arrows. I waited anxiously for some minutes, and then saw a Bushman come over the rise, and look about. I knew at once that he must be unconscious of my presence or he would never have thus shown in the open; he turned round, and seemed to be taking the line which his arrow had travelled. As he did so, I saw a rock rabbit (the hyrax) hanging behind him, and then knew that he was after these animals, and probably in shooting at one had sent his arrow into the tree near me.

I did not move, as my shelter was so good that even a Bushman’s eye would with difficulty see me. He looked about him, and seeing his arrow in the tree, he picked up some stones, threw two or three at it and brought it down; he then walked quietly away over the ridge.

I slipped down the kloof and made the best of my way home, to give my host a caution about his cattle and my horses; as these determined robbers were most dangerous neighbours.

We were not however disturbed. At about nine o’clock in the evening we could see a fire shining from a neighbouring mountain, and we supposed that the Bushmen were having a feast of grilled hyrax for their supper. It was proposed that we should go out and attack the party, but there being no seconder to the proposition, it fell to the ground. My horses after four or five days began to look rather low in flesh; so I bid my host farewell and returned to Pietermaritzburg. On nearing the Umganie drift, I found the river swollen into a complete torrent, occasioned by some heavy showers and storms that had fallen up the country. The rivers of Africa are never to be trusted, for a traveller may pass with dry feet over the bed of a river in the morning, and on returning in the evening find a roaring torrent across his path.

Feeling indisposed for a swim, I accepted the offer of a shake-down at the house of a Dutchman, a mile or so from the river. He was a very good sort of fellow, but given to grumble. He was in low spirits when I first saw him, as all his cattle had disappeared and he was fearful the Bushmen had carried them off. Upon discovering his loss he at once sent in to the magistrate of the Kaffirs at Pietermaritzburg, who sent a party out in search of the lost herds. The cattle were soon found, as they had only strayed some few miles, attracted by sweet grass. We were sitting at dinner, zee-koe pork (hippopotamus flesh) and tough pudding being the bill of fare; when the Dutchman suddenly jumped up, and exclaimed, “Now I will say the government is good.” I looked round and saw that this remark was brought forth by his seeing all his cattle returning under the escort of the police, every head being safe and sound. The man who ought to have watched the cattle while they were grazing had fallen asleep; they walked away, the man awoke, and not seeing them, at once reported to his master that the Bushmen had carried them all off.