The river decreasing during the night, I returned to Pietermaritzburg on the next day.
Chapter Seventeen.
African moonlight—Poor Charley—Want of patience—Blue light in the Bush—Buck killed by a leopard—Strange followers—Porcupine hunt—Practical joke—Foolhardy conduct—A mistake—Kaffir prophet—A dark patriarch—Conjugal authority—Strong-headed individual—Harbour sharks—Fish spearing—Intoxicating root—A suggested experiment—Variety of fish.
The moonlight nights in South Africa are particularly fine and brilliant; I have frequently read manuscript writing without difficulty, even when the moon has not been quite at the full. Things viewed by its light seem always to be more peaceable and mysterious than by the sunlight. Few, for example, fully appreciate the beauties of the Madeleine in Paris, who have not quietly watched its changing effect during the passage of the lesser light in her bo-peep proceedings with the clouds.
In the bush and plains the animals choose the cool night for feeding, travelling, and drinking. Many an uncouth-looking creature, whose ungainly form is rarely shown to the sun, boldly walks the night without the slightest compunctions for the feelings of the modest moon. Holes, ravines, and hollow trees then give up their inhabitants; and many an animal, who during the day dares not even breathe the atmosphere that man has passed through, gains courage and boldness in the moon’s light, and cunningly plots and ably executes an attack on cattle, dogs, or fowls, under, the very roof of its day-dreaded adversary. A house situated about four miles from the the Natal flat, and nearly surrounded with wood, was frequently visited by wild beasts; and on one occasion the young ladies, while “doing their back hair” and arranging their nightcaps, happened to cast their eyes above the looking-glass, and there met the impertinent gaze of a large bull-elephant, who was quietly rubbing himself against an orange-tree on the lawn, and pitching the fruit down his capacious throat as boys swallow cherries. My old dog once nearly had his days, or rather nights, terminated by the bold attack of a leopard. My dog for a change, and I also suspect from the irresistible attractions of a fascinating little spaniel named Charley, frequently staid two or three days at a time on a visit at this house; and while taking his repose, about nine o’clock one night, in a back room with his inamorata close beside him, a large leopard came with a spring into the centre of the apartment. A faint shriek from the little dog caused two of the young ladies to enter this room, the whole family being at the time in the front drawing-room. On their approach, the leopard with one bound cleared the window, carrying the dog Charley in his mouth. All entreaties and tears from the young ladies failed in producing the least effect on the feelings of this monster, who never came back; and Charley’s tail, and a bit of a foot were all that ever came to light as to the fate of this ill-starred dog.
The elephants, who buried themselves in the most gloomy places during the heat of the sun, stalked about boldly, and took their pleasure during the moonlight. Night after night I rode round the skirts of the bush, moving from one of their fashionable watering places to another, and hanging about the well-worn walks with a praiseworthy perseverance. They were always too cunning for me, and either smelt my approach and dashed away before I could get a shot, or remained inside the cover and grumbled their displeasure, or trumpeted forth a challenge from a stronghold situated a couple of hundred yards within the forest. Finding that they were too wide awake to give a chance by this plan of pursuit, I selected a fine large tree, and taking my desponding friend as a volunteer, we perched ourselves amongst its branches, at about ten o’clock at night. Scarcely had half an hour of silence passed, than my partner voted it a nuisance not being able to smoke; shortly after he complained a little of cramp; and in about an hour voted the whole thing a wild-goose sort of chase, and came to the conclusion that we might as well go home. Seeing great difficulty in maintaining the perfect silence that was so necessary to success, I agreed with him, and we descended the tree.
The walk through the strip of bush, that was dark as Erebus, was anything but pleasant, from the briars and branches scratching face and hands, to say nothing of the chance of finding oneself suddenly lifted up by the trunk of some artful elephant, who might playfully put his foot upon the small of your back by way of caution. We reached our respective homes without an adventure, and on the following day I was pleased to find that the elephants had not been near our tree during the whole night, although the spoor showed that they came in great numbers exactly under it on the morning.
I always found that a Kaffir was the most patient and easily satisfied of my hunting companions. A few evenings, therefore, after my failure with my restless friend, I took Inyovu, and supplying him with a whole box full of the strongest snuff and a thick blanket, took my position once more in the spreading branches of the old tree. I made every preparation for standing a siege, in case the elephants attacked the tree, as was told me would most probably occur, but which I did not for one moment believe. To be well prepared in case of such a contingency, I had filled a small tin saucepan with blue light composition, and having sprinkled over it the tops of a box of lucifer-matches to obtain quick ignition, I fixed it firmly in the branches close and handy. I purposed pouring some of this when lighted on the back of any weak-minded elephant who might presume to attempt to haul me down. Unfortunately, all the illumination was wasted on the desert air, for no elephants came to me, although I kept awake and watchful all night. My Kaffir thought me mad, a very common conclusion if one does not do every thing in the old way. Still, although my night was elephantless, I did not consider it as wasted, as the quietness around, only broken by the whispering of the leaves as they affectionately felt each other, and the occasional tiny cries of the ichneumons and other vermin, or the blowing of a buck and rustle of a herd of wild swine, were all music to an ear more easily pleased with the wild side of nature than the crash of omnibus wheels, or the murmur of crowded rooms.