I rarely succeeded in getting more than one at a time by this plan, for the alarm soon spread, and I had then to wait for a day or two for them to forget what had happened, or go to some other part of the bay where they were not up to the dodge.
A root grew on the Natal flat with which I frequently captured fish; it had the effect of fuddling them, and made them jump out of the water, if used in a confined space. It was something like ground-ivy in growth, the long fibres stretching for several feet round; the leaves were small and shaped like clover. The root was discovered by taking hold of one of these creepers and pulling it up until it led to the root, which was then dug up. The root was about a foot long, and half an inch in diameter. When a dozen or so had been collected, they were bruised and fastened on to a long bamboo. The large pools of water left by the high tides on the bluff amongst the rocks, were the scenes of operations, into these the root was inserted, and then stirred round for some time. In less than a minute small and large fish would dart out from the holes in the rocks, and swim about the pool as though greatly perplexed, and would very soon after turn on their backs and float, when they could be taken with the hand. Sometimes with a duck and drake sort of progression they skipped along over the top of the pool and sought the dry land. If they were placed in water that was uncontaminated by this root, they would recover in a few minutes, and might be eaten without the slightest danger. This root was called by the Kaffirs “Il, o zarni.” I do not know if botanists are acquainted with it in any way.
The Kaffirs here made large enclosures of bamboo or stakes, driven so close together that no fish could escape, but the water could make its way through. The tops of these dams were covered about two feet deep at high water; and as the rise and fall of the tide were here about four feet, the stakes here were above the water when it went down. Mullet, and many other fish that kept near the surface, amused themselves in these enclosures until too late to escape, when they fell easy victims to the assagies of the Kaffir, who paid his traps daily visits at low water. I think a man might make a capital living by starting at Natal as a fisherman on a large scale, and sending his fish during the cool nights by pack-horses to Pietermaritzburg, where it is almost an unknown luxury. The Kaffirs take some fine fish by spearing. When the tide is half out, there is a long level sand on the left of the bay, with about three feet of water on it. The Kaffirs form themselves into a half-moon shaped line, each with two or three barbed assagies; they keep about ten yards apart and walk slowly along. Should a fish of any size be seen a signal is given, and the outsiders rush round so as to enclose the victim, the others showering their spears at him. He seldom escapes them, as these fellows make capital shots at forty yards. I often bought a heavy cargo of fish from these fishermen, as much as I could carry, for sixpence, or, what they much prefer, a couple of sticks of tobacco.
There is a great excitement in the sea-fishing, a title that may be given to the sport in this bay, for one never knows what is coming up when there is a bite—fish of the most ridiculous shapes, and beautiful colours, and all sizes,—now a small rock-cod, then a large parrot-fish; again a tremendous tug at your thick line, and away it flies, with no chance of holding or staying it—some monster has carried off everything. A gallant friend of mine, who was not very careful in the arrangement of his tackle, was near meeting with an accident here. A bite and tug, such as I have mentioned, pulled the line out of his hand, and it flew over the side at the rate of twenty miles an hour. I saw that he had a coil of the line round his body, and had just time, by snatching up a knife, to cut the line, when the whole piece was carried overboard. It must have been a ground-shark or some such monster. My friend would in another instant have been dragged overboard or cut in two, as the line was nearly as thick as my finger, therefore too strong to break before it would have seriously damaged him.
Shoals of porpoises frequently played about in the surf, close to the shore, and good bullet practice might be had at them.
Chapter Eighteen.
Steeple-chase at D’Urban—The last day’s sport—The bar at Natal—Reach Table Bay—Impertinent “pike”-keeper—Chased by a policeman—Dishonest auctioneer—Saint Helena—Turtle-catching—Waterspouts—Cintra—Lisbon—Best weapons for the bush—Extra gun-stocks necessary—Recommendation to “used-up” individuals.
A short time before I left D’Urban we had some races on the flat. The horses were not quite equal to those seen at Newmarket; but still, where time is not much noted by the watch, a good race is a good race, although the mile may take more than two minutes in running.