This day, and during the whole of the following, we encountered myriads of lemon-colored butterflies. Their numbers were so great that the sound caused by their wings resembled the distant murmuring of waves on the sea-shore. They always passed in the same direction as the wind blew, and, as numbers were constantly alighting on the flowers, their appearance at such times was not unlike the falling of leaves before a gentle autumnal breeze.
Every day, at the halting-place, we were in the habit of training some oxen to the “pack” or the saddle. One of the animals particularly captivated my fancy, and I was desirous of having him well broken-in. After a little time, however, I learned that no person dared any longer to approach the beast. On inquiring the cause, I found that a large ox had taken it under his protection, so to speak, and would allow no one to go near it. Whenever the servants attempted to catch the protégé, his protector would rush at them furiously; and my favorite was so well aware of this, that as soon as he saw any one approaching, he would run directly to his “father,” as the natives not inaptly styled the big ox. After having personally convinced myself of this singular attachment, and dreading that some serious mischief might ensue, I deemed it prudent to kill my poor pet. For many days the “father” appeared inconsolable at his loss. Running wildly about the herd, and smelling first at one and then at the other, he would moan and bellow most piteously. This is another proof of the strong attachment of which the lower animals are capable. I may add that I have frequently seen a sheep, when the butcher has been in the act of killing its comrade, run up to the man and butt at him most viciously.
On the 5th of February we found ourselves again at Richterfeldt. Mrs. Rath, I was sorry to find, was suffering grievously from eye-sickness, so much so that she was unable to bear the least light. Indeed, not long after, the sight of one of her eyes was permanently injured, if not destroyed.
Here I and Hans separated. While he went into Damara-land to trade with the natives, I myself proceeded along the Swakop with the wagon. We had only one, the other having already been disposed of at Eikhams. The river was still running breast high, and we experienced much difficulty in crossing and recrossing it. One evening, just as we were descending the bank, from which the flood had only lately receded, the vehicle suddenly sank so deep in the mud as almost to hide the fore wheels. Before we could extricate ourselves, which was a work of many hours, we were obliged to dig a deep trench and pave it with stones.
In the afternoon of the 11th of February I reached Barmen, where on the following day I was joined by Hans. He had not been very successful, and, moreover, nearly got into a scrape with the natives. Having one day gone some distance in advance of his small party, he suddenly, at the turn of a hill, came upon some women and children, who, notwithstanding his friendly assurances, ran off in great fright to the werft, which was not far distant, screaming vociferously. The men, thinking that they were about to be attacked by the Namaquas, instantly rushed to arms; and Hans, on coming in view of the village, unexpectedly found himself in the presence of several hundred Damaras, each armed with a huge assegai. Placing his gun against a tree, he walked quietly in the midst of them. His coolness so surprised and amazed them, that the forest of bristling spears, poised in the air ready to strike, were instantaneously lowered. The men, however, continued their yells and shouts for some time, and it was not until his interpreter had arrived that he was able to set their minds at rest as to his peaceable intentions.
The effect often produced on savages by the self-possession of a single European is truly wonderful. If Hans had evinced the smallest sign of fear or hesitation, his fate probably would have been sealed.
I remember, not long after this took place, to have been journeying with fifty or sixty Damaras, accompanied only by my native interpreter, when the chief of the party next to whom I was walking turned sharply round and abruptly accosted me in the following manner: “How is it that you venture to go thus alone among us? We might easily kill you at any time.” Without a moment’s hesitation I replied, “I neither fear you nor any other people, and simply because I never injured you. You, on the other hand, are perpetually robbing and killing your neighbors, and, consequently, you have to dread the revenge of their friends and relations. Besides,” I jokingly added, “it is not quite so easy as you may imagine to pull ‘three hairs out of a lion’s tail.’” This was exactly hitting the nail on the head; for, if they had previously thought my argument good, they were now amazingly pleased with the jest.
We were delayed some little time at Barmen in consequence of heavy rains that now almost daily deluged the country. It was during this stay that the remarkable thunder-storm occurred—mentioned in a preceding chapter—which caused such havoc among the native gardens.
One day, while endeavoring to secure properly a young ox, he broke loose, and, though almost the whole village turned out to assist us, we were unable to recapture the animal. When an ox thus made off, we usually caused three or four of the steadiest of his comrades to be driven after him, or we put some good runners on his track. By the cattle or the men keeping up a steady pace, they would soon exhaust the refractory animal, and quietly bring him back to the camp. In this instance, Karnarute, perhaps the fleetest man in Damara-land, was sent in pursuit.
While abiding his return I indulged in a warm bath, and, just as I had finished my ablutions, I observed him coming back with the runaway. As the animal, however, was not proceeding in exactly the required direction, I placed myself in his path for the purpose of turning him. But as he heeded not my presence, and kept his own course, the result was that he caught me with his horns near the ribs, and pitched me bodily over his back! With the exception of being a good deal shaken, however, I singularly enough escaped unhurt. But one of our native servants was less fortunate; for on trying, like myself, to stay the ox in his headlong career, the poor fellow was thrown to the ground by the exasperated brute, who actually knelt on his body, and in all probability would have killed him had not the rest of the people come to his assistance. This accident taught us to be more careful in our future proceedings with an over-driven ox.