“Some affirm that there is in the head of the hair-serpent a stone, which is a never failing antidote both against the poison of this and every other sort of serpent. I killed a great many hair-serpents at the Cape, and searched very narrowly the heads of all I killed in order to find this stone, but I could never discover any such thing. Perhaps it is only to be found at one season of the year, as are the stones in the heads of crawfish.
“There are in the hands of the Cape Europeans,” Kolben goes on to say, “a great many stones called serpent-stones, but they are artificial ones. They are brought from the East Indies, where they are prepared by the Brachmans, who are alone, it seems, possessed of the secret of the composition, and will not let it go out of their own body at any price. I am heartily sorry the secret is not in the Christian world, and that the Brachmans are inflexible in this particular, because those stones are of admirable virtues. I saw one of them tried upon a child at the Cape, who had receiv’d a poisonous bite in one of the arms, but it could not be discover’d from what creature. When the stone was brought, the arm was prodigiously swell’d and inflam’d. The stone, being applied to the wound, stuck to it very closely, without any manner of bandage or support, drinking in the poison till it could receive no more, and then it dropt off. The stone was then laid in milk, that it might purge itself of the poison; and it did so presently, the poison turning the milk yellow. The stone, as soon as it was purg’d, was again applied to the wound; and when it had drank in its dose, it was again laid in milk. And this was reiterated till such time as the stone had exhausted all the poison, after which the arm was quickly heal’d.”
Mr. Thunberg also tells us that the farmers in the Cape Colony cure the bites of serpents and of other venomous reptiles by means of the “slange-steen,” or snake-stone. “It is imported,” he says, “from the Indies, especially from Malabar, and costs several rix dollars. It is convex on one side, of a black color, with a pale ash-gray speck in the middle, and tubulated with very minute pores. When thrown into water it causes bubbles to rise, which is a proof of its being genuine, as it is, also, that if put into the mouth it adheres to the palate. When it is applied to any part that has been bitten by a serpent, it sticks fast to the wound and extracts the poison; as soon as it is saturated, it falls off of itself. If it be then put into milk, it is supposed to be purified from the poison it had absorbed, and the milk is said to be turned blue by it. Frequently, however, the wound is scarified with a razor previously to the application of the stone.”
“This antidote,” says Barrow, when speaking of the snake-stone, “appears to be, in fact, nothing more than a piece of firm bone of some animal made into an oval shape, and burnt round the edges so as to leave a whitish spot in the middle. The country-people, who purchase this remedy under the idea of its being a stone taken out of the head of a certain species of serpent, were very much astonished on being told that it was only a piece of bone, and the more so on finding that this substance stood their test of the goodness of the slange-steen, which was that of throwing out bubbles on the surface when immersed in water. To the porosity of the bone may be ascribed its healing qualities, if it actually possesses any; for which reason, any other substance made up of capillary tubes, as common sponge, for instance, might perhaps be equally efficacious.”
To resume: Our journey to Rehoboth was unattended with any very remarkable incident, and we reached that place in safety after an absence of twenty-three days.
CHAPTER XXV.
The Author’s Tent takes Fire.—He loses every thing but his Papers.—He is laid on a bed of Sickness.—Want of Medicine, &c.—Reflections.—Whole Villages infected with Fever.—Abundance of Game.—Extraordinary Shot at an Ostrich.—A Lion breakfasts on his Wife.—Wonderful shooting Star.—Remarkable Mirage.—Game and Lions plentiful.—The Ebony-tree.—Arrival at Bethany, a Missionary Station.—The Trouble of a large Herd of Cattle.—A thirsty Man’s Cogitation.—Curious Superstition.—The Damara Cattle described.—People who live entirely without Water.—Cross the Orange River.—Sterile Country.
The old adage, “Misfortunes never come singly,” was exemplified in my case. The wound in my leg being now nearly healed, we were preparing to leave Rehoboth, when one evening my hut accidentally caught fire, and, being entirely constructed of dry grass and sticks, it was burnt to the ground before any thing of moment could be saved. By rushing through the flames, however, I fortunately succeeded in preserving the greater part of my papers and memoranda, which to me were invaluable. I also rescued my saddle; but, in so doing, my clothes took fire, and I had a very narrow escape from being burnt to death. A shirt, a pair of trowsers, a cap, and a pair of under-done shoes, which had not been long enough at the fire to be thoroughly roasted, were all that was left me. My situation, consequently, was not very enviable. Through the kindness of Messrs. Kleinschmidt and Vollmer, however, I was once more able to appear decently appareled.
But I was soon destined to experience a greater calamity. A few stages south of Rehoboth, which we left on the 22d of April, en route to the Cape, and while camped on the banks of the Hountop, I was attacked by intermittent fever, which quickly carried me to the verge of the grave. My sufferings and privations during this period were indeed severe. Regularly every morning at eleven o’clock I was seized with a violent shivering fit, which lasted three hours. Then came the fever, of almost as long duration, accompanied by racking headache and profuse perspiration. After this my head was tolerably free from pain, but I was so completely exhausted that to turn in my bed was a laborious effort. The climate, moreover, at this season was very trying; for, while the days were moderately warm (the thermometer averaging 65° at noon), the nights were piercingly cold and frosty. At sunrise the ice was from an eighth part of an inch to one inch thick. I became very sensitive to these changes, inasmuch as during the greater part of the illness I was compelled to sleep in the open air, having previously disposed of our wagons to the natives. What little medicine I once possessed was consumed in the recent conflagration, and the missionaries—owing to the fever having broken out most alarmingly among themselves and the natives—were unable to spare me any. To add to my misfortunes, no suitable food was procurable. Milk and meat were my only diet. The latter I could not digest, and the former soon became insipid to my taste. The men, it is true, had once the good fortune to surprise an ostrich in its nest, but the eggs were too rich and heavy for my weak stomach.
Up to this period my busy and roving life had left me but little time for serious reflection. Now, however, that the cares of the world no longer occupied my thoughts, I felt the full force of my lonely situation. During the long and sleepless nights I was often seized with an indescribable sensation of sadness and melancholy. Death itself I did not fear; but to perish in a foreign land, in the midst of strangers, far away from all I loved, was an idea to which I could hardly reconcile myself. What hand would close my eyes? what mourner would follow my coffin? or what friend would shed a tear on my lonely and distant grave?