Part of the oxen being at length pretty well trained to the yoke, we made preparations for our departure.
When we left the Cape, the belief was entertained that we should be able to carry thirty or forty hundred weight on each wagon; but on taking into account our young and wild cattle, and the sandy and heavy soil through which we should have to pass, we had, ere this, made up our minds to reduce the quantity to rather less than one third of this weight, or to about fifteen hundred pounds. Even this, as will be shortly seen, proved too great. Accordingly, every article was carefully weighed with the steelyard previously to being stowed away in the wagons.
Before proceeding farther in my narrative, it may be proper to introduce to the reader our traveling establishment, as the character of the several individuals composing it had by this time become pretty well developed. And though among our retainers we had more than one “black sheep,” and others whom it was exceedingly difficult to keep in order, yet, taking them together, they were probably a fair average of the servants likely to be picked up by the African traveler. On an expedition similar to the one in which we were engaged, I should remark, people can not be too particular in the selection of their attendants; for, to say nothing of the success of the undertaking, one’s personal comfort mainly depends on their good behavior.
First in order was a youth named Gabriel, a native of the Cape. He had been engaged by Galton chiefly for his smiling face and winning looks, but he proved himself to be the most troublesome of the whole lot. In our journey up the country he had already exhibited a vindictive temper and quarrelsome disposition, which at length broke forth with increased violence. On two separate occasions he attempted, if I was rightly informed, the lives of his fellow-servants. Upon this atrocity, I spoke to him with earnest reprobation, and trusted that I had produced some effect; when, to my astonishment and mortification, the very next day he was guilty of the same outrage. After a dispute with one of his companions, he rushed upon him with a hatchet, and would undoubtedly have cleft his skull had it not been for a Hottentot, who warded off the blow. So little did the young villain think of the crime he had intended to perpetrate, that upon receiving punishment he had the impudence to remonstrate, and to ask why he was flogged!
Next in order came Abraham Wenzel (a native also, I believe, of Cape-Town), a wheelwright by trade, and by habit a thief. Even before leaving Scheppmansdorf I received information that he had purloined divers articles from the stores, for which crime he received his due punishment.
Another of our servants was named John Waggoner. This man teased us continually by his sulkiness and reluctance to work, assigning as a reason that he had been seized with home-sickness, and that he wished to return immediately to the Cape. Some little time afterward he was gratified in his wish; and, as will subsequently be seen, he proved himself the worst scamp of the set. But John performed his fraudulent tricks with so much cleverness, ingenuity, and self-confidence, that, out of mere admiration at his dexterity, I could not refrain from excusing him.
John St. Helena, a relative of the last-mentioned, was born in the Cape colony, and officiated as our head wagoner. This man exhibited the most extraordinary disposition; for, though sometimes he would be good-natured, willing, and hard-working, at others he was sulky, ill-tempered, and indolent. At first I felt much annoyed at his irritable and changeable temper; but I soon found that by interfering I only made matters worse; and, as he was an “excellent whip,” it was necessary to put up with and overlook a great deal, as we should have found it almost impossible to replace him in so wild and inhospitable a region. About three years afterward I employed him again, and, strange to say, he was then the best of servants.
Another of the attendants, John Williams, also a colony man, was a short, stout, merry, mischievous-looking lad, who agreed to serve in any capacity to which he might be competent. He now cooked for the men, assisted in “inspanning” and leading the oxen, washed clothes—in short, made himself generally useful. Still he was careless, thoughtless, and dirty in his habits, and had not the least idea of husbanding the provisions. The result was, that before we had been many months in the country, our stock of vegetables, coffee, tea, and other necessaries was all but gone.
Our own cook, John Mortar, a native of Madeira, was the very reverse of this. He was careful, frugal, industrious, strictly honest, and deeply attached to his master’s interest. His only fault was irritability; but this, in a cook, is always excusable. I had a great regard for poor John, and I believe the attachment was mutual.
Mortar had been cook to the club in Cape-Town, where he won golden opinions; but, though he had certainly attained some proficiency in the culinary art, he required a whole grocer’s shop to prepare a dinner; and it was some time before he could reconcile himself to make a beef-steak à la façon sauvage.