John had a famous way of telling stories, and, like his own dishes, they were very savory and well-spiced: a tale never degenerated in his hands; and when, in his happier moments, he condescended to open his mind, he never failed to keep his audience in a roar of laughter. He had, moreover, great ambition, and could never bear that any one should interfere with his cooking establishment. The arrival of a batch of natives at his fire was the signal for a general burst of eloquent abuse; and if this did not suffice, he had a provoking way of scattering the hot coals and ashes over the naked legs of the poor unsuspecting savages, which, of course, never failed to have the desired effect. I often trembled for John, for his mind was clearly too republican to make any difference between chief and subject, and I was surprised that he never got into a scrape. I suppose, however, the comical manner in which his dangerous experiments were always carried on served rather to amuse than irritate or provoke.
John lived to return to the Cape, where he became another Gulliver, embellishing his adventures among the savages with marvels which would have done honor to the invention even of Dean Swift.
I now come to the last, but certainly not the least interesting of the servants. This man’s name was Timbo. He was a native of Mazapa, a country far in the interior, lying to the west of the Portuguese settlements on the east coast of Africa.
When yet a child, Timbo’s country was invaded by a ferocious and powerful tribe of Caffres, who carried off the cattle, and slew many of the inhabitants. Among the latter were his parents; he himself escaped to a neighboring tribe. As this, however, soon after shared a similar fate to his own, he was, for a long time, a “stranger on the face of the earth.” At last he was sold as a slave to the Portuguese, but after a while effected his escape. His liberty, however, was of short duration, for he was soon recaptured, and put on board a slaver. Fortunately, the vessel fell into the hands of an English cruiser, and Timbo, together with a great number of slaves, was brought to the Cape and liberated.
Though of a shining dark complexion, Timbo was a remarkably fine-looking man, and well formed. He bore the reputation of being a complete lady-killer, not only with those of his own color, but also among the European “fair sex.” He had, therefore, no great difficulty in securing a partner. His choice, however, seems to have been unfortunate; for, on his return after eighteen months’ absence, he found that his faithless spouse had not only deserted him for another, but had also carried off with her nearly the whole of his hard-earned wages. On asking him one day whether he had any intention of again marrying, he replied in his strange patois, “No, maser; me no more marry; women too great rascals in the Kaap!”
But it was not only of a handsome face and good figure that Timbo could boast, for he possessed, in addition, many excellent qualities, such as even temper, generosity, honesty, prudence, industry; and, like our cook, he was sincere in his attachment to the interest of his employer. With Galton and myself he was a great favorite. He possessed, moreover, the most cheerful disposition, and an inexhaustible store of fun. I was, indeed, never tired of listening to his tales, for he told them with such force and simplicity that it was impossible not to be pleased and amused.
When reproached for any thing of which he knew himself to be innocent, he would lay his hand on his breast and say, “No, maser; me know dat, me tell you.” Or, “No, maser; me heart know that, me heart reproach me, and me tell you.”
Timbo had a wonderful aptitude for languages; but, though acquainted with many, he spoke none well. Still, his speech was remarkably fluent, and nothing brought it forth with such abundant fervor as when mention was made of his own country. This was like touching an electric rod, and he spoke in ecstasies. No European could take more pride in his native soil than this man did in his; and if the rest of his countrymen resembled him, they must indeed have been a fine race of men, and, undoubtedly, capable of a very high degree of cultivation.
CHAPTER VII.
Departure from Scheppmansdorf.—Cattle refractory at starting.—Tincas.—Always travel by Night.—Rhinoceros Hunt.—The Author in danger of a second Sun-stroke.—Reach Onanis.—A Tribe of Hill-Damaras settled there.—Singular Manner in which these People smoke.—Effects of the Weed.—The Euphorbia Candelabrum.—Remarkable Properties of this vegetable Poison.—Guinea-fowl: the best Manner of shooting them.—Meet a troop of Giraffes.—Tjobis Fountain again.—Attacked by Lions.—Providential Escape.—Arrival at Richterfeldt.