Our entrance into the settlement created little attention at first, so like had Jack and I become to the natives; but when it got to be known that two of the three strangers were Englishmen, who had spent over a year with the Kaffir tribes, the interest grew immense, and we were speedily visited by a curious crowd—curious yet hospitable—for we got offers of assistance—food and shelter—from over a dozen of the inhabitants, while all urged us to recount our history.
As well as we could we obliged them in everything, and, after having refreshed ourselves, related just the landmarks of our adventures. The next morning, after enjoying a good night’s rest, I proceeded to the mission house, where I executed Mr Ferguson’s commissions, and procured the aid which he had assured us we should. By the means of this, and the help of the rich Boers, we were soon able to attire ourselves in more civilised garments; while I also made numerous purchases, not forgetting the gun, for presents to Metilulu.
Having loaded an ox with these, we placed it under the care of Umatula, to whom, to his unbounded delight, we gave several gifts for his having been our guide, then saw him start on his way with a party of natives who were going very nearly in his direction.
As may be imagined, we lingered no longer than was compulsory at the settlement, but, after one more day’s rest, set out with a fresh guide to the nearest seaport—Port Natal.
Here we arrived without incident of any kind, and so opportunely that we were just in time for a large ship—the Polyphemus—which in a few hours was about to start for England. We speedily got permission to work our passage over in her, and so, on a bright morning, when the sky overhead was of the deepest blue, and the waves danced like things of life in the golden sunlight under our bows, Jack and I, leaning over the bulwarks, bade adieu to Caffraria for ever, and sang out, with our hearts in our voices, “Hey for dear old England once again!” while Jack fairly hugged the tarry shrouds to his breast, as I would have hugged Katie, and wept with very joy at once more feeling the bounding ocean beneath him.
We encountered rather rough, squally weather while rounding the Cape, but afterwards got some fair sailing, and made a quick and pleasant voyage home—pleasant, indeed, for the yarns we could spin about the Kaffirs made us ever welcome companions to all of the crew; and, my stars, what yarns Jack did pull! He never seemed to tire of talking, and though the Kaffirs were a curious and strange race, both in their manners and appearance—what I knew them to be in reality, was nothing to what Jack made them in fiction. But like the old woman who would not believe her sailor son’s account of flying fish, but took it as a probable and gospel truth, when he told her that they had fished up from the bottom of the Red Sea one of the wheels of Pharaoh’s chariot, I daresay they all believed Jack quite as much as they did me, who really kept to real facts.
No sooner did we reach London than, bidding good-bye to Thompson, who anchored somewhere near Liverpool, and making him promise that, if he should ever come near Devon, he would pay me, his old shipmate in trouble and good fortune, a visit, I took the earliest train I could get that was going near my home, for, now I was so close to my destination, every minute seemed lengthened into an hour’s delay.
On arriving at the station, I had over a mile to walk to the little fishing village where I had been born, and never did a mile appear so long to me. I know I began first to run, then to walk very slowly; for the thought came across me that many things might have happened during the two years I had been absent. How did I know but that one of my children—perhaps, oh heaven, Katie—might be dead! That maddening thought put quicksilver in my heels, and I hastened on till near my destination, when I again slackened my steps to a more respectable pace.
The sun was just setting, casting a last red fiery kiss upon the crests of the waves, breaking gently on the shore, and on the rocks and humble tiled roofs, as, with a beating heart, I went down the one long straggling street of the village ending on the beach. It was the hour of the evening meal, and few of the inmates were about; yet here and there two or three groups of fishermen were standing talking and smoking, or mending their nets—they and the whole scene seeming strange to me after my fifteen months’ sojourn among the Kaffirs.
Most of the men comprising these groups were old acquaintances; yet they regarded me curiously as a stranger, so disguised was I by my long thick beard and bronzed face.