Perils in the Transvaal and Zululand

by H. C. Adams

George promised acquiescence, and he and Ernest gradually crept nearer, until they were within tolerably easy distance. Then George fired, but apparently did not greatly injure the beast. The whole herd sprang up with loud snortings, and those lying on the edge of the stream plunged into it. The female whom George had wounded rushed away under cover of the rocky ledge, which at that part bordered the stream, encountering, as Ernest had anticipated, the fire of the party stationed above, and the farmer’s ball finished the business. The animal fell dead almost immediately at the foot of the rock, and Redgy and the others crowded to the edge to get a sight of the huge carcase. The farmer calmly reloaded, and it was well that he did so; for almost immediately afterwards there came a rushing noise from the bank above, and he caught sight of a huge male hippopotamus rushing down upon them. It was in all likelihood the mate of the female that had just been killed, and he was charging down to avenge its slaughter. With the instinctive readiness which long habit had produced, Baylen raised his rifle and fired. The bullet was happily aimed. It pierced the heart of the monster, and was instantly fatal. The muscular force carried it on for a few yards, and it fell dead only just short of the spot where the party was standing. Another moment or two, and its blind fury would have carried it and them over the edge of the precipice, on to the rocky ledge beneath.

“A near thing that!” exclaimed old Baylen coolly. “Lads, you should be always on the look-out for this kind of thing in hippopotamus-hunting. You are never safe from a charge.”

This exciting adventure would naturally have been the topic of a good deal of discussion; but so much of the morning had now passed, that the farmer told them they had no time to bestow on talking. Prime pieces were cut off from both the slain beasts, and put into the cart, Matamo assuring George that they would be regarded by their friends at Colenso as rare delicacies. The whole party then returned to the waggons, and prepared to cross the river; which, in its present swollen condition, it would be no easy matter to accomplish. The quantity of sand brought down by the flood, it should be remarked, presented a more serious difficulty than the depth of the stream, and all the more so because the extremely turbid state of the water made it impossible to see what the depth of the sand was.

The farmer and his sons, aided by Matamo and the other servants, undertook the convoy of the larger waggon first, arguing that if that could be got across without difficulty, the smaller and slighter one in which Mrs Baylen and Clara were located would follow easily enough. Both spans of oxen were fastened to it, one in front of the other; it was hoped that the line of oxen would thus become so long that the foremost ox would reach the opposite bank before the hindmost yoke had entered it. But the river was so greatly swollen that this could not be accomplished. Matamo had to cross, with a long rope tied to the front bullock’s horns, and thus guided the team, nearly all of which were swimming, to the bank. Then with great difficulty the oxen struggled up the opposite shore, and the big waggon was safely landed, though its contents had been completely wetted through.

Men and oxen now returned across the river to undertake the transport of the second waggon. But here a terrible misfortune took place. Just as they were approaching the water, the disselboom broke in half, and rendered the waggon quite unmanageable. Until this disaster was remedied, it became impossible for the oxen to draw; and, as they had not the means of mending the breakage on the spot, the waggon must necessarily remain there all night, until the damage could be repaired by workmen from Colenso. Mrs Baylen and her daughter had the option of either remaining on the bank of the river all night, or being conveyed across the river on horseback. They chose the latter; and the two young Englishmen, riding up, volunteered their services. They placed the ladies in their saddles and swam by their sides, drawing their horses after them. After this fashion Mrs Baylen and Clara reached the bank, though almost as completely soaked through as their cavaliers. A consultation was now held. It was proposed to procure a change of clothes for the ladies; but it appeared that all their wardrobe was in a smaller waggon; and even if they could have allowed the young men a second time to encounter the stream on their account, it would have been next to impossible to bring the clothes across in a dry condition. It was presently agreed that the best course would be for the four who had been soaked through to ride straight into Colenso, with Matamo as their guide, and there procure a change of clothes, while the large waggon followed at a slower pace. The riders accordingly set off, and arrived in due time at the Swedish pastor’s house.

Mr Bilderjik and his wife, who were old friends of the Baylens, and were in expectation of their arrival, were in readiness to receive them. The ladies and the young men were soon supplied with dry clothes. Carpenters were despatched to the banks of the Mooi to repair the damage done to the waggon, and a message sent up to the hotel in the main street of Colenso to provide beds for Hardy, George, and Redgy, for whom the house of the Swedish pastor could not supply sufficient accommodation.

A few hours afterwards Farmer Baylen arrived with the larger waggon, and he and his sons, as well as Hardy, who was also an old acquaintance, were hospitably welcomed. In an hour or two after their arrival, the whole party sat down to a comfortable repast, at which, as Matamo had before assured George would be the case, the hippopotamus steaks formed the chief delicacy.

There was nevertheless, independently of these, a very appetising meal provided. Sago soup was served up, fish from the Little Tugela river, which ran close to the town; fowls, and pancakes, as well as abundance of ripe fruits,—loquots, oranges, peaches, bananas, and nectarines—all of them from the missionary’s garden,—which could only be tasted in their perfection in the climates of which they are the natives.

All the party appeared to be contented with their quarters, except the indefatigable Matamo, who insisted on returning to the Mooi, where he said his presence would be needed to look after the workpeople who had been sent to execute the repairs, and who, as he affirmed, were never to be trusted. As soon as he had finished his dinner, he mounted his horse and rode off.

“You have a valuable servant in that Kaffir,” remarked George. “It would not be easy to find his match, even in England.”