On returning to Natal after my trip to the East, I could at once see that this bright little colony had entered on a cycle of depression. This, as I have mentioned before, combined with other inducements, and the fact that the diamond fields afforded a wider scope for practice than the ever-decreasing population of Victoria County, determined me to sever my connection, at least for a time, with a district of which I shall always retain a most pleasing recollection.
I left for the Fields in the beginning of December, 1871, taking the usual route by Walsh’s passenger cart, via Pietermaritzburg, Harrismith and Bloemfontein to Du Toit’s Pan.
As I passed through Pietermaritzburg I called upon Lieut. Governor Keate, who inquired into the particulars of my adventure in Arabia, of which he had heard. He kindly granted me the further extension of leave from my official duties in Natal for which I asked, as I intended, if I did not like the diamond fields, to return. Crossing the river Umgeni at Howick, and passing through the small villages of Estcourt and Colenso, we came at last, after three days’ post-cart traveling, to the foot of the Drakensberg. The road winding up the mountain was very steep, but in first-rate order and repair. The road parties of native laborers which each chief has to supply in rotation to the government, for, I believe, a period of six months, at a fixed rate of pay, were evidently doing their work well, but nevertheless the climb was a fearful strain on our horses.
FIRST “HOME” ON THE DIAMOND FIELDS, FEBRUARY 1872. TRAVELING WAGON AND TENTS.
We arrived in safety at Harrismith, the first town of the Orange Free State, lying within a few miles of the top of the Drakensberg, and next day, after a splendid drive at a hand gallop all the way, over a road as flat as a bowling alley, with a perfect Jehu at the reins named Brandon, the heedless scion of a good old Irish family, came late in the evening to Bethlehem, a quiet Dutch town, with two or three English stores, where we rested for a few hours. Then inspanning again, on we drove past Senekal, a wretched little place of about 100 inhabitants, and Winburg, the centre of a fine grazing district, to Bloemfontein, the capital of the state. Here Mr. Brand, the President, since knighted (1882) by the English government for his services in the settlement of the Transvaal difficulties, after the war resided, as did also a bishop of the Anglican communion,[[18]] but as it was dark when we arrived, I saw nothing of the city. I heard, however, sufficient reports of the dreadful havoc that fever of a remittent type was making among the residents on the diamond fields to make me anxious to arrive there as quickly as possible. We started next morning in the moonlight at 3 o’clock, and drove through, some seventy miles, to Du Toit’s Pan in one day. A long, dusty, tiring day it was, and as if to prove that “coming events cast their shadows before,” we met three or four ox wagons bringing away sick diggers from the fields, who had been stricken down by the prevailing fever.
The sun had long set when we neared Du Toit’s Pan, yet the camp, as seen in the distance was one blaze of light. The stores and canteens were open, thronged with customers, while the canvas tents of the diggers, some lit up with candles, some with wood fires, and others blazing with paraffin lamps, studded the surroundings of the mine as with a constellation of stars. When we arrived at Benning & Martin’s, the hotel of the day, the scene was one which almost baffles description. Clusters of men, work being ended, crowded round the post-cart to see the new arrivals, others thronged the adjacent liquor-bars, while every one showed signs of hurrying bustle and feverish excitement. After some refreshment, I took a short stroll through the camp. Novel sights and grotesque scenes met my view at every turn, the lights in the tents throwing “shadows on the wall,” in some cases of the most laughable description.
KIMBERLEY MINE—FIRST STAGE, 1871.
I shall never forget my first night on the diamond fields. When I returned to the hotel I inquired for a bed, but was assured that not one could be had for love or money. Martin, the landlord, however, made me up a shake-down as a favor, on the end of the long dining table, where amidst shouts of “play or take miss” from a party of excited loo players alongside I soon fell asleep. At an early hour on the following morning I took one of the many passenger carts plying to the New Rush, otherwise called Colesberg Kopje (Kimberley), and after a drive of about two miles wended my way to the mine on foot, along roads ankle deep in sand, bordered with stores and canteens built of iron, and with canvas tents of all sizes and shapes fixed promiscuously around.