Although only fifteen miles from Port Elizabeth, I had been led to expect that I should hear the distant cry of the jackal, and the howl of the wolf; but, in spite of the bed being spread upon nothing but grass, in spite of the more than “whispers of the night breeze” which would be heard from under the flap of the tent, I never slept so soundly in my life.
I was up and dressed with my child, ready for the march, at half-past five. The scene of that morning, though of a different character, almost equalled in beauty the one we had so much admired on the preceding evening. The regiment was drawn up on a natural parade of smooth green turf, bounded by bush, and the background of the eastern hills was glowing at the approach of the sun, who, as he advanced in radiant majesty, tipped with gold the glittering arms and appointments of the soldiers, and shed an acceptable warmth upon us as we left the dewy grass, for the rough and stony mountain road before us. Up this hill the regiment wound, preceding the waggons,—now presenting a glittering cluster of arms, and now being altogether lost to the sight in the thick bush with which the ascent was clothed. A long line of nineteen waggons brought up the rear, and, as we proceeded, four hundred men in advance—women, children, and baggage, wending their way slowly and steadily after them, I could not but commune in my own mind on the ways of that inscrutable and unquestionable Providence, by the working of whose will, England, from her original state of ignorance, insignificance, and barbarism, is now the chief ruling power in the world, and sendeth her ships and her soldiers, (in defiance of what to other countries would perhaps be insurmountable obstacles, when we consider the dangers and difficulties arising from climates and localities ill-suited to European habits and constitutions), “even to the uttermost parts of the earth.”
The day (March 8) became dreadfully hot; towards noon the sun had full sway. Not a cloud shaded the heavens; and, though the country we passed through was rich in bush, there were no shady trees, and water was extremely scarce.
The men being much fatigued with the previous day’s march, it was determined to divide the next long march of thirty-two miles into two; and such an arrangement was not only merciful but absolutely necessary, as man by man fell by the roadside overpowered with the heat, foot-tired and faint for want of water. About one hour before we halted on the second day, we came suddenly upon a pool, where a large herd of sheep and goats (the property of a neighbouring farmer) were drinking. The men shouted aloud joyfully; and rushing precipitately to the pool, put their lips to the element, (which, though muddy, was to them most grateful), and drank copiously of the unwholesome draught. Several became ill after doing so; and, instead of being refreshed by it, were rendered less capable of proceeding than before. Fifteen stragglers fell out of one company, and were probably only induced to crawl after the battalion that evening by the dread of wild beasts. On reaching Sunday River, we learned that such a fear was not without a foundation, as five lions had, within the last few days, been seen drinking at the river side. Most gladly did I find, on reaching the “Outspan,” that a bed could be obtained at the snug, small house of Mr Rose, the Field-Cornet, close to the encampment: there, too, we obtained fresh butter, a leg of mutton, and some good English ale and porter, but rejoiced most in copious ablutions and clean bedding. My companions laughed much at my increased admiration of an encampment by moonlight that night, as I left it for a comfortable roof. “It certainly,” said I, “is a very pretty sighted—at a distance.”
We were up with the dawn next morning, and crossed the beautiful ford of the Sunday River, at sunrise. “Who would imagine,” thought I, “that such a scene of peace and beauty should be one of the fastnesses for wild beasts?” Green boughs met each other across the stream. Down such a pleasant-looking river I had often glided in “merry England,” singing, by the way, with young companions, to the gay music of our guitars, while the plash of oars kept time to the measure of our happy voices. There, in our own happy land, no lions prowled in our neighbourhood, no panthers could we fancy glaring on us from the bush, no venomous reptiles awaited our feet as we stepped upon the green sod from the boat. A South African climate is beautiful all the year round, except when visited by terrific thunderstorms, with their usual accompaniments of hail, rain, and lightning. Ah! that word “except;”—“except” for our dark November days and painful frosts, England would be an unexceptionable residence; still, even with these outward discomforts, look at our fire-sides!
But why go dreaming back from the brimming, shady Sunday River to the “stately homes of England!” On, on! and let us be thankful, that so far from home there is yet so much to be thankful for, and to enjoy. Oh! for the blessed philosophy which teaches us to make light of every thing! Truly, content is riches! In a moral point of view, may it not be considered as bearing an analogy to the story of the philosopher’s stone, (always remembering the one to be theory, the other practicable), which was supposed to possess the gift of transmuting whatever the possessor of it touched into gold?
On, then, through the river! The sun is up upon the hills; the troops are refreshed, the oxen willing, the day balmy, and the road better than I expected. How the mimosa-bushes scent the air! and here and there some, taller than the others, fling down a pleasant shade, affording cool resting-places for the travellers.
At night we outspanned on the Quagga Flats, not so beautifully picturesque as the spots we had hitherto selected, but still pretty well wooded and watered. Here, for the first time, owing to the rain, which began to fall in torrents, we slept in the waggon,—an arrangement I did not at all like; its narrow and close shape give to an excitable mind the idea of the German story of the “Iron Shroud.” I was awakened in the middle of the night, by the lowing of the cattle and the rattling of the horse’s halter, by which he was fixed to the wheel. We soon found that the restlessness thus manifested by the poor animals arose from the noise of neighbouring wolves, which are always more likely to approach the dwellings of man in wet than in favourable weather. The rain poured in torrents, the violence of which can only be understood by those who have experienced it. Fortunately, the morning proved tolerably fine, and we proceeded, in the usual order, through the Addo Bush, the scenery decreasing in beauty as we advanced, but still affording a tolerable supply of wood and water at the spots where we outspanned. I had read and heard much of steenboks, and other noble game, but we saw nothing of the kind, not even a monkey; nor did we even hear the laugh of the hyena at night. Others said they had done so; but we did not.
Among some of the most remarkable things we observed were the ant-hills, that were scattered all over the face of the country through which we passed. On a green plain they reminded us of hay-cocks in England, being about that size. Their similarity in shape to the huts built by the Fingoes, Kaffirs, and, indeed, almost all savage nations, is not the least curious feature in their appearance. I had imagined that the ants themselves were the only architects of these ingenious buildings, but I was told by the Hottentot drivers that they take possession of a hole which has been forsaken by the mole (which, indeed, they sometimes attack and hunt out of its domicile), and thus obtain a foundation, on which to begin the upper works of their establishment.
In consequence of the second day’s march having been divided into two, we did not reach Sly Kraal (twelve miles from Graham’s Town) till Saturday. Ere we did reach it, however, we were overtaken by the most terrific thunder-storm I had ever witnessed, save on the night of our memorable wreck in Table Bay. Those who have never witnessed one can have no idea of such storms as those to be met with in South Africa. All the artillery of heaven seems opening at once, while floods of light struggle for mastery with torrents of rain and hailstones. The knowledge that such storms are often attended with danger, makes their approach more awful. The place where we were overtaken by the one to which I allude was a barren spot, only varied by rocky eminences here and there, and scattered over with loose stones and pieces of rock. The horizon was bounded by vast mountains, the tops of which were vividly illumined by the continued blaze of the lightning. The ground soon became so slippery that it was considered almost unsafe to proceed; men and officers were drenched to the skin, and there, in the height of the storm, we, poor helpless crowd, were obliged to await its progress and abatement. The waggon conductor, Pullen, (a most amusing character, as well as a useful and obliging man), was as much to be pitied as any one, since many who were annoyed with the detention, would not listen to reason, and were very much inclined to quarrel with him for it. As for me, I could hardly bear to see the little flasks of brandy handed about among the few to whom it could be distributed, while the weary, thirsty, shivering soldiers stood by, looking on. The violence of the hail and rain decreased at last, and we essayed proceeding, but had not gone far before we were obliged to descend from our vehicles, as one of the passes had become dangerous, from the softness of the earth in consequence of the rain. Well may it be said, “God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb!” Many who might have caught cold in moving from one room to another less heated, awaited the passing of the waggons up to their insteps in water, and went on their journey with damp feet, and with rain drops pattering through the tops of the waggons.