“This sometimes continues for hours: business is suspended; people desert their claims, and shut themselves up in their dwellings; the streets are abandoned to the dogs, and no one has rest until the wind falls, or a blessed shower turns dust to mud. Whirlwinds of any size or power are always considered unpleasant visitors, and in Du Toit’s Pan they still keep up their reputation. They do not actually tear things upside down, and ruin whole tracts of country, as our Western tornadoes do, but they have an elevating influence, which tents, unfortunately, find it hard to resist, and try their hand at some mischievous trick, which involuntarily makes the sufferer shake his fist at the receding column, as if it was some naughty boy with a smart pair of legs. Now, a broad-brimmed hat leaves its owner’s head with a rush, and when he clears his sight, and spies it majestically revolving two or three hundred feet above him, and evidently having a through ticket for the distant plain, his heart sinks within him, and he mournfully descends his heap to purchase another, or lets his ‘angry passions rise,’ and flails his Caffre for ‘hooraying’ at the exciting spectacle. Again, a digger is industriously sorting on a light table. He has nearly finished his work, when, on looking up, he sees that which makes him shut his eyes, hermetically seal his lips, and bob his head under the table. It is an unlucky position, for the whirlwind upsets the table on his head. It skins his face, and then dives down the adjoining hole, on top of some affrighted black, while the column of wind and sand rushes on, increasing in size and power until it appears on the edge of the camp, to the dismay of all ladies on the streets, all cooks in their canvas or open-air kitchens, and all owners of crazy or dilapidated tents. A minute or two more, it is a thing of the past. The damage is done. The column is far out on the dreary plain, and people resume their occupations.
“One spring day, a tent-maker who lived by us, had placed a large and light frame tent upon the edge of the road, without fastening it in any way to the ground. He was warned not to leave it so exposed, but it being a calm day, the advice was neglected. About an hour after, he was inside, busy decorating its walls with red tape, when a sudden and violent whirlwind swept off the claims in all its dusty majesty, and careering down the road, encountered the unfortunate tent. A moment more, it rose in the air like a balloon, the astounded tent-maker vainly hanging to its ribs, until, seeing it was bound to go up, he dropped out, like an apple from a tree. Up it went, whirling with frightful velocity, and pursuing the course of the road, until it knocked fiercely against the gable of a neighboring canteen. In went the roof, while out came the inmates, amidst the smash of bottles and the running of brandy. On and on, and round and round, went the tent, until, espying a jaunty little canvas house which defied wind and rain, in a fit of jealousy it went into it, and, with a grand smash, both lay in ribbons on the ground, while the disgusted tent-maker settled a bill for two ruined houses, instead of being paid for erecting one.
“During the summer months, rain-storms, with heavy thunder and lightning, are frequent. They generally approach with a violent breeze, sharp lightning, and loud thunder. The clouds are all in motion, crossing and meeting each other, while along the face of the nimbus, or storm-cloud, is a heavy gray pall of vapor. This is much lower than the rain-cloud, and when close to the earth, portends a fearful storm. The gathering blackness, increased by clouds of dust, the zigzag lightning, the hoarse, reverberating sound of the thunder, and the moaning wind, all strike the spectator with awe. He gazes around him out on the distant plain, where all is dreary and somber; at the immense gray mounds of the claims, deserted, and looking ghostly and unearthly against their pitchy background—and the storm is upon us. Some ominous rain-drops strike the tent, a flash of lightning blinds, a peal of thunder stuns, and the gates of heaven open. The war of the tempest drowns all other sound, the tent shakes and trembles beneath the blast, while rivers of water course down the street, cutting great gullies in the road, and quickly undermining any protective earth-work the digger has placed around him. Soon the canvas begins to leak, and the inmates of the tent stand in dripping silence, listening to the war of the elements. One night, our Caffres were drowned out by one of these heavy storms. They generally slept in a large, circular fire-place of three feet deep, just sufficient to keep the cold from them, and thus were snugly ensconced when it began to rain. Above the fire-place was a hollow which drained into it. As this drainage was very unpleasant, and often, in heavy rains, flooded out the fire, we built a dam against it as a protection. On the night in question, it rained so fast the hollow was soon a sheet of water, which pressed with such force against the dam that it gave way. In an instant, the fire-place was full to overflowing, and the Caffres, thus rudely awakened, gave one mighty yell as the waters covered them. Aroused by the noise, I peeped forth as they were struggling out, their black heads showing around the edge of the fire-place like those of so many hippopotami. After getting out, and giving some hearty shakes, they commenced fishing up their bed-clothes from the treacherous flood. Long before sunrise, next morning, they were at the tent door, calling loudly for ‘soupies,’ or what we denominate ‘eye-openers,’ and certainly their condition, after what they had gone through, demanded relief.”
THE LUCKY ONES.
Some of the stories told about the diamond finds are decidedly attractive. Some of the earlier miners made large fortunes in a short time. They had nothing to pay for their ground, and found from one to twenty diamonds every day. When the price of claims went up, they sold out, anywhere from two to ten thousand dollars, and went home. One man made fifty thousand dollars in a month, divided his claim into six parts, sold each part for one thousand five hundred dollars, and went away satisfied. A ship was wrecked on the coast. The captain, of course, was a very unfortunate man. Not knowing what to do, he went to the diamond fields, where he stayed three months, and went away with seventy-five thousand dollars. A Dutch Boer found, in one day, thirty-one diamonds, which weighed respectively thirty-three carats, eighteen, fifteen, nine, seven and a half, and other smaller ones. He went away from the fields, and on returning, after an absence of a month, his black servants, whom he had left in charge, turned over to him more than three hundred diamonds. One man found a stone, at the end of four days’ work, which brought him, in clean cash, eighty thousand dollars.
A CURIOUS FACT ABOUT DIAMONDS.
A curious fact about the diamond is that it sometimes bursts. The experts at the Cape can generally determine, by examining a stone, whether it will burst or not. When first taken out, a small speck is seen in it. If it is put aside in a dry place, it is in fragments by the next morning. The miners keep such a stone in water or oil, generally, until they find somebody green enough to buy it. The bursting is caused by disappearance of moisture in the stone, and, of course, it is retained there as long as the stone is kept moist.