Gert Gemsbok prowled along the bank of the Orange River and bent an attentive eye upon the brimming flood. The great stream, swollen by the summer rains in far-off Basutoland, sped roaring down the rapids just above the Augrabies Falls, over which it would plunge into that mysterious, unexplored gorge through which its secret way lay for some four hundred miles to the Atlantic Ocean. Brown with the gleanings of tens of thousands of square miles of loamy hill and dale swept by furious thunderstorms, clogged with the detritus gathered from flooded flat and spate-ravaged kloof, foul with the rubbish from many a distant mining camp on the banks of its tributary, the Vaal, the torrent swept irresistibly on with a growling roar, the might of which could not be realised without receding for some distance from the bank. Then it would be felt that the air was filled with continuous thunder and that the very earth shuddered with the throbbings of this mighty artery, as the body of a man quivers after unwonted effort.
Flotsam and jetsam abounded in every cranny of the bank and on the down-stream side of every point and headland. Strange objects might be here and there seen—broken packing-cases, dead cattle, sheep, and goats, pumpkins, skins, and old rags. In every bay of still water lay an unsavoury jumble. Gert examined the swollen carcases one by one in the almost vain hope of finding one not too decomposed to eat.
Walking upstream he crossed a promontory covered with scrub. Behind this lay an inlet in the bank which was filled by a slow swirl generated by a rapid immediately above. He paused and cast his eye over the different objects which were slowly circling round and round. One of these soon riveted his attention: it was a rough wooden framework superimposed upon a strong raft, on which was stretched the body of a man dressed in European clothing. Gert walked round the bend of the inlet until he reached a convenient spot on its opposite face. His practised eye recognised this as the place where the object of his scrutiny would most probably ground or come close enough to the bank to be caught hold of, if necessary. Having reached the spot in question, he sat down on a willow stump and waited. The wooden raft with its gruesome burden kept for some time circling slowly round and round the pool, but Gert noticed that at each revolution it seemed to sweep in a little nearer the bank. He began to note the details. The body was that of a very tall man with a full, red beard. He was dressed in a grey flannel shirt, which being slightly open at the throat, revealed a brawny chest covered with russet hair. The nether limbs were clad in moleskin trousers and strong, thick-soled boots such as miners often wear. The feet and arms were securely bound to the sides of the framework.
At length the raft caught against a submerged stump. To this it hung for a moment; then it heeled over and swayed itself loose, and the current washed it slowly against the bank, where it grounded at the watcher’s feet.
The body was horrible to look upon; the eyes were sunken out of sight or had decomposed away—the flesh was livid. The wrists were cut by the cords that bound them, showing that the man had been bound living upon the raft. Into the flesh of his forehead the letter “V,” about an inch in length, had been cut. Gert waded into the water up to his waist and paused close to the horrible object. His feet were sore from constant wanderings over the stony mountains, and he coveted the dead man’s boots. Conquering his repugnance, he drew his knife and severed the laces. Then he pulled the boots off and flung them high on the bank behind him. After pausing for a few seconds he searched the trouser pockets, but found that they contained nothing. As he did this he averted his eyes from the dead face. His search over, he waded along the shore towards the outside limit of the inlet, where the current was strong, drawing the raft after him. Launched forward with his full strength, the raft was caught by the current and swirled out into the mid-stream, where it passed from view into the confused mass of wave-tossed rubbish.
Gert then climbed up the bank and returned to where he had flung the boots. Upon examining these he found that the layers of leather forming the sole of one were gaping widely at the side. He tried to press the layers together, but found that he could not do so owing to the presence of some object which had evidently been inserted between them. He pulled this out and found it to be a piece of rag in which was wrapped a diamond as large as a hazel-nut. Searching farther, he found that in each boot holes had been scooped out in the thick mass of leather above the outer layer, and diamonds inserted. He found six altogether—three in each boot. The stones were pure white, and of that peculiar crystallisation which characterises the gems found on the banks of the Vaal River, as distinguished from those found in what are known as the “dry diggings.”
Gert looked at the shining gems as they lay upon his hand and marvelled exceedingly. He knew right well that the stones were diamonds, for he had worked for a year in the Kimberley mine. He also knew that the law forbade him to have such things in his possession, and that if caught with them he would be liable to severe punishment. Yet here, he thought, was the means of attaining riches; surely there must be some way of turning to account the prize which he had honestly obtained? With a spasm of exultant dread he slipped the stones into his skin wallet. Then he placed a heavy pebble into each of the boots and flung them as far as he could into the stream. He sat in thought for a few moments; then he retraced his steps, down-stream, to a spot where had been deposited the only half-decomposed carcase of a goat which he had raked out of the flood. This he shouldered and carried up the rocky gorge in which the cave was situated, in which he dwelt with his mother and his wife.
By this time the wooden raft with its dread enigma had been whirled down the rapids and dashed to pieces over the Augrabies Falls. What dread tragedy had resulted in the voyage of this ark with its single gruesome passenger upon the bosom of the brown flood through the scorched Desert—what terrible act of crime or retribution had sent this sign to be revealed for an instant to the startled ken of a prowling savage, will probably never be explained until all mysteries are unlocked!
Gert Gemsbok, the Koranna Hottentot, was a remarkable man. In the rebellion of the Griqua and Koranna Clans, which broke out upon the northern border of the Cape Colony in 1879, he had taken a prominent part. Captured with arms in his hands and identified as having led a certain band of rebels which was concerned in some serious depredations, he was sentenced by the Special Court to a severe flogging and a long term of imprisonment. He served the first part of his sentence at the Breakwater Convict Station, Cape Town, but was afterwards transferred to one of the Diamond Mining Compounds at Kimberley. Upon his discharge he took service as a labourer at the mines, with the view of making sufficient money to enable him to return half-way across the continent to the Desert which he loved, and somewhere within the indefinite bounds of which he hoped to find traces of his family. He attained his object; he found his old mother and his wife living close to Namies in Bushmanland, in great misery from want, and suffering from incurable disease. His two children were dead. The two women were unwholesome and in every way unpleasant to look upon, besides being almost helpless, but Gert, no less than they, was happy in the reunion.
Having still a few pounds left from his earnings at the diamond fields, he bought a few articles of clothing for the two women from a wandering hawker. Then the problem as to how they were to exist loomed up. Gert could easily get work among the Trek-Boers, as a shepherd, but how was he to support the two helpless women out of his earnings, which only amounted to eight fat-tailed sheep per annum? The thing was almost impossible, but he succeeded in doing it.