On the 28th, his Excellency inspected the whole of the troops; the line, at "open order," in front of the camp, extending about a mile in length, and we were formed into Brigades for the ensuing march. The First Brigade, under Lieut.-Col. MacDuff, 74th Highlanders, consisted of the 2nd Queen's, the 74th Highlanders, and a rocket battery. The Second under Major Pinckney, 73rd regiment, of the 43rd Light Infantry, the 73rd, the Rifle Brigade, and a rocket battery (Colonel Eyre commanding the Division), and a Cavalry Brigade under Lieut.-Col. Napier, composed of the 12th Lancers, Artillery, and Cape Corps. The heat of the sun was so great that several of the men fainted as we stood on parade, and one had a sun-stroke. Later in the day we were visited by violent whirlwinds, that whisked some of the tents into the air among clouds of sand and small gravel, levelling many others in their course.
The Cavalry marched for the Orange River; and at daylight next morning the Second Brigade followed, the First bringing up the rear the morning following.
At 9 o'clock, when we halted for our morning meal, we were thankful to get under the shadow of the waggons: a man of the Rifle Brigade had a coup-de-soleil. A twenty miles' trying march through a burning desert country brought us by sunset to our halting place, near a small vley; but we had no sooner got our tents up than a whirlwind threw half of them down again, enveloping us for a few minutes in such a cloud of sand, that we could not see a yard before us. The water in these stagnant pools, that simmer all day in the sun, and at night are used as baths by herds of wild game, is the most villanous mixture of mud, dung, and green scum that can be imagined; as thick as pea-soup, and full of aquatic insects. Even where the water was clear, we often found it so brak as to be even worse than in its gruel form; and of the two descriptions of salt and sweet brak, we hardly knew which was the worst; the brandy used to neutralize its bad effects, dysentery and diarrhœa, turning it as black as ink in a moment.
CROSSING THE ORANGE RIVER.
The march of next morning again lay through a burning sun-baked plain, without a single object to vary the monotony of its barren desolation, the only sign of life being an occasional paauw or koran. But at the end of about seven miles a wonderful and glorious change met our delighted eyes; from a low undulating ridge we suddenly looked down on the broad silvery expanse of the Great Orange River, flowing between richly wooded banks of warm red earth and rock, in front of us three or four lovely green islets adorning its bosom. The transition from the dreary sterility of the burning plains of the last twenty-one days, shady trees in lieu of bare karroo, and miles of clear sparkling water instead of muddy vleys, was most delightful, independently of the natural beauties of the scene itself.
The tents of the Second Brigade and the Cavalry, which had already crossed, were seen on the plain on the other side the river. Halting at the top of the road leading down a high bank to the drift or ford, the men were ordered to take off their boots and trews, and pack their ammunition pouches in their blankets. The effect was most absurd,—nearly 1000 men standing in the ranks in column of companies, with bare legs, their unmentionables on their heads or round their necks, and their boots and socks dangling from the muzzles of their firelocks. The waggons, with the wheels rheimed, were let gradually down the bank by drag-ropes. Thus we crossed the river, at this point nearly a quarter of a mile in breadth; the water reaching to the men's middles, and to our saddle-flaps. The current was strong and rapid, rushing with great force between the legs of man and horse, endangering their equilibrium, and carrying some score of dogs far down the current. The sensation occasioned by the swiftly running stream was most bewildering. I felt at first as though I were darting up the river at railway speed, then so giddy that I clutched my horse's mane to prevent myself falling off.
All having crossed, the first thing we did after pitching our tents by those of the other Brigade, was to rush to the river and plunge into its cooling flood, swimming and splashing about under the shade of the weeping willows that dipped into it; every body in a perfect frenzy of delight, many actually lying in the water smoking, and the whole breadth of the river covered over with heads, as if by wild fowl; for every man in the Division bathed twice or thrice over in the course of the day.
The shade of the large olive trees and willows, was hardly less grateful than the deliciously cooling stream. The sultry tents were deserted, except by those on duty, and all flocked to the green shady banks of the river, where we remained till sunset. The shrill ringing of the cicada resounded in every branch all day long. Many of the men turned out unsuspected fishing-tackle, and having cut rods from the trees, very soon caught abundance of fine fish. They were of two kinds; a sort of coarse mullet, and a long ugly fish, with a blue skin and a number of fleshy filaments hanging from his under jaw. The Dutchmen called them barga; they were excellent eating, and ran from one to four pounds weight. Near the drift and on the opposite side of the river, was a small house and garden, to which Bruce and I, with our trews and boots round our necks, waded across, partly to explore, and partly to see if there were any vegetables to be had; the stones were so dreadfully sharp to our feet that before we were half way over we repented; but as a hundred eyes were upon us, we kept manfully on, though with many ohs! and ahs! The people were very kind and obliging, but there was little to be got for our trouble. Along the edge of the river are found numbers of agates, and cornelians, with green serpentine, and we picked up a great many of them; mine were subsequently cut and polished by Sanderson of Edinburgh, and turned out very good specimens.
This magnificent river is more than eleven hundred miles in length, rising in the Blue Mountains, and flowing right across the continent into the South Atlantic. With great regret, we left this Elysium of the desert next morning at daylight, and were again trekking across the arid plain northwards. Our halt was at a place called Ranakin, though why it should be called anything at all, more than the rest of the desert, from which it in no way differed, we could not imagine.