# The Mission/Chapter IX

The plans of our travellers had been well digested. They had decided that they would first prosecute the object of their journey by proceeding straight through the Caffre country to the borders of the Undata River, near or whereabout it was reported that the descendants of the whites would be found located; and as soon as Alexander had accomplished his mission, that they would cross the chain of mountains, and return through the Bushmen and the Koranna country. Their reason for making this arrangement was, that throughout the whole of the Caffre country, with the exception of lions and elephants in the forest, and hippopotami in the rivers, there was little or no game to be found, the Caffres having almost wholly destroyed it.
This plan had been suggested by Major Henderson, and had been approved by Alexander and Mr. Swinton,—Alexander being equally desirous as the Major to have plenty of field-sport, and Mr. Swinton anxious to increase his stock and knowledge of the animal kingdom. There was little to be feared in their advance through the Caffre country, as the missionaries had already planted two missions, one at Butterworth and the other at Chumie; and the first of these Alexander had decided upon visiting, and had, in consequence, several packages in his waggon, which had been intrusted to his care.
It was on the 7th of May, 1829, that the caravan quitted Algoa Bay for Graham’s Town. The weather had for some weeks been fine, the heavy rains having ceased, and the pasturage was now luxuriant; the waggons proceeded at a noiseless pace over the herbage, the sleepy Hottentots not being at all inclined to exert themselves unnecessarily. Alexander, Swinton, and Henderson were on horseback, a little ahead of the first waggon.
“I don’t know how you feel,” said the Major; “but I feel as if I were a prisoner just released from his chains. I breathe the air of independence and liberty now. After the bustle, and noise, and crowding together of the town, to find ourselves here so quiet and solitary is freedom.”
“I had the same feeling,” replied Alexander; “this wide-extended plain, of which we cannot yet discern the horizontal edge; these brilliant stars scattered over the heavens, and shining down upon us; no sound to meet our ears but the creaking of the waggon-wheels in the slow and measured pace, is to me delightful. They say man is formed for society, and so he is; but it is very delightful occasionally to be alone.”
“Yes; alone as we are,” replied Swinton, laughing; “that is, with a party of thirty people, well-armed, in search of adventure. To be clear of the bustle of the town, and no longer cooped up in the fort, is pleasant enough; but, I suspect, to be quite alone in these African wilds would be anything but agreeable.”
“Perhaps so.”
“Neither would you feel so much at ease if you knew that your chance of to-morrow’s dinner was to depend wholly upon what you might procure with your gun. There is a satisfaction in knowing that you have four well-filled waggons behind you.”
“I grant that also,” replied the Major; “but still there is solitude even with this company, and I feel it.”
“A solitary caravan—but grant that there is some difference between that and a solitary individual,” rejoined Swinton; “however, we have not come to solitude yet, for we shall find Dutch boors enough between this and Graham’s Town.”
“I think, Wilmot,” observed Henderson, “that I should, if I were you, proceed by slow stages at first, that we may get our men into some kind of order and discipline, and also that we may find out whether there are any who will not suit us; we can discharge them at Graham’s Town, and procure others in their place, at the same time that we engage our interpreters and guides.”
“I think your plan very good,” replied Alexander; “besides, we shall not have our waggons properly laden and arranged until we have been out three or four days.”
“One thing is absolutely necessary, which is, to have a guard kept every night,” said Swinton; “and there ought to be two men on guard at a time; for one of them is certain to fall asleep, if not both. I know the Hottentots well.”
“They will be excellent guards, by your account,” said Alexander; “however, the dogs will serve us more faithfully.”
“I do not mean my remark to include all Hottentots; some are very faithful, and do their duty; but it comprehends the majority.”
“Are they courageous?” inquired Alexander.
“Yes, certainly, they may be considered as a brave race of men; but occasionally there is a poltroon, and, like all cowards, he brags more than the rest.”
“I’ve a strong suspicion that we have one of that kind among our hunters,” replied Henderson; “however, it is not fair to prejudge; I may be mistaken.”
“I think I know which you refer to, nevertheless,” said Alexander; “it is the great fellow that they call Big Adam.”
“You have hit upon the man, and to a certain degree corroborated my opinion of him. But the day is dawning, the sun will soon be above those hills.”
“When we stop, I will have some grease put to those waggon-wheels,” said Alexander.
“I fear it will be of little use,” replied the Major; “creak they will. I don’t know whether the oxen here are like those in India; but this I know, that the creaking of the carts and hackeries there is fifty times worse than this. The natives never grease the wheels; they say the oxen would not go on if they did not hear the music behind them.”
“Besides, the creaking of the wheels will by-and-by be of service; when we are travelling through grass higher than our heads, we shall not be able to stop behind a minute, if we have not the creaking of the wheels to direct us how to follow.”
“Well, then, I suppose we must save our grease,” said Alexander.
“In a very few days you will be so accustomed to it,” said the Major, “that if it were to cease, you would feel the loss of it.”
“Well, it may be so; use is second nature; but at present I feel as if the loss would be gain. There is the sun just showing himself above the hill. Shall we halt or go on?”
“Go on for another hour, and the men can thus examine the traces and the waggons by daylight, and then, when we stop, we can remedy any defects.”
“Be it so; there is a house, is there not, on the rising ground, as far as you can see?”
“Yes, I think so,” replied the Major.
“I know it very well,” said Swinton; “it is the farm of a Dutch boor, Milius, whom we saw at Algoa Bay. I did not think that we had got on so fast. It is about three miles off, so it will just be convenient for our breakfast. It will take us a good hour to arrive there, and then we will unyoke the oxen. How many have we yoked?”
“Ten to each waggon. The other sixteen are following with the sheer and horses; they are as relays.”
“Let us gallop on,” said the Major.
“Agreed,” replied the others; and putting spurs to their horses, they soon arrived at the farmhouse of the Dutch planter.
They were saluted with the barking and clamour of about twenty dogs, which brought out one of the young boors, who drove away the dogs by pelting them with bullock-horns, and other bones of animals which were strewed about. He then requested them to dismount. The old boor soon appeared, and gave them a hearty welcome, handing down from the shelf a large brandy-bottle, and recommending a dram, of which he partook himself, stating that it was good brandy, and made from his own peaches.
Shortly afterwards the wife of the boor made her appearance, and having saluted them, took up her station at a small table, with the tea apparatus before her. That refreshing beverage she now poured out for the visitors, handing a box, with some sugar-candy in it, for them to put a bit into their mouths, and keep there as they drank their tea, by way of sweetening it. The old boor told them that he had expected them, as he had been informed that they were to set out that day; but he had concluded that they would arrive in the afternoon, and not so early.
We may as well here give a description of a Dutch farmer’s house at the Cape settlement.
It was a large square building, the wall built up of clay, and then plastered with a composition made by the boors, which becomes excessively hard in time; after which it is whitewashed. The roof was thatched with a hard sort of rushes, more durable and less likely to catch fire than straw. There was no ceiling under the roof, but the rafters overhead were hung with a motley assemblage of the produce of the chase and farm, as large whips made of rhinoceros-hide, leopard and lion skins, ostrich-eggs and feathers, strings of onions, rolls of tobacco, bamboos, etcetera.
The house contained one large eating-room, a small private room, and two bed-rooms. The windows were not glazed, but closed with skins every night. There was no chimney or stove in the house, all the cooking being carried on in a small outhouse.
The furniture was not very considerable; a large table, a few chairs and stools, some iron pots and kettles, a set of Dutch teacups, a teapot, and a brass kettle, with a heater. The large, brass-clasped, family Dutch Bible occupied a small table, at which the mistress of the house presided, and behind her chair were the carcasses of two sheep, suspended from a beam.
Inquiries about the news at the Cape, and details of all the information which our travellers could give, had occupied the time till breakfast was put on the table. It consisted of mutton boiled and stewed, butter, milk, fruits, and good white bread. Before breakfast was over the caravan arrived, and the oxen were unyoked. Our travellers passed away two hours in going over the garden and orchards, and visiting the cattle-folds, and seeing the cows milked. They then yoked the teams, and wishing the old boor a fare well, and thanking him for his hospitality, they resumed their journey.
“Is it always the custom here to receive travellers in this friendly way?” observed Alexander, as they rode away.
“Always,” replied Swinton; “there are no inns on the road, and every traveller finds a welcome. It is considered a matter of course.”
“Do they never take payment?”
“Never, and it must not be offered; but they will take the value of the corn supplied to your horses, as that is quite another thing. One peculiarity you will observe as you go along, which is, that the Dutch wife is a fixture at the little tea-table all day long. She never leaves it, and the tea is always ready for every traveller who claims their hospitality; it is an odd custom.”
“And I presume that occasions the good woman to become so very lusty.”
“No doubt of it; the whole exercise of the day is from the bed-room to the teapot, and back again,” replied Swinton, laughing.
“One would hardly suppose that this apparently good-natured and hospitable people could have been guilty of such cruelty to the natives as Mr. Fairburn represented.”
“Many of our virtues and vices are brought prominently forward by circumstances,” replied Swinton. “Hospitality in a thinly-inhabited country is universal, and a Dutch boor is hospitable to an excess. Their cruelty to the Hottentots and other natives arises from the prejudices of education: they have from their childhood beheld them treated as slaves, and do not consider them as fellow-creatures. As Mr. Fairburn truly said, nothing demoralises so much, or so hardens the heart of man, as slavery existing and sanctioned by law.”
“But are not the Dutch renowned for cruelty and love of money?”
“They have obtained that reputation, and I fear there is some reason for it. They took the lead, it must be remembered, as a commercial nation, more commercial than the Portuguese, whose steps they followed so closely: that this eager pursuit of wealth should create a love of money is but too natural, and to obtain money, men, under the influence of that passion, will stop at nothing. Their cruelties in the East are on record; but the question is, whether the English, who followed the path of the Dutch, would not, had they gone before them, have been guilty of the same crimes to obtain the same ends? The Spaniards were just as cruel in South America, and the Portuguese have not fallen short of them; nay, I doubt if our own countrymen can be acquitted in many instances. The only difference is, that the other nations who preceded them in discoveries had greater temptation, because there were more riches and wealth to be obtained.”
“Your remarks are just; well may we say in the Lord’s Prayer, ‘Lead us not into temptation,’ for we are all too frail to withstand it.”
At noon they again unyoked, and allowed the cattle to graze for an interval; after which they proceeded till an hour before dark, when they mustered the men, and gave them their several charges and directions. At Alexander’s request the Major took this upon himself, and he made a long speech to the Hottentots, stating that it was their intention to reward those who did their duty, and to punish severely those who did not. They then collected wood for the fires, and had their supper,—the first meal which they had taken out of doors. Mahomed, the Parsee servant of Major Henderson, cooked very much to their satisfaction; and having tied the oxen to the waggons, to accustom them to the practice, more than from any danger to be apprehended, the watch was set to keep up the fires: they then all retired to bed, the gentlemen sleeping in their waggons, and the Hottentots underneath them, or by the sides of the fires which had been lighted.
It will be unnecessary to enter into a detail of the journey to Graham’s Town, which was performed without difficulty. They did not arrive there until eight days after their departure from Algoa Bay, as they purposely lost time on the road, that things might find their places. At Graham’s Town they received every kindness and attention from the few military who were there and the landroost. Here they dismissed three of the men, who had remained drunk in the liquor-houses during their stay, and hired nine more, who were well recommended; among these were two perfectly well acquainted with the Caffre language and country; so that they were serviceable both as interpreters and guides. The day after their arrival, when they were out in the skirts of the town, Mr. Swinton perceived something moving in the bushes. He advanced cautiously, and discovered that it was a poor little Bushman boy, about twelve years old, quite naked, and evidently in a state of starvation, having been left there in a high fever by his people. He was so weak that he could not stand, and Mr. Swinton desired the Hottentot who was with him to lift him up, and carry him to the waggons. Some medicine and good food soon brought the little fellow round again, and he was able to walk about. He showed no disposition to leave them; indeed, he would watch for Mr. Swinton, and follow him as far as he could. The child evidently appeared to feel attachment and gratitude, and when they were about to depart, Mr. Swinton, through the medium of one of the Hottentots who could speak the language, asked him if he would like to stay with them. The answer was in the affirmative, and it was decided that he should accompany them, the Major observing that he would be a very good companion for Begum.
“What name shall we give him?” said Swinton.
“Why, as my baboon is by title a princess, I think we cannot create him less than a prince. Let us call him Omrah.”
“Omrah be it then,” replied Mr. Swinton, “until we can name him in a more serious way.”
So Omrah was put into the waggon, with Begum to amuse him, and our travellers took their departure from Graham’s Town.