# The Mission/Chapter XXVII

As our travellers were sitting together, each occupied with his own melancholy thoughts, after the dispersion of the clouds and the anticipated relief, the Major said—
“It is useless our remaining here; we must all perish if we do not proceed, and it would be better for us to yoke and travel by night; the animals will bear the journey better, and the people will not be so inclined to brood over their misfortunes when on the march as when thus huddled together here, and communicating their lamentations to dishearten each other. It is now nine o’clock; let us yoke and push on as far as we can.”
“I agree with you, Major,” said Alexander; “what do you say, Swinton?”
“I am convinced that it will be the best plan, so let us rouse up the people at once. There is the roar of a lion at some distance, and we have no fires to scare them off.”
“The creaking of the waggon-wheels will be better than nothing,” replied the Major.
The Hottentots were roused, and the orders given to yoke: the poor fellows were all sound asleep; for a Hottentot, when he hungers or thirsts, seeks refuge from all his miseries in sleep. The oxen were yoked, and they proceeded; but hardly had they gone a mile, when the roar of three or four lions, close upon them, caused such alarm to the horses and the oxen which were not yoked that they started off in a full gallop in a northerly direction.
Alexander, the Major, and Omrah, who were the best mounted, immediately set off in pursuit of them, desiring Swinton to proceed with the caravan, and they would drive on the cattle and join him. They galloped off as well as the horses could gallop, and perceived the stray horses and oxen still at full speed, as if they were chased by the lions. They followed in the direction, but it was now so dark that they were guided only by the clatter of their hoofs and their shoes in the distance; and after a chase of four or five miles they had lost all vestiges of them, and pulled up their panting steeds.
“We may as well go back again,” said Alexander; “the animals must have made a circuit.”
“I suppose so,” said the Major; “but my horse trembles so, that I had better dismount for a little while, that he may recover himself; indeed, so had you too and Omrah, for the animals are completely worn-out.”
“The clouds are rising again,” said Alexander “I trust that we may not be disappointed a second time.”
“Yes, and there is lightning again in the horizon—may the Almighty help us in our distress,” exclaimed the Major.
The horses, exhausted from want of water, continued to pant so fearfully, that it was nearly half an hour before they ventured to mount, that they might return to the caravan. In the mean time the heavens had become wholly obscured by the clouds, and there was every prospect of a heavy shower; at last a few drops did fall.
“Thank God!” exclaimed Alexander, as he lifted his face up to the heavens, to feel the drops as they fell. “Now let us return.”
They mounted their horses and set off; but the stars were no longer visible to guide them, and they proceeded on at a slow pace, uncertain whether they were right or wrong. This they cared little about; their thoughts were upon the coming rain, which they so anxiously awaited. For more than three hours they were tantalised by the lightning flashing and the thunder pealing, every moment expecting the flood-gates of the heavens to be opened but, as before, they were doomed to disappointment. Before the morning dawned the clouds had again retreated; and when the sky was clear, they found by the stars that their horses’ heads were turned to the northward and eastward.
They altered their course in silence, for they were worn-out and despondent; they suffered dreadfully from thirst, and it was pitiable to see the tongues of the poor horses hanging out of their mouths. Day dawned, and there were no signs of the caravan. A thick vapour was rising from every quarter, and they hoped that when it cleared up they would be more fortunate; but no, there was the same monotonous landscape, the same carpet of flowers without perfume. The sun was now three hours high, and the heat was intense; their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths, while still they went on over flowery meads; but neither forest or pool, nor any trees which might denote the bed of the river, caught their earnest gaze.
“This is dreadful,” said Alexander, at last, speaking with difficulty.
“We are lost, that is certain,” said the Major; “but we must trust in God.”
“Yes, we may now say, Lord help us, or we perish,” replied Alexander.
At this moment, little Omrah, who had been behind, rode up to them, and offered them one of the Hottentots’ pipes, which he had lighted; saying, “Smoke,—not feel so bad.” Alexander took it, and after a few whiffs found that it had the effect of producing a little saliva, and he handed it to the Major, who did the same, and felt immediate relief.
They continued to walk their horses in a southerly direction; but the heat was now so great, that it became almost insufferable, and at last the horses stood still. They dismounted, and drove their horses slowly before them over the glowing plain; and now the mirage deluded and tantalised them in the strangest manner. At one time, Alexander pointed with delight (for he could not speak) to what he imagined to be the waggons; they pushed on, and found that it was a solitary quagga, magnified thus by the mirage. Sometimes they thought that they saw lakes of water in the distance, and hastened on to them; and then they fancied they were close to rivers and islands, covered with luxuriant foliage, but still were doomed to disappointment; as all was the result of the highly-rarefied air, and the refraction of the sun’s rays on the sultry plain. What would they have given for a bush even to afford them any shelter from the noonday sun, for the crowns of their heads appeared as if covered with live coal, and their minds began to wander. The poor horses moved at the lowest pace, and only when driven on by Omrah, who appeared to suffer much less than his masters. Every now and then he handed to them the pipe, but at last even that had no longer any relief. Speech had been for some hours totally lost. Gradually, however, the sun sunk down to the horizon, and as his scorching rays became less intense they to a certain degree recovered their wandering senses.
At night they sat down by the side of the horses, and, worn-out with fatigue and exhaustion, fell into a troubled sleep; a sleep which, if it relieved their worn-out frames, condemned them to the same tantalising feelings as had been created by the mirage during the day. They dreamed that they were in the bowers of paradise, hearing heavenly music; passing from crystal stream to stream, slaking their thirst at each, and reclining on couches of verdant green. Everything that was delightful appeared to them in their dreams; they were in the abodes of bliss; and thus did they remain for an hour or two, when they were wakened up by the roar of a lion, which reminded them that they were without food or water in the desert.
They awoke speechless with thirst, their eyes inflamed, and their whole bodies burning like a coal, and the awful roar of the lion still reverberated along the ground. They started on their legs, and found Omrah close to them, holding the bridles of the horses, which were attempting to escape. They were still confused, when they were fully restored to their waking senses by a second roar of the lion still nearer to them; and, by the imperfect light of the stars, they could now distinguish the beast at about one hundred yards’ distance. Omrah put the bridles of their two horses in their hands, and motioned them to go on in the direction opposite to where the lion was. They did so without reflection; mechanically obeying the directions of the man-child; and not perceiving that Omrah did not follow them. They had advanced about one hundred yards with the terrified animals, when another loud roar was followed up by the shriek of the other horse, announcing that he had become a victim to the savage animal. They both started, and, dropping the reins of their horses, hastened with their rifles to the help of Omrah, of whose absence they now for the first time were aware; but they were met half-way by the boy, who contrived to say with difficulty, “Lion want horse, not little Bushman.” They waited a few seconds, but the cries of the poor animal, and the crushing and cracking of its bones, were too painful to hear; and they hastened on, and rejoined the other horses, which appeared paralysed with fear, and had remained stationary.
They again led their horses on for an hour, when they arrived at a small pile of rocks; there they again laid down, for they were quite exhausted and careless of life. Not even the roar of a lion would have aroused them now, or if it had roused them they would have waited for the animal to come and put an end to their misery. But another and a softer noise attracted the quick ear of Omrah, and he pushed Alexander, and put his finger up to induce him to listen.
Having listened a little longer, Omrah made signs to Alexander and the Major to follow him. The noise which Omrah had heard was the croaking of a frog, which denoted water at hand, and the sniffing of the horses confirmed him in his supposition. Omrah led the way through the rocks, descending lower and lower; and ever and anon listening to the noise of the animal, till he perceived the stars of the heavens above reflected in a small pool, which he pointed out to Alexander and the Major. Down they dropped to the earth and drank; and as soon as their thirst was satisfied they rose, and pushed Omrah forward to make him drink also; and as the boy who had saved their lives was drinking, they knelt down and prayed,—not loud, for they had not yet recovered their speech; but if ever grateful prayers were offered up to the Almighty throne, they were by our two travellers, as they knelt by the side of this small pool. They rose and hastened to their horses, and led them down to the water, when the poor animals filled themselves almost to bursting, walked away, and returned to drink more. They also repeated their draught several times, and then lay down, and would have fallen asleep by the side of the pool, had not Omrah, who could now speak freely, said, “No, no; lion come here for water; up the rock again and sleep there—I bring horses.” This good advice was followed, and when they had gained the summit of the rising ground they again laid down and slept till daylight.
When they awoke, they found themselves much refreshed; but they now felt,—what they had not done during their extreme suffering from thirst—the craving pangs of hunger. Omrah was fast asleep, and the horses picking among the herbage, about two hundred yards off.
“We have much to thank God for,” said Alexander to the Major.
“We have indeed, and, next to divine aid, we have to thank that poor boy. We have been as children in his hands, and we are indebted to him and his resources for our lives this night. I could not speak yesterday, nor could you; but his courage in remaining with the horse as an offering to the lion, I shall not forget.”
“He is a child of the desert,” replied Alexander; “he has been brought up among lions, and where there is scarcity of water, and he has most wonderfully guided us in our path; but we are still in the desert, and have lost our companions. What must we do? Shall we attempt to regain the caravan, or push off to the westward, to fall in with the river again?”
“We will talk of that an hour hence,” replied the Major; “let us now go down to the pool, and as soon as I have had a drink I will try if I cannot kill something for a meal. My hunger is now almost as great as was my thirst.”
“And mine too, so I will go with you; but we must be careful how we approach the water, as we may fall in with some animal to make a meal of.”
“Or with a lion, ready to make a meal of us,” replied the Major; “so in either instance we must approach it cautiously.”
As they walked to the pool, they discovered the head of an antelope just above a rock. The Major fired, and the animal fell. The report of the rifle was answered by a roar; three lions bounded away from the rock, and went at a quick canter over the plain.
“Both our suppositions have proved correct,” observed Alexander, as they walked up to where the antelope lay dead; “but now how are we to cook the animal?”
“Any dry stuff will serve for a fire, if we can only get enough, and a very little cooking will serve me just now. Here comes Omrah. Let us carry the game up to where we slept last night, as soon as we have had a drink.”
They went to the pool, and were surprised to behold the filthy puddle which had appeared to them so like nectar the night before. They were not sufficiently thirsty to overcome their disgust, and they turned away from it.
Omrah now began collecting dried grass, and herbs, and lichen from the rocks, and had soon a sufficiency to make a small fire; they struck a light, and cutting off steaks from the antelope were in a short time very busy at the repast. When their hunger was appeased, they found that their thirst was renewed, and they went down to the pool, and shutting their eyes drank plentifully. Omrah cooked as much of the meat as the small fire would permit, that they might not want for the next twenty-four hours; and the horses being again led to the water to drink, they mounted, and proceeded to the southward, followed by Omrah on foot. Another day was passed in searching for the caravan without success. No water was to be found. The heat was dreadful; and at night they threw themselves down on the ground, careless of life; and had it not been sinful they would have prayed for death. The next morning they arose in a state of dreadful suffering; they could not speak, but they made signs, and resolved once more to attempt to join the caravan.
They proceeded during the whole of the forenoon in the direction by which they hoped to discover the track of the waggons. The heat was overpowering, and they felt all the agony of the day before. At last the horses could proceed no further; they both lay down, and our travellers had little hopes of their ever rising again. The scorching of the sun’s rays was so dreadful, that they thrust their heads into some empty ant-hills to keep off the heat, and there they lay in as forlorn and hopeless a state as the horses. Speak they could not; their parched tongues rattled like boards against the roofs of their mouths; their lips were swollen and bloated, and their eyes inflamed and starting from their sockets. As Alexander afterwards said to Swinton, he then recollected the thoughts which had risen in his mind on his departure from the English shore, and the surmise whether he might not leave his bones bleaching in the desert; and Alexander now believed that such was to be the case, and he prayed mentally and prepared for death. The Major was fully possessed with the same idea; but as they lay at some yards’ distance, with their heads buried in the ant-hills, they could not communicate with each other even by signs. At last they fell into a state of stupor and lost all recollection. But an Almighty Providence watched over them, and during their state of insensibility the clouds again rose and covered the firmament, and this time they did not rise in mockery; for, before the day was closed, torrents descended from them and deluged the whole plain.
Omrah, who had held up better than his masters, crawled out of the ant-hill into which he had crept; and as soon as the rain descended, he contrived to pull the heads of the Major and Alexander, who still remained senseless, from out of the ant-hills, and to turn their blackened and swollen faces to the sky. As their clothes became saturated with the rain and the water poured into their mouths, they gradually revived, and at last were completely restored. The wind now rose and blew fresh, and before morning they were shivering with cold, and when they attempted to get up found that their limbs were cramped.
Soon after daylight the rain ceased, and they were glad to bask in the then cheering rays of the sun, which had nearly destroyed them on the day before. The horses had recovered their legs and were feeding close to them; and the flesh of the antelope, which had been untasted, was now greedily devoured. Most devoutly did they return thanks for their preservation, and the hopes which were now held out to them of ultimately regaining the colony; for they had abandoned all hopes of reaching the caravan, as they considered the risk of crossing the desert too great. They made up their minds to push for the Vaal River as fast as they could, and proceed back by its banks.
They had two horses, and Omrah could ride behind one of them, when he was tired; they had guns and ammunition; and although they were fully aware of the dangers to which they would be exposed, they thought lightly of them after what they had suffered. They now mounted their horses, and proceeded at a slow pace towards the westward, for the poor animals were still very weak. At sunset they had travelled about ten miles, and looked out for a spot to pass the night. Wood to light fires they had none, but they hoped, if their horses were not taken away by the lions, to reach a branch of the river by the following evening. There was now no want of water, as they repeatedly passed by small pools, which, for a day or two at least, would not be evaporated by the heat of the sun. But they knew that by that time, if no more rain fell, they would have again to undergo the former terrible privations, and therefore resolved upon continuing their course towards the river, as their safest plan, now that they had lost the caravan.
As they were seated on a rising ground which they had chosen for their night’s rest, and occasionally firing off their rifles to drive away the lions, which were heard prowling about, all of a sudden Omrah cried out, and pointed to the northward; our travellers turned and perceived a rocket ascending the firmament, and at last breaking out into a group of brilliant stars.
“It is the caravan,” exclaimed the Major; “Swinton has remembered that I put some rockets into my waggon.”
“We must have passed it,” said Alexander, springing on his feet. “God be praised for all his mercies.”
“Amen,” replied the Major devoutly.
Omrah ran after the horses, which were feeding close to them, for their instinctive fear of the lions made them keep as close as possible to their masters. They were soon mounted, with Omrah behind the Major, and set off at all the speed that they could obtain from the animals. After an interval another rocket was seen, and by its light they discovered that they were not a mile from the waggons. The horses appeared to be sensible of this, and went off at a quicker pace; and in a few minutes they had rushed in among the cattle, and Alexander and the Major were received into the arms of Swinton, and surrounded by the Hottentots, who were loud in their congratulations at their return.
As soon as Alexander and the Major had made known their perils and sufferings to Swinton, the latter informed them that about three hours after they had left the caravan in pursuit of the cattle, the animals had returned, and that of course he had fully expected them to follow. Finding that they did not arrive, he had decided upon remaining where he was, at all events, for another day; but that the cattle were by that time so exhausted, that it was with difficulty they moved, and he could not proceed with them more than ten miles, when they lay down in their yokes. Thirteen had died, and the others must have shared their fate, if it had not been for the providential rain, which had restored them.
Swinton stated that he had been in a great state of alarm for them, and that he had almost satisfied himself that they had perished, although he had used every means that he could think of. When he fired the rockets off; he had scarcely a hope of thus bringing them back to the caravan.
“However,” observed Swinton, “it shows that we should never despair, and never leave a chance untried, even in the most desperate circumstances. You are back again, and I thank the Almighty for it, with all my heart, and all my soul, and all my strength, most fervently and most sincerely. I have been very, very miserable, I can assure you, my dear fellows. The idea of returning to the Cape without you was dreadful. Indeed, I never would have left the country until I had found you, or had some clue to your deaths.”
“Our preservation has indeed been miraculous,” replied the Major; “I never thought to have raised my head out of the ant-hill again.”
“Nor I,” replied Alexander; “and, next to the Almighty, we certainly owe our lives to little Omrah. There is nothing that I would not do for that boy, if you will give him over to my care.”
“Or mine, Swinton,” said the Major.
“Depend upon it,” replied Swinton, “I will do all for him that ought to be done; I owe him a debt of gratitude for preserving my friends, and will not forget to repay it.”
“Well then, you must allow us to help him as well,” replied the Major. “How far are we now from the Modder River?”
“About forty miles, I should think, and we had better push on as fast as we can; for although the river will contain water, the pools in the desert between us and the river will soon be dried up. The cattle, however, are still very weak,—and, as I have stated, we have lost all our relays. But you must long to have a good night’s rest, so go to your waggons, and we will watch and keep off the wild beasts. We have been obliged to fire our guns all night long, since your absence; and have burnt one of the spare poles of the waggons, to cook our victuals.”
Everything is comparative. When our travellers first took up their night’s lodgings in the waggons, they found their resting-places hard, after sleeping in comfortable beds at Cape Town; but now, after having passed their nights in the wide desert, their mattresses in the waggons were a luxury that was fully appreciated. Returning thanks to Heaven for their preservation, Alexander and the Major slept soundly till morning, notwithstanding that the latter was often half-roused by the importunities of Begum, who appeared delighted at the return of her master.
At daylight the oxen were yoked, and they proceeded on their journey. There was no want of game; indeed they were so plentiful, that they shot them from the caravan as they passed. At night they had made twenty-five miles, and before they had unyoked, a deluge of rain again fell, and they passed a very uncomfortable night, as it was very cold, and they could light no fires, from want of fuel. Anything, however, was better than the want of water; and early in the morning they again yoked their oxen, and, after a hard day’s toil, were rejoiced to perceive at a distance the trees which lined the banks of the Modder River. This sight was hailed with joy by the Hottentots, who shouted aloud; for they considered their dangers and difficulties to be over, now that they were approaching to the boundaries of the colony.