We were now nearing the end of our ox-wagon journey, but were not at all glad it was so.

We had got fond of this careless, lazy life we had been leading so many weeks; the very oxen we had come to know by their names of "Blesbok,"

"Witful," "Kafir," etc. As we neared Queenstown we found ourselves getting anxious about their welfare, trekking slowly, and making frequent and long outspans. When at last we found ourselves on a common, close to Queenstown, it was with regret we said good-by to our six weeks' life in an ox-wagon.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

We went to the Central Hotel. On the second day after our arrival, the wife of a physician of the town called and invited us to dine with them on the following day, Sunday. We did so and made the acquaintance of the excellent Doctor and his little family of interesting children. She then invited us to make her house our home during our stay, and overwhelmed us with kindness.

Unless you have been in a strange land, away from kindred and all who know your people, you can never know the deep happiness it gives to meet with kindness from an utter stranger, as this charming woman was, and to be invited to a home as lovely as hers. After the annoyances and inconveniences of the wretched inns, or hotels, as they were called, to find such open-hearted hospitality was like meeting with kindred in a desert land.

Most of the inhabitants of Queenstown are English or Scotch, there being fewer Dutch or Germans there than in any of the other towns we had visited. There are a number of fine churches and schools, with several newspapers and banks. The ladies of the place are especially social, and dress handsomely. The railway, which had been finished to the port of East London two years previous to our arrival, seemed to have given an impetus to trade, and it was confidently hoped by the burghers would increase rapidly the prosperity of the district.

After enjoying a refreshing season of home life, we said good-by to our new found friends and then left Queenstown by rail. Travelling by rail seemed to us almost a novelty after our late ox-wagon trip, and we could not help contrasting the new style with the old, not _all_ to the disadvantage of the latter, for we could not forget the delightful sleepiness of our inland voyage. We had a twelve hours' ride before we arrived at King Williamstown, the road pa.s.sing through a very pretty country, pleasantly wooded, and varied by many deep and romantic kloofs.

We were thoroughly tired of the stuffy "compartment" before we reached our destination.

We went to an hotel, where our wants were well cared for by a pretty little landlady whose husband was of a most jealous disposition. The town is in a region of country where there have been many Kafir wars.

The military stationed there keep the place awake. It is the fifth town in point of importance in the colony.

During our stay in Africa we had taken many opportunities to practice horseback riding, and had learned the supreme delight there is in a firm seat in the saddle on the back of a well-trained, swift-footed horse.

This exercise is especially enjoyable in Africa, where walking is unpleasant in the hot sun. One day we were invited to join in a paper chase, to a spot distant ten or twelve miles from town.

We were a.s.sured of being furnished with suitable "mounts," so we accepted without hesitation. There was a sprinkling of uniforms and a few civilians, and there were several ladies besides ourselves. There were also parties in Cape carts who followed the hunt by road. A cart driven by a rifleman in uniform was to convey refreshments for our party to the place of rendezvous. Presently the fox rode off well mounted.

The "scent" was slung over his shoulder in a capacious canvas bag. Time was taken and he was soon clattering down the road, the music of the horse's hoofs being accompanied by a ringing bugle blast sounded by one of our enthusiastic huntsmen. He was to have ten minutes start, and the interval was taken advantage of by most of our party to see that girths were tight and bridle reins in order. Our escort had placed us in good position to get away with the first rush, and when "time" was called, we were well down the road in front of the ruck. It had been arranged beforehand that the fox should keep to the road for a mile before making across the country; so at first the whole field were well together clattering and rattling down the hill at a pace so swift that good care was demanded on the part of the riders to keep the horses from coming into collision.

Down the slope, through the shallow stream running across the road in the hollow, up the rise on the further side, and away along a level flat on the crest of the hill, till many of the young fellows in uniform were shouting from sheer exuberance of spirits. We found ourselves borne along at a gait that sent the blood flying through our veins. The day was fine, a fresh breeze, which swept across the veldt, agreeably tempering the rays of the sun, which at that hour is decidedly hot.

Small particles of the paper lying along the road and the bushes that fringed it served to stimulate our exertions, and the whole cavalcade kept merrily on till we came to the point where a large patch of paper, lying in the centre of the road, warned us that the chase had turned off.

Here the larger part of the field deserted us, preferring to keep along the road, which led in a tolerably direct line to the rendezvous, and take their chances of sighting the hunt from occasional vantage grounds.

But all the more ardent sportsmen scorned to take advantage of the highway when the scent led them away from it, and twenty or more elected to follow the fox.

The paper led us for a mile or more along the upper edge of a deep kloof, which looked dark and forbidding as we gazed down into its depths, seeing only the tops of the trees, with which it was literally crammed. The scent had been cast with a generous hand, and we rushed along, feeling intoxicated with the exhilarating exercise and the glorious air. All at once our leader reined in his horse, and we saw the trail had suddenly taken a sharp turn to the right, crossing a small stream, and disappearing over the brow of a hill on the opposite side.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

With a slight feeling of nervousness we turned our horses' heads to the water, and hearing our friend's voice calling "Let him have his head,"

we shut our eyes, and one after another went at it--oh! Our horses were over and galloping up the opposite slope, we hardly believing that we had actually "jumped a river." So soon as we were over we looked back to see how it fared with the rest, and were almost disappointed to see that every one cleared the stream. We had half hoped to see something like the familiar pictures, in which half the men are in the water, some of the horses balking, others just dragging themselves out on the bank, while in the distance we, the triumphant leaders, were skimming along with the strength of the wind. Our friend laughed, and said that if we "lasted" long enough we should see plenty of them spilled before the end of the hunt.

The pace had told on the horses, and before we had reached the top of the hill most of us were willing to comply with the silent advice of our grey-headed cavalier, and pull up our panting horses for a breather.

What a delicious gallop it had been, but it was not over yet. After resting for a few minutes at the top of the rise we started off again with fresh enthusiasm, a little steadier, perhaps, than when we left home. One of our party had a fall over his horse's head, the animal putting his foot into an ant-bear hole, one of the little treacherous caves which we seemed to find everywhere.

Our little party, however, remained intact, and we soon reached the timber, in which considerable caution was necessary in following the scent through the straggling bushes. Our escort dismounted to find the likeliest and clearest path through, our quarry, with the true foxy cunning, having laid the trail in just those places best calculated to bother a horseman. Fortunately the obstruction was not very wide, and we emerged on the other side, where we were cheered by a sight of the fox, nearly two miles off.

A yell from our party, intended to be a view halloo, greeted him, and brought the stragglers crashing through the bushes at a great rate of speed. Off we started again, now leaping a ditch or scrambling through a sluit, now crashing through bushes and stumbling over ant-hills. At last, however, we were forced to give up all hope of again sighting the fox, and philosophically jogged along the trail until we found our quarry lying in the shade of two gigantic gum trees, which, being a well-known landmark, had been fixed upon as the goal.

Feeling very tired after the excitement of the long race, we were glad to jump off our horses and find comfortable seats on the gra.s.s. Soon the roadsters began to arrive singly, and in twos and threes, and after a while our picnic basket was unpacked. We were glad to be able to prove the truth of the saying, "as hungry as a hunter." We spent the remainder of the day under the trees, listening to the stories our military friends had to tell us of their experience in the neighbourhood during the late Kafir war. We were in the Perie bush, which had been a stronghold of Sandillis' men for months in 1878, and many a colonist was killed before the savages were dislodged. We rode home quietly in the cool of the evening, very stiff from our morning scamper, but feeling that we had laid in a stock of ozone which would last a long while.

There are some very fine botanical gardens in King Williamstown, always kept in order and most delightfully placed along the banks of the Buffalo River, beside which the town is built. On returning at sunset one afternoon from these gardens, we were walking in front of four well-dressed Kafirs, evidently living in domestic service in the town.

They were two men and two women. Suddenly they struck up a wild melody which thrilled us as we listened; one voice took up the melody, then the second voice joined in, then the third and fourth, until the song swelled into a triumphant hymn; the soprano seemed to be singing an octave higher than an ordinary soprano voice, but it was merely the peculiar timbre of the voice which made it sound so. The ba.s.s rolled out like an organ peal, and when the singers turned away from us to go up the hill, keeping on in their wild "hallelujahs," we could scarcely keep from following them.

The only music that can give an idea of it is to be heard in some of the strains "Aida" has to sing. Verdi seems to have thoroughly caught the spirit of these dusky-coloured people, which is a closed book to most of the white race.

Perhaps one of the reasons of the failure of many of the missionaries in their work among this peculiar people is, that it takes a many-sided man to comprehend a race whose traits are entirely different from his own.

As a rule, the men sent out to Africa as missionaries are _not_ many-sided, nor do they possess that to them most necessary of all gifts, a _practical_ knowledge of human nature.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

After remaining a few weeks in King Williamstown we had a longing to see the ocean, and accordingly, one evening, took the train for East London, two hours distant by rail, and fell asleep that night to the sound of the waves rolling up on the sh.o.r.e. The next day we went down the steep hill-side to the beach, and played with the pebbles and pretty sea-sh.e.l.ls, as happily as children with their wooden spades and pails.

When the tide is out the rocks are strewn with wrecks, one of which we climbed upon, and let the spray of the waves dash upon us.

East London is rather a misnomer, for by that term people mean Panmure, which is built on the opposite bank of the Buffalo to the old town of East London; but Panmure, having grown up and eclipsed its elder brother, the old name seems to cling to it, and East London, the larger and more important town of the two, is indicated. It is very picturesquely situated. The Buffalo River finds its way to the sea at this point, between excessively high and bountifully wooded banks. East London proper is erected on the western point of the junction of the river with the ocean, while Panmure looks down upon it from the higher elevation of the eastern bank.

The town is rather scattered, but rejoices in some of the most energetic and pushing colonists in the country. They are trying hard to bring their town into the front rank of colonial towns, and are spending vast sums of money in the attempt to make a harbour of the mouth of the river, at present barred with sand. A breakwater was in course of erection by convict labour, which is confidently expected to do great things for the port, but so far there is no communication between the shipping and the sh.o.r.e but by means of lighters and steam launches.

There are three or four highly prosperous rowing clubs in Panmure, and our hotel proprietor, being a member of one, we were enabled to spend several delightful days in exploring the romantic banks and creeks of the Buffalo, which here resembles our own Hudson in picturesque loveliness. We remained three very pleasant weeks in East London enjoying the sea, and, after debating the question, we decided to go to Natal.

Our thoughts had been turned toward that colony for some time, as we had heard much of the beauty of the country. It is necessary to make the voyage by sea, for, although Natal touches the Cape Colony along the boundary line of one hundred and fifty miles or more, there is little or no regular land communication, the Cape districts adjacent to Natal being still peopled by natives as yet but little removed from barbarism.

There is no highway from one colony to the other, and communication is almost entirely by sea.

The port of East London bears the unenviable distinction of being for more than half the days in the year almost unapproachable. The roadstead is quite open, there being no bay of any kind, and the coast facing southeast, it is exposed to the full fury of the worst gales known in these lat.i.tudes, the _South-easters_. On a hot summer's day we boarded the tender which was to take us only to the steamer. We were warned by the residents that it was rough outside the "bar," but we could scarcely believe them as we looked out on the placid waters of the estuary. We were soon convinced, however, for as soon as the little steamboat began to feel the swell which at all times surges over the sandy bar, she tossed and danced about in a manner which made us wish we had not started for Natal.

But we were in for it now, so covering ourselves completely with our rubber coats we did not fear the spray and surf that dashed completely over our little vessel as she bl.u.s.tered and fought her way, inch by inch, against the mighty rollers that seemed to rear up to drive us back. After several minutes of this we cleared the bubbling surf that boiled over the bar, and found ourselves in the long rolling swell of a heavy sea, which, if as dangerous, was not quite so unpleasant. We arrived alongside the steamer, which appeared to us, on our erratic little craft, to be as steady as a rock, so large and stately did she seem. We were told we should have to be hoisted on board in a basket, as there was no possibility of our approaching near enough to the vessel's side to get up by the usual companion ladder.

A huge basket was slung down, suspended from the immense derrick on the ship's deck, and into this we were unceremoniously packed, two at a time. Then we were quickly hauled up, our dignity suffering in the way we were "dumped" down on the deck like jugs of mola.s.ses, or Falstaff going to the wash. We smoothed our ruffled plumage with the consolation that we were "doing" South Africa, though it seemed to us at the time that the reverse was the case.

It was too dark when we left East London to see anything of the coast, but on coming on deck the next morning we found the scenery before our eyes. The coast from west to north-east is very little broken, and presents a uniform rocky sh.o.r.e, but the scenery is really beautiful.

Hundreds of small streams, and one or two larger ones, empty themselves into the sea on the Kafrarian coast, and the kloofs through which they find their way to the ocean are veritable fairy glens in loveliness.

The steamer here kept close to the sh.o.r.e, so everything was seen with distinctness.

The wonderful clearness of the atmosphere made every bold wrinkle on the face of the cliffs, the direction of the water courses, every curve of the kloof to be clearly discovered. One feature of the country with which we had become familiar was here conspicuous by its absence. No mountains of great alt.i.tude could be seen, the great ranges which run right round the coast line with one unbroken wall here receding so far from the sea as to be beyond the reach of our vision even in that rich and brilliant light. We pa.s.sed Mazeppa Bay, the scene of so many wrecks that it has become famous, the great Kei River and many points of historical interest.

The captain told us that this entire coast was for a long time laid down on the charts nearly a degree too far west, which was, no doubt, the cause of the numerous marine disasters that have occurred among its breakers. Next day we sighted the mouth of the Saint John's River, of which place hopes are entertained that it will one day be made a practicable harbour. There is a small settlement here, and a station for the mounted police. From here we began to see many charming houses dotted along the sh.o.r.es.

The beauty of the country has tempted a great number of Europeans to pitch their tents here. Major-General Bissett, who has written several interesting histories of the Kafir wars, has built himself a house not far from Saint John's, which, with the surrounding estate, has every appearance of being a delightful spot to retire to from the busy world.

It was a Christmas day, 1497, that the great Portuguese voyager, Vasco da Gama, first sighted the headlands and bluffs of Natal, and it was on Christmas day nearly four hundred years after (it is strange how history repeats itself) that we Yankee girls landed in Durban!

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

Durban lies in a landlocked harbour about three and one-half miles long, and about six hundred yards wide. At the entrance it is--O South African Nemesis!--obstructed by a sand-bar which modern engineering science, fighting against nature, has failed to remove. The sand, however, is shifting, and at times vessels drawing twelve to fourteen feet of water can enter the harbour and come up to the wharf of the city. We were soon transported to the steam launch that awaited us, and, pa.s.sing under the shadow of the great giant bluff which terminates the southern arm of the entrance to the harbour, crossed the bar, and landed on the quay.

The day was intensely hot, by far the hottest we had experienced since our arrival in the country. The landing wharves and custom-house are situated at the extremity of the northern arm of the harbour, and we had a drive of nearly a mile to reach the town. It was soon evident to us that we were in a different country from that we had just left. Natal is essentially an English colony, and bears a much closer resemblance to Australia than the Cape Colony, with its mixed European and African population.

The town of Durban consists of a long, straggling main street, which is about two miles in length, containing many very handsome stores, with a few cross streets to keep the longer ones in countenance. Few of the business men live in the town, most of them having residences on the Berea, a beautiful hill which overlooks the town two miles distant, on which the handsome houses of the citizens are seen rising in well laid out terraces facing the town and the sea. The entire hill-side is thickly interspersed with lovely foliage trees. The public park on the Berea is full of the most beautiful flowering trees and creepers, while so prodigal is nature in this favoured climate that the very paths are bordered by pine plants and orange trees; bananas, shaddocks, and other luscious fruits hanging in rich profusion everywhere.

The weather was so inviting that we spent most of the time out of doors.

One of the first things that attracts the visitor's attention on arrival in the country is the black man, from the Hindoo Coolie to the powerful Zulu. The chief native tribe of Natal is the Zulu, whose records form an important part of colonial history. They are physically magnificent, tall, broad-chested, with coal black skin that shines like satin, and a walk that shows strength and power.