Part 10 (1/2)
My two Kaffirs returning with me one day to the Umganie Drift, we found the tide up, and the water consequently too deep to get across: it was about five feet in the deepest part. _This_ would not have prevented us from wading, as there was not much current running, and no sea on; but as great numbers of hungry sharks were on one side, and alligators on the other, we did not like to venture, the breadth being nearly two hundred yards. The alligator is a very unpleasant customer if you are in the water. An accident happened at the Drift, about two miles from the mouth of the Umganie, to an Englishman, a very worthy settler. He lived in a little cottage across the river, and was returning one evening with a supply of fresh meat, which he carried with his clothes over his head: the water was about breast-high. Suddenly, when about the middle of the river, he was seized round the waist by the jaws of an alligator. He dropped his meat, and caught hold of the animal's head, calling at the same time to a Kaffir who was near. It was either the shout or the seizing that frightened the creature, for it let go its hold, and the poor man reached the opposite side of the river, where he fainted. The wounds he had received were very severe; he was three months before he could move about, and never again seemed the same man that he was before this mangling. I often saw an old Kaffir, near the Umganie, who had nearly the whole fleshy part of the thigh torn off by an alligator as he was one day crossing the river. My days and evenings of patient watching were not rewarded by a shot at this rapacious brute.
The alligator often devours its prey as it comes to drink. Slowly approaching some unsuspecting animal, it seizes it by the nose, and drags it under water; the weight of the alligator prevents the animal from raising its head; it is in consequence soon suffocated, and is dragged to a convenient retired place until required, or sufficiently high to suit the Epicurean taste of this scaly monster.
Besides the animals that I have already particularly mentioned, very good sport could be had with wild fowl of different kinds,--partridges, guinea-fowl, pheasants, and bustard. The large description of the latter, called by the colonists the _pouw_, is a magnificent bird, and is considered a great delicacy for the table. They have been shot weighing about twenty or thirty pounds. They walk about the newly-burnt gra.s.s picking up the fried worms and other animals brought to light by the fire. These birds being very difficult to approach, I generally rode round and round them, commencing my circle from a long distance, and gradually narrowing it, taking care, however, not to look at the birds. They are so keen-sighted, that, were you to look fixedly at them, even when distant, they would immediately fly away; whereas, if they consider that you do not see them, they will crouch down their heads and remain perfectly still, letting you circle up to them. Having always one barrel loaded with ball and the other with buckshot for this work, I was ready to take a long shot with the bullet, if there was any appearance of the birds taking an early flight. If, however, no signs of impatience were shown, and the _pouw_ tried the hiding dodge, the plan was to get within eighty or one hundred yards, dismount, and run in towards the birds: they could not rise very quickly, and a dose of buckshot, as they opened their wings, was generally effective in stopping them.
Upon wounding a young _pouw_ one day, as I was riding home, I was opposed by a rival sporting gentleman, in the shape of an eagle. The _pouw_ rose nearly under my horse's feet, but, as I was cantering, he got some distance off before I could pull up and fire; the dropping of both hind-legs told a tale of mortal wounds, and he sailed steadily down to a little clump of bushes. His unfortunate condition had not escaped the all-observant eye of a hungry eagle, who was sailing about over me; nearly closing his wings, he dashed after the _pouw_, caught him before he reached the ground, and flew away with him. To see one's dinner thus walked off with was too much to bear quietly. I therefore galloped after the robber, who soon came to the ground, finding that the weight of his burden did not a.s.sist his aerial performances. I reached to within a hundred yards of him, when he again rose; taking a steady aim at him, I fired, and sent the bullet sufficiently close to astonish him, as he instantly dropped my property, and made off, leaving me in quiet possession.
There are a great many varieties of the eagle and hawk tribe in South Africa; some specimens are very small, others magnificent fellows. The wild, shrill scream of the osprey, or sea-eagle, always struck me as being very characteristic of this bird; there is a defiant and bold sort of sound in his voice, heard so plainly, while he, thousands of feet high, is almost, if not quite, invisible to the eye. Then coming down suddenly, like a bolt from heaven, he pounces on some victim, whom he clutches in his talons, and again soars aloft with a triumphant piercing shriek. I obtained a fine fresh mullet, on one occasion, from one of these feathered fishermen, whom I saw pa.s.sing high overhead with his prize. I sent a bullet whistling by his ear, which made him drop the fish; it came down with a loud bang on the gra.s.s, and was still alive when I picked it up. The osprey sailed round two or three times, as though regretting the loss of such a good supper, and retraced his aerial course for another victim.
CHAPTER TEN.
A SHOOTING-PARTY IN THE BUSH--ELEPHANT ”SIGN”--THE ELEPHANTS HEARD-- CAUTION IN THE BUSH--APPROACH TO A WARY ELEPHANT--THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR--TRACES OF THE WOUNDED ELEPHANT--SIC VOS NON VOBIS--ACUTE EAR OF ELEPHANTS--THE ELEPHANTS' SIGNALS--MORE OF THEM--TREE'D--TEACHING THE YOUNG IDEA--A FAMILY PICTURE--CHAFFED BY MONKEYS--A SHARP LOOKOUT--THE DISADVANTAGE OF ”CRACKERS”--A KAFFIR COWARD--CAPRICIOUS TEMPER OF ELEPHANTS--ELEPHANTS IN THE ”OPEN”--AN AWKWARD POSITION--SHARP PRACTICE.
On one of those beautiful mornings that are met with in or near the tropics, a light westerly wind blowing, we started for some small pools of water, distant about three miles from the town of D'Urban. The party consisted of myself and two Kaffirs. I had on a small straw hat, well browned, a dark blue flannel s.h.i.+rt, and a pair of the untanned leather breeches of the country, denominated crackers. The ”_veld-schoens_”
(field shoes), similar to those worn by the Dutch boers, are much better than boots, as they are comfortable, soft, easy, and very silent. A long dark green jacket, fitting loosely, and covered with pockets, was my only other article of raiment. This was my favourite costume for the bush, and one that I had found particularly difficult to be distinguished when surrounded by the thick underwood and gloom of the overhanging trees.
My two Kaffirs had each a powder-horn and bullet-pouch hung over their shoulders, a necklace of charmed woods, and a small piece of buckskin of about a foot in length by six inches broad, hung before and behind from a thin strip of leather made fast round their waists. They were not enc.u.mbered with more attire, a snuff-box made from a hollow reed, and placed through a hole in their ears, completing their equipment.
I had given one of these men (Inyovu, my Kaffir servant) my double-barrelled gun, Monyosi having his own old single-barrelled musket, while I was armed with a single rifle, carrying a two-and-a-half-ounce ball.
On arriving at the holes that had contained the water, we found them a ma.s.s of black mud, the surrounding gra.s.s being trodden down and daubed over with it. The trunks of the trees were plastered with mud to the height of ten or twelve feet, on account of the elephants having enjoyed a good scrub against them after their wallow.
Monyosi was called upon to state at what time the elephants had rolled and cleaned themselves at this place. ”_Uku sasa namhla_,” is at once decided upon by all of us. There was no doubt about its being ”at daybreak on that day.”
The footmarks on the mud had not had a drop of dew on them; those on the sand under the trees had one or two drops only, that had evidently been shaken from the branches by the troop in pa.s.sing. The mud that was on the stems of the trees was wet, with the exception of some very thin patches, where the sun had dried it. The leaves that hung on the broken branches had not yet begun to droop, whilst the fractured limb was still quite wet from the sap; the gra.s.s that had been trodden down was also fresh and moist; and by these signs we at once knew that at daybreak the troop of elephants had paid this spot a visit.
Two or three very large circular impressions in the mud indicated the presence of bulls, while the oval and small ones showed us signs of cow and calf elephants.
The elephants had wandered about outside the bush for some time; they had then entered, and walked on in Indian file to the deep and gloomy recesses of the forest.
The path that the elephants had made was not nearly so large as would be expected; it would have been impossible to have ridden a horse along it even a few yards.
We entered on their footsteps, Monyosi leading the spoor; we advanced with the usual slow, noiseless tread, with occasional rests of five or ten minutes, for the purpose of listening. This latter performance is tiresome to the impatient hunter, but most essential.
Listening is the only certain means of discovering the presence of elephants, as they will frequently stand for hours, in perfect stillness, especially on a calm hot day, and when the bush affords them a secure and cool cover.
The rumbling noise in their vast interior they cannot keep quiet: this sounds like bubbles coming up in water, and is sure to be heard every five or ten minutes on a still day, even when at a hundred yards'
distance.
We had proceeded about two miles on their traces, and had entered the densest part of the forest, when we heard this noise, and at once sat down to listen, to find out all about them.
One's senses become wonderfully acute when much employed at this sort of work, but still they are far inferior to those of the animals which are being pursued.
You move with great caution, and apparently very quietly through the dark avenues that the elephant has made for you; yet, upon getting a peep at the branches of a far-distant tree, twenty or thirty monkeys are to be seen watching you, and skipping about from branch to branch, as though in derision of your unskilful attempt at a surprise. The single note repeatedly and slowly uttered by some hermit-like bird, suddenly ceases as you come within a hundred yards of him, and he flits away under the arches of the forest, his brilliant plumage glittering in the sun. These, and many other facts, intimate that man's faculties are dull and imperfect, in comparison with those of the animals which live in these mysterious regions.
When you know that the giant of the forest is not inferior in either the sense of smell or hearing to any animal in creation, and has, besides, intelligence enough to know that you are his enemy, and also for what you have come, it becomes a matter of great care how, when, and where to approach him.
”They must never know you are coming, and have time to make a plan,” was the advice of a famous elephant-hunter. I carried it out on all possible occasions.
We continued our advance till we were within a hundred yards of the elephant that we had first heard. We sat down and listened for some minutes to discover if any others were near, as it would have been injudicious to make an attack on this one, and thereby stand a chance of having our retreat cut off by any other elephant that might be nearer.