Experience teaches us. The knowledge
that we have gained in this war we must pass on to the coming generation. It
may be of use in a war of the future, or on some other occasion. Therefore
Oom Dietlof will take this opportunity to give his nephews in South Africa
some practical hints that may be of use to a burgher in his travels or in a
war. If anyone loses his way in the same way that I have just described, he
must remember the following way of finding the four quarters of the wind:
The small hand of a watch describes
a circle in twelve hours, while the apparent movement of the sun round the
earth is in twenty-four hours. The movement of the small hand is therefore
twice as fast as that of the sun. If one points the small hand of a
horizontal-lying watch to the sun at twelve o'clock, then the hands and the
figure XII. lie in the meridian as well as the sun.
In the northern half-circle the sun
and the hands move in the same direction. In one hour's time the small hand
goes a distance of 360 deg./12 = 30 deg., and the sun goes a distance of 360
deg./24 = 15 deg. If at one o'clock one points the small hand of a
horizontal-lying watch to the sun, the line that divides the acute angle
between the figures I. and XII. lies in the meridian. So one can always find
the meridian.
In the southern half-circle the sun
and hands move in opposite directions, therefore one must point the figure
XII. to the sun, and then divide the acute angle between the figure XII. and
the small hand to find the meridian.
In this way one can at any time find
out the direction one has taken. But everyone has not always a good watch,
and the sun sometimes hides behind the clouds. Then it is better to have a
good compass--but better still not to lose one's way.
Besides such simple articles as a
pocket-knife, a water-bag, etc., which are indispensable to a traveller in
our country, everyone ought to carry with him a good plaster, a nosebag, and
some snake poison; maize (mealies) for his horse, the cheapest and most
strengthening food that we know of, can always be carried in the nosebag.
Snake poison prepared by a good Kaffir doctor is the only cure for
snake-bites or the bite of any poisonous insect. The Kaffirs prepare it from
some (to us) unknown shrub, and from the poison of the most venomous snake,
which they make into a powder. This powder is used as an antidote by
swallowing a small dose--enough to cover the point of a pocket-knife--and
also by applying some to the bite, after first having cut an opening into
the bitten part with a pocket-knife. Some people protect themselves against
the poison of a snake-bite by regularly swallowing some of the poison and
vaccinating themselves with it. One can even protect one's self in this way
against the bite of the poisonous file-snake of the Boschveld--a snake the
shape of a three-cornered file, sometimes from 3 to 4 feet long. It is a
fact that the person whose body is proof against the poison of a snake-bite
is never bitten, as he is feared by snakes. Formerly I doubted it, but I
have myself seen people who have made themselves proof against a bite in
this way, and I have also heard it from people in whom I have the utmost
faith.
Alcohol is also a good antidote,
provided one takes it immediately and in such quantities that it goes to the
head. I would recommend everyone always to take a small quantity of brandy
with him on commando, if experience had not taught me that some take even a
mosquito-bite as an excuse to 'take a drop,' and I am against that on
principle.
Often while loading my horse the
thought struck me whether the poor brute ever had a wish to protest, 'Surely
this is becoming too bad!' and that reminds me that one must be very careful
not to overload. The knapsack must not be filled with kaboe mealies (roasted
maize) for one's self, while the nosebag of the poor horse remains empty.
More than one prisoner of war has
bitterly regretted that he did not take his horse's power of endurance into
greater consideration. Now I must take up the thread of my tale.
The following morning the lager
would start at three o'clock, and, as my horse was in good condition, the
owner of the horse that had been left behind asked me to fetch it before the
lager left. He explained to me where I would find it tied to a tree about
half an hour's ride from the lager, so I started with a friend at about two
o'clock at night. On the way we came across a mule that had wandered away
while grazing, ignorant of all the danger he was exposing himself to in the
uninhabited Boschveld. The creature gave us much trouble by refusing to be
caught and constantly dodging behind a tree, so we lost a great deal of
time. On our way back, close to the lager, we heard the whine of the
wild-dog, the well-known feared wolf. We thought it very interesting to come
across a wild animal of which we had no fear just then. But when we reached
the camping-ground of the lager, where only the trolley stood to which the
wandering mule belonged, we found to our surprise that both white men and
Kaffirs had given up the search for the mule for fear of the wild-dog. They
had all congregated round large fires. The wild-dog, however, is harmless by
himself; like the khakies, his strength lies in numbers. We had to leave the
sick horse to join the bucks of the Boschveld on its recovery, until the
horse-sickness came. After a long, tiring, but very interesting ride we
arrived at the Sabie, where the rest of the lager was already encamped. The
Sabie is about the size of the Krokodil River, and its scenery of woods and
valleys formed a sharp contrast to the deadly monotony of the Boschveld that
lay behind us. We had crossed the bare desert and were now in a part of the
country inhabited by Kaffirs. The following day the lager was removed half
an hour further on, and there we remained a few days.
At night four of us were persuaded
to go eel-catching in a crocodile-pool that we had discovered a little
further on. We made a large fire to entice the eels, and, as we were none of
us great lovers of angling, we made a splendid bonfire, as there was plenty
of dry wood to be had.
There was something particularly
attractive in these large fires on those quiet, dark nights of the
wilderness. The glow threw a sombre light on the water that gave one a
creepy feeling, as if a crocodile were on the watch for us in the water, and
lions at our back between the large trees. What must they have thought of
us?
The bank of the river seemed to be
about 6 feet high, and not very steep. We made the fire closer and closer to
what seemed the bank. I saw someone lift up a huge branch, walk to the bank
with it, and plant his left foot firmly on the ground. The reeds gave way
beneath him. What seemed a firm bank, by the glow of the fire, proved to be
a mass of reeds and grass, and the poor man fell down a height of 6 feet,
his fall being hastened by the heavy branch he held. For a moment we stood
irresolute. To jump after him into a crocodile-pool! But he called for help,
and we had to act immediately. Fortunately, one acts almost instinctively in
such cases. One of the others slid down the bank--the thought striking him:
'If only there are not two crocodiles!' Landing on a horizontal branch, he
stretched out his hand to the drowning man, someone else took hold of his
left hand, and so they were both saved. If a crocodile had been in the
neighbourhood, he would probably have stood on the defensive. Such a queer,
two-legged animal who led the attack in such a strange but decided way must
have roused his respect.
This piece of fun put an end to our
eel-fishing. We had caught only one eel--and a man.
The following morning there was
parade for President Steyn. His speech to us was touching and to the point,
and showed that he believed in a good ending to the war, if the burghers
were capable of enduring such hardships as at present. Then he also told us
in what a hurry he was to reach his burghers, as he was afraid that the
enemy were doing all in their power to make them turn against him. We all
liked President Steyn very much.
On our journey through the Selatie
Goldfields, past the Marietje River to Pilgrim's Rest, we crossed the
steepest mountain that I have ever seen. A double span of oxen was harnessed
to each waggon. The oxen were lent us for the occasion by the Boers living
on the plateau in front of us. After every few steps upwards we had to put
stones under the wheels to prevent the waggons from slipping back. It took
our little lager nearly all day to reach the plateau. Then we had a most
magnificent view of the Boschveld that lay behind us. In the distance the
Lobombo Mountains were visible on the boundary of the Portuguese and
Transvaal territory. The first rains had fallen on the plateau, so the green
grass was a refreshing change for our eyes. The horses would be able to
graze well, and the good feeding would soon make them lose their old coats,
and then they would be sleek and glossy again.
From the high plateau we descended,
over a 'lumpy' veld, with an oasis here and there in a hole or valley, or on
the top of a hill, to Pilgrim's Rest. Some miles before we reached this
little town we passed beside the water-works that supply a strong stream of
water for the machinery of the gold-mines. We simply stormed the shops, that
were still well supplied with provisions, and bought all sorts of luxuries
and necessaries for our journey. From Pilgrim's Rest we once more crossed a
steep mountain, along a road that for length and height has not its equal.
In the neighbourhood of Ohrigstad, a little town that we left to our right,
I asked a Boer woman whether the fever did not make one's life impossible
there, and I got a very naif reply: 'No; this year the fever was not so bad.
We all got ill, but not one of us died.'
The rest of our journey to the north
of Lydenburg, over Spekstroom River, along Watervalop, over Steenkampsberg
to Roossenekal, was very tedious. The uninhabited Boschveld was very
interesting, and we had sufficient provisions then, but the poor,
uncivilized Boer inhabitants of the Lydenburg district were unable to supply
us with necessaries, the want of which we were beginning to feel. We could
not buy a loaf of bread anywhere. And it is anything but pleasant in a time
of war to come across such lax and unenergetic people as they proved to be.
The men were nearly always at home, and appeared to be discouraged and
unwilling to fight. We had all lost our sweet tooth. That one could tell by
such expressions as: 'Even if you give me sugar:--' But occasionally we got
a more desirable substitute, when a beehive was discovered in a cleft of a
rock. Some of our men are particularly clever at discovering a hive. I have
often seen a man stand gazing up at the sky, walk on a short distance, and
again stand gazing, and after awhile appear with a bucket of honey. By
watching the flight of the bees they find out in what direction the hive is.
A practised eye can see the rising and settling of the bees above the hive
from a great distance.
