Through the Kalahari Desert. G.A. Farini
of ‘‘horses.” We followed their example; but for the worse: for we had given to us the mules that had been left by the down-waggon, and had already done thirty miles that day. So after an
A Hard Bed.
hour’s jog-trot, we stopped at a little winkel, or country shop, where we put up for the night. The accommo- dation was not of the first class. First of all we had a difficulty with the landlord, who had been overjoyed to find an extra party of fifteen alight at his door, and had prepared supper accordingly, but whose pleasant manner gave way to an outburst of angry expostula- tions when only Lulu and myself put in an appearance at table. But this did not spoil our appetites, and we did justice to the fare. The spring-bok was especially good. It was the first time I had tasted this, the venison” of the country, and I came to the conclu- sion that it was the best meat I had eaten.
Meanwhile, everybody else had seized the oppor- tunity of snatching a few hours’ sleep; for we were to start again just before midnight. It still wanted a couple of hours before then, so Lulu and I extem- porized a couch out of some sacks of wool that lay in front of the shop, expecting the drivers to call us when they inspanned. But when I next opened my eyes it was daylight. I had been dreaming, and awoke with a start, wondering where on earth I was. A glance around soon reassured me. There, on a sheet (save the mark!) of corrugated iron, lay Miss Pullinger, with her little sister and brother snuggled close to her, fast asleep. Close by, on the ground, were scattered the rest of our party: all but the two remaining ladies who, trying to sleep in their seats in the waggon, had passed a night of alternate nods and starts, and were less refreshed than anybody. I managed to get a cup of coffee for the ladies and in less than twenty minutes we were once more packed in our sardine-box on wheels, and off on the next stage, to the junction of
First Come, First Served.
the Modder, or Mud River—a name it well deserved —with another stream whose name I forget, but which did not deserve a name at all, since it contained no water, and even its mud was dry.
Here we had breakfast, consisting of mutton, parched up like the country that grew it, and coffee as muddy as the river. Price, half a crown. To wash the breakfast down, some of us had a bottle of lager beer, for which 3s. 6d was charged, and the beer was voted cheaper than the breakfast.
Fording the river was a pretty easy task: the difficulty was not the water, but the stones, for the bed was a jumble of loose rocks, with here and there a pool of mud. Just below the ford is a handsome bridge, in course of construction by the Government; for a bridge is sorely needed when the river is full. At such times as many as 300 teams of oxen—some of them with twenty in each team—may be seen accumulated over the banks of the river, waiting for the water to subside.
Col. Schermbrücker told me that on one occasion he was about to cross the river at this place, with a number of other teams, when the water suddenly came down so heavily that they had to wait for it to subside, and before the flood was over there were about 200 teams collected on both sides. He was about ninetieth in order of crossing, and the rule of “first come first served” is always observed. Hoping to save time, he paid 101. for the right of crossing in place of team No. 10, but the river fell as suddenly as it rose, and by the time his turn came the river was fordable in several places, and No. 90 got across as quickly as he did!
Nearing Kimberley.
After leaving the junction, the next sign of life was at the farm called Blisset’s, where we saw a Kaffir driving some dozen or two young ostriches, accom- panied by their mother.
Here was the first symptom of our approach to Kim- berley, in the shape of the wire fencing with which the farm—some 60 square miles—was surrounded. Thick poles of thorn, of every imaginable shape and size, supported an equally varied assortment of hori- zontal wires, of all thicknesses—some pieces forming a solid rod of three-quarters of an inch in diameter —which had evidently seen service in the diamond- mines.
A few miles farther we outspanned to water the mules at a dam, which, the driver told us was said to bring the proprietor 2000l. a year—which I thought was a thousand times more than the whole country was worth.
An hour later we came in sight of a great embank- ment of green clay, which I took to be part of the works for the construction of the Kimberley railway, perched up so high, probably, to be out of the way of the floods.
“No,” the driver explained, that is the blue earth that has been brought out of the Bultfontein dia- mond-mines. We are now close to the Du Toit’s Pan. Yonder is the reservoir of the Kimberley water-works: the water is brought from the Vaal River, about fifteen miles away.”
Getting nearer to Kimberley the roads were strewn with empty tins, of all shapes and sizes: in some places such heaps of them that we could hardly pass. There were millions of these tins, the contents of which
Tin Houses.
had at one time formed the sole food of the miners. Here and there, out of the abundance of this waste mate- rial, some ingenious individual had utilized some of the larger cans, by spreading them out flat, joining them together, and, with the help of a sheet of corrugated iron, a gunny-bag or two, and a few pieces of hoop- iron, constructed most comical-looking huts, which formed the dwelling-places of the native labourers. After all it was quite appropriate, after applying the contents of the tins internally, to reserve the tins themselves for outward application.”
Through this street of tins we entered “Tin Town,” as Kimberley is popularly known, from the array of corrugated galvanized iron shanties which surround the market square. Here we arrived about 3 p.m., and put up at the Transvaal Hotel, where Mr. Con- stable, the courteous manager, specially informed us that the rooms allotted to us were those which Lady Florence Dixie had occupied. The sitting-rooms were built of mud, facing the street, with separate structures of galvanized iron at the back for bed=rooms, which felt like ovens, compared with which the mud-built apartments were deliciously cool. In this respect old Kert had the advantage of us; for, although it was against the rules for a black man to live anywhere but in the stable, I got leave for him to sleep on the floor of the sitting-room.
A bath, a good dinner, and a comfortable bed were unspeakable luxuries, after the discomfort of the long journey; and needless to say we made the most of each of them. Lulu was in especial need of a “wash and brush up,” for finding the interior of the wagon a trifle too crowded, he had performed the latter part
A Dusty Journey.
of the journey on the top among the luggage, and when he came down he was the picture of what Adam must have looked like in one of the earlier stages of his manufacture out of the dust of the earth.
CHAPTER II.
Laying in stock—The story of the first diamond—How the mine was discovered—Shady customers—Cheating the revenue—”Dia- mond cut diamond”—Welcoming the ladies—The I.D.B.”—Bubble companies—Evils of the detective system—Martyrs to civilization.
The next day was devoted to making preparations for our journey to the Kalahari. First I arranged to buy Mr. Caldecott’s waggon and team of six mules, and advertised for a shooting-horse; and then commenced to lay in a stock of powder and shot, pots and pans, kettles and coffee-pots, blankets and beads, pipes and tobacco, pails and water-barrels; and, most useful of all, water-bags: these last are a Cape institution, con- sisting simply of a stout linen bag, which is filled with water and hung in the sun to keep cool! The evaporation is so rapid that the contents keep nearly as cold as ice water: just the thing for America!
Everybody had some special recommendation to make of a particular article which was represented to be indispensable, and at first I was glad to profit by the experience of others. But at last Lulu pointed out that the capacity of a waggon was limited.
“Look at this room: it’s twice as large as any waggon, and it’s just chock full. You surely are not going to cart all Kimberley off to the Kalahari Desert!”
“That’s