>!>:•«!; :^>' >;/■'. 1-;,^ ';;!'/ vf ;:•-,;'•,}' :■ .' ".i 'i'!f';^<>'.-'''^^' >;'V'k\v;) ii*;' ^®? vf^. 0^ ;;/".', 1 "},' ^ r' 1 li 1 \MM----. . 1 i y.'^'i'.y, WM Mvf-Sfc^* MiP- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID THKOIJGH THE ZULU COUNTKY THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE BY BEETEAM MITFOED LATE OF THB CAPE CIVIL SERVICE : AUTHOR OP ' OUR ARMS IN ZULULAND ' WITH FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 1883 {^The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved) INTEODUCTION. In the following pages the Author cannot promise a narrative of hairbreadth escape and thrilling adventure, but simply an account of everyday experiences during a trip through Zululand in 1882, undertaken with the object of making the round of the battlefields in succession — which, till then, had not been done by anybody — mix- ing with the people, observing their character as well as manners and customs, and gathering their opinion on the subject of the recent campaign and other questions relating to themselves and their national polity. That the country, hitherto but little visited, and previous to the late war scarcely known, is an interesting one, and destined to become even ivi3lJ1566 vi INTRODUCTION. more so, there can be no doubt ; wherefore the Author feels that no apology is needed for further introducing it and its people to British readers. He also takes this opportunity of tendering grateful acknowledgments to the many friends whose kind assistance so largely facihtated the carrying out of his plans. London : Januai-y 1883. CONTENTS CHAPTEE I. PAGH Southward Ho ! — A floating population — A night down Channel — Plymouth — Undesirable company — Delay — A sou'wester — ' A wet sheet and a flowing sea ' — A Constitutional under difficulties — The Sea Demon — The Bay of Biscay — A smash 1 CHAPTER II. Madeira — A noisy lot — Diving boys — Funchal — Pleasures of landing — A bazaar afloat — Teneriffe — ' A life on the ocean wave ' — Fire practice — Church parade — The weekly press — Crossing the Line — A callow Teuton— Some cheerful reflections — Theatricals — Table Bay 18 CHAPTER III. Cape Town — A motley crowd — An inviting coast — Port Eliza- beth — Crossing a 'bar ' — East London — AKaff'rarian railway —St. John's River 39 CHAPTER IV. Durban — The Berea and Bay— ' Ramsammy ' — Musquitoes — A mild practical joke — Pietermaritzburg — St. Saviour's Cathedral — Bishop Colenso — Native idea of punctuality . 51 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. PAGi; Off to the Border — Grey Town — ' Blue gums ' — Bush scenery— The Tugela— An aquatic dilemma — Sunrise on the Biggars- berg Heights — A model road — Rorke's Drift, past and present 65 CHAPTER VI. Isandhlwana — St. Vincent's Mission — A coincidence — ^The Zulu ♦ at church ' — A vexed question — Bishop McKenzie . . 79 CHAPTER VII. Meaning of ' Isandhlwana ' — Zulu narratives of the battle . 88 CHAPTER VIII. ' Fugitives' Drift ' — The saving of the Colours — Zulus ^ at home ' — A novel brew — On headgear — ^ The gilt off the ginger- bread' — A Rorke's Drift hero — Ascent of Isandhlwana — Relics — A grand monument 96 CHAPTER IX. Hlubi — A trial-at-law — Native oratory — Sirayo's stronghold — The Ityotyozi valley — A standstill and a snake — Visitors — An important institution — ' Big tagati ' — Where the Prince was killed — Sabuza — A beggar — The Queen's Cross — A kindly tribute — An old story retold 109 CHAPTER X. The Upoko valley— A rencontre — Traders and trade —Mehlo- ka-zulu— The biter bit — Zulu honesty — A Briton and his growl 128 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PAQK An ' afternoon call ' — Kraal etiquette — Zulu hospitality — Native mode of slaughtering cattle — The story of a clever shot — Zulu opinion of artillery — ' Ubain-bai ' — Sirayo — General feeling with regard to- Cetywayo ...... 139 CHAPTER XII. A thunderstorm and a novel cistern — * Arrival of the mail ' — A comfortable night — Matyana's kraal — Pastoral scene — The last new thing in shields ...... 152 CHAPTER XIII. Kwamagwaza — A desperate position and a tragic reminiscence — The soldiers' grave — The valley of the Umhlatusi . . 164 CHAPTER XIY. Etshowe — The fort — Pleasures of picket duty — Two ^ sells ' — A retrospective glance — Imbombotyana hill — ' In the Heavens ' A novelty in tattooing — Dabulamanzi — Another ' beggar ' — Derivation of ' Etsliowe ' 173 CHAPTER XY. Battle of Inyezane — Scenery — An aggressive customer — Inyoni — A trading store — Johan Colenbrander — A tussle, and a narrow escape — Mang^te — Gingindhlovu — A ride across country and a ducking 186 CHAPTER XVI. Ncandiiku — John Dunn — Administration of justice — Liquor traffic — Sitimela — ' A stitch in time ' — An eventful career — Charioteering in excelsis — Gihlaua 196 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVII. Wild country — Sigcwelegcwele — A crack colonel of a crack regiment — Etshowe again — A dissertation on phenomena — Inkwenkwe hill — Vumandaba — A chief 'at Home ' — 'Hard wood' — A 'lively' domicile — Novel weapons — 'Bring us back the King ! ' . . . CHAPTER XVIII. Cetywayo and the missionaries — Entonjaneni — Valley of the White Umfolosi — A cool spot and a picture — Mahlabatini — 'Then and now '—Battle of Ulundi 222 CHAPTER XIX. A Zulu on Gatlings — Ulundi and Nodwengu — An unlucky warrior — Tall haggling — Midnight at Ulundi — A Golgotha 238 CHAPTER XX. Mfanawendhlela — A native dish — A jovial crew — Inhlazatye and the Residency — Moral suasion — 'No thoroughfare' — Intaba'nkulu — Messengers — 'Thunder in the air,' meta- phorical and literal — On storms — A refugee— A pleasant position and a night march under difficulties . . . 246 CHAPTER XXI. An exhilarating scene — Hlobane — ' Excelsior ' — Umbelini's fastness — A rout and a race for life — A talk on the mountain side — A tragic spot 260 CHAPTER XXII. 'stick,' but in the mud — 'Dutch spoken here' — 'Philip drunk' — More rain — A Republican — Kambiila — Zulu ac- count of the battle — Relics — A cemetery in the wilderness — Back to the border 271 CONTENTS. CHAPTEE XXIII. A panorama — Zulu dances — A buslibuck ' drive ' — Native hunt- ers — Return to Maritzburg— Afloat again .... 283 CHAPTER XXIV. Cetywayo at ' Oude Molen ' — The King on John Dunn — Former position of Cetywayo — Ncungcwane and the royal atten- dants — Homeward bound 298 CHAPTER XXY. Zululand under the Ulundi settlement — Restoration of Cety- wayo — Military system and tactics — Zulu opinion of the Boers — Zulu character and physique — Religion and super- stitions — Formation and appearance of the country — Climate —Wild animals 307 Conclusion 322 ILLUSTEATIONS. IsANDHLWANA Frontispiece Where the Prince was Killed EzuLwiNi — Dabulamanzi's Kraal Site of Ulundi . Hlobane Mountain ,, 260 . To face p- 118 V 180 » 226 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTEY. CHAPTEK I. Southward Ho ! — A floating population — A night down Channel — Plymouth — Undesirable company — Delay — A Sou'wester — ' A wet sheet and a flowing sail ' — A Constitutional under diflicul- ties — The Sea Demon — The Bay of Biscay — A smash. Eain, rain — nothing but rain ; skies dank and misty, swathed in one vast curtain of yellowish grey ; not a break anywhere, gloom and dampness all- prevailing. Such is the state of things as I find myself, at about noon on a day late in November, one of a depressed-looking throng waiting to claim their goods and chattels on the wharf at South- ampton. We have all just emerged from the nine o'clock train from Waterloo, the last in time to enable us to catch the Cape mail steamer, and most of us are bound for the sunny shores of Southern Afric ; and meanwhile we stand shiver- ing in the cold raw atmosphere, futilely wishing those wretched jacks-in-office who rule the wharf B 2 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: arrangements with a rod of iron would but hurry up a httle. But the wisest and only plan is to keep cool — mentally, I mean — and take things as they come. At last the necessary ceremonial is completed, and we are passed out one by one, with our luggage, on to the dripping quay, thence to the steam tender which is to convey us on board ; and we stand huddled in groups on the soaking deck, awnings and canvas but ill keeping out the continuous and heavy downpour. There is the colonist returning with his family after a stay in the old country, which, in his heart of hearts, he is not at all sorry to see the last of; there is the business man, whose interests maybe necessitate a frequent run backwards and for- wards, but who hopes one day to make his last trip and cast anchor for good and all on this side. Young ladies going to join their friends in the colonies, or on missions whose objects are best known to themselves. Invalids, a few are also there — fleeing from the drear chills of an English winter, or seeking en 'permanence a more congenial clime. Young Britain going out to try its luck in fresh woods and pastures new, crowded out of the old country perhaps, or in search of a more adven- turous life. Many, of. course, have friends seeing them off, generally of more woful appearance than the intending migrant. Nor must we forget the ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 3 inevitable sprinkling of mysterious looking gentle- men who have ' something to do with the Company ' — no one knows exactly what, or cares — and we have a summary of our living freight, standing with the luggage piled up in front amid wraps, bundles, bird cages, bandboxes, and all the varied articles of hand-impedimentum of a crowd of tra- vellers. At last the moorings are cast off, and away we go, plunging and tossing, into Southamp- ton Water, the rain driving in upon us as we dash along head to wind, and for a quarter of an hour the sole object in life is to try and find a dry place to stand in. Presently the masts and yards of a big steamship appear through the mist, her black hull looming up indistinctly as she heaves to the swell, and in a few minutes we are alongside of one of the Union Company's best vessels. A general scramble for light luggage, a rush on the part of two or three fidgetty mortals for heavy, and we are on board our floating home. All is bustle — the forepart of the ship swarming with emigrants moving to and fro like a disturbed ants' nest ; a few of the saloon passengers are already in possession, among them a number of Germans, old and young — for the vessel has been to Ham- burg before taking us up at Southampton. The hatches are open, and the donkey engine is hard at work lowering cases into the hold, our baggage 132 4 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: is hoisted on board in its turn, and finds its way to our respective cabins — more bustle in hitting ofi these, stewards rushing about, shore people get- ting into everybody's way, and generally picking out the busiest men to ask a dozen questions of at once. I take things very coolly, and everything settles down in no time ; I find my berth, get my luggage brought down, and there I am, snug for the next month. But let us take a look round. The cabin is a four berthed one ; there are the bunks one above the other in two blocks, a couple of washstands and looking-glasses, racks across the ceiling for hats, parcels, &c., and a camps tool ; and, being an outside cabin, we are happy in the possession of a port hole — no small advantage in the tropics. I am fortunate in having but one cabin mate, for it occurs to me that although three persons may constitute a crowd in the Eiot Act, four in a nine foot space would constitute a very considerable one : but we are only two, and are thankful. And now the bell rings for luncheon, and I begin to take stock of my fellow passengers, though, as nearly all have friends seeing them off, it is difficult to determine exactly who isn't going ashore. The question is cleared by the ringing of the shore bell, and there is a general scramble up the companion stairs ; the tender is just leaving. ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 5 nor will it come off again ; therefore, wtioever does not want to risk an involuntary trip to Plymouth had better look sharp. The gangway is blocked ; copious ' good-byes ' are interchanged ; amid much waving of handkerchiefs, and some rather husky attempts at cheering, the tender casts off and we are left to our own devices. But the clank of the capstan and the first beat of the propeller warns us that our voyage has begun. The rain has ceased ; the clouds are hanging in white jagged masses over the water, and through the rifts here and there can be seen the distant hills with their miles and miles of forest ; but the dark hand of winter is upon that loveliest of lovely landscapes, and everything wears a drooping and dilapidated appearance. The big ship moves steadily on, dropping down the calm waters of the Solent, and many of our friends begin to think a voyage is not such a dreadful thing after all ; but wait a bit. The high, pointed cliffs of the Isle of Wight are towering above us, and we glide smoothly along past the Needles ; then a rocking motion becomes more and more perceptible, and we rise and dip to the freshening breeze as we pass out into the Channel. And a darkening curtain descends upon the sea ; Southampton has faded into mist behind ; a light from the shoi'e gleams out redly ; the wasli 6 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: of the waves on yonder beach mingles with the murmur of the salt sea breeze, while the wailing scream of gulls circhng around the chalk cliffs rings weirdly through the twilight, and each bold headland looming up in the deepening shadows stands forth like a watch-tower over the restless waters. The passengers are standing about in groups or pacing up and down in twos and threes, many with dire misgivings as to the results of the next hour. The dinner bell rings ; this is the test, and thin will be the muster round the festive board this evening. And so it turns out ; of the few bold enough to make even so much as a show at table, nearly half drop off* and retire early from the field. A handsome apartment is the saloon, occupying the whole width of the vessel, and well lighted with swinging lamps ; the three long tables are duly garnished with ' fiddles,' which, for the benefit of the uninitiated, are not orchestral instru- ments, but wooden frames fixed to the tables to keep everything from slipping off* in hvely weather such as we are now experiencing, for there is plenty of motion, and we are rolling in brisk fashion. Stewards stagger about deftly with the dishes ; now and then a crash is heard as a new hanS comes to grief with his load of crockery ; your soup empties itself into your lap, and the nuts destined for dessert incontinently forsake their ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 7 dishes and steeplechase up and down the table- cloth. But dinner is got through somehow, and I betake myself on deck. We are ploughing along under a good head of steam, the masts and yards sway beneath the starlit sky, the binnacle lights throw a red glow around, and in the distance a dark shadowed coast line is just discernible. No less than the lights, the sounds are all of the sea ; the splash of the waves, the shrill whistle of tlie boatswain's pipe, the clank of the engines and the measured throb of the propeller, not to mention a smothered groan of unmistakable portent which now- and then finds its way up through the open skylights. Grouped under the bulwarks some of the Germans are chorusino^ in their own ton^^ue — student staves and jolly Bacchanalian lays of the Ehineland — by no means in bad time or tune. A few passengers stand muffled in great- coats under the lee of the companion, already beginning to fraternise, and the fresh salt air speedily becomes tainted with whilTs of the soothing weed : others are sitting in the saloon writing as for dear life, in order to send a last line of farewell ere we put out from Plymouth to-morrow. But sea breezes have a notoriously soporific effect ; the passengers slip off below one by one, and I am left the sole 8 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: occupant of the deck. The saloon Hghts are ex- tinguished, then the cabin ones, and all is silent, save for the ceaseless clank of the engines, and a long drawn cry as the watch is relieved. The bright red eye of a hghthouse flashes full upon us for a moment, as moving steadily round it sweeps the gloom with its sharply defined ray, and till far into the night I pace the quarter-deck, watching the black coastline as we plunge on through the phosphorus tipped waves. At last I go below, and divesting in a trice, stow myself into my appointed bunk, which, by the way, is a very comfortable one, and the first evening aboard ship is at an end. Awaking, the vessel is motionless ; the beat of the screw, and the rocking and swaying are con- spicuous by their absence, and the weaker brethren will have a few hours' respite from their agonies, for we are lying inside the Plymouth breakwater. I bethink me of having another hour or two on terra firma^ but it is early yet : as luck will have it though, a fishing lugger is lying alongside all ready, and stepping on board her the sail is hoisted, and we slip along before a fresh breeze. The morning is singularly mild for the time of year, but there is every appearance of rain. We bowl along ; on the right the Stadden heights command the entrance to the Sound ; on the left the tree-fringed bluffs of ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 9 Mount Edgecumbe, and the little twin villages of Kingsand and Cawsand with their square church tower, nestling in a snug corner of the bay ; in front the roofs and spires of Plymouth, whither we are fast speeding. I land, and having ascertained the time of the ship's departure, proceed on my way. Plymouth is a pleasant looking town enough, but no town, or country either, could present aught but a woful and depressing appearance under the steady downpour which promptly set in ; nor was that all, for the wind got up, and many a rainy gust tore round the street corners, to the imminent jeopardy of the unwary pedestrian's umbrella. In fact it was blowing half a gale by the time I stood upon the deck of the steam tug Sir Francis Drake at twelve o'clock — the latest hour by which passengers must be on board — so warned the Company's agent. But although twelve was the hour named for the departure of that useful craft, yet one o'clock still found her securely moored to the quay, for no ostensible reason, the mails being already shipped. It rained steadily and in torrents ; the sole shelter available, except the stifling hole of a cabin, was that afforded by the projecting parapet of the bridge, and I made the most of it, in common with a closely packed multitude. A large number of emigrants of the very roughest class crowded the deck, giving free vent to their lo THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: impatience, in terms savouring more of force than of nicety of diction ; and enlivening the passing hour with songs, whose burden was the reverse of artistic or refining, interspersing the intervals with much Whitechapel talk. It is unpleasant, very, to be obliged to stand on end for any length of time in a cramped position, shivering under a scanty shelter, the slightest move in the hope of shifting your wearisome attitude being rewarded by the insinuation of a cold trickling down your neck. It is unpleasant, very, to find yourself wedged in amongst rather a ruffianly crowd which is bawl- ing its jargon into your ears. But the traveller must look for unpleasantness as his daily portion, notwithstanding which I could not repress a growl of relief when, nearly two hours after coming on to the tug, the moorings were cast loose and we paddled off to the ship. Although past the time at which we are adver- tised to sail, there seem no indications of a start, luncheon is going on below, and everything looks pretty much as usual : the newly embarked emi- grants ' forrard ' are jostling and cursing over their luggage, and I learn that we are to remain at anchor till the gale goes down, which means that there we shall be for the rest of that day, certainly all the next, and probably the day after that. However, it was of no use grumbhng— there we ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND JTS PEOPLE, ii were and we must make the best of it. The short winter afternoon faded into night, and so far from the wind abating it blew with tenfold force ; in fact, lying in my bunk listening to the howling of the gale outside as it tore and whistled through the shrouds, I thought it might be rather a good thing than otherwise that we were riding quietly at anchor in a safe haven. In the morning, a two masted sailing vessel was on the rocks under the Stadden cliffs, having been driven ashore during the night, so violent was the wind even in the Sound. There she lay, fast wedged, and we could see the lifeboat and a steam tug hovering about her during the greater part of the day. Our chance of a start was small, for it blew harder than ever, and we must make up our minds for another day of it with what philosophy we could. So we took things contentedly enough, watching the white jets of surf as a huge wave would strike the breakwater, and rebounding, rear itself up to a great height, to fall with a roar and a splash in a milky shower — and speculating as to what success was likely to attend the efforts made to float the ' lame duck.' Large gulls, driven in by the tempestuous weather, soared and wheeled beneath the grey angry sky in the gathering twi- light. Companions in adversity had we, and plenty ; one of the Orient Company's big Australian liners, 12 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: outward bound like ourselves, and two or three other large steamers. Smaller craft was there in abundance, lying at anchor all round, and when evening closed in, numerous mast lanterns cast their twinkling reflection upon the waters, while ever and anon as the driving scud cleared, the lights of the distant town would glow redly in the background ; the bells striking the hour clanged forth, to be taken up by craft after craft, through- out the whole flotilla ; dimly could one discern huge masses of sea, dashing over the breakwater by the ton, and the furious howling of the gale out- side blended with the shrill ghostlike music of the whistling shrouds. Morning broke bright and clear ; during the night the gale had undergone a marked abatement, and it was reported that we should very soon up anchor. The big Australian was already on the move ; by nine o'clock we had followed her ex- ample and were steaming out round the break- water, and the former victims began to find out that they were not on their ' sea-legs ' yet ; that lying in smooth water is one thing, facing the remnant of a strong sou'-westerly gale another. It certainly was rather hard on these that break- fast should be deferred till we were well out of harbour ; had they been set to face their dire enemy, fortified with a substantial feed, many a ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 13 pang might have been spared them. Some went so far as to hint that that august corporation, the Union Steamship Company (Limited), studied economy to an undue extent ; but great allowances must be made for people to whom life will be a sore and grievous burden for the next forty-eight hours, and who are aware of the same. Although the wind has gone down, the sea has not, and is running mountains ; a stiff fresh breeze is blowing up Channel, and we bound along, throw- ing the spray in masses from our bows as we plunge and rise to the huge green rollers which tower up high overhead, as though about to thunder on the deck, and then, surging beneath the keel, rush off on the other side, curling their sharp crest into white foam, roaring and hissing in disappointed wrath. Sea birds are to be descried in all direc- tions, from the large herring gull whose wings glisten in the sun as he wheels and darts to and fro, mingling his shrill voice with the whistling of the wind, to the pretty little ' Mother Carey's chickens ' of which several are steadily following astern, dropping to pick up whatever may chance to be thrown out of the cook's galley. Now and then we meet a homeward bound ship standing up Channel under a spread of canvas, and a steamer may be seen ploughing on her course, a line of smoke drifting from her funnel like a dark plume. 14 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: We pass the two Eddystones — the old weather- beaten one, which has done such good service in its time, looking quite dwarfed and squat by the tall and tapering shape of the new — and the waves are dashing over their base. But the high coast headlands are getting more and more indistinct ; presently their faint outline is just visible, then they fade altogether. So good-bye. Old England, for we have looked our last upon you, and now for the sunny South ! The passengers stand about in groups, or walk up and down, in which accomplishment, by the way, we have none of us yet attained perfection ; gene- rally it resolves itself into a tentative and gingerly endeavour to persuade ourselves and others that v^e are quite at home pacing the reeling deck at an angle of 45 ; in fact, that, if anything, we rather prefer it — but it won't do. Truly it is an amazing sight to contemplate two persons in their efforts to keep their feet under the circumstances ; presently one staggers more violently than usual, loses his balance, spasmodically clutches his companion, and both go rolling into the scuppers. Whereat a great guffaw ascends from the lookers-on. If you are of a sociable turn, it is not a bad plan to try and forget the attacks of the sea-demon in conversation ; in short, not to think of him. Not that this always holds good, though : often ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 15 have I watclied an unfortunate, forming one of a jovial group, and manfully battling with the dire qualms which surely and slowly are gaining the mastery. But it is of no use ; paler and paler grows the unhappy one, till at last he beats a sud- den and precipitate retreat. ' All up with him,' says some one, and the fun goes on as before. If any of my readers, on voyaging intent, are expect- ing to hear of a cure for sea-sickness in these pages they will be disappointed ; I never knew a real one, though I have heard of many. But a preventive is better, and I have always found the following very simple one to answer. Firmly persuade yourself that nothing is further from your programme than that little excursion to the side of the ship. Once on board, take your meals as regularly as you would on shore ; but, except for the purpose of taking them, do not go below : the fresh sea-breeze is a powerful revivilier, and the atmosphere 'tween decks, with the port holes closed the first two or three days of a passage, is enough to overturn the strongest. Never mind if it's cold ; wrap up well, and walk about as much as possible, and don't go below at night till you are perfectly certain of going to sleep the moment you turn in. The great thing is to keep in the open air as much as possible. But I will get back to my narrative. i6 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: The following morning saw us well into the Bay of Biscay. It was cold and raw ; the sky seemed to meet the seething plain of great tum- bling leaden waves ; a grey mist swept the surface, and heavy showers drove the few of us who had ventured upon deck under the lee of the com- panion, where we stood, trying to keep our footing, for the ship was rolling heavily, and the decks wet and slippery. A sudden and violent shock — some- thing has given way ; it seems to me only like a heavy sea striking one of the boats hanging in the davits. Then the bell in the engine-room sounds, and the vessel stops ; the captain and quarter- master, with one or two of the officers, make their way aft. Meanwhile, the sensation — not to say alarm — has extended to the saloon passengers ; the sea-sick ones discover that they are not nearly so anxious to go to the bottom as they supposed, but find their way up the companion stairs with wondrous celerity. ' What is it ? ' ' What's gone wrong ? ' &c. &c., is heard in more or less apprehen- sive tones among the startled groups. I certainly had no idea how little it took to create a scare on board ship, for, in the present instance, neither has the shaft broken nor the propeller, nor have any of the port holes been staved in, but one of the steering chains has snapped nearly opposite where we were standing when the shock was first felt. ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND LTS PEOPLE. 17 The after wheel is soon manned, while a jposse of the crew is told off to repair the broken chain ; the engines are in motion again, and the good ship is driving along through the mist and spray, plunging over the restless watery plain, every beat of the screw carrying us further and further from Old England. However, it is not my intention to chronicle each day's events, but rather to give an insight of life on board an ocean-going steamer so towards evening of the fifth day after leaving Plymouth — four is the usual run, but ours being an intermediate boat does not hurry herself — we are standing in to Madeira, and skirt the rocky coast ; its cliffs glowing in the sunset beams. Our yards are braced, all is taut and clear, and, by the time we glide in and drop anchor in the roadstead of Funchal, the shadows of night have fallen u])on land and water. 1 8 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: CHAPTEE n. Madeira — A noisy lot — Diving toys — Funchal — Pleasures of landing — A bazaar afloat — TeneriiFe — ' A life on the ocean wave ' — Fire practice — Church parade — The weekly press — Crossing the Line — A callow Teuton — Some cheerful reflections — Theatricals — ^Table Very refreshing to the eye, after ^^o, days of tumbhng sea, is Madeira ; its heights crowned with waving groves ; its green slopes and luxuriant vege- tation ; the quaint old foreign looking town spread- ing along the edge of the bay, while dotted about on the slope above, many a. roof and white sun-baked wall of a country villa peers through its thick masses of trees. Strange tropical plants mingle their bright plumage with trailing creepers which festoon the garden walls overhanging the blue waters, .and a delightful balminess suggestive of citron groves and spice and dolce far niente pervades the air. In the present instance, however, we are not to see the island at its best, and our arrival after dark instead of by day is the subject of not a little growling among the passengers. But a brilliant moon goes far towards making up for ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 19 their fancied grievance, flooding sea and land with silver light. Everyone who has visited Madeira will re- member what excitement is caused in the ab- original breast by the arrival of the mail steamer. Before the anchor was fairly down we were beset by a legion of boats bobbing like corks alongside of the big ship. Some were laden with wicker chairs and tables, others with all sorts of articles manufactured in the island — paper-knives, inlaid boxes, lace, filagree work — gimcrackery innumer- able and indescribable. Then there were fruit boats piled up with baskets of oranges, bananas, loquots, &c. &c., and boats plying for hire ; their occupants all screaming and jabbering, jostling and fighting to get nearest the ship. An aquatic pandemonium. Then there are boats full of half- naked boys anxious to dive for silver : coppers sink too rapidly, nor can they see them under water — I once threw in a handful of half-pence, but only two were found. Wonderfully quick are these amphibious urchins after a sixpence or a threepenny bit, catching it before it has sunk many feet. The competition, too, is keen; one will seize the coin almost from another's grasp, whereupon the disappointed youth will haply he in wait for and duck his more fortunate rival on rising to the surface. Nor can this one elude his c 2 20 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: relentless pursuer, who hardly allows him to get his head above water ; in fact, I have seen this carried to an extent that would suffice to drown the ordi- nary swimmer twice over. But it takes a great deal to drown a Madeira diving-boy. Awful thieves are these aquatic pedlars. An arm through a port hole — should the stewards be unwary enough to leave one open, which they generally take good care not to do — as their boats toss alongside, and a blanket, bolster, coat, hat, anything seizable, speedily changes ownership. Owing to this proclivity a show is made of keep- ing them off the vessel, but there are too many of them ; the stiirdy quartermaster's back turned, they climb up like monkeys, where there is scarcely fingerhold much less foothold, and the passengers, anxious to ' deal,' aid and abet them m so doing. I saw the quartermaster drive one fellow down the side as if repulsing a boarding party, and looked over expecting to see him in the water. Not a bit of it ; there he was, scrambling quietly but rapidly into his boat, whence he hurled a string of Portuguese invec- tive at the contemptuous tar. Everyone buys a wicker chair at Madeira ; I do likewise, not for the above reason, but that the possession of the said article of furniture adds materially to one's com- fort during tlie voyage, for you can't drag the ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 21 ship benches and plant them at will about the deck. Therefore, watching my opportunity — for our captain has a prejudice against deck chairs, and hitherto no vendors thereof have been al- lowed on board — I proceed to drive a bargain over the stern of the vessel. After some haggling — no one ever yet effected a deal with a native of Madeira without haggling — my contraband seat is handed up, and I take steps for securing the same. But we must begin to think about landing, and as the ship will not leave till nearly midnight there is time to go ashore and look about a little. Our party is made up and we have no difficulty in getting a boat, each and all being extremely anxious to have the pleasure of carrying us. So, depositing ourselves in the stern sheets we tell the fellows to shove off, which they seem not to see the force of doing just yet, hoping to get some more ' fares.' This we object to strongly, there being as many of us as the boat will hold — twice are we nearly capsized, and amid much frantic gesticulation, and yelling and jabbering enough to deafen one, we fight clear of the crowd and are pulling for the beach. I have often wondered that casualties are not of frequent occurrence on these occasions ; everyone does his level best to get into the boat at once, specially 22 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: the rougher sort from ' forrard,' jostling and crowding to any extent — and all this on the nar- row gangway stair. The rascally boatmen, more- over, are only too eager to carry as many as possible, quite irrespective of any considerations of safety. We land, and pushing through the importunate host of loafers on the beach, take our way up the town. A queer old place is Funchal, with its narrow stone-paved streets, and ugly but picturesque buildings. . Among these is the Cathedral ; I mean it comes under the former adjective, for it certainly is not picturesque. A visit to it is a game hardly worth the candle, and on the steps you have to run the gauntlet of a crowd of hapless fellow mortals, clamorously soHciting alms by virtue of sundry loathsome afflictions which they eagerly thrust on your notice. No wheels rumble through the steep, narrow streets ; rough, heavy sleds drawn by oxen being the ordinary mode of conveyance. The fruit market is well worth a visit, and, if time allows, you may make an expedition to the Convent, whose white walls, far up the hill, you saw from the ship. There it is that the lace is made which they were pestering you on board to buy, and a fine view of the town and bay is obtainable. On this occasion we do none of these things, ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 23 but make our way to the English hotel ; where, as we sit enjoying our cigars in the garden, ^yq nights after leaving the chill November winds and fogs, the air still and balmy, and a glorious moon silvering the leaves overhead, it occurs to me that our evening arrival is anything but subject matter for a grievance. Time passes, and we must get on board again, so picking up some of our party on the way, we make for the beach : once more we have to run the gauntlet of a vociferous and ill-smelling crowd, but there are plenty of us, and we are afloat again without any trouble. Gruesome tales are told of stray travellers at night being heavily black-mailed before suffered to embark, or belated ones having to pay through the nose ere their scoundrels of boatmen would take them on board. I can't say that this kind of thing has ever come within my actual experience — and I have landed and come off again at night and alone ; yet it is not altogether a safe experi- ment. But in the present instance we are more than strong enough to hold our own. On our return we found that the prohibition had been removed, and the amphibious hawkers had accordingly opened out and displayed their wares. Articles of fancy work fearfully and wonderfully made, Madeira lace, walking sticks, 24 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: photographs, queer little devices in shells, filagree work, knicknacks of every description, lie spread out on the deck, or arranged about on seats and skylights. The whole afterpart of the ship is crowded ; limits of classification are in abeyance, and the emigrant jostles the saloon passenger, vying with him in his bargaining : the Portu- guese are bawhng out their stock in trade, jabbering and haggling with their customers, and the row is simply deafening. The red gleam of the lanterns falls upon a bustling throng, lighting up many an eager face ; from that of a rough specimen from ' forrard ' bargaining for a curiously wrought gold (?) ring, to that of the lady passenger who has at last secured the coveted piece of lace upon her own terms. Yopder a group is examining with the air of connoisseurs sundry grey parrots, whose con- versational merits their oh ve- skinned proprietors are extolling with a volubihty not unworthy of the objectionable birds themselves. But the contents of the impromptu booths become smaller and beautifully less, the howhng of their owners decreasing in proportion ; trade hangs fire, and moreover it is midnight, and time to weigh anchor. The shore bell rings, and the vivacious Portuguese hurriedly pack up their traps aQd bundle into the boats, to retire upon ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS FEOi IE. 25 their gains and await the arrival of the next mail. The steam pipe roars ; the water is churned into white foam astern as the big ship swings round to her cable, which is fast being wound in. The anchor is up, and we ghde away from the roadstead ; the revolution of the screw settles into a rapid steady beat ; we stand on our southward course over the moonlit sea, and by morning, Madeira, with its rich verdure and picturesque heights, its quaint town and clamorous aborigines, has sunk from sight beneath the horizon, TenerifFe is less than twenty-four hours' run from Madeira, and of course the next thing is to look out for the famous Peak : at length a clear cut outhne looms through a mass of dark cloud, and there it is, rearing up 13,000 feet sheer out of the sea. It seems doubtful whether we shall get a good view, but towards evening the clouds melt away, and we pass beneath ; the lofty snow-capped summit, gleaming red in the rays of the setting sun, towers to the sky. I suppose there is no mountain in the world which affords such a view of uninterrupted height ; even the stupendous peaks of the Himalayas are surrounded by others in gradation. But TenerifFe, starting abruptly from the sea, labours under no such scenic disadvantage ; reigning in solitary stateliness over the vast ocean plain. I have 26 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: seen it white with snow nearly to the base, set in the surrounding expanse of blue water ; to-day as we pass there is only enough of snow on the summit to convey an idea of its height. Two hours later I stood on deck ; the sea was perfectly calm, and the great ship standing on her way steadily as a rock ; a golden moon hung overhead, and the liquid surface seemed all on fire. A cloud had enshrouded the mighty Peak, and as we ghded between it and the surrounding islands, whose dark shapes wrapped in shadowy gloom stood weirdly out into the moonlit waters, it seemed as if we were vogueing on an enchanted sea. And now Teneriffe is left behind, each day becomes more deliciously warm, the sea is as calm as a lake, and everyone has settled down into the usual routine of life on board ship, which, though monotonous, is not without a certain charm of its own. For under no other circum- stances whatever do you feel so thoroughly justified in taking life easily. You get up when you like, and go to bed when you like ; you sit and read under the awning in the heat of the day, you take quarter-deck walks and smoke your cheroot in the cool of eve, and you enter with zest into the hundred-and-one trifies which, so insignificant in themselves, assume quite an ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 27 importance for the time being. The ' speaking ' of a passing vessel, and sweepstaking on the daily- speed of your own, are events ; the lively interest you take in so commonplace an occurrence as the gambols of a shoal of porpoises surprises you when you come to look back upon it. K fortunate in your fellow voyagers, you interchange ideas on most subjects under heaven. In fact you feel that you are not only allowed, but even expected, to take life very easily, and the con- sumption of the lightest of light literature and manifold cigars become actions not merely per> missible but positively meritorious. So it is with us. Even the frailest of sea-sick mortals has now forgotten the onslaughts of the terrible demon as we glide smoothly along through the still waters which wear the blue-green trans- parency of tropical latitudes. Windsails carry draughts of refreshing air down through the skylights, and light clothing has become the correct thing. The middle of the morning. It is already warm enough to be uncomfortable, save within the shade, but an awning covers the length of the quarter-deck. The passengers sit and lie about in various attitudes of listless ease ; in many a hand may be descried a most reprehensible-looking ' yellow-back.' Others are chatting or indulging in a mild game of which 28 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: pencils and paper form the chief ingredients. Here and there a few ladies with some sort of work in hand strive hard to appear industrious. Now and then a rush is made for the side to look at a shoal of ' springers,' or a cloud of silvery flying- fish skimming bird-like along the blue surface, which albeit so still and placid, is teeming with life in its quiet depths. Or perhaps the dark triangular fin of a shark glides along, warning of the double danger of falhng into those treacherous seas. Yonder, abaft the line of demarcation — for a space of a few feet in the stern has been turned into an open-air smoking-room — sits a group of Germans, each at the end of a long pipe, stolidly playing cards ; while on the other side of the quarter-deck a game of 'bull,' that mildest of ship sports, is going on. Prominent among all is the burly form of our jovial skipper passing from group to group, his bearded face beaming with merriment as, having fired off a parting joke, he moves on to give the benefit of it to a fresh batch. Eight bells strike ; the officers come aft and make their reports, and the captain joins them as, sextant in hand, they take the latitude. The more energetic of the passengers move towards the companion stairs to ascertain the run during the last twenty-four hours, which is posted up daily at twelve o'clock. Presently the ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 29 luncheon bell rings and all make for the saloon, which wears a very different appearance to when we last saw it. The seats are all occupied, the ' fiddles ' are conspicuous by their absence, and we do not have to cling to the banisters, then to the pillars of the saloon, as we spasmodically rush to our places. No periodical smash of glass or crockery, as an unpractised steward cannons against his colleague in the passage, now makes itself heard. No longer are the fronts of our waistcoats anointed by our soup in our acrobatic efforts to consume the same, nor do the contents of the mustard pot and bitter beer mingle on the table- cloth to pour their united forces into our lap. None of these things happen now, they are among events of the past (let us hope) ; to-day, at any rate, we may absorb our soup in legitimate fashion, and contemplate the proximity of Colman to Bass with calm placidity, feeling certain that each will keep within due bounds. Everyone is festive enough, and apparently well contented with his or her lot in life ; corks are popping, conversation and laughter flow freely, as also do iced claret and soda water, not to mention other beverages agreeable to tropical climes. At the end of luncheon the fire- bell rings. We who have been at sea before are accustomed to it, in fact can generally tell within a day when to expect it ; the others have been so THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: warned, yet I think I can detect just a shade of momentary scare on one or two faces, but only momentary. Stewards skurry out of the saloon with blankets in their hands, and we follow them to see the fire parade. The crew tumbles up, the donkey engine is in full swing, and hoses are vigorously making play upon the impassive face of old ocean. Every man is in his place, from the commander to the cook's boy ; the boats' crews, each under its appointed officer, are at their boats, in which at the word of command some of them take their places. Here the fire practice usually ends ; the shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipe rings out above the clank of the donkey engine and the hissing of the jets of water, the hoses are un- screwed, the ship's company is piped down, and all is quiet, as before. These practices are held once a week, generally on Saturday. Another great institution on board is the Sunday parade, when all assemble on the quarter- deck except those actually on duty. There are the captain and officers in gala uniform, together with the surgeon and engineers ; the crew, men and boys, in their smart blue jackets and snowy- trousers ; stewards and firemen, the pallid faces of these last showing in marked contrast to the healthy brown complexions of the rest of the ship's company. The muster is called, and all answer to ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 31 tlieir names ; then preparations are made for Divine service. It is a lovely morning; the extra seats with which the quarter-deck is furnished are soon filled, many of the second class passengers and emigrants turning out in their smartest attire, and there is quite a large congregation. A passenger acts as organist at the piano, which has been hoisted on deck for the occasion, and at an improvised rostrum draped in the Union Jack, the captain officiates, reading the office of Morning Prayer and Litany, together with some prayers for use at sea, in a clear ringing voice. A volunteer choir groups round the piano, and the Canticles and several hymns are sung ; in fact, the service is very hearty and by no means a bad specimen of an EngHsh service on board an English ship. Our congregation joins lustily in the hymns, and the familiar strains sound forth over the calm waters. It is the rule on board the Union Company's vessels to hold service every Sunday morning. Of course any number of persons are at liberty to hold it at other times, provided the arrangements do not interfere with those of the ship, but only the morning service is obligatory. If there is a clergyman of the Church of England on board he is almost invariably asked to officiate ; should there not be one, however, the captain does so himself. No difficulty is placed in the way of 32 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: ministers of other denominations holding services for their co-rehgionists, provided they do not clash with the due performance of the recognised one ; and, whatever may be thought of this arrange- ment, it appears to work well Everyone is reconciled to life on board, and those who at first were inclined to growl because we would make the passage in twenty-three instead of nineteen days, have subsided, and now say they didn't care on their own account, but only because it seemed a pity that one of the Company's best boats should not make one of the best passages. Such disinterestedness who could find it in their hearts to doubt ? Time is got through, all doing their best to make it pass pleasantly ; there are games and races on deck in the cool part of the day, singing in the saloon in the evening, and sometimes the piano is hoisted up and the decks cleared for a dance. One enterprising wight starts a weekly newspaper with a fantastic title, which speedily becomes popular, judging from the faces of each group which may be seen discussing its contents, no less than from the abundant inquiry as to the next issue. News of the week and lead- ing articles, correspondence and answers to queries, and advertisements — even a 'poet's corner.' It becomes quite an institution. Another worthy of artistic turn deems it his mission to portray all and ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 33 eacli of us as we sit, stand, or lie about the deck. This feat is generally performed unknown to the subject thereof, who is taken off in every attitude, whether in the act of throwing a quoit, singing a song, or even while indulging in an afternoon siesta. But I am bound to say that with one or two exceptions the representations bear to the originals not the slightest resemblance whatever. Theatricals are talked of — very much so ; unlike most things much talked of, however, they are destined to become a fiict, and bold spirits may be seen book in hand striving to get up their parts, with a determination the more laudable by reason of the state of the thermometer. Whicli thermo- meter daily warns that we are fast approaching the Equator. The traditional festivity observed on crossing ' the line,' with whicli Captain Marryat's delight- ful works have done so much to familiarise non-seagoers, is becoming a thing of the past ; in fact, as far as passenger steamers are concerned, it may be said to have so become already. In former years I once saw Neptune hold his court with all due and accredited state on board a mail steamer, and a very tidy sort of a row was the result ; but the practice has now been done away with, and rightly, so in tliis instance ihe merrier sjjirits had to rest content with whatever D 34 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: fun could be got out of the occasion. Of course the venerable jest of sticking a hair across the lens of a telescope and inviting the most gullible of our co-voyagers to inspect ' the line ' was resorted to ; and some of the Germans having persuaded one of their number — a long-legged ^sculapius — that Neptune would be visible that night, proceeded to devise and carry out a mild practical joke at the expense of their credulous compatriot. Seasonable time having been allowed the victim to undress, a bucket of water was held in readiness above his cabin window ; some- thing fastened to a piece of string and lowered over the side was made to tap against the same, which opened, and a head protruded, its owner expecting to behold Neptune in all his glory. The contents of the bucket, and the delighted guffaws of his countrymen, however, promptly brought home to the mind of the unsuspecting Teuton that the whole affair was a mistake, and the court of the scaly monarch a snare and a delusion ; for ere long he emerged from the companion and proceeded to ' chewy * his per- secutors all over the ship. By which it will be seen that even gentlemen from ' Das Vaterland ' can wax playful on the high seas. Bi>t we are spared the hottest of equatorial weather, and the nights are not only tolerable ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 35 but even enjoyable ; so we partly turn them into day, and sit on deck into the small hours, chatting and distilling the fragrant weed. And the great ship stands steadily on over the lonely moonlit sea, a broad path of livid phosphorescence mark- ing her track, straight as an arrow, far astern — isolated, cut off from the world, with her crowded human freight ; alone, the vast silent plain stretching around dim and boundless. A sudden leak, an explosion, a fire — that word which at sea carries tenfold terror in its four simple letters — and where are we.^ What of the hundreds so calmly sleeping below ? We are added to the list of ' missing,' the vast mysterious deep keeps its own counsel, and our fate remains for ever unsolved, unless perhaps a charred fragment of wreckage or a few starving waifs are picked up to tell the tale of awe. I suppose some such thoughts as these must from time to time enter into the calculations of every reflective traveller as he paces the deserted deck at midnight, or, leaning over the rudder, gazes into the brilliancy of phosphorescent light beneath, now flashing in fitful gleams, now showering out clusters of bright floating stars as the ever-revolving screw cleaves the luminous waters. But to turn to livelier themes. I said that theatricals were in process of elaboration, and 36 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: by the time everybody knows his or her part fairly, an evening is fixed upon. Posters of por- tentous dimensions and whimsical compilation are struck off, and at the appointed time a tolerably full ' house ' has assembled. A stage has been erected against the companion ; fronting this are seats placed all down the quarter-deck, which, being shut in with canvas on the open sides of the awning, has quite the appearance of a large marquee. Flags of all sorts are hung around, their bright colours glowing in the light of the large ship lanterns. The front seats are reserved for first class passengers, and by the time the curtain draws up and the jovial skipper appears on the stage to read the prologue, the quarter- deck is crowded, for on these occasions the passengers from ' forrard ' receive a general invitation to witness the performance. Plays on board ship are always of the light comedy order, and ours was no exception ; the acting was spirited, and evoked roars of merriment. What if one or two of the performers might be seen rolling their eyes rather frequently and despair- ingly in the direction of the prompter's box ? What though that functionary — none other than our blithe commander — could be discerned by a select few through a chink in the curtains, ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 37 shaking with suppressed laughter to such an extent as to be totally incapable of responding to the mute appeal ? What mattered it that little hitches of this kind did occur — they only added to the fun. Sometimes the monotony of the voyage would be broken by the speaking of a passing steamer, either one of our OAvn or of the rival Company ; for we are far out of the beat of sailing vessels, and have old Ocean quite to ourselves. The days pass in their ordinary groove as we are nearing the end of the voyage ; we have read all our own books and all our neighbours' too ; the last number of the newspaper has been issued, and those who are going to leave the vessel at Cape Town are think- ing of packing up. So the twenty-third morning after starting from Plymouth, we wake to find that the accustomed throb of the propeller has ceased, and to miss the vibration of the engines. We are lying in Table Bay : yonder the masts of the ship- ping in the docks make an effective foreground to the town, behind which. Table Mountain rears its wall of sheer rock to a height of 5,000 feet; on tlie right is the pyramid-like Lion's Head, on the left the distant Paarl mountains, whose purple cones loom through the haze. It is a splendid morning, not a cloud in the sky ; and as we look out over 38 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: the blue bay dotted with Malay fishing boats, we gaze upon a scene of fair beauty very refreshing to the eye after three weeks of boundless sea. At length the tide is hiofh enough to admit of entrance, so we up anchor and steam quietly into dock. ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 39 CHAPTER III. Cape Town — A motley crowd — An inviting coast — Port Elizabeth — Crossing a ' Bar ' — East London— A Kafirarian railway — St. John 8 liiver. Everyone arriving at Cape Tov^n, even tliough not for the first time, will scarcely fail to be struck — as the steamer slowly makes her way through the narrow entrance of the harbour — with the eager crowd upon the jetty, impelled thither by as many motives as there are elements in the throng. There is the brisk merchant in his pith helmet and sweeping puggaree. The senator in orthodox white chimney-pot donned by virtue of his ofHce, but whose sunburnt countenance and loosely made clothes proclaim him far more at home on some up-country sheep or ostrich farm, rising with the sun and turning in not long after the going down of the same, than speechifying and. being speechi- fied to in Council or Assembly by night, and wan- dering rather forlornly about the city by day. There are idlers brought together by no other motive than a ready pretext for whiling away an 40 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: hour in witnessing the arrival of the EngUsli mail. Then there is a sprinkKng of persons who have come to meet friends or relatives. Yellow skinned Malays are also there in plenty, tlieir picturesque Oriental dresses lending colour to the diversely arrayed throng. Darker groups also — Slaves,^ Mozambique negroes, and Kafirs from the Eastern frontier, stand and squat about in the back- ground. The decks are piled up with luggage ; those about to land are all eager to do so, though not without a sneaking regret at leaving the old ship which has brought them safely over, and there is no end of hand-shaking and good-byes as people are met by their friends, or are bid farewell to by their fellow-passengers. The Malay cab-drivers drawn up in line are yelling for fares, and a crowd of loafers of every shade and colour is clamouring for the privilege of carrying luggage which no one wants carried. I wait till the excitement abates, and hailing a hansom, drive quietly up into the town, the central part of which is distant nearly two miles from the docks. Cape Town is by no means an agreeable city, the beauty of its surroundings notwithstanding. No one lives in it who can possibly live out of it ; ' The people emancipated from serfdom to the Dutch in the earlier days of the Colony are still so-called. They are of St. Helena extraction. ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 41 Green Point, Mowbray, Wynberg, Constantia, and other pleasant suburban retreats containing the residences of the principal merchants and Govern- ment officials, who come in by rail to their daily avocations. Its streets are unpaved and very dusty ; in fact, given a fair breeze, and the whole place is enveloped in clouds of pungent red dust, which, tearing round corners, sweep over the un- wary pedestrian, speedily reducing him to a state of helpless and frantic blindness. And there are no side pavements. Should the freshly caught Briton flatter himself that he has got upon one, before he has progressed many yards he will find it necessary either to retrace his confiding steps, or to take a jump of perhaps five feet, for he is on the ' stoep ' of a house, which ' stoeps ' line the sides of the street where would be pavements in any but a Dutch town. Then, too. Cape Town is literally the abode of ' ancient and fishlike smells ' — I will hardly go so far as to say as many as there are streets in the town, but that there is an ex- ceeding great variety to be encountered at every turn I can unhesitatingly vouch. Among the ad- vantages of the place there are good shops, and a railway station with frequent trains, by which you may make an expedition to the wine growing neighbourhood or wherever your wandering fancy may tend. Tram cars run along the principal 42 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: thoroughfares, and hansom cabs are plentiful, their drivers, mostly Malays, though not so disinclined to overreach the new importation as one might wish, would yet compare very favourably with the too often surly, insolent ruffians of the London cab- stand. There is a good library and a fair museum ; a theatre and skating rink, which last has, I believe, shared the fate of its kind ; the Botanical Gardens are pretty and well kept, and form a pleasant lounge of an afternoon. And there is an ugly Cathedral which, notwithstanding its dis- couraging exterior, has services equal in musical proficiency to most cathedrals in Britain. Hotel accommodation, by the way, is very bad — a bed- room to yourself being, as a rule, out of the question ; in fact, you are in luck's way if not herded in with three or four other persons. On the frontier one may look for that sort of thing, and accept the situation with traveller's equa- nimity ; but in the metropolis of South Africa one hardly expects to be ' stabled.' In short, Cape Town requires all its pleasant surroundings to redeem it from being one of the most unattractive places on the face of the earth. Hardly a handsome building is to be met with — all is ugly, Dutch, and squat; and when our allotted two days have fled, and we are steaming out of the harbour, I, for one, am not loud in my regrets ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 43 On we go, pitching head to the tumbhng seas — now that we have passed the 'Cape of Storms,' good-bye to the motionless cahn of the tropics — giving a wide berth to tlie hne of rugged chffs on our lee, for many a treacherous sunken reef lies there. Yonder, in the gloaming, clouds of white winged gulls are circling about the frown- ing peak of Cape Hangklip and the surf breaks with dull roar among the scarce hidden reefs at its base. A desolate ironbound coast On — past Danger Point and Quoin Point, the scene of the striking of the ill-fated Teuton} and evening has sunk into the darkness of night before the low- lying light of Agulhas gleams out over the sea. Another day's run, and we are at anchor in Algoa Bay, entering late at night. But in the morning there is no prospect of our getting away soon, for it is Christmas Eve : the lighter- men and beach-hands strike work early in the day, and not half the cargo is landed yet. There is no help for it ; work they will not, so all that remains is to take things quietly, and to make up our minds to spend Christmas on board, or go ashore and do the same. Port Elizabeth, the chief mercantile town of the Eastern Province, though occupying an unin- ' Tlie Teuton struck on a rock near Quoin Point, and foundered oil' Cape llangklip, in August 1881, over 2G0 persons perishing. 44 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: viting situation on a flat, dreary shore, at once strikes the traveller as an improvement on the metropolis in most respects. Large and sub- stantial buildings grace the town ; you may walk down the principal thoroughfares without un- pleasant thoughts of typhoid intruding themselves, and the place gives you the idea of being alto- gether smarter and more go-ahead than its western neighbour. Here the Dutch element is in the minority, for Port Elizabeth is a town of English creation ; but the German population is large and fast increasing. I believe I am right in saying that besides many of the principal merchants, the majority of clerks and employes in mercantile houses and stores are Germ.ans ; the management of the hotels is mostly in German hands, and the German club is every whit as pretentious as its British neighbour. I can vouch for it that you hear nearly as much German spoken in Port Elizabeth as Engheh, and the arrival of every mail steamer floods the place with fresh Teutons. A thoroughly busy town is the Liverpool of the Eastern Province, as its burgesses love to style it. Besides four or five mail steamers generally anchored in the bay, there are plenty of saihng vessels discharging cargo, and the beach is alive with hundreds of black fellows wading out through the surf to carry ashore the contents of the lighters ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 45 as tliey come in. During the wool season strings of waggons piled high with their huge loads may be seen wending along the streets, the whips of tlie drivers cracking like rifle shots over the toiling spans. In front of the stores bales of wool lie in hundreds, all being marked and got under cover, while the transport waggons are thick about the streets, the oxen standing or lying down in their yokes. Here and there is a burly frontiersman, Dutch or English, who, scorning the (in his eyes) effeminate fashions of towns, strides along in all the glory of wideawake and corduroy, a ' sjambok ' ^ dangling from his hirsute wrist. But everywhere dust and scuffle, everyone busy — Kafir and Malay, Jew and Gentile. Thefe is a terminus at Port Elizabeth with a couple of different lines of rail, by which you may either make an expedition to Grahamstown, the ' City of the Settlers ' — far and away the prettiest town in the Eastern Province - or you may run out to Cradock or GraafT Eeinet and inspect the Boers and the boundless karoo ; but that will take time. Not so very long ago landing was accomplished in Algoa Bay decidedly under difficulties — as also was embarkation ; you were bundled with your luggage into a whale boat, and had to pay pretty ' A rhinoceros hide whip, siiapended to the wrist by a thono^. 46 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: nearly anything the boatmen chose to ask for the privilege. Now, all is changed ; steam launches ply backwards and forwards, and the competition is keen. Oar prognostications were realised : not until the evening of the second day after Christmas did we make a start, anchoring the following morning in the roadstead of East London. And here I am to leave the ship, for I intend remaining a few days at that rising port before proceeding on to Natal. Eather more than a month has gone by since I first climbed on board at Southampton, and now that I ' shin ' down the side for the last time, it is with an absurd and sneaking sensation of regret. As the steam launch pushes olT, I cannot help thinking of my last landing at this progressive port. Then, it was a case of crouching down among a score of navvies in the stern of a surf-boat, hardly able to move for fear of one's head coming in contact with tlie hawser. A huge green wall of water towered overhead, and — swish! — were we in the boat or in the sea .^ Before we had time to take breath, a second roller curled and broke over us with like result ; another, and another, as we bumped two or three times on the bar, and then rode smoothly into the mouth of the river. My friends the navvies spouted forth salt water mingled with blasphemy, and we landed. In f\xct, I was ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 47 literally thrown up on the shores of South Africa without a dry stitch on me. Now, however, it is a very different story ; the little steam launch rides the rollers like a duck, her screw whirling like the cowl of a chimney ; not a drop of water reaches us as we sit crowded on her well-raised deck, and by the time we are bowhng up the broad river towards the Customs wharf, some of my fellow-travellers think that crossing the redoubted ^ ' bar ' is but a poor affair after all. But tempora mutantur. East London is a go-ahead place. Not many years ago a very bad ' hotel ' and a few German shanties were the sole habitations on the east bank of the Buffalo where is now Panmure, which comprises the railway station and all the principal places of business. The newness of the tenements and the unfinished state of the streets bear witness to the recent growth of the place ; but building is going on briskly, and the town increasing in size and standing. It is the port of British Kaffraria, but Hke most South African ports, the ' bar ' formed by the shallowness of the river and the constant silting up of the sand, is an effectual impediment to it ever possessing a good harbour. The road- stead, too, is an unsafe one, and, during the south- westerly gales. Heaven help the vessel that cannot make a wide offing, for she will inevitably be 48 THROUGH THE ZULU COUNTRY: driven on the rocks and broken up among the tremendous surf, which beats with terrific force upon this dangerous coast. I mentioned a railway at East London. Now a KafTrarian train is not a rapid means of locomo- tion; nevertheless it is infinitely preferable to that detestable structure, the old passenger-cart, which erewhile hammered you about the country from place to place, if haply it did not pitch you out and break your neck on the way. Eailway speed hardly averages fifteen miles per hour, but then you do not have long to wait at the side stations. Many of these consist of a mere roof and platform in the middle of the ' veldt ;' ^ you tell the guard beforehand where you want to get down, and he stops the train at that particular place. If you want to catch a train at one of these sidings you simply stand on the platform and hail it as you would a tram car. As the line is unfenced and cattle frequently stray thereon, the engines are provided with ' cow-catchers,' with the result that, in many instances, it is ' bad for the coo.' Nor is the speed regular, for the train will crawl up a long acclivity, hand over hand as it were, and tear down the other side at breakneck pace — for all the world like bicycle riding. ^ ' Veldt ' in South African parlance is ground uncultivated and unenclosed. Bushy or open, stony or smooth, matters not ; if unre- claimed it is all * veldt.' ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPLE. 49 Curious are some of the -idiosyncrasies which characterise the Union Company's deahngs in the embarkation of passengers at East London. I found that in addition to the regular fare to Durban, which was high enough, I was expected to pay IO5. for being put on board ship ; pretty much as if on haihng a cab the driver were to demand an extra 6