Chapter 22 - A Narrative of Hunting Adventures in Southern Africa by Mayne Reid
The Interrupted Breakfast
Next morning the young yägers slept late—because they had nothing particular to do. They did not purpose continuing their journey before the following morning; and on that day they intended to lie up, so that their horses, might rest and be fresh for the road.
They rose, therefore, a little later than usual, and breakfasted on the tongue of the brindled gnoo, with hot coffee and hard bread; a stock of which they had brought along in their wagons, and which still held out. It would not have been as great a deprivation to the young yägers to have gone without bread, as it would to you, boy reader. There live many people in South Africa to whom bread is a luxury almost unknown. Many tribes of the native people never eat such a thing, and there are thousands of the frontier Dutch colonists, that do without it altogether. The people of South Africa, both native and colonial, are not an agricultural but a pastoral people, and therefore pay but little attention to the cultivation of the soil. Their herds of horned cattle, their horses, their flocks of big-tailed sheep and goats, engross all their time, and agricultural farming is not to their taste. Although the wealthier among the boors plant a few acres of Kaffir corn—a variety of the “Indian corn,” or maize—and sow some bushels of “buckwheat,” yet this is principally for their own use. This class also cultivate many kinds of vegetables in their gardens, and have large orchards containing apples, peaches, pomegranates, pears, and quinces, with vineyards for the grape, and enclosures for melons, cucumbers, and pumpkins. But among the poorer classes, and particularly on the remote frontier, such things are hardly thought of; and their cattle kraals are the only enclosures around the dwelling of the “vee-boor,” or stock-farmer. Among these people, bread is a rarity, and their staple food is “biltong,” and fresh beef or mutton cooked in a variety of ways, and so as to be quite palatable—for the cuisine of the boor is by no means to be despised.
In many parts the staple food of the frontier boor is venison—that is, in districts where the ordinary game has not yet been exterminated. Within the frontier districts, springboks are plenty, as also the common wildebeests; and piles of the horns of these may be seen lying around the kraals of every vee-boor. The flesh of the wildebeests, as already stated, is more like beef than venison, and when fat, or cooked in the delicious fat of the great sheep’s tails, is excellent eating.
The quagga, which is also common in these parts, is killed for its flesh; but this is rank and oily, and only eaten by the Hottentot servants.
Our young yägers were the children of wealthy parents, and had therefore learnt to eat bread, though on a pinch they could have got along without it. But they had brought several sacks of biscuit with them, and with these and coffee, and the tongue of the blauw-wildebeest, they were making a hearty breakfast.
They were all right merry, chatting over their adventure with the borelé, and laughing at the danger now that it was past.
They were taking their time with their breakfast, eating it leisurely and in no hurry, as they meant to spend the day in a sort of dolce far niente manner—loitering about the camp, or perhaps putting in a stitch wherever there should be a weak place in either saddle or bridle, so as to make themselves thoroughly ready for the route. Every precaution would be required to ensure their safety against the wide stretch of desert they would have to cross.
While in this mood, and about half through with their meal, an announcement was made that was likely to upset all their plans for the day. The announcement came from Congo, who had been loitering out on the desert side of the mokhala grove, and who came running into camp, in breathless haste, to report that a large flock of ostriches were out upon the plain!
The yägers, but particularly Klaas and Jan, bristled up at the news, uttering various exclamations of joy. A sudden change took place in their manner. Their jaws wagged more rapidly; the gnoo-tongue disappeared in larger slices; the coffee was quaffed in big hurried gulps; and the second half of their meal did not occupy the tenth part of the time that had been taken up with the first.
In less than two minutes from the time Congo made his report the breakfast was finished; and in five minutes more the horses were all saddled, bridled, and mounted. Resting the animals was no longer thought of. Everything had gone out of the heads of their riders except an ostrich “surround.”
Where was Swartboy to take part in the affair, and to give his advice? All acknowledged that the Bushman knew more about hunting the ostrich than any of them—Congo not excepted. Indeed, this was true in regard to most kinds of desert animals, as also of the smaller mammalia and birds. Congo had lived all his life among a people who keep cattle—for the Kaffir nations are not mere hunters, but a pastoral people—and although he knew how to destroy the lion, the leopard, the hyena, and other carnivorous creatures, he was less accustomed to the killing or capturing of game, since the vast herds of cattle bred and reared in his country render such knowledge but of secondary importance. Not so with Swartboy. The Bushmen have no cattle, except those which at times they steal from their neighbours, the Griquas, Bastaards, and trek-boors; and these are never kept, but killed and devoured as soon as they are driven to the Bushmen haunts. The want of domestic animals, therefore, with the necessity of having something to eat, compels the Bushman to use all his ingenuity in the capturing or killing of wild game, which among Bushmen includes every living creature from the locust and lizard to the camelopard and elephant!
The natural consequence of such a life must be the arriving at a perfect knowledge of the haunts, habits, and mode of hunting the wild creatures that people their country; and in this very knowledge Swartboy was believed to excel even among his countrymen, for it was known that in his own land he had been considered a “mighty hunter.”
Where was Swartboy at that moment? He had not been seen for an hour or more. Congo said that he had driven off the oxen to pasture upon the grass plain to the rear of the camp, and no doubt he was there herding them.
It was proposed that some one should go for him, but this was objected to on account of the loss of time. Congo said that the oxen were a good way off. It would take half-an-hour to bring Swartboy into camp, and before the end of that period the ostriches might be ten miles off.
No; they could not wait for Swartboy. They must proceed without him; and, mounting their horses, the yägers rode off towards the desert plain.