Six Months at the Cape | Page 4

that we
reached Capetown, (of which more hereafter), in November,--the South
African summer--after a voyage of twenty-five days.
I am now sojourning at Ebenezer-Hobson's residence on the Karroo.
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Note 1. Near the Tower of London. The South African traffic is now
carried on chiefly through the East India Docks, Poplar, from which the
Union Castle liners depart. The mail boats proceed from Southampton.
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Note 2. In 1840. See page 83. The author was writing in 1876.
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Note 3. Known as the Province of the Cape of Good Hope, (or the Cape
Province), since the establishment of the Union of South Africa in
1910.

LETTER TWO.
HUNTING SPRINGBOKS ON THE KARROO.
To start for the hunting-field at seven in the morning in a carriage and
six, smacks of royalty and sounds luxurious, but in South Africa there
are drawbacks connected therewith.
Hobson's farm is, as I have said, on the Karroo--those vast plains which
at some seasons resemble a sandy desert, and at others are covered with
rich verdure and gorgeous flowers. They are named after the small,
succulent, Karroo-bush, which represents the grass of other plains, and
is excellent food for cattle, sheep, and ostriches.
These plains embrace a considerable portion of the territory of the Cape.
The Karroo is pre-eminently lumpy. Its roads in most places are merely
the result of traffic. They, also, are lumpy. Our carriage was a native
"cart," by which is meant a plain and powerful machine with springs
that are too strong readily to yield. Five of our team were mules, the
sixth was a pony.
Our party at starting numbered five, but grew as we progressed. We
took with us provisions and fodder for two days. The driving was

undertaken by Hobson's nephew, assisted by his eldest son--"Six-foot
Johnny." There was a double necessity for two drivers. To hold the
reins of five kicking mules and a prancing pony required both hands as
well as all the strength of the cousin, though he was a powerful fellow,
and the management of the whip claimed both arms, and all the
strength, as well as the undivided attention of his assistant. The whip
was a salmon-rod in appearance, without exaggeration. It had a bamboo
handle somewhere between twelve and fourteen feet long, with a
proportionate lash. The operator sometimes found it convenient to
stand when he made a cast with his fishing-rod weapon. He was an
adept with it; capable, it seemed to me, of picking a fly off one of the
leader's ears.
There was some trouble in keeping our team quiet while rifles,
ammunition, provisions, etcetera, were being stowed in the cart.
At last the cousin gave the word. Six-foot Johnny made a cast. The lash
grazed the leader's flank with a crack that might have shamed a small
revolver. The mules presented first their noses, then their heels to the
sky; the cart leaped from the ground, and we were off--bumping,
rattling, crashing, swinging, over the wild Karroo, followed by some
half-dozen horses led by two mounted Hottentot attendants.
My friend Hobson, greatly to our grief, did not accompany us, owing to
inflamed eyes, but I shared the back seat of the cart with his brother
Jonathan, a tall strapping man of middle age and modest mien, who
seemed to me the perfect type of a colonial hero.
In an hour or so we came to the solitary farm of a Mr Green, who
regaled us with a sumptuous breakfast, and lent me a spur. I had the
liberal offer of two spurs, but as, in hunting with the rifle, it is
sometimes advisable to sit on one's right heel, and memory during the
excitement of the chase is apt to prove faithless, I contented myself
with one spur,--feeling pretty confident that if I persuaded the left side
of my horse to go, the right side could not well remain behind.
Mr Green joined us. Thereafter we came to the residence of a Mr Priest,
who also joined us with his son, and thus we sped on over the flat

sandy plains, inhaling the sweet scent of mimosa blossom, glowing in
the fervid sunshine, and picking up comrades here and there, until
about noon we reached the scene of our intended operations.
This was a vast, almost level plain named the Plaat River Flats. It lay
between two rivers, was eight or ten miles wide and upwards of twenty
miles in length--a mighty ocean, as it were, of short, compact Karroo,
with a boundless horizon like the sea in all directions save one, where a
great South African mountain range intercepted the view. Here and
there a few clumps of mimosa bushes rose like islets, and lent
additional interest to the scene.
We "outspanned", that is, we unyoked, and "off-saddled" here