Майн Рид
The Giraffe Hunters
Chapter Nineteen.
The Camelopard
There is perhaps no animal living so graceful in form, more beautiful in colour, and more stately and majestic in appearance than the camelopard, now generally known by the French appellation of giraffe. Measuring eighteen feet from the hoof of the fore leg to the crest of its crown, it stands, as an American would express it, “The tallest animal in creation.” There is but a single species of the giraffe, and from the elegance and stateliness of its shape, the pleasing variety and arrangement of its colours, and the mildness of its disposition, its first appearance in Europe excited considerable interest.
Although this animal was well known to the ancient Romans, and indeed, played no inconsiderable part in the gorgeous exhibitions of that luxurious people, yet, with the ultimate overthrow of the Roman Empire, the camelopard finally disappeared from Europe, and for several centuries remained a perfect stranger to the civilised world.
It is not until towards the close of the fifteenth century, that we again hear of the giraffe’s appearance, – when it is related that Lorenzo de Medici exhibited one at Florence.
The first of these animals seen in England was a gift from the Pasha of Egypt to George the Fourth. It arrived in 1828, and died during the following year.
On the 24th of May, 1836, four giraffes were exhibited in the Zoological gardens at Regent’s Park. They were brought from the south-west of Kordofan, and were transported to London at an expense of 2386 pounds three shillings and one penny.
From a casual glance at the giraffe, its fore legs would appear nearly twice as long as the hind ones, but such is not the case. This difference of appearance is caused by the great depth of shoulder, compared with the hips. In proportion to the rest of its body, the camelopard has rather a small head, upheld by a neck nearly six feet in length, gently tapering towards the crown. The animal’s height, reckoning from the top of the head to the hoofs of the fore feet, is about equally divided between neck, shoulders, and legs. Measured from the summit of the hips to the hoofs of the hind feet, it rarely exceeds six and a half, or seven feet.
The head of the giraffe is furnished with a pair of excrescences, usually called horns, although very unlike the horn of any other animal. They are of a porous bony texture covered with short, coarse bristles. Naturalists have, as yet, failed to determine for what purpose these osseous processes are provided. They cannot be either for offence or defence, since they are too easily displaced to afford any resistance in the case of a collision.
The eyes of the camelopard are worthy of all praise. They are of large size, even softer and more gentle than those of the far-famed gazelle, and so placed that it can see in almost every direction without turning its head.
All its senses are very acute; and being an animal of timid habit, it can only be approached by man when mounted upon a fleet horse.
The camelopard feeds on the leaves and blossoms of an umbrella-shaped tree, – a species of mimosa, called mokhala by the native Africans, and cameel-doorn (Camelthorn) by the Dutch settlers of the Cape.
As a grasper and feeler, the tongue of the giraffe is used, as the trunk of the elephants; and its great height enables it to gather the leaves of the mokhala far beyond the reach of the latter.
The camelopard’s skin is exceedingly thick, – often as much as an inch and a half – and so difficult of penetration, that frequently, twenty or thirty bullets are required to bring the creature to the ground. These wounds it receives and suffers in silence; for the giraffe is dumb.
Unlike that of most other animals, its hairy coat becomes darker with age.
The colour of the female is somewhat lighter than the male, and she is also of much inferior stature.
The camelopard can only defend itself by kicking; and it uses its heels in this way more effectively than any other creature, – the horse not excepted. The prominence of its eyes enables it to see behind, when directing its heels against an enemy, and so secures its taking a certain aim; while the blow it can give will crush in the skull of a man, or leave him with a couple of broken ribs. If unmolested, it is among the most innocent of animals.
A creature so strangely shaped, and possessing so much speed and strength, was certainly designed by the Creator for some other use than browsing upon the leaves of mimosa-trees; but that use, man has not yet discovered.
Chapter Twenty.
A Race for Life
Leaving the body of the giraffe very reluctantly, (Groot Willem having a strong desire to take it along with him,) the hunters started off in search of the river. Much to their gratification, the Luize, or another stream equally as large, was seen not far from them, and they rode along its bank for the purpose of finding a place where they might water their horses, now thirsty after the long run they had made in chase of the giraffe.
For about half a mile they found the stream inaccessible, by reason of the steepness of its banks; but a small pool was discovered a short distance from the river, and by this they halted to give their weary horses a little rest. These also needed food; and it was the intention to give them an hour or two upon the grass that grew luxuriantly around the pool. The saddles were taken off, and the horses turned out to graze upon it.
“I suppose that Cong will have sense to pack up and follow us,” said Hendrik.
“Yes,” answered Groot Willem, “I think we may expect to see him here within two hours.”
“But are you sure that he can find us?”
“Certainly he can,” replied Willem. “He knows that we are bound down the river, and the stream will guide him. If not, he has Spoor’em along with him. We should probably meet him on his way if we were to go up the river.”
“But we don’t want to go up at present,” said Hendrik. “Our way is down.”
“Then we had better stay here till he comes.”
While they were thus talking, there was heard a dull, heavy sound, accompanied by a real or fancied vibration of the earth.
The trees in a neighbouring grove appeared to be shaking about, – some being upset as if a violent hurricane was sweeping down among them.
The horses took the alarm; threw up their heads, snorted, and galloped to and fro, as if uncertain which way to retreat.
Next moment, from among the moving trees, emerged a herd of elephants, each or most of them uttering trumpet-like cries as they entered upon the open plain.
The horses galloped off the ground; and the hunters, believing that their lives depended on recovering them, started in pursuit.
Almost on the instant, this purpose had to be relinquished. One of the elephants, in advance of its fellows, was charging upon them; and they would have enough to do to secure their own retreat. The others went after the horses, and all seemed to have gone mad with the exception of three or four that remained by the pool.
The situation of the hunters was now one of imminent danger. A well-directed volley might stop the charge of the elephant rushing towards them, and put the others to flight. This seemed to be the idea of all three; for each took aim at the same instant of time and fired in the same direction. The volley was delivered in vain. The elephant, with louder rear and longer strides, came thundering on, only infuriated by their attempt to check its course.
There was no time to reload; and all three retreated, with a terrible apprehension of being overtaken, and that one or two others of them should fall a victim to the gigantic pursuer. They ran towards the stream. To have gone in any other direction would have been to impale themselves upon the trunks of the other elephants, now also coming towards them, aroused to rage by the cry of their wounded companion.
They succeeded in reaching the bank, and thought of throwing themselves into the water; when a shout from Arend counselled them to a different course.
“Follow me,” cried he, and the next instant he was seen upon the trunk of a cotton-tree that had fallen across the stream.
So close was the enraged elephant by this time, that Groot Willem, who was hindmost, felt the tip of its trunk touching the calf of one of his legs, as he scrambled on to the tree.
The top of the tree was several feet lower than the bank of the river where its roots still adhered; and in descending the trunk, they had, as Hendrik said, to “climb downwards.”
The branches had lodged on some rocks in the middle of the stream, which had prevented the tree from being carried away by the current that ran rapidly past the spot.
For a while, they considered themselves safe; and, although their situation would have been far from agreeable under ordinary circumstances, they experienced the indescribable emotions of happiness that are felt after a narrow escape from some great peril.
The elephant was tearing at the upturned roots of the tree, and making other impotent attempts to get at them. They were besieged, but in no danger for the time of a closer acquaintance with the besieger.
On examining their place of refuge, they saw that the rock on which the tops of the tree rested, was not more than thirty feet in circumference at the water’s edge; and not half that at the top, which was about ten feet in diameter.
There was but little more than room for them to stand upon it; but, as the branches were large and long, they had plenty of room to move about, proceeding in much the same manner as monkeys would have done in a similar situation.
From the behaviour of the enemy, he seemed to have come to a perfect understanding of the position in which they were placed; and, for a minute or two, he appeared to be meditating whether he should abandon the siege, or continue it.
Meanwhile, the hunters, after resting for a few moments from their late severe exertion, commenced reloading their rifles and preparing for further hostilities.
As though aware of their intention, the elephant quietly walked away.
“He is off now,” said Groot Willem, “but we had better not be in any hurry to follow him. I can endure a little more rest.”
“I hope we shall not have to make a longer stay than will be agreeable,” remarked Hendrik. “But we must not leave here until the whole herd has taken its departure. Unlike any we have seen before, these elephants do not seem to be the least afraid of us.”
The position in which our hunters were placed was several feet below the level of the river’s bank, so that they were unable to see anything of the plain above.
Arend proposed returning up the trunk of the tree and giving the enemy a parting shot, should the animal be still within range.
To this, Groot Willem and Hendrik objected. They were willing the elephant should depart, if so inclined, without further molestation from them.
A few minutes passed and Arend again proposed going up to see if their enemy was near. This was also opposed by the others.
“No, not yet,” said Willem. “Let us not show ourselves on any account. He may be still watching for us, and, seeing you, may think we are impatient to get away. That would encourage him to remain. We must be as cautious as if we were dealing with a human enemy.”
Half an hour passed, and then Groot Willem ascended the tree, until his head was on a level with the bank. One glance was sufficient, and, with a grave countenance, he looked back to his companions.
“It is as I thought,” said he, “the brute is still there. He is watching for us. He wants revenge; and I believe that he’ll have it. We shall be hungry before we get away from here.”
“Where is he?” asked Hendrik.
“At the pool close by, giving himself a shower-bath; but I can see that he keeps constantly turning his eye in this direction.”
“Is he alone?” inquired Arend.
“Yes; the others appear to have gone off. There is only himself by the pool. We have wounded him; but, for all that, he is able to move rapidly about; and we shall have to kill him outright before we can pass him upon the plain.”
To this there was no answer, and, Groot Willem again returning to the rock, all three laid hold of their guns, and prepared to attack the enemy.
Chapter Twenty One.
A Creature hard to kill
Groot Willem again ascended the tree, this time armed with his roer, and followed by his two companions. The elephant was still at the pool; and, to make him leave it and draw nearer, Willem showed himself on the bank. This plan did not succeed. The elephant saw him, but with reason or instinct that seemed almost human, it was evidently waiting until they should leave their retreat before again commencing hostilities.
“It’s of no use my firing from here,” said Willem, “I must endeavour to get nearer. Don’t be in my way, for in all probability, there may be another chase.”
The distance from the tree to the pool was close upon a hundred yards; and, after walking from the bank about one third of that distance, Willem came to a halt.
The elephant, coolly and philosophically, awaited his approach, apparently satisfied to let him come as near as he pleased.
The position in which the animal stood was unfavourable for Willem to make his favourite shot; but, as it would not move, he was obliged to fire at its head. The report of his gun was answered by a roar and an impetuous charge.
Willem instantly made for the tree, and secured his retreat, with the elephant but a few paces in his rear.
At the same time – and without evincing the slightest acknowledgment – the huge beast received two further shots from Hendrik and Arend.
While the guns were being reloaded, the monster again retired to the pool. There it was saluted by seven more balls without even once attempting to approach its tormentors in their place of retreat.
It now wanted but two hours to sunset, and dark heavy clouds were descried rolling up from the south-west. Thirteen shots had been expended on the elephant, and to all appearance it was still uninjured. There was a prospect of compulsory confinement before them. They might have to remain in their aqua-arboreal retirement the whole night under the pelting of a pitiless storm. Three more shots were fired, without any apparent result. The rain soon came down, – not in drops, but dishfuls.
Often as they had been exposed to heavy showers, none of them could remember witnessing anything like that. All their care was devoted to keeping the ammunition and the locks of their guns dry; and any attempts at breaking the blockade to which they were subjected, was, for a time, relinquished.
By the last light of day, Groot Willem made another reconnaissance and found the elephant still patiently waiting and watching.
A night so dark that they could not distinguish each other by sight now mantled the river, and the heavens above continued pouring forth their unabated wrath. They might now have stolen away unknown to the besieger; but they had no longer the desire to do so. Confident that the animal could not keep its feet till morning, after the rough handling it had received, they resolved upon staying till it fell, and securing its fine tusks.
Two or three hours passed, and still the rain kept falling, though not quite so heavily as at first.
“I don’t like this sort of thing,” said Hendrik. “Swart and Cong, in the pits, could not have been much unhappier than we are. I should like to know if the enemy is still on guard. What do you say to our going off?”
“We mustn’t think of it,” counselled Arend. “Even if the elephant be gone, we cannot find our horses in such a dark night. If it be still waiting for us, we could not see it five paces off, while it might see us. We had better stay when we are till morning.”
“Your advice is good, Arend,” said Willem. I don’t believe that we have a gun among us that could be discharged; if attacked, as we are now, we should be defenceless.
Arend’s suggestion was adopted, and they resolved to remain upon the rock till morning.
During the night, the rain continued to pour, half drowning them in their exposed situation. The hours passed slowly and wearily. They began to have serious doubts of ever seeing day again; but it came at length.
Just as the first faint gleams of the aurora appeared in the east, they were startled by a sudden crashing among the branches of the tree, and the next moment, they saw the bridge by which they had reached the rock, in the act of being carried away by the current!
“Look out!” shouted Arend; “the tree is off. Keep clear of the branches, or we shall be swept along with it.”
All rushed together to the summit of the rock, reaching it just in time to avoid the danger thus indicated; and, in another moment, their communication with the main land was entirely cut off.
The dawn of day found them on an islet of stone, of such limited extent that there was barely standing-room for the three. The river, swollen by the flood, lipped close up to their feet, and was threatening to rise still higher. There was the prospect – not a very pleasant one – that they themselves might be carried off after their treacherous bridge.
The elephant was no longer a cause of the slightest anxiety. The means by which they might have placed themselves within the reach of that danger had been removed; and, like Prometheus, they were bound to a rock.
The banks on both sides were too high for them to effect a landing, even should they be able to stem the rapid current. All three could swim, and it might be possible for them to reach the shore by swimming down stream to some place where the banks were on a level with the water.
But to this method of getting out of their difficulty, there were several objections. Their guns would have to be left behind, and could not be recovered. A distant view of them lying upon the rock might be all they would ever have. To abandon their arms was a thing not to be thought of. Their hunting would be over for that expedition.
Besides, they were in a part of the river where the current was swift, turbulent, and strong. It would carry them down with irresistible force. The rapids were full of rough jagged rocks, against which their bodies might be crushed or lacerated; and the chances were that some of them might never succeed in reaching the shore in safety.
“And there is another reason why I don’t like taking this water trip,” said Hendrik. “I noticed yesterday, just as we came forward here, a couple of enormous alligators. In all likelihood, there are scores of them.”
“Then I say, stop where we are for the present,” said Arend. “Alligators are always hungry, and I don’t relish to be eaten by them.”
“I am not yet so hungry as to leave my roer behind me; therefore, I second your proposal,” said Groot Willem.
It was carried nemini dissentiente. They did stay where they were, but not very patiently. The sun ascended high into the heavens. Its beams seemed to have their focus on the spot where they were standing. They never remembered having experienced a day so hot, or one on which all felt so hungry. Hendrik and Arend became nearly frantic with the heat and the hunger, though Groot Willem still preserved a remnant of calmness.
“I wonder if that elephant is watching for us yet?” said he. “If so, he is what Swartboy calls Congo, – an ’ole fool! I’m sorry we can’t oblige him by paying him a visit, and rewarding him for his prolonged vigil.”
Willem’s attempt at being witty was intended to cheer his disconsolate companions. But it was a sad failure. Neither could reply to it even by a smile.
Chapter Twenty Two.
A Separation
All day long did they stay on the islet of stone. They were no longer apprehensive of being swept away by the flood. They saw that it had reached its highest, but its subsidence had not yet commenced.
The sun was already in the zenith, hotter than ever, literally roasting them upon the rock. The situation was intolerable.
“Shall we have to stay here another night?” impatiently asked Hendrik.
“It looks deuced like it,” answered Willem.
“And to-morrow, what shall we do then?” inquired Arend. “There may be no better chance of getting off than there is now.”
“That is true,” said Willem. “We must think of some way of getting out of this disagreeable prison. Can any of you think of a plan?”
“I have a proposal to make,” said Hendrik. “Let one of us take to the water and look down stream for a landing-place. If he succeeds in reaching the bank in safety, he could come up again, and by swinging out one of those long climbing plants we see hanging to the trees, there would be some chance of the other two catching it. By that means we may get off.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” rejoined Arend; “but which of us is to run the risk of the swim. For my part, I’m quite willing to incur it.”
“There is certainly great danger,” said Hendrik; “but there is also danger of starvation if we stay here.”
“Quite true,” rejoined Arend. “But for my part, I would rather feed a crocodile than die of hunger myself. So I’m willing to risk the swim. If you don’t see me on the bank in three or four hours you may conclude that either the crocodiles have eaten me, or that I’ve been shattered among the rocks.”
The others would not listen to Arend’s self-sacrificing proposal; and for a time, it was debated among them, as to who should run the risk, each protesting what under other circumstances he would scarce have done, – that he was a better swimmer than either of the other two.
As each insisted on taking the peril upon himself, – and none of them would yield the point, a proposal was made to cast lots.
This was done; and Hendrik, the suggester of the plan, was the one chosen by fate to carry it into execution.
“I am glad of it,” said he, after the thing had been decided. “It is but just that I should be permitted to carry out my own proposal. So here goes!”
Hastily undressing himself, he shook hands with Arend and Willem, dropped into the flood, and was away with the rapidity of an arrow.
Anxiously the others gazed after him; but in less than three minutes, he was no longer under their eyes, the rough rapid current having carried him clean out of sight.
Two hours passed, which were spent by Arend and Groot Willem in, a state of anxious suspense. Two hours more and it became terrible.
“Night is fast approaching,” remarked Arend. “If Hendrik does not return before night, I shall swim after him.”
“Yes, we may as well, while we have the strength to do it,” answered Willem. “If you go, so will I. We shall start together. How long do you think we should wait?”
“Not much longer. Certainly within a mile, he ought to have found a place where he could land. That distance he must soon have made, at the rate he was travelling when he left us. He should return soon now, or never.”
Another hour passed and still no signs of Hendrik.
“Remain you, Willem,” proposed Arend, “and let me go alone.”
“No,” replied the great hunter; “we go together. I once thought that I should never abandon my gun as long as I lived; but it must be. We must not stay here any longer. I grow weaker every hour.”
The two were taking off their boots and preparing to enter the water, when their ears were saluted by the sound of a familiar voice.
Congo was seen upon horseback on the bank of the river, just opposite the rock.
“Nebber fear, baas Willem,” shouted he. “I come back by-’m-by.”
As he said this, he galloped away. The loud roar of an elephant proclaiming the cause of his sudden departure.
“O heavens!” exclaimed Arend. “How much longer must we stay here?”
“Until to-morrow, I expect,” answered Willem. “Congo cannot return to the camp and be back before to-morrow.”
“But do you think he will go off without trying to assist us?”
“Yes. What can he do alone? Nothing. He knows that, and has gone for help. Of himself, he could not kill the elephant; and even if it was not there, he could do nothing to get us off the rock.”
“The distance to the bank must be about twenty yards. Of course there is a way by which we may be got ashore; but it will require a rope. The climbing plants would do, but Congo has not noticed them. I believe that he understood at a glance the difficulties to be overcome, and has gone to the camp for assistance.”
“I hope so,” replied Arend, “and, if such be the case, we need not fear for ourselves. We have now only to endure the annoyance of waiting. My only anxiety is for Hendrik.”
Willem made no reply, but by his silence Arend could perceive that he had but little hope of ever seeing Hendrik gain.
Slowly the sun went down and the night once more descended over the rolling river. Their anxiety would not allow them to sleep, even had they not been hindered by hunger. Of water they had a plentiful supply, – too much of it, – although this was not obtained without some difficulty, as they had to dip it up in one of their powder-flasks, emptied for the purpose.
Another morning dawned, and the sun made his appearance, – again red and fiery, – his beams becoming fiercer as he ascended the cloudless sky.
They had but a few hours more to wait until they might expect the return of the Kaffir; but would he surely come? They knew that travelling in Africa was a very uncertain business. Their present position was proof that some accident might occur to hinder him from reaching the camp.
By this time they were almost certain that some serious misfortune, perhaps death itself, had befallen Hendrik.
As if to confirm them in this belief, just then three large crocodiles were seen swimming around the rock, lingering there, as though they expected ere long to get their sharp teeth into the flesh of those who stood upon it.
The great hunter became angered at the sight. It suggested the probable fate of their companion, as it might, in time, be their own. He seized hold of his roer, and, drawing the damp charge, freshly loaded the gun. Aiming at the eye of one of the hideous monsters, he pulled trigger.
The loud report was followed by a heavy plunging in the water, and the behaviour of the crocodile gave evidence of the correctness of the hunter’s aim.
After springing bodily above the surface, it fell back again, and commenced spinning around, with a velocity that threw showers of spray over those, who stood watching its death-struggles.
Its two companions retreated down the river, and, as the brothers saw them depart, the thoughts of both were dwelling upon the same subject.
Both were thinking of Hendrik! We also must go down stream, and see what has become of him.
