The War of the Axe; Or, Adventures in South Africa by J. Percy Groves
incredible exertions we succeeded in keeping the batteredship afloat, and the sea having gone down we were able to discover andstop the leak. We then got a spare try-sail up on the stump of theforemast, and put the barque before the wind.
"Rest was now absolutely necessary, for we had been working unceasinglyfor the last thirty-six hours. The second mate begged that I would takethe first spell, whilst he kept watch; as he appeared the fresher of thetwo, I consented, and retiring to my cabin was soon fast asleep. When Iawoke and returned on deck I found that my cowardly crew had desertedthe ship, in the only boat that was seaworthy, leaving me and my poorchildren to perish.
"But a merciful Providence watched over our safety. After drifting forthree or four days the barque ran on a rock, off the island where youdiscovered us, and as it was quite calm at the time we succeeded ingetting ashore without much difficulty. A week later the poor old_Sea-mew_ was broken up by a gale, but after she went to pieces wemanaged to secure some casks of provisions, and several useful articles.I also saved the ship's papers, and other private documents ofimportance. On exploring the island we found that it was not altogetherbare of vegetation, and that it was inhabited by a small herd of verylean goats--whose progenitors had probably been left there by thebenevolent captain of some passing vessel, for the benefit of anypersons who, like ourselves, might be cast ashore; there were alsohundreds of sea-birds, and a plentiful supply of good water; so thatthere was no fear of our perishing of hunger or thirst. Of clothes, wehad only those we stood up in, and when they wore out, we replaced themwith goatskins.
"I will not weary you with an account of our life on the island; as youmay well imagine, the time hung heavily on our hands, though we did allwe could to lessen the monotony of our existence, but at times we feltvery down-hearted; still we never quite lost hope that, some day orother, a vessel might come within hail, and take us off.
"At length, after thirteen months of solitude and privation, that hopewas realised--when a kind Providence sent the _Surat Castle_ to rescueus from our desert home and restored us to the society of ourfellow-creatures."
"Well!" exclaimed Captain Ladds when Weston finished his narrative; "youcertainly have had a run of ill-luck! Let us hope that brighter daysare in store for you. The tide must turn at last, you know; and youshall not want friends to help you to retrieve your fortunes."
"No, indeed!" cried Master Tom impulsively. "If the _pater_ don't standby you, I'm jolly well mistaken. You must come to Rustenburg untilsomething turns up. But I say, Mr Weston," he went on; "you've hadabout enough of the sea! I'd try my luck on `terra firma' now, if Iwere you!"
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Tom," Mr Weston replied; "and I mightdo worse than settle down in Cape Colony. The anxieties and dangers ofmy last voyage have rather sickened me, and if there is a suitable berthto be found on shore, I don't think I shall be tempted to go afloatagain."
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE--TABLE BAY--"DOTH NOT A MEETING LIKE THIS, MAKEAMENDS!"
"The perils and the dangers of the voyage are past, And the barque has arrived at--at--at Cape Town at last; The sails are furled, and the anchor's cast, And the happiest of the--"
"Passengers is Master Thomas Flinders!" laughed Captain Ladds,interrupting our hero, who was giving utterance to his joyful feelingsby trolling forth the above verse with, it must be confessed, moreenergy than harmony. "Yes, Tom, my son," he continued, "here we aresafe in old Table Bay; and there's the port-captain's boat putting offfrom the quay. You'll be at Rustenburg in time for `tiffin.' MrRogerson, see that the accommodation ladder is ready; Captain Morrisonis coming off."
It was a most glorious morning when the _Surat Castle_ ran into TableBay, and brought up off the old wooden quay, which half a century agoserved as the principal landing-place at Cape Town; for the splendidAlexandra Docks, affording ample accommodation for the three-thousandtonners of the Union Company, and Donald Currie's Royal Mail Lines, werenot yet designed; the South African metropolis being in a chrysalis sortof condition, and not having reached any great degree of commercialprosperity--though it was a favourite resort of invalided Anglo-Indians,who found it a very pleasant place in which to spend a few months' sickleave, after broiling in the "gorgeous east" for the best part of theirlives.
Tears of pleasure dimmed Tom's eyes at the sight of home (for home ishome, whether we live within the sound of "Bow Bells" or at theAntipodes) and the thought of meeting his parents and sisters after afive years' separation.
How familiar was the scene upon which he gazed.
There was the old Dutch city, situated on a plain rising by a gentleascent to the base of the far-famed Table Mountain--the heights ofwhich, viewed from the sea, bear some resemblance to the ruined walls ofa Titanic fortress. There was the quaint castle with its broad fosseand regular outworks, and Forts Knokke and Craig defending the shore tothe east of the city; whilst westward of the principal landing-place--overlooked by the saddle-back hill, terminated at one extremity by the"Lion's Head," and at the other by the "Lion's Rump"--stood thefortifications known as the Rogge, Amsterdam, and Chavonne batteries,all of which commanded the anchorage and entrance to Table Bay, withtheir "thirty-twos" and formidable 68-pounders.
"The old place looks just the same as it did five years ago," said Tomto himself as he leaned over the bulwarks, gazing landwards. "No changethat I can see."
In these go-ahead, high-pressure days, if we leave a town for any lengthof time it is hardly recognisable when we return: villas, "genteelresidences," "emporiums," and hotels, the handiwork of Mr Jerry thespeculative builder, cover the green fields where we were wont to playcricket and football; and even churches, chapels, and publicinstitutions appear to have sprung up with mushroom-like rapidity. Butfifty years ago things were very different--both in England and CapeColony; people thought twice before they meddled with "bricks andmortar," remembering the good old saw--"Fools build houses for wise mento live in." Had our young friend left his native land in 1880 andreturned in 1885, he would have opened his eyes with astonishment. Thegood citizens of Cape Town have manifested a wonderful "go-ahead" spiritof late! But Tom's eyes are no longer scanning the shore, for he iseagerly watching the port-captain's boat, as, manned by six stalwartKroomen, it approaches the barque. "Tom," says Mr Weston, "I haven'tseen my old friend Matthew Flinders for nearly a quarter of a century,but if he is not--halloa! where's the lad got to?"
Tom had recognised the dear old _pater_ seated beside the port-captain,and as the boat pulled alongside he rushed down the accommodation ladderso as to be the first to welcome him.
First greetings over, and the usual anxious questions answered, Tomthought of the Westons, and informed his father of their presence onboard the barque; at the same time he briefly related the circumstancesthat led to their being there. The lad had set his heart upon havinghis new friends at Rustenburg, at any rate for the present; and he wasnot doomed to disappointment. Major Flinders at once hastened to meethis former school-fellow, and right cordially did he welcome him.
"I don't forget," said he, "that it was Maurice Weston who risked hislife to save mine, when we were youngsters together at Jamaica! But foryou, Maurice, I should certainly have become the food for `Port RoyalTom.' Now, remember, no roof but mine shelters you and yours even for asingle night!--not a word, my dear old friend, not a word! If you had ascore of children, my wife and I would welcome them for their father'ssake. Please, say no more. Tom, my boy, get your traps together assharp as you can, and then we'll go ashore."
Three hours later, Mr Weston, Grace, and George were seated in afour-horse Cape cart, with Tom and the Major, spinning along the Wynbergroad at a good fourteen miles an hour, _en route_ for Rustenburg Farm.
CHAPTER SIX.
TOM FLINDERS' HOME--"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED!"--ANEXPEDITION PROPOSED.
Five miles from Cape Town, on the Wynberg and Simon's Town road, liesthe picturesque, wood-girt village of Rondebosch. The ground in re
ar ofthis village is beautifully timbered, and rises with a more or lessgradual ascent, towards a mountain range extending from Table Bay toMuissenburg; an old fort and military station about two-and-a-halfleagues from Simon's Town; and upon one of the rocky spurs of thisrange, overlooking Rondebosch, there used to stand an ancient Dutchblock-house, from the summit of which a splendid view of the surroundingcountry, and "veldt," stretching far away to the foot of theStellenbosch Hills, could be obtained, on a fair, clear day.
Between the "Block-house Hill"--as it was then called--and the villageof Rondebosch lay Major Flinders'
"Rest was now absolutely necessary, for we had been working unceasinglyfor the last thirty-six hours. The second mate begged that I would takethe first spell, whilst he kept watch; as he appeared the fresher of thetwo, I consented, and retiring to my cabin was soon fast asleep. When Iawoke and returned on deck I found that my cowardly crew had desertedthe ship, in the only boat that was seaworthy, leaving me and my poorchildren to perish.
"But a merciful Providence watched over our safety. After drifting forthree or four days the barque ran on a rock, off the island where youdiscovered us, and as it was quite calm at the time we succeeded ingetting ashore without much difficulty. A week later the poor old_Sea-mew_ was broken up by a gale, but after she went to pieces wemanaged to secure some casks of provisions, and several useful articles.I also saved the ship's papers, and other private documents ofimportance. On exploring the island we found that it was not altogetherbare of vegetation, and that it was inhabited by a small herd of verylean goats--whose progenitors had probably been left there by thebenevolent captain of some passing vessel, for the benefit of anypersons who, like ourselves, might be cast ashore; there were alsohundreds of sea-birds, and a plentiful supply of good water; so thatthere was no fear of our perishing of hunger or thirst. Of clothes, wehad only those we stood up in, and when they wore out, we replaced themwith goatskins.
"I will not weary you with an account of our life on the island; as youmay well imagine, the time hung heavily on our hands, though we did allwe could to lessen the monotony of our existence, but at times we feltvery down-hearted; still we never quite lost hope that, some day orother, a vessel might come within hail, and take us off.
"At length, after thirteen months of solitude and privation, that hopewas realised--when a kind Providence sent the _Surat Castle_ to rescueus from our desert home and restored us to the society of ourfellow-creatures."
"Well!" exclaimed Captain Ladds when Weston finished his narrative; "youcertainly have had a run of ill-luck! Let us hope that brighter daysare in store for you. The tide must turn at last, you know; and youshall not want friends to help you to retrieve your fortunes."
"No, indeed!" cried Master Tom impulsively. "If the _pater_ don't standby you, I'm jolly well mistaken. You must come to Rustenburg untilsomething turns up. But I say, Mr Weston," he went on; "you've hadabout enough of the sea! I'd try my luck on `terra firma' now, if Iwere you!"
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Tom," Mr Weston replied; "and I mightdo worse than settle down in Cape Colony. The anxieties and dangers ofmy last voyage have rather sickened me, and if there is a suitable berthto be found on shore, I don't think I shall be tempted to go afloatagain."
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE--TABLE BAY--"DOTH NOT A MEETING LIKE THIS, MAKEAMENDS!"
"The perils and the dangers of the voyage are past, And the barque has arrived at--at--at Cape Town at last; The sails are furled, and the anchor's cast, And the happiest of the--"
"Passengers is Master Thomas Flinders!" laughed Captain Ladds,interrupting our hero, who was giving utterance to his joyful feelingsby trolling forth the above verse with, it must be confessed, moreenergy than harmony. "Yes, Tom, my son," he continued, "here we aresafe in old Table Bay; and there's the port-captain's boat putting offfrom the quay. You'll be at Rustenburg in time for `tiffin.' MrRogerson, see that the accommodation ladder is ready; Captain Morrisonis coming off."
It was a most glorious morning when the _Surat Castle_ ran into TableBay, and brought up off the old wooden quay, which half a century agoserved as the principal landing-place at Cape Town; for the splendidAlexandra Docks, affording ample accommodation for the three-thousandtonners of the Union Company, and Donald Currie's Royal Mail Lines, werenot yet designed; the South African metropolis being in a chrysalis sortof condition, and not having reached any great degree of commercialprosperity--though it was a favourite resort of invalided Anglo-Indians,who found it a very pleasant place in which to spend a few months' sickleave, after broiling in the "gorgeous east" for the best part of theirlives.
Tears of pleasure dimmed Tom's eyes at the sight of home (for home ishome, whether we live within the sound of "Bow Bells" or at theAntipodes) and the thought of meeting his parents and sisters after afive years' separation.
How familiar was the scene upon which he gazed.
There was the old Dutch city, situated on a plain rising by a gentleascent to the base of the far-famed Table Mountain--the heights ofwhich, viewed from the sea, bear some resemblance to the ruined walls ofa Titanic fortress. There was the quaint castle with its broad fosseand regular outworks, and Forts Knokke and Craig defending the shore tothe east of the city; whilst westward of the principal landing-place--overlooked by the saddle-back hill, terminated at one extremity by the"Lion's Head," and at the other by the "Lion's Rump"--stood thefortifications known as the Rogge, Amsterdam, and Chavonne batteries,all of which commanded the anchorage and entrance to Table Bay, withtheir "thirty-twos" and formidable 68-pounders.
"The old place looks just the same as it did five years ago," said Tomto himself as he leaned over the bulwarks, gazing landwards. "No changethat I can see."
In these go-ahead, high-pressure days, if we leave a town for any lengthof time it is hardly recognisable when we return: villas, "genteelresidences," "emporiums," and hotels, the handiwork of Mr Jerry thespeculative builder, cover the green fields where we were wont to playcricket and football; and even churches, chapels, and publicinstitutions appear to have sprung up with mushroom-like rapidity. Butfifty years ago things were very different--both in England and CapeColony; people thought twice before they meddled with "bricks andmortar," remembering the good old saw--"Fools build houses for wise mento live in." Had our young friend left his native land in 1880 andreturned in 1885, he would have opened his eyes with astonishment. Thegood citizens of Cape Town have manifested a wonderful "go-ahead" spiritof late! But Tom's eyes are no longer scanning the shore, for he iseagerly watching the port-captain's boat, as, manned by six stalwartKroomen, it approaches the barque. "Tom," says Mr Weston, "I haven'tseen my old friend Matthew Flinders for nearly a quarter of a century,but if he is not--halloa! where's the lad got to?"
Tom had recognised the dear old _pater_ seated beside the port-captain,and as the boat pulled alongside he rushed down the accommodation ladderso as to be the first to welcome him.
First greetings over, and the usual anxious questions answered, Tomthought of the Westons, and informed his father of their presence onboard the barque; at the same time he briefly related the circumstancesthat led to their being there. The lad had set his heart upon havinghis new friends at Rustenburg, at any rate for the present; and he wasnot doomed to disappointment. Major Flinders at once hastened to meethis former school-fellow, and right cordially did he welcome him.
"I don't forget," said he, "that it was Maurice Weston who risked hislife to save mine, when we were youngsters together at Jamaica! But foryou, Maurice, I should certainly have become the food for `Port RoyalTom.' Now, remember, no roof but mine shelters you and yours even for asingle night!--not a word, my dear old friend, not a word! If you had ascore of children, my wife and I would welcome them for their father'ssake. Please, say no more. Tom, my boy, get your traps together assharp as you can, and then we'll go ashore."
Three hours later, Mr Weston, Grace, and George were seated in afour-horse Cape cart, with Tom and the Major, spinning along the Wynbergroad at a good fourteen miles an hour, _en route_ for Rustenburg Farm.
CHAPTER SIX.
TOM FLINDERS' HOME--"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED!"--ANEXPEDITION PROPOSED.
Five miles from Cape Town, on the Wynberg and Simon's Town road, liesthe picturesque, wood-girt village of Rondebosch. The ground in re
Between the "Block-house Hill"--as it was then called--and the villageof Rondebosch lay Major Flinders'