Big Game Shooting, volume 1 (of 2)Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
General
Big Game Shooting, volume 1 (of 2)
Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
Game and game-birds; Hunting
As we break into the open again, what do I see? The Lake! Can it be
that I am the first to catch a glimpse of it? We had voted it mean
to stand upon an ant-heap for the chance of a first view, and here
was I engaged on a work of love for the public weal. I was the happy
discoverer, and under ‘creditable circumstances.’ As far as the eye
could reach, without limit rippled the bright blue water. Up went my
old wide-awake, and I shouted for joy; down went the old lady on her
knees begging for dear life: she feared the hour of sacrifice had
struck. The Kafirs who were with me looked astonished, and thought I
had gone mad. ‘What is it; what is it, Tlaga?’ ‘The Lake!’ I replied.
‘Where?’ ‘Here--under our feet--close by.’ ‘Why, that’s only a chooi!’
and so it was. The low sun cast a slanting beam over the incrustations
of salt, and they looked like ripples--indeed, a moment before I would
have sworn it was water. The bush-woman showed us the usual spring by
the side of the pan, and we got water enough for the cattle; she was
bountifully rewarded, but she bolted during the night.
As the waggons came up I watched to see if Livingstone would make the
same mistake as I; but one of the Kafirs had told him the story before,
so he posed as Solomon and I was chaffed. The Lake was still 200
miles distant. These choois are remarkable features in South African
lands. This one was fifteen miles long by, say, about four broad; one
to the immediate north was much larger. The wild animals visit them as
‘licks,’ and the Kafirs get their salt from them.
In 1850 I hoped to bring a boat, but found it impossible to carry it
through the drought and heat, and launch it in serviceable condition on
the inland waters. The Doctor and I had arranged to start together, but
he had already left Kolobeng a month when I arrived, Mrs. Livingstone
with him. There was no chance of overtaking him this time, so I decided
upon getting on to the Zouga, the river running out of Lake ’Ngami,
and having a quiet shoot by myself. This was our second journey across
the Bakalahari, and knowing the waters, we made our arrangements
accordingly, crossed without much trouble, and reached our destination.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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