The narrative of an explorer in tropical South AfricaGalton, Francis
History
The narrative of an explorer in tropical South Africa
Galton, Francis
South Africa -- Description and travel
daughter, the greatest belle among the blacks that I had ever seen, and
a most thorough-paced coquette. Her main piece of finery, and one that
she flirted about in a most captivating manner, was a shell of the size
of a penny-piece. She had fastened it to the end of a lock of front
hair, which was of such a length as to permit the shell to dangle to the
precise level of her eyes. She had learnt to move her head with so great
precision as to throw the shell exactly over whichever eye she pleased,
and the lady’s winning grace consisted in this feat of bo-peep, first
eclipsing one eye and languishing out of the other, and then with an
elegant toss of the head reversing the proceedings.
Her papa would sell me no oxen nor sheep; he insisted that he had none,
though the place was full of tracks. But these people are very cunning to
strangers, lest the stranger should think proper to steal their cattle. I
very much regretted that I had not a good interpreter, as I had taken a
fancy to the chief, and should have liked to have had a long conversation
with him. He was not paramount over the mountain, but there were one or
two more captains. Indeed, he assured me he could not give me guides
over the hill, as his men dare not travel about it. I was obliged to
return, for I had my time limited in many ways; else I should have liked
to have fully explored the place. The fever that was on me increased
hourly, and I was anxious to return. The night was bitterly cold, but
I curled myself in my thin plaid round the fire, and got through the
long hours somehow or other. The chief and I interchanged presents; we
bought a few goats, and returned as we came. The rocky slabs looked more
dangerous and slippery than ever, but no accident occurred. The next
evening we slept at the werft, where Gabriel had distinguished himself. I
felt wandering, and was delirious during most of the night, but could sit
on ox-back well enough the next day—it was Christmas day, but I dared not
stop to do it honour. We rode on five hours. Hans shot four zebras. The
Damaras gave us milk in exchange for their meat, and that was our dinner.
The next night I was again ill, but less so than before; and the ensuing
day I rode through to Otjimbinguè: the distance between it and Erongo is
about twenty hours’ travel. The result of my journey was, that I bought
twenty-five oxen and thirty or forty sheep (four common guns had been
bartered for twenty oxen), which was a material addition to my stock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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