Robert Moffat | Page 9

said the
farmer, "hardened your hammer to deal my head such a blow? I'll never
object to the preaching of the Gospel to Hottentots again."
After a toilsome march, during which Mr. Kitchingman and Moffat

took it in turn to drive the cattle, losing some through the hyenas by the
way, they reached Bysondermeid, to which station Mr. and Mrs.
Kitchingman had been appointed. There Robert stayed one month,
receiving much useful information from Mr. Schmelen, the missionary
whom Mr. Kitchingman had come to replace, he having been ordered
to Great Namaqualand, where he had laboured before.
At length, his oxen being rested, Robert Moffat bade adieu to Mr. and
Mrs. Kitchingman, whose friendship he much valued, and with a guide
and drivers for the oxen started onward. Their way led through a
comparatively trackless desert, and they travelled nearly the whole
night through deep sand. Those were not the days of railway trains, and
travelling had to be undertaken in cumbrous, springless
bullock-waggons, several spare oxen being taken to provide for losses
and casualties. Towards morning the oxen were so exhausted that they
began to lie down in the yoke from fatigue, compelling a halt before
water had been reached. The journey was resumed the next day, but
still no water could be found.
As it appeared probable that if they continued in the same direction,
they would perish through thirst, they altered their course to the
northward, but the experiences were as bad as before. At night they lay
down exhausted and suffering extremely from thirst, and the next
morning rose at an early hour to find the oxen incapable of moving the
waggon a step farther. Taking them and a spade to a neighbouring
mountain, a large hole was dug in the sand, and at last a scanty supply
of water was obtained. This resembled the old bilge-water of a ship for
foulness, but both men and oxen drank of it with avidity.
[Illustration: WAGGON TRAVELLING IN SOUTH AFRICA.]
In the evening, when about to yoke the oxen to the waggon, it was
found that most of them had run off towards Bysondermeid. No time
was to be lost, so Moffat instantly sent off the remaining oxen with two
men to solicit assistance from Mr. Bartlett at Pella, while he remained
behind with his goods. "Three days," said he afterwards, "I remained
with my waggon-driver on this burning plain, with scarcely a breath of
wind, and what there was felt as if coming from the mouth of an oven.

We had only tufts of dry grass to make a small fire or rather flame; and
little was needed as we had scarcely any food to prepare. We saw no
human being, not a single antelope or beast of prey made its appearance,
but in the dead of night we sometimes heard the roar of the lion on the
mountain. At last when we were beginning to fear that the men had
either perished or wandered, Mr. Bartlett arrived on horseback, with
two men having a quantity of mutton tied to their saddles. I cannot
conceive of an epicure gazing on a table groaning under the weight of
viands, with half the delight that I did on the mutton."
[Illustration]
Fresh oxen, accustomed to deep sand, conveyed the weary travellers to
Pella, where Moffat remained a few days, being greatly invigorated in
mind and body by the Christian kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett and
the friendly attentions of the heathen converts.
Starting again, he came to the Orange River, crossing which was
generally a work of difficulty at that time. The native teacher from
Warm Bath, who had come to Pella to conduct Moffat to his village,
led the missionary to a ford opposite to that place. The waggon and its
contents were swam over on a fragile raft of dry willow logs--a
laborious and tedious operation, the raft having to be taken to pieces
after each journey, and the separate logs conveyed back again by
swimmers. All the goods being over, Robert was asked to place himself
upon the raft. Not altogether liking its appearance, and also wishing to
save the natives trouble, he took off his clothes and, leaving them to be
conveyed across, plunged into the stream. The natives were afraid as
they saw him approach the middle of the current, and some of their
most expert swimmers sprang in to overtake him, but in vain. When he
emerged on the northern bank, one of them came up out of breath and
said, "Were you born in the great sea water?"
Robert Moffat reached Africaner's kraal on the 26th of January, 1818,
and was kindly received by Mr. Ebner. The chief soon made his
appearance, and inquired if the new missionary had been appointed by
the