Seven Legs Across the Seas: A Printer's Impressions of Many Lands
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Title: Seven Legs Across the Seas: A Printer's Impressions of Many Lands
Author: Samuel Murray
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVEN LEGS ACROSS THE SEAS: A PRINTER'S IMPRESSIONS OF MANY LANDS ***
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
[Illustration: TOWERING PALMS OF RIO.
RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL.
See page 22.]
SEVEN LEGS
ACROSS THE SEAS
_A PRINTER'S IMPRESSIONS
OF MANY LANDS_
BY
SAMUEL MURRAY
Author of "From Clime to Clime"
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1918
Copyright, 1918, by
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
_Published, February, 1918_
INTRODUCTORY
I was early aboard the fastest ship that ever foamed the seas. Later,
a long, strong whistle blast blew--the signal for starting--and soon
she headed southward, the great vessel traveling through New York
harbor to Sandy Hook as noiselessly as a bobsleigh drawn through two
feet of unpacked snow.
I had secured a second class ticket to Buenos Aires, Argentina, by way
of England, this marking the first of several legs of the world over
which I had planned to travel. Thirteen hundred and fifty dollars,
representing years of economical living, was the sum deemed as
necessary to accomplish what I had purposed doing. By trade I am a
printer and linotype operator.
In earlier years money for traveling expenses was of little concern,
for the fascination that accompanies prowling about freight trains
seeking an empty box car, or the open end door of a loaded one in
which to steal a ride, or of turning one's back to the tender of a
locomotive to protect the eyes from hot cinders coming from a snorting
passenger engine while standing on the draughty platform of a "blind"
baggage car--one without end doors--the train at the same time
traveling at a speed of from 45 to 50 miles an hour--the "cinder days"
during the catch-as-catch-can periods of traveling through coastwise
tracts of country, across unbroken prairie stretches and over mountain
fastnesses, are pleasant ones to recall, not forgetting the hungry,
cold and wet spells that all men meet with who are enticed by the
gritty allurements to beat their way about the country on railroad
trains.
Since Benjamin Franklin's day it has been a custom with printers to
travel from place to place, and, as some of the devotees of the "art
preservative of all arts" had covered large territories of the world
from time to time, I wished to be numbered among those at the top of
the list. A union printer has little trouble in getting work in the
United States, by reason of the large Sunday newspaper editions
requiring extra men during the latter part of the week, and by
vacancies taking place through the "moving spirit" of the workers,
which has always characterized the printing trade.
This fascination, however, like other diversions of a rough nature,
lost its charm in time, as it proved more comfortable traveling by
passenger trains--inside the coach and sitting on a cushioned
seat--than riding on the platform of a car that was being constantly
pelted with red-hot cinders. I had graduated from the "free-ride"
school.
On a trip through North America I had visited Yosemite Valley and
Mariposa Big Tree Grove, Yellowstone Park, the Grand Canyon of
Arizona, Mexico, Mammoth Cave, Niagara Falls, and the Thousand Islands
after I had enrolled in the "Cushion College."
Later on, having saved $400, a trip to Europe was made, visiting in
that part of the world most of the chief points of interest. I had
gone as far East as Vienna, Austria, when my funds became so low that
two meals a day was all they would allow of, and I resorted to
traveling at night on railroad trains with one compulsory aim in
view--to save lodging money. After I had bought my steamship ticket in
Rome, Italy, for New York, two weeks before the ship was to sail from
Naples, the best I could figure out of the surplus money I would have
at the time of sailing--on a two meals a day basis--was four
francs--eighty cents. My savings for years, in short, had passed over
the office counters of railroad and steamship companies.
As the major portion of my travel was by water, the nautical word Leg
has been chosen as a designating term for the different sections of
the world visited, embracing South American cities, South Africa,
Zululand, and Victoria Falls, in Rhodesia; Australia, New Zealand and
principal South Sea Island groups; then back to Africa and up the East
Coast to Zanzibar and Mombasa; next through British East Africa to and
across Victoria Nyanza into Uganda. Leaving Africa, we sailed over
the Indian Ocean to India, visiting, among other features in that
country, the Himalaya Mountains, and afterwards Ceylon. From Colombo
we traveled eastward to the Straits Settlements, Philippines, China
and Japan, concluding observations at the Hawaiian Islands. The
journey was from New York to New York over the territory briefly
outlined in the foregoing itinerary.
From Sandy Hook we sail for England.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introductory iii-v
LEG ONE
CHAPTER I
Incidents of Ocean Travel--Sights and Scenes in England--
London Railways and Traffic--Public Institutions Contrasted 3
CHAPTER II
Off for South America--Storm in Bay of Biscay--Impressions
of Lisbon, Portugal--Madeira Island--Novel Public Hack--
"Neptuning" Passengers--Crossing the Equator--Southern
Cross 10
CHAPTER III
Brazilian Ports--Rio de Janeiro--Monroe Palace--Towering
Palms of Rio--Uruguay--The River Plate--Characteristics of
the People--Buenos Aires--Off for South Africa 19
LEG TWO
CHAPTER I
A Tramp Ship at Sea--Wonderful Birds--Ashore in South Africa 37
CHAPTER II
Durban--Its Mixed Population--Sanitary and Clean--The Christ
Thorn--Novel Ways of Trapping Monkeys--The Indian Coolie, a
Taxed Ulcer--"Spiking" a Hindu's Tongue--Horned Ricksha
Pullers--Labor in Politics--Harpooning and Cutting up Whales 43
CHAPTER III
Trip to Zululand--Home Life of the Natives--Wives for Cows--
Calling on an Old Printer 74
CHAPTER IV
South African Railway Travel--Scenes of Massacres--
Johannesburg--Transvaal Gold Mines 90
CHAPTER V
Pretoria and the Boers--The Kruger Monument--Puzzling Names 109
CHAPTER VI
On to Mafeking--Interesting Natives and Souvenirs--Sighting
Rhodes' Grave--Rhodesia--Bulawayo--Victoria Falls, a Mile of
Amber-Colored Lace--Falls Compared--Deadly African Fever 115
CHAPTER VII
Kimberley, the Diamond City--Bloemfontein, the Convention
City--Crossing the Dry, Barren Karoo Country--The
Ostrich--Capetown--Climate the Best in South Africa--Table
Mountain 129
LEG THREE
CHAPTER I
Leaving the Baltic Sea for Australia--A White Country--The
Gold Fields--Crossing the Great Australian Bight--
Melbourne--Pensions for Aged--Immigration Encouraged 145
CHAPTER II
Trip to Adelaide--Finest Homes in the World--Kangaroo Called
the Native--Visit to Ballarat 157
CHAPTER III
The Heads--Sydney, Its Noted Harbor--Rural Education on
Wheels 162
CHAPTER IV
Crossing Bass Straits--Tasmania--Hobart--Port Arthur and Its
Prison Walls and Memories 170
LEG FOUR
CHAPTER I
Crossing the Tasman Sea--Last White Settlement--Dunedin, a
Scotch City--Christchurch--Wellington and Its Splendid
Harbor--Pelorus Jack, the Pilot Fish 179
CHAPTER II
To Maoriland--Rotorua--Geyserland--The Maori--Nose-Rubbing--
Auckland--Courteous, Prosperous People 190
CHAPTER III
South Sea Islands--The Fijians--Free Railroad Travel--A
Vegetable Marvel 199
CHAPTER IV
An Ocean Park--Natives of the Samoan Group--No Locked
Doors--The Samoan a Fatalist 208
CHAPTER V
Friendly Islands--Pretty Harbor of Vavau--Customs--A
Striking, Strapping King--Sacred Animals 215
LEG FIVE
CHAPTER I
A "Red Ticket" for South Africa--Eight Weeks' Travel for
Ninety Dollars--Portuguese East Africa--Inhambane, Where
Death Revels--Beira, the "Trolley Town" 225
CHAPTER II
German East Africa--Women in Iron Yokes--Zanzibar--Old Slave
Mart--Cloves Thrive--Tanga 232
CHAPTER III
Mombasa--A Three Years' Residence Limit--In the Big Game
Country--Nature's "Greatest Show on Earth"--Nairobi--Dead
Left to Wild Beasts 240
CHAPTER IV
Naked Natives--Victoria Nyanza--Bubonic Flea--Uganda--
African "Freight Train"--Sleeping Sickness--Deadly Tsetse
Fly--Beautiful Entebbe--The Rubber Country--Ant Eaters--
Kampala--Jinja and Ripon Falls--River Nile 250
LEG SIX
CHAPTER I
Off for India--Ship Doctor Hunting for Jiggers--
Seychelles--Bombay--The Parsi--Towers of Silence--
Handsomest Railway Station 265
CHAPTER II
In Baroda--Sacred Monkeys--Ahmedabad--Birds, Animals and
Insects Worshiped--Agra--The Taj Mahal--Plural Wives--Delhi,
Rebuilding--Elephant "Rocks" the Cradle 278
CHAPTER III
Aligarh--Novel Water Carrier--Cawnpore--The Massacre
Well--Lucknow--Benares--Hindu Gods--Monkey Temple--Bathing
Ghats--Sarnath and Its Temple Ruins 292
CHAPTER IV
Himalayas--Magnificent Views--Kinchinjanga, the
Giant--Darjeeling--Mountain Tribes 306
CHAPTER V
Calcutta--Memories of "The Black Hole"--Blood Offerings--A
Mecca for Hindu Widows Who Bathe--Madras--First
Christian Church in India 316
CHAPTER VI
Colombo--Ceylon--Cinnamon Tree Industry--Trotting Bullocks
Afford Rapid Transit--Kandy--Buddha's Tooth--Elephants in
Trucking--Nutmeg Trees 327
LEG SEVEN
CHAPTER I
Nine Weeks to the Orient--Singapore--Malay States Rubber
Mad--Straits Settlements--Hogs in Baskets--Chinamen in Motor
Cars--A "Dutch" Wife--Off to Hongkong--A Horseless
Town--Mountain Travel 335
CHAPTER II
Canton--Chinese Pirates--Lost Within the City Walls--City of
the Dead--"Feeding" the Dead--Quaint Home Customs--Chinese
Industrious--No Waste Land 347
CHAPTER III
Manila--Poor Water, Whisky Plentiful--Consumption--Squirrel
Nest Homes--Chinese Opium Smugglers--Evicting the Dead--No
Vault Rent, No Resting Place--The Manila Wall 354
CHAPTER IV
Shanghai--Professional Weepers--Family Feeding by
Contract--Wheelbarrow Transit--The Bund--Leaving Wusung for
Japan--Japanese Girls Coaling Ship 362
CHAPTER V
The Inland Sea--Kobe--The Jap's Home--Street Cars and
Rickshas in Competition--Men, Women and Children in
Harness--Income Tax on Labor--Kyoto Paper Houses--Kyoto
Temples--Yokohama--Kamakura--The Daibutsu Bronze Giant 371
CHAPTER VI
Tokyo--Mikado's Palace--Asakusa Temple--Geisha Women--
Hari-Kiri--Black Teeth--Nikko, Its Temples--Funeral
Festivals 383
CHAPTER VII
To Honolulu, Hawaii--Recrossing the 180th Meridian--Cheap
Ice and Bananas--"Don't Spit" Signs--Sugar Cane--The Prize
"Black Maria" of the World--Education--Natives Seek Easy
Jobs--Home of the Last Queen--Hilo--To Kilauea Crater--The
Volcano in Action--An Appalling Scene 394
Itinerary 405
Map.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Towering Palms of Rio. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. (See
page 22) _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
Southern Cross. (See page 17.) 16
Plaza de Mayo (top) and Avenida de Mayo (bottom).
Buenos Aires, Argentine 30
Jim Fish Was the Swiftest Puller that Ever Wore a
Brace of Horns. Durban, South Africa. (See page
61) 60
Zulus "Scoffing" Mealy Meal. Zululand, South Africa 78
Native Huts and Kafir Corn (top); African Transport
(bottom). South Africa 96
Victoria Falls, Rhodesia. (See page 122) 122
Parliament House, Melbourne (top), and Victoria Markets,
Sydney, Australia (bottom) 162
Maori Women Cooking by Boiling Springs (right).
(See page 193.) Maori Women's Salute--Rubbing
Noses and Shaking Hands (left). New Zealand.
(See page 195) 194
Interior of Samoan Home, Built of Breadfruit Tree, Secured
by Coir; No Nails Used. Samoa. (See page 213) 212
Vigil on the Veld (top), British East Africa; "Trolley"
Pushers (bottom), Beira, Portuguese East Africa.
(See page 230.) 248
Parsi (right), Bombay, India. (See page 271.) Bhisti
(Water-Carrier) (left). India. (See page 293.) 270
Types of Indian Soldiers. The Goorkha (right). (See
page 311.) The Sikh (left). (See page 311.) 290
Mount Kinchinjanga (Himalayas). Center Peak in
Circle, Mount Everest. Darjeeling, India. (Photo,
Burlington) 312
Small Colony of Half a Million Sampan Dwellers of
Pearl River; These Water Homes Save House Rent.
Canton, China. (See page 351.) 352
Panorama of Honolulu, Hawaii 398
LEG ONE
SEVEN LEGS ACROSS THE SEAS
CHAPTER I
A puzzling phase of ocean travel soon becomes apparent during a
passenger ship's journey to one making his first voyage--sometimes
when a vessel has been at sea not more than a few hours. He is apt to
find himself at a loss to account for the absence of the many persons
who crowded the deck rails of the steamship--chatting, saying good-by
to friends and some bidding a final farewell to their country--before
and immediately after the vessel pulled away from her dock into the
harbor. After a few days, however, the mystery gradually unfolds.
Vacant chairs in the dining saloon become occupied from time to time
as the journey advances; more passengers are taking part in deck
amusements; new faces are seen in the social hall and smoking
saloon--the ship's "family" surely grows. On voyages of from two to
four weeks' duration this feature becomes even more interesting.
Frequently, when the ship has reached the end of the journey, before
which every one would seem to have become used to the sea, "strangers"
will be observed leaving the vessel. One cannot help thinking the ship
has stopped during the night hours and taken on passengers from the
main. This is explained by some voyagers keeping to their cabins from
the time of sailing.
Seasickness is largely responsible for this perplexing phase of water
travel. Women are more affected than men, and the man who will
discover a remedy for seasickness will find his name immortalized.
Many women will travel for weeks on the water so sick they cannot
raise their heads, yet not a complaining word will be uttered by most
of them. This form of bravery seems to be the only comforting thing
that accompanies the sea wreaking out its vengeance on womankind.
Six days after leaving Sandy Hook found us in Liverpool, England.
Passengers disembarked early in the forenoon, who, having heard so
much of England's dull atmosphere, were all surprised to find the sun
shining. The orb was of a vapory appearance, though, which suggested
that perhaps it had been on a sea voyage also, as there was a marked
resemblance between the appearance of the sun and some of the
passengers who had undergone a sick trip across. Most of us boarded a
train for London.
Railway train service in England is fast, the speed on main lines
being from 45 to 50 miles an hour. The passenger coaches are of
compartment design, which are comfortable to ride in when only half
filled, or four persons to a compartment; but when from six to eight
passengers--the latter number being the full seating capacity--occupy
one compartment, travel proves very uncomfortable, as there is no room
to stretch one's legs in any direction, since the passengers sitting
on one side face those seated on the other side. It is a case of knees
to knees. Railroad fare is two and three cents a mile; a higher rate
is charged for hauling freight in England than that prevailing in
America. Food, however, is cheaper than on American trains.
The locomotives are small--some of them not half the tonnage of the
American engine--but the driving wheels reach to the top of the
boiler, which accounts for the high speed schedules of the English
railroads. One misses the ringing of the locomotive bell, as there are
no bells on English engines. Another feature of the English railroads
that seems odd to an American is the small freight cars, which in some
instances are not one-third as large as some of the American cars and
trucks. Trains in England have not the solid appearance of the
American train, for the reason that their wheels are not like the
American wheel, but have spokes, like those of a wheelbarrow. The
convenience a union railway station affords the traveling public,
found in many cities of America, is much missed when visiting the
metropolis of England. Naturally, numerous railways center in London,
and the terminus of each seems to have been located as widely apart
from each other as the boundaries of the city will allow. None of the
stations seen here can favorably compare with those found in the
larger cities of the United States.
The cleanliness of London's streets is the first impression one has of
the premier city of Europe. And how obliging the public conveyance
employees are; and the policemen, also. It is a pleasure to go about
in London, as every one seems willing to answer questions, to point
out to a stranger places of interest, and to make one comfortable in
every sense of the word.
"London traffic," a feature of this city one often hears mentioned, is
accounted for, to a large degree, by the absence of surface car lines
or elevated railroads coursing the streets of London City proper, and
also to the narrowness of many of the main thoroughfares. With such an
immense population, one can infer the great demand placed upon 'buses,
public hacks, taxicabs and private vehicles, which at once suggests
light-tire traffic. Heavy trucks, loaded with all sorts of
merchandise, are not seen in corresponding sections of London as one
finds them in populous American centers. In the subways, or tubes, are
but two tracks, which prohibit, of course, fast travel. On the other
hand, sixteen underground railways intersect the city and suburbs. The
atmosphere of a subway is perhaps a more cosmopolitan phase than any
other of our industrial factors. Were a blind person--one familiar
with our underground railway odors--to sail from New York for Europe,
being ignorant of the presence of subways there, and later, in London
or Paris, find himself at the entrance of a "tube," he would at once
know he was at the approach of a subway by the presence of the smell,
as a similar atmosphere emanates from all of them.
Street car fare is higher for long distances than in most American
cities. Though short distance rides are cheaper, some of the five cent
rides in America would cost fifteen cents in London. Motor 'buses,
which are numerous, go a certain distance for two cents, but the next
"stage" is another two-cent charge, and by the time eight or ten miles
are traveled one will have paid from 10 to 15 cents. Most public
conveyances are double decked. Electric trolley cars are operated
outside of London City proper, and the fare on these is similar to
that charged by the 'buses. One can ride a long distance in a cab for
25 cents, however.
Newspapers here generally have not the attractive nor the prosperous
appearance of those in the United States. Until recently most of the
London dailies sold for two cents, and even more. Periodicals and
books also are more expensive in Great Britain, although the average
wages paid artisans in this industry is about half those paid in
America. Mechanics engaged in other trades received from $11 to $15
weekly, and consequently the British mechanic in America doubles the
salary of his own country, plus other advantages. House rent,
generally paid weekly, runs from $3.50 to $5. Most of the working
people of London live in the suburbs, and are charged but half
price--about 8 cents--for return railway tickets if bought for trains
reaching the city before 8 o'clock in the morning. The government
collects an income tax on all yearly salaries of $600 and over.
It looks strange to American visitors in London to see only boys
engaged in keeping the streets clean. One may not quite agree with the
practice of boys doing that sort of work--for the reason it looks as
if men should be engaged at such employment--but the fact remains the
streets are very clean. The sweepings are not put in cans, as is
customary in some American cities, where they might be tipped over by
mischievous boys, but iron bins are placed in the sidewalk close to
the curb, into which the refuse is emptied. This custom seems much
better than the American system.
Seen drawn about the streets here, close to the curb, is what one
would call a street sprinkler. It is a sprinkler, but the liquid
running from the pipes is a disinfectant, a carbolic acid odor being
noticeable.
The sale of matches by persons who seem to be in needy circumstances,
seen at almost every corner of the business sections of the city,
leads one to think that they must be used even for stove fuel. The
proportion of poorly dressed people is much larger than in American
cities. Any of the homeless who apply for shelter are provided with
sleeping accommodation by the authorities.
The price of food in a similar class of restaurants seemed more
expensive in London than in New York. At a second class hotel where I
stopped the rate was $1.25 for room and breakfast, but heat was not
included. A fireplace in the room contained smoky, bituminous coal,
and to have this lighted cost 25 cents. So with the room, fire and
breakfast, the charge came to $1.50 a day.
Chairs are scattered about the London parks, and an American naturally
thinks seats in public places are free, as in the United States; but
one is not sitting long before a man appears and asks for a "check."
The person resting then learns that it costs two cents to occupy a
chair in these places. The benches, however, are free, but these are
few compared to the number found in American parks. Similar conditions
will be met with in some of the parks of Berlin, and also in Paris,
but the resting places in the French capital are more liberally
supplied with free seats.
Many men may be seen in London wearing a "plug" hat, a sack coat and
trousers turned up to the ankles. Those engaged at clerical employment
usually wear this sort of headgear to the office. Mechanics, also,
boast of a "stove-pipe" in their wardrobes. While the high hat may be
retained by some artisans as a memento of their wedding day, still
many may be seen worn by this class of breadwinner when attending
church services.
No people spend less time in public eating and drinking places than
Americans. In Continental Europe they have their cafés, chairs and
tables inside the buildings and out on the sidewalks and streets, and
these are used to a large extent as offices by patrons, as proprietors
furnish writing paper and ink to customers. In England they have
their tea rooms, where men sit and sip tea and smoke their pipes for
hours. Cake or scones are usually served with tea, an additional
charge being made.
To no people more than Americans have so many heirlooms of memory been
handed down by England. How the serious thought of one is aroused by a
visit to Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's Cathedral; how youthful days
stand before one, so to speak, when a visit is made to London Bridge,
Hyde Park, the Tower, the great British Museum, or to historic places
in and about the city where great Englishmen lived and died.
Hearing so much of the English Parliament building, one is led to
believe that he will see the best legislative structure in the world
when his eyes rest on this historical edifice. He may see in his
mind's eye an imposing structure of white marble or granite built on
an elevated plot of land, as most capitols are, rich with
ornamentation and strikingly imposing. But, on the contrary, the
building, located on the River Thames, is rather mediæval in
appearance. America is far behind some of the European countries in
art galleries, good roads, docks, and splendid cathedrals, but there
are features of the United States which neither Europe nor other
divisions of the world can equal. For instance, no capitol can compare
with the admirable appearance of the United States' legislative
building; in no country will one find such splendid municipal parks as
are found in some American cities. We have not seen Hagenbeck's Zoo in
Hamburg, Germany, but, apart from that city, Bronx Zoo in New York is
foremost of those seen in other cities; the Museum of Natural History
in Gotham is unexcelled; our great bridges are unequaled; the interior
of the Congressional Library in Washington, D. C., will stand
comparison with any, and the inspiring Washington Monument, also
located in the national capital, stands alone when dealing with
campaniles, towers, and pagodas. To the foregoing "prides" of the new
world may be added towering Mariposa Big Tree Grove, peerless Yosemite
Valley, wonderful Yellowstone Park and the marvelous Grand Canyon of
Arizona.
After a short stay in London we boarded a "boat train"--an English
travel convenience--for Southampton, from which port the steamship on
which we had booked passage sailed for South America.
CHAPTER II
On reaching the Bay of Biscay a storm was encountered, the decks being
vacated by passengers and the cabin berths made use of for some time.
During the night sounds were heard at intervals that reminded one of a
large tree falling. The piano in the social hall had been forced loose
from its fastening by the rolling and pitching of the ship, and while
in what might be termed its periods of tantrum the big musical
instrument seemed bent on smashing all the furniture "in the house."
Most of the passengers were awake, and a great many were inquiring if
the ship was breaking to pieces.
Those starting on long journeys should provide themselves with a
passport. One may travel for years through certain sections of the
world and not be called upon to show his national voucher to verify
his identity; yet it is a good thing to have one in one's possession.
One may be taken into custody in some foreign city through mistaken
identity, or be detained in other ways, when a passport would clear
matters at once with small inconvenience and little delay, compared to
much uneasiness and considerable time lost, if one has neglected to
include in his traveling outfit this means of identification. Again,
when visiting a consulate, one will not have conversed with the
officials long before he will be asked, directly or indirectly, if he
has his passport with him. If the visitor should not have one, the
conversation is usually of a casual nature. On the other hand, if the
visitor has his government's credentials, an interesting chat will
often result, during which information may be gathered of the
character of the country he is traveling in that would not be
volunteered to an American who had failed to identify himself with the
standard voucher. When leaving the consulate, the person with a
passport is generally invited to "call any time while in the city."
Furthermore, if the assistance of a consul were needed in any
contingency, that government officer, if he should not care to offer a
helping hand, may evade a reasonable duty, and defend his actions
behind the fact that the "alleged" American did not have a passport.
If the person in need of official assistance had this means of
identification, that same officer, fearing he would be later called
upon by his government to explain why he neglected to do his duty,
would exert himself and lend aid to his countryman. An American with a
passport in foreign lands has a better standing with his government's
representatives than a citizen who has not provided himself with one.
Being good for only two years, and not generally recognized after that
time, in order to keep in good standing with his country, one must, if
living in foreign parts, have his passport renewed or extended. Only
in exceptional circumstances is a consul allowed to issue passports;
these must come from Washington. A consul may extend one, however, for
an additional two years; but the passport cannot be extended more than
once. Application should be made to the Secretary of State,
Washington, D. C., when two blanks--native and naturalized--will be
sent to the applicant. If a native, he fills out the native blank and
will have the contents sworn to before a notary public. The verified
blank will then be sent to the Secretary of State, when a passport
will soon reach the applicant. The charge is one dollar, plus the
notary's fee.
"I wish I had one of those fat, juicy beefsteaks that I was served
with while traveling across America," said a Portuguese woman
globe-trotter, as some of us, like chickens after rain, began to
appear on deck when the storm had subsided. "I never ate beefsteak in
any country that tasted as good as those I got in America," she added,
with a perceptible smacking of her lips. She wasn't the only one who
wished they had a succulent piece of American beefsteak. But the
commissary of the ship had little to do while traveling from Cape
Ushant to Cape Finistierre--the former marking the north and the
latter the south boundaries of the Bay of Biscay, 365 miles across.
At Lisbon, Portugal, the chilling winds of the north and the raw
weather were succeeded by soft, south breezes and warm sunshine.
Entering the Tagus River on our way to the Portuguese capital, we
passed a commanding fort, the banks green with grass and vegetables.
Reaching the city, women in their bare feet and none too tidy, bearing
heavy burdens on their heads, mostly in baskets--fish, vegetables,
coal, flowers, and other marketable commodities--revealed a condition
in Southern Europe not pleasant to contemplate, and which is seen in
few countries of Continental Europe. The first suggestion of the
tropics was had at Lisbon, by reason of a great many of the people,
dark skinned, appearing in thin clothing and bare feet. Verdure was
growing on every side--it was the month of February.
Travelers cannot fail to show a slight weakness for the small Latin
country, for Portugal was the home of Vasco da Gama, the explorer--a
really great traveler--whose daring achievements late in the fifteenth
century laid the foundation of an empire, and who discovered places
and countries we are to visit later.
"Look!" said a man wearing the cloth of a church official, who was
showing a number of visitors around a Lisbon cathedral. We were in the
crypt, where, in expensive coffins, rested the remains of some of the
distinguished dead of Portugal. He had opened the lid of a casket and
invited his visitors to look inside. To our astonishment, in the
gruesome light, our eyes rested on the crumbling remains of a
personage who, the official said, had passed away a long time before.
More coffin lids were turned back, and in the boxes were seen, in the
murky light, the grim, long outline of a human being. We had never
known any one to go so far to obtain a fee.
American-made street cars are in use in the Portuguese capital, and
were easily recognized from those manufactured in other countries, as
the American car is single, while those of other countries are mostly
of a double-decked pattern.
Pavement of dark gray and white colored stone in that city looks odd,
laid at twisting angles. A plaza is paved entirely with this deceptive
stone, which sailors call "Rolling Motion Square." This square is
located close to the wharf, and sailors, having finished their shore
leave and returning to their ship, usually find trouble in getting off
"Rolling Motion Square."
Egg soup is a delicacy made in Lisbon. When served, it resembles
consommé, with halves of a hard-boiled egg swimming in the dish.
The business section of Lisbon is built between two high hills, which
necessitates using an elevator, in some instances, if one is going
from the center to the higher part of the city. The buildings are of
stone and brick, faced with cement. One of the most attractive avenues
in the world runs through the commercial district of the city. This
boulevard is unusually wide, the center comprising a broad park place,
with roadways of a good width on each side. Nearly half a million
people compose the population of this Latin capital. Portugal was a
Roman province as early as 200 B. C.
Funchal, Madeira Island, located about 450 miles west of the Moroccan
coast, was next reached, being favored with a good sea from Lisbon,
the first since leaving Southampton. This place, with a population of
20,000, is the chief port of Madeira, and its attractiveness--flowers,
vines, spreading trees, climate and tidy appearance--proves a magnet
to many Europeans who seek rest and recreation.
A strange and unusual public "hack" here arrests one's attention. This
vehicle, covered with canvas and drawn by oxen, is really a sleigh,
although it is doubtful if a flake of snow has ever fallen in this
section. The runners, as those of a snow sled, are shod with strips of
steel, which are pulled over streets paved with cobblestone. When
ready to start, the driver says a word to the oxen, and off they go,
the sleigh gliding over the paving nearly as smoothly as if drawn over
snow. The steel runners, passing over them for years, have worn the
stones quite smooth, even slippery in some instances, hence the
practicability of the sleigh-hack.
Madeira Island, termed the Pearl of the Atlantic, a Portuguese
possession, has an area of 315 square miles, and is 35 miles long and
12 wide. It is very productive of fruit--oranges, lemons, figs,
pomegranates, pears, peaches and grapes. The island is more noted for
its good climate and wines, however, most of the inhabitants being
engaged in the grape growing industry. The United States came to the
fore in 1871 by saving the grapevines here, which were being destroyed
by a pest. The American grapevine stock was introduced and grafted to
the native stump, which withstood the attacks of phyloxera.
Funchal is a sea junction, as most of the passenger steamships plying
between Europe and South American ports stop at this place. Passengers
coming north from South America and going to South Africa come to
Madeira, and those coming from South Africa and going to South America
also transship at this island.
Getting a glimpse of the places mentioned in the foregoing will
account for one traveling from the United States to South America by
way of England. The fare was also cheaper for the same accommodation
than by going direct from New York.
We regretfully return to our ship, there being no more stops for eight
days, as we are to recross the Atlantic Ocean diagonally. The big
vessel, with a crowded passenger list and loaded to the water line
with cargo, was headed toward the equatorial line, sailing on a
velvety sea. Sailors were busy stretching canvas over the decks to
make the hot weather soon to be encountered more bearable, while the
electric fans in the cabins were being put in order. Every one had
settled down for the sail to Pernambuco, Brazil, the next port.
During the trip British third-class passengers enjoyed the benefits of
the good maritime laws of their country, while passengers from other
countries traveling in the same section of the ship did not fare so
well. Britishers were allowed privileges on a portion of the upper
deck, as provided by law, while third-class passengers who embarked at
ports south of Southampton remained on the third-class deck.
It is surprising how time slips by during long voyages, and it is
interesting to note the national grouping of travelers. The French
passengers will be found assembled on a certain portion of the deck,
the Spaniards likewise, also Germans--each nationality generally
keeping to itself. Our breakfast was ready at 8 o'clock, and a light
lunch served two and a half hours later. Ship inspection usually takes
place at from 10 to 11 o'clock in the forenoon, the captain, the
purser, the doctor or the chief steward being the officers who form
this committee. Each deck is visited, when the dining saloons,
kitchens, berths, bedding and other furnishings of the cabins
generally receive the critical attention of the inspectors. Passengers
having complaints to make or suggestions to offer concerning ship
conditions may do so at this time. At half-past twelve dinner was
ready. In the second class section mealtimes are designated as
breakfast, dinner and supper; in the first-class, breakfast, luncheon
and dinner. When ready, these are generally announced by ringing a
bell, beating a gong, or by bugle call. Many passengers take a nap in
their cabins after dinner, and, if not in the cabin, one is pretty
sure to find them in the Land of Nod in their steamer chair on deck;
others read a great deal and divide the time with sleep. The sleepers
are sometimes hurriedly awakened from their slumbers, however, as what
is termed "fire practice" takes place several times a week on
well-conducted ships. Bells clang, without warning; the ship's whistle
blows shrill blasts; sailors, stewards and officers hurry to the
lifeboats to which they had been assigned before sailing, which are
soon raised from their davits, swung outward, and lowered at the sides
of the vessel; members of the crew may be seen wearing life-saving
devices, and the passengers generally give evidence of anxious concern
on such occasions until they learn it is but a "fire drill" that is
being enacted instead of the ship being really afire. Beef tea was
served in the cool climate and ices when the hot zones were reached
between noontime and supper. Light lunch--generally cheese and
crackers and tea--was served between the evening meal and bedtime.
Music was furnished twice a day by an orchestra. Religious
services--those of the Church of England--on British passenger
steamships are made obligatory by maritime law. On Sunday mornings
many of the passengers attended, which took place in the social hall
of the first-class section, the ritual being read by the captain or
purser. Most of the ship's crew must be present, some of whom
generally lead the singing and furnish the music. It often happens,
however, preachers are among the travelers, when one of them will be
invited to preach. First class passengers are expected to appear in
evening dress for dinner on vessels of some of the popular British
lines running to far Southern ports.
So far as bird life is concerned, the sea is a graveyard when sailing
through the equatorial zone. All fowl leave the ship when the sun gets
hot and the breezes become warm. The only winged life appearing in
this hot section of the sea was flying fish, sometimes hundreds of
them rising from the water at the same time. These fish are from four
to ten inches in length, slender, and resemble young mackerel. They
spring from the sea by a quick stroke of the tail, and, with fins
outspread, are able to sustain and prolong their leap for a minute or
more. The fins measure several inches across and become transparent in
the sun, but do not flap like the wings of a bird. As the fish rise
only from six inches to a few feet from the water, their flight, in a
choppy or rough ocean, is generally not more than from two to twenty
feet, as they disappear on coming in contact with a wave. On a calm
sea, however, their isinglass-like "wings" will often remain
outstretched for a distance of a hundred yards or so, when the fish
will dart into the water as suddenly as they emerged from it.
[Illustration: SOUTHERN CROSS.]
"Neptune" is a "game" played only at sea, and the "sport" is generally
indulged in when a passenger steamship is sailing under the equator. A
canvas tank is fixed on deck and nearly filled with water. It is an
unvarying rule with some travelers that one who has not crossed the
equator must be "Neptuned." A "coaster," as one is termed who has
never crossed the equatorial line, is reminded by the Simon-pures
that, in order to be a full-fledged traveler, he must take a plunge in
the canvas tank. Most passengers who are not sick comply with the
request, but there are some who do not take kindly to the idea. In
such instances a half dozen, or a dozen passengers if necessary, bend
the will of the unwilling one to their idea of maintaining this
tradition of the sea by literally picking up the unbeliever and
pitching him into the canvas tank of water. He then has been
"Neptuned." Danger of taking cold from this outdoor plunge is slight,
as often the tar in the cracks between boards on deck of the ship is
bubbling from the intense rays of the sun.
Having reached the southern division of the world, the heavenly bodies
forming the Southern Cross appear. The cross is not composed of a
thickly starred upright beam, neither is there a compact panel of
stars forming the crosspiece. Four stars located at certain sections
of the heavens form a distinct outline of a cross. The great crucifix
at times appears to be standing straight, but more often it will be
seen in the heavens in a reclining position, so to speak; again it
will be observed resting on its side, but never pointing downward. The
section of the sky in which the cross is to be found is the southeast.
At one season of the year it will rest near the center of the
firmament and in the "Milky Way "; at another period it will be seen
closer to the horizon. Lesser bodies appear in the zone embraced by
the four stars that compose the profile of the ensign of Christianity,
but these neither add to nor detract from the formation of the solemn
emblem of suffering that stands out so clearly among the millions of
orbs in the starry firmament. Two bright stars below, in direct line
with the bottom star of the cross, are called "the pointers."
What a difference is at once apparent in the period of daylight north
of the equator and that south of the equatorial line. From a slow
setting sun and a lingering twilight north of the great line to a
rapidly setting sun and a comparatively short twilight south of the
equator is observed. Fifteen to twenty minutes after the sun sets
darkness will have settled.
"Holy stoning a ship" is a nautical term that, when first heard by a
landsman, arouses his curiosity concerning the particular duty the
phrase suggests in a sailor's routine. A holy stone--somewhat larger
than two bricks placed together, of cream color and of a soft or
sandy material--is used to whiten the deck of a ship. Most persons
would conclude that a thorough washing of a deck with clear water
should satisfy one possessed of even super-neat exactions. But a
sailor's conception of the term "spick and span" does not end in this
matter with the merit of water alone. The holy stone is secured in an
iron frame similar to that of a house mop, with handle attached. It is
also pushed forward and pulled backward when used to clean a deck in
the same way that a mop is used to clean a floor. The deck is made wet
before "stoning," then sprinkled with fine white sand, and is next
thoroughly gone over with the "cleaner." When the sailor has finished
his hard "scrubbing" task the deck appears many shades brighter than
it would if only water had been used. The term "holy stone" is said to
have originated through the first stones used in bleaching ship decks
having been taken from the ruined walls of a church in Cornwall,
England.
CHAPTER III
Security of life in an Indian's bark canoe, even when going over river
rapids, would seem assured, compared to the chances against one being
able to keep his feet on a Brazilian catamaran sailing on the broad
ocean. Men stand on two logs tied together, these about a foot each in
diameter and from eight to ten feet in length, the upper side flat,
with a small pole fastened in one of the logs, to which is secured a
piece of canvas--as flimsy a sample of sea craft as one may see in a
lifetime. No provision being made for a seat on the shaky and risky
"boat"--no room for one, in fact--it seemed dangerous to sail it even
on a small lake; yet a number of these were seen skimming over the sea
several miles outside the harbor of Pernambuco, Brazil.
We had reached South America at the beginning of March, which is
Northern August south of the equator. The winter season of the year in
the northern is the summer in the southern division of the world.
Passengers leaving the vessel entered a large basket by a door. When
six persons had got inside, the winches on the ship began to revolve,
raising the basket high enough to clear the deck rail, and the
passengers were slowly lowered to a lighter below. Chug! They had
reached the bottom, and if any of the travelers had their tongue
between their teeth at that moment it would be safe to infer that that
member had suffered from the bump. This carrier was six feet deep,
made of reed or wicker, and was kept in shape and supported by
circular iron bands, like the hoops round a barrel, which, in this
case, were inside the basket. Passengers embark by the same means.
Crude and odd devices of this sort lend spice to travel.
Bahia, the oldest city in Brazil, was the next stop. At this port no
basket was used for disembarking, passengers leaving the ship by a
side ladder and being taken ashore in launches. An unusual number of
men seemed to board the vessel, and later, when the gong sounded for
visitors to go ashore, most of them left with their pockets bulging
with goods bought aboard. Pertaining to this, an amusing feature came
to light--the custom officers, who had been stationed at the gangway
and other parts of the ship to prevent smuggling, seemingly not
noticing the difference in the girth of a man on leaving the vessel to
that when he boarded her.
Sailing on the same smooth sea on which we had started from Madeira
Island ten days before, Rio de Janeiro, the capital and metropolis of
Brazil, was reached later.
The harbor of this city is considered the finest in the world. The
noted haven is entered by a deep channel, three-quarters of a mile
wide, flanked by two imposing stone mountains, rising nearly 1,300 and
1,100 feet, respectively. Tropical vegetation grows luxuriantly on the
shores, and beyond a circle of high, evergreen mountains offer an
unusually fascinating foreground. The harbor is sixteen miles long and
from two to seven miles wide, this area being dotted with over a
hundred islands, also heavily verdured with a tropical growth. One
feature, however, robs Rio de Janeiro and her harbor of a scenic
climax. To the left, on which side of the bay the city stands, rise
low hills, which shut from view, until opposite the wharves, what
otherwise would reveal a panorama of the metropolis in keeping with
that of the fame of the harbor. One is at a loss to account for the
absence of docks here, considering this city has a population of
nearly a million inhabitants and is the commercial center of Brazil.
Before, and also after, the ship anchored in the bay, where a large
number of passengers left, the deafening noise made by hack barkers
and hotel runners, shouting from boats below, exceeded anything of
this nature heard elsewhere. Here it was a medley of whistles on
yachts, launches and similar craft, together with blasts from horns, a
racket from other noise-making devices, and the raucous voices of
fruit vendors, crying their wares from rowboats. For a quarter of a
mile about the vessel hundreds of small craft were bumping into each
other, their owners cursing and shouting at those in approaching boats
who sought a more advantageous place where a fare might come their
way; in no place in the world, one would feel safe in saying, could
there be more turmoil and confusion under similar circumstances. No
one seemed to be in charge; every one was bending his every effort for
a fare. Evidently a great deal of revenue would be cut off from a
considerable number of the population of Rio were the government to
build docks.
Having read of cholera in Rio years before would lead one to entertain
a belief that he is entering an unclean city, and the great number of
blacks and half-castes one sees before he gets off the ship suggests
nothing to the contrary. But, when in the city proper, what a surprise
one meets with. No place is better supplied with small parks than this
metropolis, and public conveniences and sanitation in general, which
are so essential to the physical welfare of a people, are creditable
features. To be sure, the old part is of Spanish style--brick and
cement houses, with narrow streets. The object in building narrow
streets is to foil the sun--to keep cool--as the narrower they are the
more shade is cast. One will soon notice the difference in comfort
when walking between narrow or wide streets in hot climates--the
narrow, shady ones will be given the preference. Only one vehicle can
travel in a street, and for this reason traffic passes through one and
returns by another. They are one-way streets. Two persons moving in
opposite directions can just manage to pass without one of them
stepping off the walk. Rio de Janeiro is the second largest city in
South America, and good management of this tropical center was in
evidence.
Looking down Avenue Central, one of the principal thoroughfares,
composed largely of business buildings, a scene of architectural
beauty is revealed rivaling any metropolis in the world. No street
cars run on this avenue, but brightly painted, well designed, small
motor 'buses are in use. The artistic effect reflected by the
arrangement of lights and trees is in keeping in every detail with
the admirable designs of the buildings on each side. A municipal
theater on this street, prominent by its striking exterior
ornamentation, together with handsome government buildings, add
greatly to the attractiveness of Avenue Central. To an American the
street view at the head not only equals the lower portion, but is
enhanced, for there stands the Monroe Palace, a memorial to James
Monroe, whose name is immortalized as the father of the Monroe
Doctrine, serving as a fitting cap-sheaf, and at the same time
infusing patriotic sentiment to the harmonious foreground and
attractive environments. From Monroe Palace, which is shaded by trees
growing in a beautiful park at the side, Avenue Central verges into a
long boulevard, built alongside the walled harbor, fringed in places
with rows of palm trees, fifty to sixty feet high; under tropical
verdured hills, with parks, flowers and shade trees bordering the
thoroughfare to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean.
This palm tree of Rio is the highest we have seen either of
nut-bearing or non-nut-bearing species. The trunks are smooth,
straight and round, free of limbs, and gradually taper to their full
height, where a circle of fronds branch broadly from every side.
Standing between these tropical, sentinel-like columns, high above the
spectator will be seen an arch formed of long, broad leaves. As some
of these double rows of palms extend for considerable distances, this
light-green archway grows more enchanting as, down the pillared vista,
the fringed-frond arcade gradually lowers and contracts until the
trees converge into a narrow bower. The symmetrical finish to the
towering palms of Rio will remain in one's mind long after other of
Nature's masterpieces, of equal merit but differing in form, will have
been forgotten.
American money and enterprise have added much to the modern public
utilities of Rio, for the street car and lighting systems are headed
by Americans. "Bond" is the name for street cars here. To raise
capital to construct the system bonds were issued, and as the word
bond was much used before construction began, the Brazilians, when the
cars started running, called them "bonds."
The Portuguese language is used in the Brazilian republic. But what a
mixed population these Brazilians are! Most of them are dark-skinned
and the greater number are black. From observation, there seems to be
little or no distinction between the races. Yet this race possesses a
knowledge rarely displayed by others in erecting buildings suited in
every respect for business purposes, and in giving them an artistic
finish at the same time. Immigrants from many countries have settled
in this republic during the last decade.
European customs are strongly in evidence, the most noticeable being
lounging about cafés. The habit of living on the sidewalk and in the
street outside of cafés is the same here as that which strikes one as
being strange on his first visit to Paris and other places in
Continental Europe. One often has to maneuver his way through little
iron-legged tables and chairs, used for refreshments. Some of the
patrons are seen sipping black coffee from cups no larger than half an
eggshell; others may be found drinking vari-colored liquids, of which
there is a great variety, and many will have cigarettes between their
lips or between their fingers. Still one cannot fail to note the
improvement these cafés are on the American saloon. There are no back
door entrances to these places; no front doors closed; no
curtains--everything open and above board. And, as with Europeans,
seldom is a person seen intoxicated or disorderly. Prosperity is
suggested by crowded cafés, for refreshments in Rio are expensive.
Women seem to have an easy time in Brazil, in the capital, at least,
for men are seen looking after rooms in hotels, sweeping,
dusting--doing general housework.
Two meals a day seem to be all the Brazilians desire. A cup of coffee
is taken early in the morning, as the regular time for breakfast is
from 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Dinner is served from 5 to 7:30 o'clock in
the evening.
Everything one buys in the Brazilian metropolis is expensive.
Manufactures are few--almost everything is imported, and the customs
duty is exorbitant. Street car fare, even, is double that charged in
most large cities. Small articles costing from ten to fifteen cents
in the United States cost a milrei in Rio. Very few things can be had
for less than 33 cents. Soda water and other soft drinks generally
cost from 9 to 12 cents.
The Portuguese money system--reis and milreis--is that of Brazil. The
value of a milrei in American money is 33 cents, and a rei is equal to
one-thirtieth of a cent. In financial figures the dollar mark is used
to denote milreis, but is placed between the figures instead of in
front--thus: 10$000. Money is on the decimal system, 1,000 reis making
a milrei.
One unaccustomed to Portuguese money is apt to feel perplexed when
presented with a bill for 50 cents. This is how a 50 cent dinner bill
would look: 1$500. The figure 1 represents a milrei--33 cents--and the
500 is 500 reis--half a milrei--16½ cents. One hundred reis is three
cents in American money. Only among the poorer class are coins of less
than 100 reis in use. Paper bills are used for a milrei and larger
sums. The coins are mostly of nickel.
At São Paulo, over three hundred miles from Rio, woolen and cotton
mills have been established, and so far have proved a good investment.
English money is represented in this industry. American money and
machinery figure largely in the development of the ore mines of that
large country, so with English capital erecting mills and American
money opening and developing mines business development is assured.
Brazil produces three-quarters of the world's annual consumption of
coffee. Rubber is another staple product of this republic.
The tropical scenery about Rio adds much to the attractiveness of the
capital of Brazil. High hills and mountains almost circle both the
harbor and city, and from these elevated points one looks down through
a dense growth of trees bearing flowers, large blooming vines,
wide-leaved palms, and clumps of high, swaying bamboo--an expansive
botanical garden--on to the thousands of gray houses, with their
red-tiled roofs. Similar scenes and objects, attractive when viewed
from less favored vistas, seen through a tropical foreground, assume
an enchanted charm.
Though very little English printing is done here, a number of good
Portuguese daily newspapers are published, the offices being equipped
with linotype machines, web presses and stereotyping machinery. The
wages paid workers in this trade range from $25 to $30 a week. As
there is little manufacturing in Brazil, and the tariff is so
exorbitant on imports, together with high dwelling rentals, $30 a week
would not be considered good wages in America under such conditions.
One seldom sees a Brazilian carrying bundles in his hands--such as
valises, etc. The people who make their living at that sort of work
carry a strap with them, which is thrown over the shoulder. If two
valises are to be borne, one is placed in front and the other at the
back, each fastened to the end of the strap.
Church bells here, as in the City of Mexico, are ringing in most parts
of the city all the time.
As a rule good photographs exaggerate and flatter objects, but when
looking at a picture associated with Rio de Janeiro, no matter how
pretty and artistic it may appear, one should not discount the picture
as being overdrawn, for Rio would very likely carry away the honors if
entered in a "beautiful city" exhibit.
At Santos, another coffee mart of Brazil, enterprise was in evidence
when our ship drew up to a dock. This was the first dock the ship
pulled alongside of since leaving Southampton, England. Santos is also
the port for São Paulo. From this place we continue southward.
Twelve hundred miles south of Rio, Montevideo, Uruguay, is located at
the delta of the River Plate. This city is the capital of Uruguay.
Most of the ships head for the River Plate, and a great many sailing
southward and through the Straits of Magellan stop at this port,
allowing passengers time to look about the city. The River Plate (La
Plata in Spanish) spreads out at this point to a width of a hundred
miles. A great number of vessels sail up the Plate from time to time,
and it ranks high in the list of waterways of the world.
A glimpse of Montevideo revealed but little difference in architecture
to that of the Spanish style--brick and mortar. Most of the dwelling
houses are but one story in height, the outside steps and stairways,
however, being of white marble, which gives the building a strikingly
clean appearance.
More than one night in this city is required to become used to the
noise made by mouth whistles before a light sleeper can rest. These
are blown by the police, who keep in touch with each other by this
means.
A striking feature of Montevideo to one who has been in Brazil is the
large size of the Uruguayan. Deep-chested, broad-shouldered and of
good height, he appears to possess double the strength of the
Brazilian. While the people are of dark complexion, no blacks are
seen.
The money unit of Uruguay is higher than that of any country in the
world. It is known as the dollar, and its value is $1.04.
Uruguay is a republic, its principal industry being agriculture and
stock raising. Flattering inducements are offered by that government
to immigrants who intend to make their home there. These are in the
nature of giving land to homeseekers, the government even promising to
stock the farms with cattle.
How little some of us who pay but passing attention to sea commerce
know of the tremendous volume of business carried over the world in
vessels, and the long runs made. At Rio de Janeiro I left the ship
that I sailed on from Southampton, England, and after several weeks'
stay in the Brazilian capital continued my journey southward by
another line, tickets being interchangeable. The ship from Rio that
landed Argentine passengers at Montevideo proceeded southward to and
through the Straits of Magellan, to Valparaiso, Chile; up the Pacific
coast as far as Callao, the port for Lima, Peru, stopping at several
places between, distributing passengers and cargo at each. From among
the passengers Brazil, Uruguay, Argentine, Chile, Paraguay, Bolivia
and Peru received its quota. From England to Callao six weeks' time
was required to make the voyage. The manner in which these merchantmen
slip in and out of bays, deep and shallow harbors, crawl up rivers and
down again--into commercial nooks of every character--reminds one of
the unexpected places to which the sun so often finds its way.
Passengers from Great Britain seemed to be in the majority of those
traveling south of the equator. A greater number of men than women are
always to be found, though almost every ship carries young women who
will be on their way to meet and marry their fiancés located in the
interior of the South American republics.
Buenos Aires, capital of the Argentine republic, the New York of South
America, is located 124 miles up the River Plate. Many entertain the
opinion, gathered from newspaper accounts, that, 6,000 miles south of
New York, there is a good-sized city--Buenos Aires. But what a
difference there is between reading about something and seeing it! It
is said of a visitor that "a look at New York will knock his eye out,"
and to travel through the busy waterway of the big harbor of this
South American metropolis, and look through the dense thicket of
masts, spars, shrouds, ropes, pennants, flags and many-colored funnels
from ships that stretch for miles about the outer and inner harbors,
will surely cause one's eye to bulge with astonishment. Such an influx
of merchantmen visit this city at certain periods of the year that,
for as long as three and four weeks, ships loll at anchor in the outer
harbor before dock room can be made for unloading their cargoes. The
dock system is good; and one may gather an idea of the harbor space
available when he learns the River Plate is thirty-five miles wide at
Buenos Aires. Up to the interior of South America ships ply for 1,000
miles on the Plate to the Bolivian border, going up loaded and sailing
away to sundry parts of the world with cargoes submerging the vessels
to their water lines. It seemed that every ship sailing south of the
equator on the western side of the Atlantic Ocean was headed for the
River Plate or for other coast ports of the Argentine.
A more intimate acquaintance with matters will reveal a Briton at the
helm of those ships of industry or the hidden power behind the scene.
Every passenger ship leaving a British port for the River Plate
carries brain and brawn from Great Britain. English money figures
prominently in the industrial advancement of the Argentine, upward of
a billion dollars having been expended in building railways and
developing the lands. The flower of Great Britain will be found
engaged at farming, connected with shipping, railroads, banking, or
other pursuits; and English advice on governmental legislation is
often sought.
In Buenos Aires one finds a busy city of nearly a million and
three-quarters of people, largely of a cosmopolitan character. Sixteen
big, well-printed daily newspapers of evening and morning editions are
published in this commercial center. Besides the native, or Spanish
language, are those printed in the French, Italian, English, Swedish
and other languages. The wages paid artisans engaged in this industry
do not compare with those paid in the United States. The highest paid
for newspaper work is $3.50 a day, but $2.50 is the general daily
wage, paid monthly. Working time is seven and eight hours a day. On
the other hand, living expenses are higher than in American cities.
House rent is very high, and the price of food in ordinary restaurants
is as high, and generally higher, than that charged in similar grade
eating places in American cities. Anent cheap living in other
countries, about which one hears so much in the United States, I have
come to look upon such alleged facts as mythical, for, speaking
generally, I have yet to come across them, and my unsuccessful search
for these "much-cheaper" places has not been from lack of effort.
The Argentine silver dollar is about the same value as the Mexican
dollar--44 cents. Another dollar is in use, however, pertaining to
shipping, customs charges and government tariff of a general nature,
known as the gold dollar, and is worth 96 cents. But it is the 44-cent
dollar that is in general use for retail purposes, wages, etc.
The great number of street cars running through and about the city is
in keeping with the large number of ships seen in the harbor. There
are only two streets in the business district--and for a considerable
distance beyond--on which street cars do not run. Any one who has
lived in busy centers will naturally glance about when crossing
streets, to see if the way is clear. But in Buenos Aires one must be
on the alert for street cars even when walking along walks between
the crossings. The Spanish system of laying out a town--narrow
streets--is the rule in Buenos Aires, in the older section of the
city. To build street car lines in the center of the streets would
shut off vehicular traffic to a great extent, as there is not room for
a truck and car to pass between the car line and the curb at the same
time. The car tracks, therefore, are laid at the side of the street,
by which plan car and vehicular traffic have room to move together,
but only in one direction. To make matters worse, a "trailer," or two
cars, are in use on many of the lines. A sidewalk fender is secured to
the rear platform of the front car and to the forward platform of the
"trailer." This device is formed of strips of steel, bowed half-barrel
shape, which extends over the walk, and is attached to prevent
pedestrians from falling between the cars. The walks also are
proportionately narrow, affording room for only two persons to pass at
the same time. Were a person to become thoughtless or one's mind be
occupied with something foreign to street traffic, while walking at
the outer edge of the walk, or when stepping to one side to allow
another to pass, the half-barrel shaped steel-strip fender is apt to
scrape his leg. Being fearful of coming in contact with the fender at
any moment when walking the streets prompts one to frequently look
behind.
Ten cents (Argentine money) is the fare, equaling four cents in
American money. That sum will carry a passenger from one end of a car
line to the other. By reason of the narrow streets, the two-car
system, and the great number of cars running on the different lines,
tie-ups, turmoil and confusion result. On boarding a car, there is no
telling when one will reach his destination. Improvements, however,
were in progress.
Among the park squares of Buenos Aires (termed "plazas" in
Latin-speaking countries), Plaza de Mayo is perhaps the most popular,
and the first laid out in the Southern metropolis. This plaza is
located at one side of the business center of the city, with
government buildings, hotels, a cathedral, and business houses
fronting the four sides. Attractive palms adorn this pretty resting
place, together with trees, shrubbery, flowers all the year round,
lawns and good walks. Historical memories, dear to the Argentinian,
however, prove of greater interest to the populace than that wrought
by the landscape gardener, as in this section of the city in early
days a decisive battle was fought with Britishers. At one side of the
square stands a memorial shaft that marks the place of surrender to
native forces by the invaders early in the nineteenth century. Within
the city limits are six parks, a number of promenades, thirty-eight
squares, and many public gardens.
Avenida de Mayo is the promenade and show section of Buenos Aires.
Starting at Plaza de Mayo, it extends for nearly a mile to Congreso,
or Congress Hall. The Avenida is one of the two streets on which cars
do not run, and is the only one of fair width in the busy center of
the city. It is paved with asphalt, most of the others being paved
with stone blocks. The best hotels line the Avenida, and the other
buildings are of attractive appearance. Prizes are offered by the city
for the best building designs, and the result of this municipal pride
is frequently observed. Through the Continental custom of blocking the
sidewalks in front of hotels and cafés with tables and chairs one
often finds difficulty in walking. The park system of the city is
creditable, and there are good boulevards in the suburbs.
Here, too, as in Rio de Janeiro, one wonders what women do to occupy
their time, as men make the beds, do the dusting, look after rooms,
sweep the carpets, and do general household duties one is so
accustomed to seeing women perform in North America. Neither is there
any chance for a woman to earn her living working in eating places, as
men seem to have made that source of livelihood a "closed shop" to
women.
[Illustration: PLAZA DE MAYO (top) and AVENIDA DE MAYO (bottom).
BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINE.]
The clumsy way the Argentinian hitches horses to a cart strikes one as
odd. Carts, instead of trucks, are mostly in use. Often three or four
horses will be attached to a cart--one horse between the shafts, and
one hitched to the cart on each side of the shaft horse. The horse in
the lead will precede the second horse by a space of from three to
five feet, and the second horse will be in advance of the shaft
horse the same distance. How the animals can see is a puzzle, for a
heavy leather fringe reaches from the top of the horse's head to the
nose.
To see men embracing each other, with radiant faces, strikes one from
the North as an unusual custom. While Americans greet with a
handshake, Argentinians embrace.
A novel way to keep "park residents" from occupying seats in some of
the park squares is amusing. The park workers keep moving the seats
from shade to sun, and in the evening and on cloudy days the
"never-works" are told to "move on." But the idlers enjoy sweet
revenge from the fact that no one else has a chance to sit in the
shade in the daytime.
It is hard on one who has been used to three meals a day to practice
the principle of the old adage, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do,"
for only two meals a day are served. Of course, one gets coffee and
rolls for breakfast, but more than that brief menu is unknown to the
Argentinian. The noontime meal is called breakfast, and dinner is
served about 7 o'clock.
Olives, potato chips, peanuts and cigarettes are accessories that go
with refreshments at the "sidewalk dining-rooms" in Buenos Aires.
People may be seen for hours taking sips of liquid from small glasses,
then a potato chip will be snapped in two parts; next a few puffs of a
cigarette; another sip; a peanut shell is then cracked and a kernel
eaten; another sip of liquid; next an olive; more cigarette puffs, and
so on.
Churches and church holidays being numerous, banks are closed on these
occasions for four or five days. What is known as "the American
Church" attracts many of the English-speaking people of that city.
In addition to the Argentine being a grain and cattle country, fruit
trees and grapevines bear heavy yields. Fig and peach trees, which are
numerous, yield abundant good fruit, and some bunches of grapes will
half fill a water bucket.
Gentility is denoted in the Argentine by a long little fingernail. A
fingernail could not grow from one to two inches long on the hand of
one engaged in daily toil, for it would break off. Hence a man with a
long fingernail is included in the list of "retired" citizens.
The dwelling houses and buildings of all sorts are substantially
built. Brick is generally used, and this is covered with several
inches of cement. A courtyard is a feature of all buildings, with a
veranda around, and more rooms open on the court than on the street.
Strong iron bars protect the windows in a great many instances, while
the street doors are very heavy and the locks big and strong. Most of
the dwelling houses are one and two stories in height, but some of the
hotel and business buildings are from three to seven stories high. The
higher buildings are of steel frame construction, which is known as
"the American system."
One will find splendid stores, with goods attractively displayed in
large, wide windows. Church buildings are numerous, and some of the
government buildings large and imposing. Several of the newspapers are
large, newsy and well printed. Linotype machines, web presses--all the
modern machinery in use in the North--will be found in the emporium of
South America.
Portuguese is the language of Brazil, Spanish of the Argentine, and
any one going to these countries to transact business without first
acquiring an inkling of these languages will find himself at a great
disadvantage. The foreigner who can speak both languages will succeed
much better than the person who sticks to his native tongue.
The pickpocket of Buenos Aires is said to be as deft at his trade as
are his clever colleagues in the City of Mexico. The great number of
thieves here may be the reason for the presence of bars in front of
windows, heavy doors and strong locks on buildings.
I had work offered to me at my trade in that city, but one who had
been used to receiving $5 a day does not relish working for $3 a day
for the same duties. Besides, just then the surface of my funds had
been scarcely scratched.
I stopped at a boarding house, paying $2 a day for my keep, occupying
a small room next to the roof, with the only window a little larger
than the port hole of a ship. It behooved one to be promptly in his
seat at the table at mealtime, in order to prevent remonstrance that
would justifiably be made by the inner man until the next meal if the
rules of strict punctuality were not conformed to.
One notices an improvement in the condition of the working people in
both Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires over that seen in Lisbon. Poverty
is not a feature of either city, more particularly in Buenos Aires.
My fare from New York to Buenos Aires was $150, and the distance
traveled was 9,852 miles. From New York direct to Buenos Aires is some
6,000 miles, and the fare, third-class, $90, first-class, $240, there
being no second-class rate. Third-class travel is generally
unsatisfactory, and a first-class ticket would have cost more than I
cared to spend on the first leg of my journey. It was a 26-day sail
from Southampton to Buenos Aires.
From Buenos Aires direct across to Capetown, South Africa, is 3,600
miles; by way of Madeira 9,500 miles, and second-class fare $250. This
large sum of money for a ticket set me inquiring if there was no other
way to get to South Africa without traveling nearly half the distance
around the world. A tramp ship going to Asia and stopping at Durban,
South Africa, for bunker coal was one's only hope of avoiding the long
and tedious journey by way of Madeira and the big expense. Four
different captains who had received orders to sail to India did not
want to take a passenger with them, giving as their reason that "it
was against the Act" for tramp ships to carry travelers. The fifth
captain seen, however, agreed to take me across to Durban for $50.
Here was a saving of $200.
That being my first introduction to tramp ship travel, I faced the
voyage with some mistrust, as merchantmen, as a rule, are slow, are
not equipped with wireless telegraphy appliances, and one does not
know what may happen when sailing on the high seas. But the captain
had a good face, which inspired me with confidence.
"Meet me at the British Consul's office to-morrow morning at 10
o'clock," the captain instructed, "for you'll have to ship as an 'A.
B.' (able-bodied seaman), as the 'Act' does not allow us to carry
passengers." "Aye, aye, sir," in sailor style, was my answer to his
instructions.
"How much are you going to pay this man?" asked the consul. "Ten
shillings ($2.40) a month," answered the captain. "A pretty cheap 'A.
B.'" sagely remarked the consul.
"The ship is the one with a red funnel, having a yellow circle around
it close to the top. _Bertha Clay_ is her name. Be aboard at 3 o'clock
at the latest, as we shall sail between 3 and 4," was the final
instruction by the captain.
"You found her all right?" the skipper remarked, when he had come
aboard his ship. A cargo of coal had just been unloaded, and the dust
was an inch deep on the deck.
Later a long blast from the whistle was blown, and in a short time a
rope from a tug had been fastened to the _Bertha Clay_, when she was
slowly drawn from the dock into the narrow channel, which was solidly
walled by ships. We had started for "Darkest Africa."
LEG TWO
CHAPTER I
The evening sun was sinking fast as we were being towed from the inner
harbor of the Argentine metropolis to the broad expanse of
gray-colored water of the River Plate.
Berths were short on the _Bertha Clay_, as the skipper had informed me
before I had boarded his ship I would have to sleep in the chart room.
Charts and other navigating paraphernalia were kept in this room, and
the wheel house was on top of the chart room roof. "Sleep on the couch
to-night," instructed the captain, "and to-morrow I'll try to have a
berth put up for you, which will be more restful."
Next morning found the tramp ship at sea, and behind, in the distance,
the panorama of Montevideo, built on a hillside, was kept in view till
lost to sight. "If you prefer land to sea view," the captain remarked
later, "take a good look yonder, for, with the exception of a small,
uninhabited island 1,200 miles to the east, it is the last land we
shall see until we reach the South African coast. That is Lobos
Island, off the Uruguayan coast, at which we are looking, on which
large numbers of seal assemble."
For six days out from the Plate the weather was summer-like, and these
were pleasantly spent sailing over a smooth sea. Talent is generally
found among sailors, and during the evening some of the crew would
sing, others dance, or boxing bouts would take place; wrestling
matches also were listed among the means of entertainment. Then the
weather changed for the worse, and evening sports were discontinued.
The captain had brought with him eight sheep and a couple of dozen
live chickens, as this ship carried no ice. A sheep was killed each
week, and we had chicken twice weekly, so, between the sheep and the
chickens, we had fresh meat three times a week.
"Keep a look out for Gough Island," suggested the captain to his first
officer, "for it should be in sight by four o'clock." At 4:15 the
mate, opening the door, reported, "Land port abeam, sir!" The island
proved to be a small, rocky and uninhabited sea "oasis." "No more land
until we reach Africa," said the skipper.
The weather had grown stormy, the sea rough, and the _Bertha Clay_ was
rolling badly. She pitched, tossed and rolled so much, in fact, that
the "A. B." had "callouses" on his hips through being slammed back and
forth against the sides of his bunk in the chart room.
Masters of ships usually have an easy time at sea. After they have
left a port, the next few days are occupied in straightening their
accounts. From then on, if the weather be at all favorable, little
work is done save at noontime, when the sun is sighted, by which means
alone the course is maintained. Each officer has a sextant, and from
two to four of these are pointed sunward from ten to fifteen minutes
before the orb has reached the zenith.
A captain of a tramp ship is generally sent from port to port by cable
from the owners to their agent. After the cargo has been unloaded, he
may remain in a port for days, or even weeks, waiting for orders to
sail; but sometimes he has little idea to what part of the world he
may be directed to go. The cable directions may read "Capetown." He
heads his ship for that port, but does not know whence he will be sent
until given instructions by the company's agent on arrival.
The salary paid some sea captains is small, compared to the
responsibility assumed. English and other European shippers pay
masters of tramp ships from $100 to $130 a month, while captains of
American ships receive double that sum. Perquisites, however, may come
to a skipper in connection with his calling. Coal firms generally give
the master of a ship a commission on fuel supplied, and chandlers
maintain the same custom when furnishing stores.
Sea charts with which captains are furnished are marvels of exactness
to a landsman, shoals, rocks, lights, jutting points of land, sea
currents and courses being as clearly marked as are rivers, turnpikes
and railways on land maps. With a good navigator there is little
danger of getting off the course if the sky be clear at noontime. It
is in cloudy periods, when officers cannot get their bearings from the
sun, that danger may occur.
Rainy weather and clear days are the same to a sailor aboard
merchantmen. Though sailors on a tramp ship rest on Sunday, firemen
and officers have no day off. Chinese, Arabs and Indians, the latter
called "lascars," form the crew of a large number of British ships.
From $12 to $16 a month were the wages then paid. On American ships
white sailors receive $40 a month.
Two hundred miles a day was all the _Bertha Clay_ was traveling. Her
smoke funnel was white with salt from the waves of the sea dashing
against it. Some of the officers gathered in the little saloon every
evening, when the hours were whiled away until bedtime by indoor
amusements.
Sea birds of the Southland are different from those that accompany
ships above the equator. No traveler who has the noble albatross as a
companion can refrain from devoting hours and hours of time during a
voyage to watching and admiring the smooth, graceful movements of this
large bird. Sometimes as many as a hundred of these handsome soarers
may be seen encircling the ship for as long as an hour at a time,
seldom flapping their wings. In far southern waters the albatross
generally joins an outgoing vessel from 200 to 400 miles from shore,
and is not seen when a ship is the same distance from land at the
other side of the ocean, although companions for weeks before. Its
color is generally gray and white, but some are snow white, and
occasionally brown-colored ones are seen with the others. These birds
are as large as a swan, some measuring twelve feet from wingtip to
wingtip. But many a sailor has lost his life when falling from a
vessel in parts of the sea inhabited by the albatross. The great bird
will pounce on anything it sees in the water, and, being so strong,
the beak will penetrate the skull of a person at the first attack.
Navigators say that it will not live during transit across the
equator. The mollemoke is another companion sailors have with them
when traveling south of the equator. This bird, while not so large,
resembles the larger specie both in poise and color, and also mingles
with the albatross during a voyage. Feeding on garbage thrown from the
ship seemed to be the chief attraction to the fowl. A very pretty sea
bird seen in far southern waters is the Cape pigeon. The pigeon is as
large as a sea-gull, but in color is like the guinea fowl--spotted
white and black--but of much brighter color. The snowbird is another
companion that follows a ship in the southern seas, but only in
sections where the weather has become chilly. The petrel is also found
in these parts, and still another, a small, dark colored bird, no
larger than a swallow, appears in large numbers at intervals. Sailors
call these Mother Carey's chickens. All these fowl are one's
unfettered companions while traveling through watery Southland, save
an occasional whale. Sea-gulls do not appear.
It was eighteen days since we sailed from Buenos Aires, and twelve of
these had been stormy. The "A. B." was near the captain while he
studied the chart, at 9 o'clock one evening, when the mate came into
the chart room. "Mr. Jones," said the captain to the first officer,
"keep a sharp lookout, as we should see the Cape of Good Hope light by
10 o'clock, or thereabouts." "Aye, aye, sir," he replied, as he passed
out, and then scaled the ladder to the bridge. The sea had calmed as
we neared the African coast. Less than an hour later the skipper and
the "A. B." were chatting, when the door opened. The mate, putting his
head between the door and jamb, in sea manner, announced: "Flash light
port abeam, sir!" It was the Cape of Good Hope light. We had reached
another continent--the African.
For five more days we sailed in sight of the green, treeless hills of
South Africa, using glasses frequently, as may be imagined, eager to
see houses, cattle and grain fields. Finally we came in sight of the
Bluff, the beacon of Port Natal. Soon we were opposite the entrance
channel to the harbor, when anchor was cast. Shortly after a harbor
boat was seen coming through the channel. Later a rowboat, manned by
Zulus, headed toward the _Bertha Clay_, in which was a white man
dressed in a white suit. The captain shouted to the man in white,
asking if we could get into the harbor before night. It was then
nearly sunset. The answer from the rowboat was, "I'm coming." This was
the skipper's first trip to a country where white clothes were worn,
and he mistook the man in the rowboat to be the port doctor. One
unfamiliar with customs in that part of South Africa--or, in fact,
anywhere--would never dream of seeing a grizzled sea pilot dressed in
an immaculate white suit of clothes. It proved to be the man who was
to steer our ship safely to harbor. "All well?" he inquired--the usual
salute--when his rowboat had reached speaking distance of the tramp
ship. "All well," replied the master of the _Bertha Clay_. When the
pilot had drawn alongside our vessel, he began to wriggle up the rope
ladder at the side of the ship, the usual means of boarding and
disembarking under such circumstances.
We anchored in the harbor as twilight was hastily changing to
darkness. "Supper is ready," announced the steward when the anchor
chain was silenced. As ship food had no charm for the "A. B." when
land food was available, he hurriedly made steps for the ladder at the
side. This settled matters concerning eating supper aboard ship that
evening, as the captain shouted, "Wait." Soon the skipper also started
down the ladder, and the master of the _Bertha Clay_ and his passenger
had dinner ashore.
We had stepped foot on Leg Two.
The captain wished the "A. B." to return to the ship and sleep in his
recently vacated bunk in the chart room that night--"the last night,"
as he put it--but my feeling of relief at the thought of not having
longer to occupy that "cabin," in which the bedclothing had often been
made damp through waves dashing against and over the ship, together
with several inches of water at times covering the floor, might be
compared to those that one would experience on leaving a "house of
trouble."
"You'll have to come to the port office in the morning and get paid
off and discharged," remarked the captain, after we had finished
eating the best meal we had had for nearly a month. Meeting at the
time designated, the formality of paying off was gone through with, in
accordance with maritime law. The "A. B." was handed $2.40 for his
"work" during the voyage, but the money did not reach his pockets, as
it was handed back to the genial skipper. The provisions of the "Act"
had been complied with--in name.
The _Bertha Clay_, with her bunkers full of coal, left the following
day for Cochin-China--6,000 miles further east--thirty days' more
sailing.
"Sixty cents a day" (the minimum legal charge for a person's food on
English ships) "is all it will cost you if you will come with us,"
inducingly spoke the captain to his discharged "able seaman," while
shaking hands warmly, a short time before the _Bertha Clay_ sailed out
of the harbor. The skipper's generous offer was declined.
The passenger left behind sought the highest point of the seashore to
watch the tramp ship sail on her initial stretch to Asia. She dipped
her nose in the sea and wobbled and pitched as she had done for
twenty-three days during her former voyage. It was not long before
only an outline of the hulk was in view. Then that disappeared
altogether, when all that remained in sight was the smoke funnel. Soon
that also had faded to but a speck, and a short time later the _Bertha
Clay_ became hidden in a hazy horizon.
CHAPTER II
With a population of a hundred thousand, Durban is the chief seaport
of South Africa. Located on the Indian Ocean, it is known also as Port
Natal. Among the inhabitants, colored people of varied races comprise
two-thirds of the population. With the native black there is the
Indian, or Hindu, Arabs, Malays and half-castes from islands located
near the East African coast. The phrase "Darkest Africa" is even more
emphasized by the presence of the dark races that are not natives of
the country.
Untidiness and unsanitary conditions invariably prevail where black
races are in the majority, especially so where the percentage is three
to one white person; but a pleasant surprise is met with here in this
respect, as few cities anywhere surpass Durban in cleanliness, whether
composed entirely of white people or a predominating number of blacks.
Almost the whole white population is British.
To the east and south, as one comes through a channel from the sea to
the harbor, a ridge of land known as the Bluff, thickly verdured with
low trees and wild flowers, offers such an inviting setting to a
visitor that one forms a favorable opinion of Durban before he has
stepped off a ship. That foreground is as green in the winter months
as during the summer, for it is summertime in Durban the year round.
After having passed through the channel into the bay, the harbor is
seen landlocked on one side by the city, and on the other side and end
by the evergreen Bluff and more verdure. It is Durban's splendid
harbor, reasonable port dues, up-to-date facilities for coaling ships,
and splendid docks that has gained for her the title of premier
seaport of the South Indian Ocean. Her modern maritime facilities are
the result of energy by the Durban business man more than to natural
advantages, for the entrance channel had to be dug out and the harbor
dredged.
The business houses are built of brick, cement and stone, some of them
being seven stories high. The stores are large, of fine appearance,
with attractive windows. No place of Durban's size can boast of better
buildings or better stores.
One of the largest and best built structures to be found south of the
equator is the Durban Town Hall. This building, of brick and cement,
is a city block in size and three stories in height. The scope of this
hall may be understood when it is mentioned that under its roof is
contained a public museum, an art gallery, public library, theater,
councilors' chambers, besides offices for the city officials. The
building is not only large and imposing, but the architects have
succeeded in giving the structure an artistic finish. The Town Hall of
to-day should meet the requirements of the Durban Corporation
centuries hence, and would be a credit to a city of a million
inhabitants.
A good bathing beach and a well-laid-out and well-appointed park do
not, as a rule, go together, but one finds this dual comfort at this
part of the Indian Ocean. Scattered about the terraced lawn have been
built substantial kiosks and pagodas, with thatched roofs, which lend
to the surroundings a decidedly Oriental air. These have been provided
with comfortable seats, and, with the soft breezes nearly always
coming from the Indian Ocean, enviable restfulness is assured to even
nervous wrecks. Then stone walls, with alcoves built in to add to the
seating capacity of the park, together with flowering vines creeping
up and over and then drooping, form a means of shelter and rest,
adding more attractiveness to the surroundings. Above the beach and
park are splendid hotels, some without doors, and all with wide,
inviting verandas.
Sharks--man-eaters--are so numerous along the Natal coast that the
bathing enclosure is closely studded with iron rods to prevent the
voracious sea beasts from mangling and killing bathers, as would
happen were there no means provided to keep the sharks away from the
holiday-maker.
The Berea is a residential section of Durban, and for landscape and
floral effect is a notable feature. On a range of hills rising several
hundred feet, overlooking the business portion of the city and the
Indian Ocean, many Durbanites live in broad-verandaed homes, shaded
with semi-tropical flowering trees, perpetually blooming plants, vines
growing so luxuriantly that the porches, and often the sides, of the
houses are shut in by a green and floral portière, as it were. Added
to this attractiveness are various species of palms and clusters of
giant and Japanese bamboo. Some of the flowered hedges enclosing these
building plots are so gorgeous in rich color and shape as to make a
Solomon green with envy.
The flambeau tree, indigenous to the Island of Mauritius--"the flower
garden tree," it may be termed--is conspicuous on the Berea, both as
to numbers and floral beauty. This tree, with fern-shaped leaf, does
not grow over twenty-five feet in height, but it is of a spreading
nature, its shade in some instances measuring fifty feet across--twice
its height. It is in flower about a month, from the middle of December
to the middle of January--Junetime south of the equator. The color of
the flower is a bright red, as large and the shape of a sewing
thimble, and grows in clusters of eight and ten in number. When in
bloom, this bright red aerial garden may be seen from a distance of a
mile, so the reader can picture what a gorgeous floral effect is
displayed when hundreds of these handsome trees are in flower at the
same time.
The rosebush seemed to be the only plant of the nature of bush or tree
that overrides lines, climates and seas. It is no doubt the most
cosmopolitan plant that grows, and is to be seen in about the same
beauty and diffuses its fragrance in the same degree in nearly all
parts of the world. All the trees seen growing south of the equator
appeared foreign to those growing in the United States.
The Christ thorn--said to be the same as the one that pierced the brow
of the Savior on Mount Calvary--grows abundantly in Natal. In some
instances the bush is used for hedge fences, and when allowed to grow
to a height of from two to four feet it makes a spiky obstruction, as
the prongs are an inch in length, grow numerous on the stock, little
thicker than a knitting needle, and are almost as sharp as a sewing
needle. The thorn, which is of a creeping nature, like a grapevine, is
more generally used as a border for a flower pot, however. As its name
naturally calls up memories of the deep-stained crime of nearly 2,000
years ago, one scrutinizes it closely. The Christ is a flowering
thorn, and the flower is red, not larger than a wild strawberry's.
These grow in a group from one stem, each cluster numbering from two
to ten flowers--always even--two, four, six, eight and ten--never in
odd numbers.
Some of the trees growing here bud and bloom twice a year. These
interesting changes do not take place in the same way that nature does
her work in the colder climates--by the leaves falling off in the fall
of the year and the buds coming in the spring. With these trees the
old leaf remains until forced off the limb by the new bud. About six
weeks' time is required for nature to change from the old to the new.
During this period new buds bulge from the tips of the limbs, when the
old leaf will fall to the ground. This change is gradually
progressing, until sections of the tree offer a clean, fresh, bright,
green-leafed appearance, while on other parts the dull-green,
dust-soiled leaf offers a striking contrast. Between the months of
February and March and August and September the new leaf replaces the
old.
There is really little timber in South Africa, as the trees grow low
and are of a spreading character. Naturally, the shade cast by them is
much wider than that afforded by high trees. Where brush grows, it is
found to be a dense thicket or jungle, in which monkeys disport
themselves at will, and is often the home of the python also, a
reptile frequently seen along the Natal coast. Shooting monkeys in the
brush is a common amusement.
Outside the city are banana plantations, and sometimes patches of corn
and pumpkins. In order to prevent crops from being partly eaten by
monkeys, laborers are out in the fields at daylight setting traps to
catch the "missing links" or shooting them. The monkeys are very
destructive to crops growing in fields bordered by bushy land. A
monkey's gluttony often renders his cunning of no avail, and for that
trait he becomes an easy prey. Calabashes grow everywhere in South
Africa, and it is by this vegetable the monkey is generally trapped.
The calabash is dug out, or partly so, and cornmeal, calabash seeds
and other monkey edibles are put inside and then made fast. A small
hole, just large enough for a monkey to wriggle his supple fingers in
and contracted paw through, is made in the vegetable. When no one is
about, the monkey makes a start for the calabash trap and is soon
eager to find out what is inside. He then begins working his paw
through the opening, and when he has reached the cornmeal, seeds and
other bait he grabs a handful. It is then that his gluttony proves his
downfall. The opening that admitted his empty paw is too small to
allow his clenched fist to be withdrawn, so he pulls and tugs for
hours to get his paw through the hole, but will not let go of the food
even while being put to death by his captors.
"Are there any automobiles in South Africa?" asked a friend in a
letter. Perhaps others will ask a similar question concerning the
presence of other modern appliances in a far-off part of the world.
One will not meet with elevated railroads, tunnels under wide rivers,
underground railway systems, or buildings from twenty to fifty stories
in height, for the reason that the cities of South Africa are not
large enough to require these modern public utilities; but one will
meet with modern electric light systems, telephone, telegraph and
wireless telegraphy systems, automobiles, motorcycles, motor trucks,
most up-to-date fire-fighting apparatus, modern farm machinery,
typesetting machines, web presses--all the modern machinery and
appliances with which cities of the same size in the North are
equipped will be found in the cities of the far Southland.
White drill clothes are worn by two-thirds of the men of Durban; also
white shoes and a white, light-weight helmet. A suit costs from $2.50
to $6, and a wardrobe contains from three to half a dozen. In addition
to the drill, a majority of mechanics and clerks can vary their
apparel by wearing woolen, flannel and even evening-dress suits. Women
also generally adhere to white clothes and often a helmet similar to
the style worn by men, together with white shoes, white hand-bag, and
white parasol.
The standard of intelligence of the people is high. A majority in the
coast cities are from the United Kingdom. Scotch and English are the
more numerous, the Irish and Welsh being less in evidence. Among a
group of men, the colonials (white persons born in South Africa of
British parents) are nearly always in the minority.
It is only in very small towns in South Africa where a public library
would not be open to all who wished to take advantage of its benefits.
Durban is well supplied with public schools, a technical school open
for both day and night classes; Y. M. C. A., Y. W. C. A. institutions,
splendid library, art gallery, museum; is thickly spired and turreted
with good church buildings; and, for recreation, there is a promenade,
fringed with beautiful palms and shady trees, with seats under them,
for a mile on one side, and the bay on the other; parks and sports
grounds scattered throughout the city; a botanical garden and a
zoological park. All these institutions of education, religion and
recreation are to be found 10,000 miles from America, on the fringe of
"Darkest Africa."
In order that the reader may clearly distinguish between white and
black, a note of the distinctive terms in use here might not be out of
place. A "native" is a kafir or negro; a "colonial" is one born in
South Africa of white parents, generally applied to English-speaking
people; Dutch means a Boer, and Boer means Dutch; the word
"Africander" also means Dutch. But for all whites--Dutch, colonial,
and foreign-born--the word "European" is used to designate the white
from the black. The word "white" is seldom used. Indian coolie, or
Indian, is a native of India, or of Indian parentage. "Colored" means
a person of Malay and white blood. Half-castes are of negro and white
blood. A "boy" means a kafir servant or a laborer. A native servant 40
years of age would be called a "boy."
House servants in South Africa are native boys, and Indian women and
girls are often employed as nurses. Occasionally one sees a native
woman looking after children; but the native boy--the "umfaan," as he
is called in the Zulu language--from 10 to 18 years of age, is the
standby as a house servant in the Province of Natal. The houseboy
wears clothes that denote his occupation, and generally presents a
neat appearance. His wage varies from $2 to $5 a month. Most of the
umfaans make good servants, particularly the Zulu boys. Unlike his
American brother, he is an early riser.
"Umfaan peril--protection for the children"--is the light in which a
great many of the Europeans see their dependency on the umfaan as the
servant. While Indian women and some native women look after the
children, more umfaans will be seen wheeling baby carriages than black
maids. Such a thing as a European servant is almost unheard of in
South Africa. So, how to have the children looked after by other than
black male servants is a burning question in the province. Conventions
are held regularly at the instance of women's children protection
societies, leagues and similar organizations, at which the ablest
minds of the country deal with the "umfaan peril." But no solution has
yet been found to check the degradation that follows in the wake of
such a system of taking care of children. Men and women who have made
a study of the "peril," and who are familiar with customs, are loth to
place all the blame for undesirable conditions on the native,
nevertheless. A large number of native girls are not allowed by their
parents to come to the cities or towns as servants. While they live in
the kraal on the veld no concern is felt for the future of the girls;
but so soon as they leave the native hut to go into service in the
towns their future is in doubt. So, with no native girls to be had as
servants, the umfaan's services for the present are indispensable.
South Africa has proved an Arcadia for a great number of poor girls.
Mill and shop girls of Great Britain who had dreamed of being the wife
of a man dressed in white clothes from feet to head, of living in a
wide verandaed house, trellised all around, with flowering vines
climbing all about the porch, with the picture varied by the hum of
bees or humming birds; with palms, exotics and flowers growing about
the house and yard; with bearing banana plants, mango trees and rows
of luscious pineapples growing in the yard--all encompassed by a
flowering hedge of big, bright hibiscus bush; with a foreground of a
steepled city and a broad blue ocean, and a background of spreading
fern-leafed trees emblazoned with scarlet and lavender-colored
flowers; with an ayah (Indian maid) to be at her beck and call and a
black boy to do the housework and bring her breakfast to her room; to
be drawn from her home to the shopping center of the city and back by
a big and swift Zulu ricksha puller, with long cow horns secured to
each side of his head--that dream has come true to thousands of poor
girls who have married in this section of South Africa.
Most wives from Great Britain, however, prove white elephants to men
living in the colonies. They are eternally going "home," as the
British Isles are termed, and the husband's nose is "kept on the
grindstone" to meet the expense required. The home "holiday" is seldom
less than six months, and is frequently eighteen months, during which
period the husband is maintaining two homes--the one in the colony and
sending money to Great Britain to meet the expense of his family in
that country. On the other hand, the climate of Southern Natal and
Zululand is hard on the white woman. The easy life they live, and
their fascinating surroundings, are not reflected in face or in
physique. It is unusual to see a buxom, rosy-cheeked woman or girl in
Durban. The face is white and features lifeless. The climate in that
part of South Africa seems to not only make them jaded, but
crow's-feet and deeper wrinkles mark the faces of most women at a
period in life when the features should be free of these ageing signs.
The children suffer from the climate to the same degree as the women,
most of them having thin bodies, thin arms, thin blood and spindled
legs. Men also are affected by the climate, but not to the same degree
as women and children. Illustrative of the size of men in Southern
Natal, it may be noted that ready made suits of clothes of size 40 and
over are not kept in stock by merchants, as there is no call for
them; few men attain that girth. It is doubtful also if one could find
a collar of size 17.
The horse of Natal is a hungry-looking beast. This is owing to the
grass generally being of a wiry nature, which the animal cannot
digest, and a better quality, if eaten when dew is on it, proves very
injurious to the system. Smoldering fires are lit in stables in the
evening so that the smoke will keep mosquitoes from the premises.
These insects are said to inject disease germs into any horse they
bite. Large, vicious flies prove another menace to horses. The bite of
these flies often draws blood, and as a result white hairs grow from
the bitten parts. So many of these white hair spots appear on the
bodies of black and bay horses that they often give a beast the
appearance of being an iron-gray color. In certain sections of the
Province of Natal horses cannot live.
Favored with a delightful climate and a good bathing beach, Durban is
a noted winter resort in that part of the world. The weather during
the "season"--from May to October--is like the American Indian summer
save for the absence of Jack Frost. At this time of year people from
Johannesburg and other sections of the high veld come in large numbers
to this point of the coast to spend their vacations. Circuses also pay
their annual visits; hotel-keepers raise prices; rooming house
proprietors double rates; fakirs are numerous; talented tramps--street
singers--are heard in front of hotels, looking for any spare change
that may come from verandas and windows; Zulu ricksha pullers become
ambitious for an extra "holiday" fare--every one tries to get rich off
the visitor, and the air is charged with music, merriment and life at
every turn.
In the way of amusement, moving pictures predominate, although
theatrical people of world reputation frequently tour South Africa.
Concerts in the Town Hall Sunday evenings, held under municipal
auspices, are a popular form of entertainment, these being in charge
of the borough organist, a city official. Military bands in the gala
season entertain the populace morning, afternoon and evening at the
Beach and in parks. Besides these attractions, boating, fishing, horse
racing, military sports tournaments, and the general athletic sports
figure largely in the life of the place.
Dwellings are nearly always at a premium, these renting for from $15
to $35 a month; but few houses are available for the lesser sum. The
standard of living may be gauged by these charges, as people receiving
small salaries could not pay high rentals. The wages of clerks,
salesmen and mechanics range from $65 to $100 a month. In many Durban
homes will be found a piano, a phonograph, good furniture, often a
good collection of horns and skins, pictures--the home of no
workingman of any country could be better furnished than the Durban
breadwinner's.
"Did you attend the funeral yesterday?" was asked of a lady whose
relative had been buried the day before. "Oh, no!" she answered, much
surprised at the question; "only men attend funerals." The absence of
women at subsequent burials proved this to be the custom here. A body
must be put under ground within 24 hours after death. Were a person to
die at 7 o'clock in the morning, the burial would take place during
the day. When information has been given that a person has died, it is
understood that the funeral will take place in a few hours.
One making a visit to the black belts would use good judgment were he
to leave behind the word "woman" when applied to white women. "Woman"
in these countries is used only when speaking of black or colored
persons. "Lady" is always used when referring to a white woman. One
will find a similar distinction in vogue in the negro sections of the
United States.
"Toff" is an English term used to denote a good dresser--a sort of
dandy. As most of the clothes worn by men are tailor-made, a great
many "toffs" may be seen in Durban. The cheapest suit one can have
made costs $22, but from $25 to $40 is the general price.
Natal, unlike the other provinces of South Africa, has always been
English, particularly the coast section, which accounts for few
manufacturers being in evidence from other countries. But among
American products are shoes, sewing machines and illuminating oil.
Some powerful locomotives in use are of American manufacture and are
imported chiefly to pull trains up heavy grades. The cooking stove in
general use here is the kerosene oil sort, most of them of American
make. In recent years, exports from the United States to the
sub-continent (as South Africa is often termed) have increased to the
creditable figures of 35 to 40 per cent.
"Will you please look at the fireless stove?" a saleslady asked, as a
group of women passed a "kitchen" stall in a fair ground on a
provincial fair day. Turning about, there was a dish of baked beans,
seldom seen away from America; an apple pie, an article of food as
scarce in foreign parts as hens' teeth; a roast chicken, soda biscuits
(called scones in British territory) and baked potatoes. The whole
outfit had America stamped on it very strongly. All the women stopped
to witness the fireless stove "demonstration." "Where's the fire?"
asked one of the women. Then the "demonstration" began, both in action
and word. Her auditors looked with staring eyes and open-mouth as the
agent showed them and explained its working.
Comparatively few Americans live in the Province of Natal, as at a
luncheon given by the American Consul's wife to her countrymen "a
table held us all"--thirty being present. Invitations had been sent to
a larger number, but as some of these were missionaries located in
remote places of the country all did not attend. The luncheon was
served on a Fourth of July, and what a pleasant gathering it proved to
be. Some of those present had been away from their native country as
long as forty years. Pleasant chats, speeches, toasts--the season of
good fellowship that prevailed at that Fourth of July gathering, when
we were all 10,000 miles from home, will remain among the longest
cherished memories that those present will carry with them through
life.
Though lighting, water, a telephone system and street railways are
owned by the city, municipal ownership does not augur cheaper prices
in Durban, in spite of the fact that the rates charged the consumer
and patron insure the city not only a fair return on the capital
invested, but generally a snug surplus is shown besides. Street cars
are of double-deck style, but the fare is high. The system of paying
is by "stage"--four cents from stage to stage, and the distance
between "stages" is so arranged that the city receives about three
cents a mile from its patrons. Conductors and motormen are Europeans.
While the street car system gives employment to white men, it is the
only department of the city that does so. The park system and the
street department work is done entirely by Indian coolies, who receive
from $3 to $5 a month. They are the most hungry looking, bony,
spindle-legged lot of creatures one might set eyes on; but it is
largely due to this cheap help that the Durban treasury is in such
good condition.
The Indian coolie is tricky, treacherous, lying, lazy, dirty and
repulsive. He has about his loins a rag just big enough to cover his
nakedness, while the wrapping around his head--his puggaree--is as
large as a bed sheet. In other words, he makes a loin piece out of a
handkerchief, but requires yards of cloth for a head covering.
Sugar growing being the principal industry of southern Natal, the
Indian coolie was imported to work in the sugar-cane fields. Tea also
is grown in the southern part of the province, and Indians are used in
that industry, receiving from $3 to $5 a month and board. As his main
food is rice, board does not cost much; and as he sleeps in any sort
of a shed, the sugar grower is not put to great expense for beds and
bedding. The coolie used to be brought to South Africa under what was
termed the "indenture system," the indentureship periods being from
three to five years, during which he could not leave his employer. It
was a mild form of slavery. At the end of his indentureship he was
generally shipped back to India, but could be re-employed there and
return to Africa. The sugar company paid his transportation either
way. But that expense did not greatly shrink the growers' pocketbooks,
as the coolie was shipped in the hold of a ship, which, when packed
with this class, resembled a great ant-hill. Serving two and three
terms of successive indentureship to the same employer gained for him
his freedom, when he could remain in Natal. From then on he became a
curse. The Dutch came in full control of South Africa on May 30, 1910,
and a month later marked the end of indentured coolies entering the
sub-continent.
As is generally known, Indian girls become mothers at the age of from
12 to 14 years. Added to a resulting abnormal birth rate, compared
with Europeans, polygamy is also a custom of the Indians. Thus will
readily appear the great danger to the white interest where the Indian
gets a foothold.
The Indian patronizes his own people, and for this reason many of the
Arab and Hindu merchants soon become wealthy. They aim to oust the
white man wherever and whenever they can do so. Their standard of
living is so much lower, and their employees work for so much less
than the white merchant must pay European help, that they can
undersell the white in most lines of business. Some of the wealthiest
men in the province are Indian merchants.
Most of the money in use in South Africa is gold--gold sovereigns--and
silver. The gold sovereign is what the Indian is after. His savings
are sent to India in gold. Through the Durban post office was sent not
long since 65,000 gold sovereigns. Bankers and business men appealed
to the government to put a stop to sending this metal out of the
country, and when that method of depleting the gold currency had been
checked, it was sent to India secretly, most of it in packing boxes,
there being a large trade between the two countries.
The Indian having become a running sore on the financial and social
body of Natal, the government has tried to tax the race out of the
country. The legal age of a girl is placed at thirteen years and that
of a boy at sixteen years. The tax on "legal" aged Indians is $15 a
year. So, if an Indian father had three girls over thirteen years of
age, and two sons over sixteen, making seven in the family of legal
age, the head tax would be $105. To impose such an exorbitant tax on
poor, low paid people seems a hardship. No "melting pot" that ever
simmered will assimilate the Indian with the white race, however. They
bring with them filthy habits and weird customs, and live the life of
an Indian in whatever part of the world they may be located.
The destruction of the "gods"--Mohurrum festival--is one of the great
holidays of the Indians in Natal. This is the closing climax of a
Mohammedan ten-day festival. The festival takes place each year, which
shows that Indians do not worship stale gods, as a new one comes into
existence ten days after the drowning of the old gods. The gods on
this occasion were drowned in the Umgeni River, about three miles from
Durban.
The fantastic hearses, in design a strange mixture of mosque and
pagoda, made up of bamboo framework covered with bright colored paper
and lavishly decorated with tinsel and gaudy ornaments, most of them
surmounted by the star and crescent on a dome, emblematic of the
Moslem faith, were followed by Indian women in brightly colored
garments, and grotesquely painted men scantily clad in loin cloths,
weird headpieces, and other trappings, who conveyed the gods to the
river. Above the noise that followed this gay holiday crowd, bent on
the destruction of Indian gods, could be heard the monotonous and
ear-racking din of the tomtom, together with a prehistoric bagpipe
here and there, and these were the only musical instruments in use to
demonstrate the feelings of this motley crowd. The pagodas are called
"taboots," and when these came to a halt--they were drawn by men--the
"tigers," men besmeared with lead, ochre and yellow-colored mud and
grease from head to foot, would give exhibitions of contortions, which
must have been pleasing to the slowly moving gods. At the river where
the gods were to meet their death had gathered a great crowd of
Indians, natives and Europeans to witness the last part played in the
Mohurrum fast and festival. "Taboot" after "taboot" was tipped and
hurled into the stream, after the priests had taken rice and other
grain from it, which they tossed into a small fire burning in an urn.
The shallow river was swarming with youngsters, and no sooner had a
"taboot" reached the water than the boys were at it, and in a short
time it was a shapeless wreck.
On the shore of the Indian Ocean a group of Hindus were observing a
repulsive form of the Buddhist religion. About a dozen in number, they
assembled round a brass urn, six inches across and three deep, in
which burned an oil fire. Half of this number formed what we may call
an orchestra. Two of the instruments were tomtoms and the others
rounded pieces of wood, bored out, as large as a croquet ball, and
with brass bells attached. These were put over the players' hands,
rattling as they moved their wrists, the other members at the same
time chanting a dump. Close to the urn stood a cone-shaped wooden
frame, two feet high and eighteen inches at the base, covered with
flowers. To the rear lay three live hens, with strings tied to their
legs.
The Hindus then started toward the water to the accompaniment of bells
and tomtoms. Leading were three men, the one between, who appeared
nervous, being aided by those on each side. One of the trio had thick,
black hair reaching to the waist, but none wore head covering. When
the three had waded in up to the armpits, the center man was ducked a
number of times. The music then ceased for a short period, after which
all returned to the urn. The Indian who had been immersed turned out
to be a convert to this fanatical sect.
The orchestra resumed the chant, the man with the long hair and the
convert kneeling by the fire, the third one, a priest, standing. The
former began bending his body backward and forward, his head touching
the sand at each movement, also running his fingers through his hair.
The convert followed the actions of the other. Both worked themselves
into a state of weakness, verging on collapse, during which their
hands, at times, came in contact with the flame in the urn, but none
of the members made any effort to turn their hands from the fire,
which, of course were burned. At this stage of the ceremony both men,
their eyes rolling and only the whites showing, lay on the sand,
exhausted. The chant ceased. The priest approached the apparently
lifeless Indians with a phial in his hands. He next placed the open
end of the bottle to the nose of one, then to the other, the Hindus
raising themselves to their knees as the orchestra resumed.
The half-revived convert then put out his tongue, the priest advancing
with what looked like an oyster fork in his hand. The orchestra
stopped--all was silent. He next took hold of the dazed, hand-burnt
disciple's tongue in one hand, and forced the tines of the fork
through that member with the other; then, quickly stepping to the
cone, took two flowers--lavender and yellow in color--and, returning,
put one flower on top of the tongue, the other underneath. No blood
flowed from the penetrated member. The Hindu stood up, apparently in a
trance, his tongue spiked. The priest again alertly stepped back and
returned with a chicken, snapping the hen's head off as if cut with a
scissors. The blood from the headless fowl was sprinkled over the
convert; then another hen was brought, killed likewise, its blood also
being sprayed over the supplicant, when the orchestra played. The
follower next bended to his knees, after which the flower cone was
lifted on his head. He rose; then the group, to the accompaniment of
the "music," walked over sand dunes in the direction of a mosque,
where, it was said, the fork would be withdrawn from the inducted
Asiatic's tongue.
The Zulu ricksha puller is the most striking feature of that
interesting city to a visitor, as he proves an object of much
curiosity and admiration. He is in a class by himself. In stature, he
stands from 5 feet 6 inches to 6 feet 4 inches; in color, darker than
a mulatto, but not black; with bare legs, strong, muscular and fleet
of foot; generally ready to smile, showing his perfect teeth; standing
between two shafts by which he draws the ricksha, watching eagerly for
a fare--this gives but a meager illustration of the Zulu ricksha
puller.
The Zulu reaches the culmination of vanity when he has fixed himself
up to look like, and to imitate the actions of, an ox, horse or mule,
for he has a veneration for these dumb animals. The larger the horns
he can wear, which are secured to a piece of cloth that fits tight to
the head, the better he is pleased. A number of long feathers often
extend from between the horns, and vari-colored grass and thin reeds,
also attached to the same place, fall to and below the waistline.
Added to this head adornment, calabashes, sometimes as large as a
cantaloupe, protrude from the side of his head. His jacket,
sleeveless, which bears designs of plaids and squares, resembling a
checker-board, extends midway between thigh and knee. His pants are a
slit knickerbocker, also extending to halfway between thigh and knee,
but from the hem fall strips of red braid six inches below. The pants
are split to allow his legs freedom when drawing the vehicle.
The ricksha puller is eternally trying to think of something fantastic
and grotesque to wear. One fellow may be seen with his legs and feet
painted blue, representing the sky, with white spots dotted here and
there to represent stars, another with both legs painted white. At
times one leg is painted red and the other white. Also may be seen,
fastened to the puller's horns, the skull of a calf or sheep, or
perhaps of a monkey. Monkey skins, with tails attached, are worn, one
in front and the other on the back. Again, a discarded plug hat may be
hung on one horn and an empty vegetable can on the other while he is
pulling a passenger about the city. Sometimes his head looks like a
small flower garden, as he is seen trundling his ricksha about with
bright red hibiscus and carnations sticking out of his black, woolly
head at the top and from the sides. At night a small light--generally
a candle--attached to the axle of his sulky, may be seen at the sides
of streets and showing from dark alleys or from under a spreading
tree. The puller will jingle the little bell on the shafts of his
ricksha to attract the attention of a passerby. The weird trappings,
with the dim outline of the Zulu, together with his long horns showing
from the darkness, will not inspire confidence in one unfamiliar with
the native puller. In short, he appears fantastically inhuman by day
and grotesquely brutish by night. His physique, however, is an object
of admiration; mentally, he is a child.
The ricksha is a two-wheeled, two-shaft sulky, with rubber tired
wheels, upholstered, and will seat two persons. A hood is attached to
the seating box like that of a carriage. A small bell hangs from one
of the shafts, which the puller sounds to give warning of his coming.
Under, from the center of the axle depends a bar of iron with a small
wheel at the end. This bar prevents passengers from falling out if the
ricksha should tip while going up hill. The service is good and the
fare cheap--from 6 to 50 cents--the different fare stages being
printed on a card. Like every one engaged in similar occupations, the
puller knows a stranger, and succeeds often in getting more than the
just fare from men, but women generally ask for the schedule card.
"Ricksha!" is the only word shouted when a puller is wanted. Regular
stands for them are located in different parts of the city, and if one
feels depressed in spirits and wishes to get out of the "dumps," a
good way to have the "cloud" lifted is to shout "Ricksha!" when within
200 to 300 feet from where fifteen to twenty of the pullers are
chatting and waiting for a fare. Every one of them will spring between
the shafts, like fire horses to harness, and make a dash at full speed
to the person who shouted. The noise and rattle a group of pullers
make in approaching sounds almost like a collision between two railway
trains.
The puller rests the shafts on the ground while his passenger is being
seated. He holds his big, strong, flat foot on the thills, so the
vehicle will not slip while one is getting aboard, until his patron
tells him to go. If one cannot speak the native language, not a word
will be spoken, for rarely does one meet a native who can speak
English. The passenger points his finger in the direction he wishes to
be drawn. The Zulu raises the shafts and, after a few slow, heavy
pulls to get the vehicle started, one is spinning along as fast as a
trolley car travels.
[Illustration: JIM FISH WAS THE SWIFTEST PULLER THAT EVER WORE A BRACE
OF HORNS.
DURBAN, SOUTH AFRICA.]
"Jim Fish!" "Jim Fish!" they will call to a passerby, at the same time
ringing the small bell on the shafts, while advancing and acting in a
manner that suggests the person being approached had forgotten to call
a puller. Jim Fish was the swiftest puller that ever wore a brace of
horns. In a three mile race with a trolley car Jim came out ahead,
but, like Pheidippides, the Greek of the dusty past, after whose
run the Marathon has been named, he fell dead when he had crossed the
finish line. By calling out "Jim Fish" the Zulus imagine the name
suggests a fast ride.
The puller appears at his best when traveling down grade. Just at the
head of the decline he jerks the shafts upward--this movement bringing
his back close to the dashboard--when his arms rest akimbo on the
thills. He maintains his full height during this change of position,
which is in accordance with professional ricksha pullers' custom. The
sulky naturally tilting backward--also the occupants--his body is
nearer the axle of his vehicle than when traveling over a level or
inclined surface. Aided by the weight of his passengers, the ricksha
is then almost evenly balanced. Riding on the shafts, he throws to one
side, like a jumping-jack, the big leg bearing the painted design of
the sky or openwork, and his unpainted leg to the other. He also moves
his body from side to side and assumes a labored expression, although
resting while being borne on the shafts. His body movement and stern
appearance are affected, and are, as he believes, in keeping with that
of a racehorse when coming down the home stretch, which he is
imitating. His horns and their adornment, together with the colored
grass streamers, feathers, monkey tails, checkerboard designed jacket,
calabashes, braid, flowers--all his trappings are then set full to the
wind, as the Zulu seems to actually fly through space.
In stormy weather, which means good business for the puller, the hood
is raised, and a piece of canvas that covers the front of the ricksha
is buttoned to the sides, which protects the occupant from rain both
from above and in front. Off the Zulu goes, after he has tucked the
rug under his passenger's feet and has seen to it that the canvas
shelters his fare. The rain may be coming down in torrents, and the
water half knee deep in the streets, with the handicap of the raised
hood and front canvas against him; but patter, patter, patter he will
continue, watching for depressions, in order to sidestep them so that
his passenger will not be jolted, until he has reached the place at
which his fare wishes to alight. He will take one home in any sort of
weather, as his strong legs and body rarely fail him.
The puller will often have nothing on but the jacket, short, split-leg
pants and trappings. He does not go to his living quarters--the
ricksha stable--and get dry clothes, as one might expect him to do,
but trundles his sulky about in the rain looking for another fare. He
pulls a ricksha from two to three years, when consumption generally
claims him as a victim.
Twelve hundred of these stalwart natives were formerly engaged in this
kind of work, but now there are less than a thousand. The extension of
street car lines from time to time accounts for the decrease.
The rickshas are owned by a company, and 60 cents a day is paid by the
puller for its use. All he makes over 60 cents is his own. It is said
he often earns from $2 to $3 a day, but there are also days when his
fares do not exceed the rent charge. Most of the pullers work but four
days a week.
A "curfew" bell rings at 9 o'clock each evening, and the only native
seen about the streets who is immune from arrest after that hour is
the ricksha puller. After "curfew" a native carries a pass or a note
from his employer, either of which will save him from being taken to a
police station. It is very amusing at times to watch a Zulu policeman
question a native as to why he is out late. His only protection is the
note or his pass, which the policeman makes pretense at reading,
though he does not know A from B.
This dusky guardian of the peace is next in interest to the ricksha
puller. His uniform is a jacket, dark blue in color, that reaches just
below the waist band. His pants are of the same material, reaching to
and covering the kneecap, where it is buttoned tight. His legs from
his knees down are bare and shine like polished ebony, for they are
oiled every day. He wears a stingy head piece called a forage cap,
generally made of blue cloth, which covers about one-third of the
head--the side--from the arch of the ear to within two inches of the
crown. This is held in place by a string looping under his chin or
resting between the chin and lower lip. Some caps have a red stripe
across the top, and all have a dent or crease. His weapon is a
knobkerry, a stick an inch round, with a knob on it as large as a
croquet ball. A pair of handcuffs is also included among this Zulu
officer's equipment.
The European policeman of Durban, as many European women of that city,
have an easy job. The native police do any "rough" work required to
subdue black offenders, as Europeans, to whom the white policeman
would give his attention, are as a rule law abiding. The native
carries his superior's raincoat, overcoat, or any burden that the
white officer might need while on duty. A black policeman is not
permitted to arrest a European, no matter how serious the offense
against the law might be. The worst offenders are Indians; but big
thefts, safe-blowing, house breaking, hold-ups, sand-bagging, etc.,
are few, which indicates the respect people have for the law in this
British stronghold. White policemen receive $75 a month, and natives
$15 a month and board. The working time is eight hours a day, with
three shifts.
A large building without an entrance door would appear as something
unusual in Northern cities; and yet one can find such an oddity in the
far Southland. The one in question is built of brick, three stories in
height, and contains a hundred furnished rooms. The entrance is a high
archway, and just inside is an elevator and stairway. It is an English
custom to leave one's shoes outside his room door on going to bed, so
that "boots" can polish them in the morning. In front of each room, on
each side of the aisles, in this hostelry could often be seen from one
to four pairs of shoes, yet every pair would be found in the morning
where they had been placed the night before, although no porter guards
the entrance of the building nor a night watchman the interior.
Meat is about the same price in South Africa as in America. Beef,
mutton, chicken and pork cannot be had for less than 15 to 25 cents a
pound. Irish potatoes are expensive, as most of this standby is
imported. Eggs sell at 35 to 60 cents a dozen. Apples are imported
from Australia and Canada.
Pineapples, oranges and bananas are found on the table of nearly
every household the year round. Then there are, among other varieties
of seasonable fruit, the mango, guava, grenadilla and avacada pear.
The pineapple, when picked ripe, is as soft as our pear. These native
fruits sell at a reasonable figure. A hundred bananas can often be
bought for six cents.
Hotel expenses are reasonable, $2 a day insuring good accommodation.
In boarding houses, good board and lodging can be had at from $30 to
$35 a month. Splendid furnished rooms can be rented at from $10 to $15
a month. Meals in popular priced restaurants cost 30 and 35 cents.
The sun rises from the Indian Ocean here and travels during the day on
an almost straight course, shining on the south side of the street,
the north side being partly shaded. For this reason the principal
business street of Durban is roofed on the south side, as it is
exposed to the sun from morning until sunset. The cold and warm winds
also come from a different direction than those above the equator--the
warm winds from the north and the cold winds from the south. Even the
sun seems to rise in the west and set in the east.
Wages paid mechanics range from $3 to $4 a day of eight hours' work.
Such employment as teamster, hod carrier, street laborer,
'longshoreman, and park worker is all done by Indians and natives. The
native is paid from 25 to 50 cents a day, the latter figure being
considered good wages, while the Indian works for 10 to 15 cents a
day. Hotel work, waiting on tables, kitchen work, and even cooking,
with a few exceptions, is done by blacks, chiefly Indians.
A white man "on his uppers" in Durban, or in any black center, for
that part, is to be pitied. If he be a mechanic, his chances for work
are none too good, and if he be an unskilled worker there is no chance
for him at all, as blacks do all the work of that sort. The United
States and Canada are the only countries--possibly Mexico, too--in
which one can travel on railroad trains without paying fare or being
put into a penitentiary. Walking on a railway track in Europe is a
prison offense. So, taking that as one's cue, a man caught stealing a
ride on a train might be tried for treason. As Durban is 7,000 miles
from England, 4,500 miles from the Argentine, 6,000 miles from
Australia and 5,000 from India, a fellow "broke" in the coast cities
of South Africa is in a sorrowful plight. The cheapest steamship
passage from South African ports to England is $80 to $100.
Labor unions exist in South Africa, and the members take an active
part in politics. Not long since a spirited campaign was on for a seat
in the Senate. One of the foremost business men of that country was a
candidate for the office, and a union labor man, a locomotive engineer
by trade, was the opposing candidate. The lines were tightly drawn
between capital and labor in that senatorial contest. The
"one-man-one-vote" clause has yet to be drafted into the constitution
of the Union of South Africa. Only a citizen paying a certain amount
of tax during the year is allowed to vote. On the other hand, a man
holding much property, and this scattered about the country, can, as
in England, vote in as many districts as his property is located. A
wealthy man may cast half a dozen votes at an election, while the
workingman taxpayer will not, as a rule, have more than one vote. The
capitalist candidate for the Senate in this election had four votes to
cast, while the railroad man had but one. A widely known man from the
Transvaal was imported to Natal to do "heavy work" for the wealthy
candidate, and prominent labor men from the Transvaal and the Cape of
Good Hope Provinces were saying and doing all they could to make votes
for their candidate.
"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang
separately," a labor campaigner was heard to say at one gathering,
quoting Benjamin Franklin's cynical epigram. "Of the people, by the
people, and for the people," Abraham Lincoln's immortal words, were
also used during the campaign. But the speakers of both parties were
tyros compared to the American brand of spellbinder. Election day
came, and he who had plural votes cast them, and he who had one vote
cast it. The result of an election is made known by a judge announcing
the figures from the balcony of the Town Hall. "Hear, ye! Hear ye!" a
voice was heard to command, the judge addressing the people
assembled. The engineer had 36 more votes than his wealthy competitor,
and was the third labor legislator elected to the South African Upper
House.
Every mechanic has his "boy"--the bricklayer, carpenter, plumber,
electrician, painter--to wait on him. One might be located in the
black belt for years and not see a mechanic carry even a pair of
overalls. A mechanic may be seen any time, when working, asking his
"boy" to hand a tool that would not be two inches beyond his natural
reach. A bricklayer becomes so painfully helpless that he will neither
stoop nor reach for a brick; that is what his "boy" is for. The
carpenter must saw boards, because the native cannot saw straight, but
in every other respect he is just as helpless as the bricklayer.
Clerks even have a "boy" to hand a pen or any other thing they might
need in connection with their work. The only tradesman observed who
did his work without the aid of a "boy" was the printer and linotype
operator. And what applies to printers may be said of editors and
others engaged in the printing trade. They really work in the
old-fashioned way. Were one to take a spade in hand to prepare the
garden for vegetables, merely that act of manual labor would be very
apt to prove a bar to a further continuance of the respect of his
European neighbors, and assuredly so by the natives and Indians.
The white man is always at his minimum energy where the black man is
depended on to do the work. We need not go farther than our Southern
States to learn that lesson.
Vasco da Gama, a Portuguese explorer, discovered the Province of Natal
five years after Columbus set foot on the North American Continent. Da
Gama's first visit to Natal was on Christmas Day in the year 1497. As
Christmas Day is the natal day of the Savior, and as the word natal in
the Spanish and Portuguese languages is used as is the word birth in
the English language, this will explain the origin of the naming of
Natal.
For more than three hundred years that section of South Africa
remained as Da Gama found it before white men made a settlement among
the Zulus. In 1824 a few Englishmen built temporary dwelling places on
the shores of the Indian Ocean, more Englishmen joining them from time
to time, until Durban has become one of the leading seaport cities of
the African continent. The coast section of the Province of Natal is
the only part of South Africa in which the Dutch were not the
pioneers.
A great many humpback whales inhabit the Indian Ocean in the stretch
of sea, nearly a thousand miles long, separating Durban from Capetown.
Of late years whales have been hunted on a large scale, and each
season finds a new whaling company in the field to share in the
profits of this lucrative industry. Eight or ten factories, or
stations, most of these located a few miles from Durban, are now
engaged in utilizing the by-products of the whale.
Harpooning whales, or whaling--to use the general term--is engaged in
at places separated by thousands of nautical miles, and, like other
water industries, has its season. Whales, like wild fowl, migrate at
certain seasons to some particular part of the great water expanse,
and return again the succeeding year. By nature, this cetacean prefers
a cold climate to a warm one. The season for their migration is at a
different period to that of the wild fowl, for the "spouter" leaves
the zone of the hot sun and swims great distances until he reaches
cooler water. Sometimes it is from the North Atlantic to the South
Atlantic or Indian Oceans, and at others from the Indian Ocean
southeasterly to the South Pacific Ocean, the water of which is cooled
by the icebergs of the South Pole section. Whales leaving the North
Atlantic in early summer for the South Atlantic Ocean know it is
cooler south of the equator than north of it.
Americans and Norwegians engaged early in the whaling business in the
North Atlantic Ocean, and up to a few years ago American whaling ships
made frequent visits to the South Atlantic and Indian Oceans in quest
of the oil-producing leviathan. But it is to the Norwegian that credit
must be given for building up the whaling industry in the Indian
Ocean, thereby putting in circulation a large sum of money each season
that, until recent years, had been overlooked.
From 600 to 800 of these monsters of the deep are harpooned and
rendered into oil in the Durban factories in a season--from June to
November, inclusive--the cool season in that part of the world. Thirty
tons is the average weight of whales killed in the Indian Ocean. Those
on exhibition in museums give one some idea of the size of a whale,
yet the cured specimen is a poor substitute for one which had been
"spouting" an hour before.
Whaling boats are little larger than a big tug-boat. The whaler is
equipped with one mast, and twenty feet above the deck a long barrel
is secured to this, in which one of the crew is stationed when hunting
the great monster of the sea. The barrel is called the "crow's nest,"
and from here the "lookout" scans the ocean in every direction for the
"spouting" mammoth. On the bow of the boat a cannon is secured, out of
which a harpoon is shot into the whale. The harpoon looks like a small
boat anchor. The length of the harpoon bar is four feet, and at one
end are four hooks ten inches long. The hooks are attached to the bar
by a spring, and, before being used, are bent down to the bar, and
kept in this position by strong cord. Over the end of the bar fits a
spear-pointed cap a foot long, and in this cap has been placed a
dynamite bomb. Whales are shot within thirty yards of the
boat--sometimes twenty feet. The cannon can be adjusted to any angle.
When the spear-pointed cap enters the whale, the bomb explodes,
snapping in two the cord with which the four hooks were tied to the
bar, when the hooks spring outward--like an open umbrella--inside the
whale.
The vital spot aimed at is the lungs. If the aim proves true, the
large mammal falls a victim to the ugly weapon, and dies instantly. If
the harpoon goes wide, the whale heads for the bottom. A long, strong
rope is secured to one end of the harpoon bar, and the whale is given
liberal latitude for his deluded effort to escape. Soon the rope
slackens, when the whaler knows the "spouter" is coming to the
surface to breathe. In the meantime, another harpoon has been placed
in the cannon, and when the whale appears this one is shot into the
crippled monster, putting an end to his fight for life. It sometimes
occurs, however, that the whale breaks the rope fastened to the eye of
the harpoon, when he escapes, carrying the treacherous weapon in his
ponderous frame.
When dead, the great "catch" is drawn to the side of the boat by the
rope secured to the harpoon. His tail flippers, which are from 10 to
12 feet long, are cut off, to allow of convenient handling of the
cumbersome carcass. A chain is then put around his delimbed tail, the
winches revolve, and, when his tail has been drawn up close to the bow
of the boat, a start is made for the wharf, leaving behind a wake of
red sea, discolored by the blood running out of his mouth and from the
rent in his body where the harpoon entered.
At the wharf, the boat chain is loosened and the harpoon rope cut. A
chain from the shore is next wound round his tail, a signal given the
engineer to start the machinery, and the great cetacean is slowly
drawn up a slipway out of the water. When drawn to the head of the
slipway, the body continues moving on to a wide flat car, the railway
track on which the car rests being sunk to a depth level with the top
of the slipway. One flat car is not long enough to afford room for the
huge wanderer of the deep, and a portion is drawn on to a second car.
An engine backs down, is coupled to the "whale train," and a start
made for the factory. The harpoon remains in the whale until the body
is cut to pieces.
At the factory, the whale is drawn off the car on to the "dissecting"
platform by another chain secured to the tail. Men, with long-handled
knives, then make deep cuts--one in its back and another in the
underpart--from the point of the jaw to the tail, and another deep cut
the full length of the carcass. The spaces between these incisions are
three feet at the underpart and from five to six feet on the back.
This part of the process is called "flencing." At the point of the jaw
a piece of flesh is cut until it is released from the bone, and a
small hole is cut out of the released part. A kafir, bare-headed and
bare-footed, brings a chain, and the hook of it is put through the
hole made in the released end of flesh at the whale's jaw. A signal
being given a man at the winches to start, the piece of released hide
begins to peel from the jaw, then down to the shoulder, and further
still. When the winches stop, a slab of hide 40 to 50 feet long, six
feet wide, and six inches thick--from the point of the jaw to the
whale's tail--is stretched out on the platform inside up. The skin
from the back and sides of the whale peels off almost as smoothly as
does the skin of a banana from that fruit. The skin at the underpart,
however, does not peel so freely, requiring cutting of the flesh by
the flencer in a similar way to that of severing threads when ripping
a seam in a garment. The underpart of the hide is but three inches
thick. These slabs or strips of flesh, of which six or seven are
procured from a whale, is the blubber, and from the blubber comes the
best grade of oil.
Kafirs, with long-handled knives, cut chunks--about 18 inches long and
12 inches wide--from the slabs, which are thrown into a hopper in
which are revolving knives, these cutting the flesh into small pieces,
which drop into elevator buckets, later emptying into boiling tanks
located on a floor above. In these vats the oil is boiled out of the
blubber.
The whalebone, located in the enormous mouth, is yet to be removed.
The flesh to which the bone grows is cut with long, strong knives
around the inside of the jaw. A point of the flesh is released, a
chain hooked to it, the winches again start revolving, and the
whalebone begins peeling off the inside of the mouth as freely as did
the blubber off the back. Half of the whalebone still remains in the
mouth, and this is removed in the same manner as the first half.
A great blood-red hulk is all that now remains of the whale. A chain
is again wound about and secured to the tail of the carcass, the
winches, for the last time, revolve, when the colossal frame is moved
up an incline to a floor above the platform on which it was skinned.
Then kafirs, with axes, begin cutting the hulk to pieces, which are
thrown into rendering vats. Different parts of the body are thrown
into different tanks, as certain portions of the flesh produce a
better grade of oil than other parts. The only portion not boiled is
the bone in the mouth. The blood is the only particle not utilized,
and it would add proportionately to the whale's value were it shed on
shore instead of in the sea. The flesh, after the oil has been boiled
out, is sold to farmers for fertilizing purposes. Thirty to
thirty-five men take part in disposing of a whale at the factory, and
from four to five hours' time is required to get the carcass into the
rendering vats.
From $700 to $800 is the value of a humpback to the manufacturer. The
average quantity of oil rendered is 50 barrels, and a barrel of oil
sells at $12 to $15. Most of the oil from the Durban factories is
shipped to Glasgow, Scotland, the whalebone to Paris, France.
Some whalers say the food of a whale is small fish, while other
authorities give it, owing to the gullet of some species of these
cetaceans being but two and three inches wide, as very small,
nutritious marine organisms, or insects, many not visible to the eye,
called invertebrates. When feeding, the whale takes great mouthfuls of
water, its whalebone serving as a strainer and repository in which the
minute sea denizens lodge. The water is then forced out of the mouth,
the food extricated from the meshes of the whalebone and advanced to
the throat. The mouth is so well protected with this bone, which looks
like a low, dense brush thicket, that nothing can enter the throat
until it has proved palatable.
The whale breathes through two slits, 18 inches long, located on top
of the head. Forty-five minutes is as long as the great mammal can
remain under water without breathing; but when swimming fast it will
be seen spouting at intervals of from five to seven minutes. The
spouting is caused by the slits or air-holes being slightly under the
surface. The tube through which air passes to the lungs is said to be
three inches in diameter.
The color of the back and sides is black and the skin smooth. The
underpart of the body and flippers is white, save for an occasional
black speck and fine black lines--mottled. Flutes, four inches deep,
corrugate the beast's underpart from tail to neck. In these grooves
are to be seen a great many small barnacles, and on the neck and lower
jaw barnacles grow as large as goose eggs.
From $8,000 to $10,000 is the value of a ton of whalebone from a
"right" whale, 800 to 1,000 pounds of this elastic substance coming
from the mouth. The bone grows in the form of strips, from 6 to 10
feet in length, and 6 to 12 inches in width. One end of a strip is
fringed with fine, black hair-fiber, this part of the whale finding
its way to the top of persons' heads, as out of it some "human-hair"
wigs are made. A "right" whale, 10 to 15 feet longer than a humpback
and in value equivalent to eight of the latter, is worth from $5,000
to $7,000, but of the hundreds killed in the Indian Ocean during a
season not more than half a dozen of this specie will be among the
number. The whalebone from the humpback is in little demand, growing
but two feet long, and is of inferior quality. The bone in the mouth
of the "right" whale calf--strips a foot long and tender--is of great
value. These are shredded, the fine, soft fiber being made into
artists' painting brushes.
The cow whale brings forth young each year, but triplets or even twins
are unknown in the cetacean family. A calf first opens its eyes in the
sea and soon finds its way to its mother's side, where, securely
snuggled by a strong fin, it remains from three to six days. When able
to "paddle its own canoe," the baby whale--a born swimmer--keeps close
to its mother's side, either up to the surface to "blow," adding a
tiny whitecap to the bounding main, or to accompany its maternal
guardian to feed in salty pastures of the deep. A whale calf nurses
like a colt. When a nursing cow whale is harpooned, whalers generally
kill the calf also, as it would starve if left without its mother's
nourishment.
At certain times of the year whales move in pairs--male and female.
When a hunter meets a couple the female is first selected for
slaughter; the sex is known by the cow being larger. The male whale
will not desert his dead mate, and thus becomes an easy victim of the
hunter's harpoon. On the other hand, if the male be shot, the female
immediately takes flight.
A whale is 17 feet long when born. At three years of age it has
attained a length of 30 feet, and during the succeeding eight or nine
years reaches its full length--from 45 to 50 feet; so that it requires
ten to twelve years to reach its maximum size. Old whalers are loth to
hazard a statement concerning the natural lifetime of the cetacean.
CHAPTER III
Zululand was next visited. During the reign of their kings Zulus
controlled their own internal affairs--made their own laws,
apportioned the land, chastised their subjects, conferred with British
officials concerning border line rules--were, in fact, in every sense,
a distinct, unfettered race of people. Zululand was Zululand then. War
after war, with gatling guns and modern fighting implements pitted
against their mediæval arms--the assegai, or spear--naturally made the
tribe submissive and wiped out their border line. So long as they had
a king there was always danger of trouble from Zululand. Dinizulu, the
last ruler, was taken prisoner, and was "boarded" in a Transvaal
penitentiary until a few years ago, when he died. The border line
between Natal and Zululand passed away, and the interests of the Zulus
and the affairs of Zululand are now looked after and administered by
officials of the Province of Natal.
The train, passing through cuts and grades, is half embowered with
flowering trees, growing on the banks. The giant bamboo, in obedience
to a summery wind, was gracefully swaying to and fro; the aloe, with
its flowery top, sixteen feet above the ground, sentinel-like,
contributed its share to the floral ensemble, and, together with an
almost endless tract of soft, light green sugar-cane growing on each
side of the railroad track, offered a mellow landscape found in but
few parts of the world.
A depressing contrast to nature--the Indian coolie scourge--is
witnessed at every stopping place in this part. We were in the sugar
growing section of Natal, and, as mentioned previously, Indian coolies
are employed entirely in this industry. There they were by hundreds,
most of them of objectionable appearance, and a dirty, almost naked,
baby astraddle every woman's hip, the Hindu mother's custom of
carrying her child.
We reached the Tugela River, the border line between Natal and
Zululand, and, thirty miles further, the train stopped at Ginginhlovu,
our destination. Ginginhlovu (elephant, in Zulu) was 93 miles from
where we started, and the train was seven hours running that distance,
running to schedule, too. Indian shanty stores were pleasantly absent,
as none but white traders are allowed to do business in Zululand.
The post cart is the stage coach of South Africa. Strongly built, it
is covered with canvas, has two wide wheels and contains two seats. A
seat will accommodate three persons in a pinch--the maximum capacity
of the coach being five passengers and the driver--but as the latter
usually takes up two-thirds of the front seat to handle the large team
required to draw the coach, the ordinary capacity of the cart is four
passengers, three occupying the rear and one the front seat. A frame
at the back serves for luggage, and small hand baggage may be put
under the seats. Four or six mules comprise a cart team, the charge
being ten cents a mile.
We left the railroad, and our mode of travel into the interior of
Zululand was by cart, wagon--a conveyance drawn by beasts. Five
passengers, the maximum number, squeezed themselves into the cart. The
next trip inland was on the following day, for which we would have to
wait, the station-master had informed us, "unless there was a
transport going to Eshowe." Eventually a transport--a truck 18 feet
long--was found, the driver of which said he thought he had room for
another passenger. The transport, ridged with bags of cornmeal five
feet high, was drawn by four teams of mules.
"Climb on," said the driver to a group of six; "we'll be starting in a
few minutes." Three women, two men and a boy began to scale the
transport up to the top of the load. "Get up," said the driver to the
mules, when a start was made for the interior of Zululand, the
passengers sitting on the top tier of cornmeal bags of the loaded
African transport.
We traveled slowly seventeen miles over a good macadam road. "That's
the home of Dinizulu, the Zulu king," said the boy passenger, as we
passed a frame building close to the road. We reached our destination
just at sundown--Eshowe, the old capital of Zululand, and one of the
prettiest places visited in South Africa.
Shade trees, flowers, comfortable homes built in spacious yards;
small, but substantial, public buildings; a good library, a wooded
glen just away from the town, in which had been built a splendid
cement swimming pool, give an insight into what the old Zulu capital
looks like now. The comfortable appearance of Eshowe has been made by
the European. English and native weekly papers are printed here, and
the quality of the work is good.
A European boy volunteered to show me about town. He had taken me to
the swimming pool, and as we were passing through a timbered portion
of this natural park he suddenly shouted, "Look out!" He then pointed
to a big fly that had just passed between us. "If that fly had struck
you the bitten part would swell up as large as a hen's egg. Often the
effects of the bite will assume the nature of an ulcer," he added. A
great number of flies in South Africa draw blood when they strike a
victim, whether man or beast.
We had 35 miles more to travel before our last stop in Zululand would
be reached. The post cart left at five o'clock in the morning, with
four passengers, and was drawn by four mules. The road was level for
the most part, with high grass growing on each side, broken only by an
occasional giraffe thorn or mimosa tree. The mimosa was in flower, and
so much fragrance was diffused from the thorn tree that one would know
of its existence if it were not in sight a hundred feet away.
"Hello, Graham!" shouted one of the passengers to a white man who
stood in the door of a building at which we had pulled up. We had
reached N'Halini, the first relay, where we breakfasted. "Hello!
everybody," returned Graham, for he proved to be the proprietor of the
eating station. "I haven't any eggs to serve you this morning, but I'm
strong on steak, ham and bacon. Bring out a big piece of steak to
make up for the eggs," he directed one of his Zulu boys.
Graham is a sailor with a wooden leg. He entertained us by telling how
many times he had been caught in the net fastened to the boom of a
sailing ship--a "wind-jammer," as he termed that style of craft--and
how, when encountering the fierce gales that blow in the Straits of
Magellan, he had been blown entirely off his feet, his body being
lifted in mid-air, his legs suggestive of ribbons, while holding to a
deck rail.
"Did you get enough to eat?" he asked, when we had finished. And we
admitted we had. Graham had two pigs eaten by crocodiles the day
before, and he could not restrain himself from bemoaning his luck.
"So long, fellows! I'll have eggs for you when you come back. So
long!" were the parting words of the onetime sailor, as, with an
additional team of mules, we started on our second relay.
"Sit forward, please, while we are going up this seven-mile hill; the
cart is tilting back too much," said the driver. We had five
passengers now, as another one had got on at Graham's place. It's
easier to say Graham's place than it is to try to pronounce the Zulu
name.
On, on we traveled over those beautiful hills of Zululand, the
passengers chatting as we moved along. Grassy hills, 500 feet high,
bare of timber and even shrubbery, with native huts built on the
sides, and small patches of corn growing here and there, proved of
interest. Vultures were flying high up in the air, bevies of guinea
fowl scurried to cover, and the wagtail, a black and white bird of
swallow size, with a tail ten inches long, crossed the roadway from
time to time. We had been told of the beauty of Zululand, and nothing
had been exaggerated.
Grass--long and short--was growing everywhere, enough to feed millions
of cattle, and not a "critter" grazing in sight. The Zulus, before and
for some years after the white man settled in South Africa, were a
wealthy tribe. Hundreds of thousands of cattle, sheep and goats roamed
over and fed off these ever-grassy hills; but tick fever--East Coast
fever, it is as often called--had fattened the vultures and made the
Zulu poor.
We reached the second relay, then the third, but the beauty of
landscape did not diminish. Our next relay will be the end of our
stage journey--Melmoth--52 miles from the railroad.
"The stopping off place" is a term often heard, but when one reaches a
point where there is no railroad and the terminus only of post carts,
it is certainly the stopping off place. Europeans live in remote
places still beyond Melmoth, and their mail is brought to them by
native postmen on foot.
We reached our destination early in the afternoon. Mail for persons
living beyond "the stopping off place," brought with us in the cart,
was to start on its way at three o'clock. As it was a week before
Christmas, the post contained a great number of Christmas presents.
The mail finally being sorted, it was entrusted to the postman's care.
All the letters could be put in a coat pocket, but the presents
strapped to his body made a heavy load.
A Zulu, six feet tall, stood on the porch of the squatty postoffice
building, looking like an off-colored Santa Claus. Having reached for
a stick a foot longer than his height, he stood up straight, waiting
for the word to go.
"All right, Jim," the postmaster ordered in the native tongue. "Ba,
ba," returned the negro in a low voice, bowing and saluting, with one
hand raised to the side of his head. He turned round quickly and
walked alertly in the direction where white people live, to be made
happy by presents sent to them by friends living in distant lands.
Thirty-three miles was the distance the Zulu carried the mail. It was
three o'clock in the afternoon when he left the Melmoth post office,
and was due at the next post station at 9:30 the morning following.
"He'll be there on the minute," the postmaster replied to a question
as to whether the carrier could travel the distance in the time
allotted, considering the heavy load. "He never fails us. Always on
time--in hail, rain or shine," he concluded.
[Illustration: ZULUS "SCOFFING" MEALY MEAL.
ZULULAND, SOUTH AFRICA.]
Zulu huts are round, the framework being of poles bent half circular,
tied with grass rope. The arch poles are supported with bent poles
strung crosswise, these being made secure by grass rope. Roof and
sides are covered with grass and reeds, secured to the framework with
the same kind of rope. The floor is of soil, generally taken from an
ant-hill, and becomes as compact as cement. In the center of the hut,
what may be termed a sort of earthen vessel is built, sometimes 18
inches across, and this is the cooking place--the stove. Zulus build
good huts. No windows are provided, however, and but one low entrance.
The cooking utensils are limited to an iron kettle, with three legs.
This is placed in the "stove." Cornmeal (called mealy meal) is the
chief food, which is boiled in the three-legged kettle, and, when
cooked, the family gathers round it, some sitting on the floor and
others resting on their haunches. Each member is supplied with a
wooden spoon, and with these they eat mealy meal as long as there is
any to be eaten. A ladle to stir the mush, cut out of a calabash, is
generally seen in a Zulu home. The bed is a cotton blanket, spread on
the earthen floor, and a bowed piece of wood, resting on two upright
pieces at each end, about four inches high, serves as a pillow. A soap
box may occasionally be found in a hut, but no chairs. The interior is
generally black with smoke from the "stove," a strong, sooty odor
being noticeable.
The Zulu tribe does not "colonize"--or, rather, assemble in villages,
as each family live by themselves. Huts are numerous, of course, but
one rarely, if ever, finds a settlement--a town. They live in
"kraals." A kraal is a group of huts, numbering from two to ten,
surrounded by a fence, generally composed of thorn brush. The
collection of huts generally indicates the number of wives that that
Zulu has. One hut is always larger than the others, this being
occupied by the first wife. Where cattle are kept together in a small
area inclosed by a fence, it becomes a cattle kraal. Sometimes one
kraal serves as a shelter for both natives and cattle.
Polygamy is common. The method of obtaining a wife is by purchase from
the father. Cattle is the medium of barter, from 10 to 80 cows being
the number asked for each girl. A wife who can be bought for 10 cows
is just the ordinary girl. The daughter of a petty chief would bring
20 cows, and a girl of royal descent could not be purchased for less
than 70 to 100 cows.
When a Zulu wishes to marry he comes to an understanding with the
girl's father concerning the number of cattle that must be paid for
the bride, and he must not forget to include among them another nice
beast, which is slaughtered and eaten at the wedding feast. The
marriage always takes place at the home of the bridegroom. The bride,
with her attendants, arrives the evening before the wedding day. The
extra ox is killed early in the morning.
The bride wears a veil of beads over her face for several hours while
the ceremony is taking place. Certain persons are appointed to
celebrate the marriage. Dancing is indulged in during this period. The
father of the bride steps forward among the merrymakers and bespeaks
the merits of his daughter. An old woman runs backward and forward
among the guests, holding in her hand a small stick, pointing upward,
and cackling like a hen. Dancing is going on all the time, one "group"
of dancers holding the "stage" until exhausted, when another group
will fill the vacated space and inject renewed life into the ceremony.
The bridegroom must show his valor during the pow-wow. He steps into
the arena with two sticks in his hand--stout walking-sticks. A series
of thrusts, feints, dodges, ducking, then a terrible thrust; more
fencing, another awful jab; snorting, sweating, uttering deep grunts
of satisfaction; stamping his feet heavily on the ground to make a
noise, imitating thunder, which denotes powerfulness--he is fighting
an imaginary foe, and when the bride's father and wedding party
signify by applause that he has been victorious--that he has killed
his adversary in mortal combat--he retires, carrying in his bosom the
assurance that he is a Zulu warrior "to the manner born."
From 300 to 400 Zulus attend a wedding, which lasts sometimes several
days. Native beer, made from corn, is brought in large quantities in
hollow calabashes by the guests. Faction fights, often brought about
through uninvited onlookers, but generally from drinking too much
beer, frequently prove an exciting feature of a Zulu wedding.
Under no circumstances can a wife leave her husband. A bargain is a
bargain with the Zulu. On the other hand, if the bride's merits have
been misrepresented, her husband will take her to her father's kraal
and demand the return of the cattle he paid for her. Though the girl
gets the cattle in name, the father really has the cows.
When a husband dies, his wives are not left alone in the world. It is
a Zulu custom that a brother of the deceased look after the widows. It
may seem an imposition on a brother to be saddled with two large
families--his own and his dead brother's--yet, bearing in mind that
the widows, collectively, are mothers of half a dozen to fifteen
daughters, it means that the guardian would fall heir to a nice herd
of cows when the girls reach womanhood. Zulu families, however, are
not large, averaging about five children.
A Zulu's standing with his people is based on the number of wives he
has. One with six to nine helpmates is considered in good
circumstances. In a general sense, the wives get along agreeably when
they number from two to six. The first wife is mistress of those who
come after her. Under the king's ruling, putting to death a favorite
wife by the others occurred from time to time; but in such instances
the wives numbered eight to twelve. Murders of this character have
become of rare occurrence, however, since Zululand has been governed
by the white man.
Wives and children are of little or no expense to a husband. He does
not work after he has become the possessor of several wives, and the
corn is planted, hoed, husked and ground into mealy meal by the wives.
None of them wear shoes, nor hats, nor coats. Cotton blankets, which
cost from 25 to 35 cents, are their chief covering. No money is
required for baby carriages, as, when they are not snugly dished in a
blanket on the mother's back, with the ends tied in front across her
chest, they are seen creeping about the kraalyard. A visit to the
country districts will find native women hoeing or working at
something else with their babes tied to their back. Their husbands are
in their huts, smoking pipes or sleeping. Zulu women look as strong as
the men. Save for their babes, all burdens are borne on their heads.
This mode of bearing weight is often carried to the ridiculous. A
spool of thread, a tomato, a tincup or similar light article may be
seen balanced on a woman's head. But she will carry in the same way,
with as apparent ease, though, a 100-pound bag of cornmeal, a five
gallon tin of water, a big three-legged iron kettle, and other weights
that would tax the strength of a strong man. The Zulu woman's superior
physique is accounted for, to a large degree, by the bearing of
burdens on her head from early childhood.
A Zulu woman "dressed up" is a striking figure. An ocher-colored cone
of hair rises from her head sometimes as high as 10 inches. One
unfamiliar with the native's hair, as seen resting flat on the head,
would never imagine the kinky mop, when straightened, would measure
from 12 to 18 inches, but it will. The natural color of the hair, of
course, is black, and its unnatural color is brought about by the
application of a thin, red-mud solution. Grass stalks, placed inside,
form a frame, which keeps the cone from settling. At the bottom, a
band, generally a strip of hide, keeps the "ornament" firm. A long hat
pin, whittled thin from a large bone of a beast, also plays a part in
keeping the "stove-pipe" properly poised. Her face is broad and rather
masculine, the expression stoical. No head covering is worn, and
weights are borne on women's heads, cone or no cone. Her broad, strong
shoulders are generally bare, and she always stands straight. Strings
are fastened around her neck--sometimes these are hairs from an
elephant's tail--to which are attached square pieces of cloth, with
colored beads fastened on them, resembling dominos. Generally wire
bangles are worn on one arm, these in some instances being so numerous
that they cover the arm from wrist to elbow. Often the skin of a calf
or a sheep or that of a wild beast is wrapped around her chest,
passing under her arms, and fastened at the back. This "waist" extends
in front to about the knees, and sometimes it is ornamented with
beads, pebbles or small seashells. A short skirt of rough cloth
extends to just below the knees, so that her legs from that point are
bare, as precious few native women wear shoes. They have none. Only
married women, or women engaged to be married, appear in the
cone-shaped hair fashion.
Polygamy is conducive to thrift as well as to laziness. Nowadays few
cattle are left to sons by fathers, as tick fever has almost bared the
country of this means of food and barter. So, in order to get a wife,
a Zulu must earn money with which to buy cows. The umfaan will save
half of his wages of $2.50 or $3 a month that he receives as houseboy.
When he has saved enough to buy a cow--they can be had for $15--it is
put to graze close to his father's kraal, and he will save enough
money to buy another cow or two. In the meantime calves are grazing,
and by the time he has reached 21 years of age he generally has enough
cows to buy one wife. Numbers of young men go to the Kimberley and
Transvaal mines, where the wages run from $15 to $30 a month, with
board. Unlike the American negro, the Zulu saves his money. But he
will not work more than six months in the year at most. It is said a
great deal of the Zulu's cash savings is hid in the ground. They are
suspicious of the stability of banks, so keep the money where they can
see it when they wish to.
The native of South Africa is as independent of the white man's aid
to-day as he was a thousand years ago. His wants being so few, and his
food easily obtained, he is not compelled to work for the white man.
He is not ambitious for riches.
When a Zulu's hut is built on government ground the tax per year is
$3.50, which includes all the land he feels disposed to work. He does
not plant all his corn in one field, but has two or three patches
growing not far from the kraal. If his hut is built on private land,
the landowner charges the native from $5 to $10 a year rent. Land for
cultivation, however, is included in the rent of the private
landowner. Some of the public men of South Africa entertain the
belief that if a heavier government tax were imposed on the native it
would force him to work more--smoke him out, as it were. Just think of
the snug income some Europeans who have from 100 to 300 huts on their
undeveloped land are receiving from natives, as they collect from $5
to $10 for each hut. The native still pays the $3.50 government tax
also. While Zulus as a race are honest, few Europeans will do business
with them on a credit basis; they must pay cash for what they buy.
Honesty among Zulu house servants is an admirable trait. One might
place a bushel of $20 gold pieces in the center of a room, be away
from home for months, and on return find the money where it had been
left. This applies more to what is termed a "raw kafir." When they
have been among white people for a year or two their traits of honesty
often slacken. The black man, as a rule, will pick up all the white
man's vices, but few of his virtues.
A violation of the Zulu code of honesty was formerly punishable by
death, and in some cases is still adhered to. The theft of a horse,
cow, sheep, goat, pig or dog brought the death penalty. The moral code
is inflexible. If a girl leaves a kraal to go into service in the
towns and returns not as good as she was when she left the hut, she is
likely to disappear mysteriously. A native guilty of committing a
crime with a Zulu woman may be put to death.
Few deformed or crippled members of this tribe are seen. Under the
kings' ruling an imperfect child at birth was not permitted to live.
Respect for old age is another excellent trait of the Zulu tribe. Were
a mother or father to be living with a son and his wives, the father
is "boss" of the kraal; and were the father to die the mother is the
head of the kraal. The elder of two persons is respected by the
younger. The oldest son has absolute rule over the other children;
but, if the father be a chief, the youngest son succeeds him.
Indian-like, Zulus walk in single file, and the younger always walks
behind the elder. The woman always walks behind the man and carries
his belongings. A Zulu woman is never seen alone--always with a child,
woman, or girl.
Zulus have their own name for Europeans. A man who wore spectacles
would be "four-eyed" in their language; a person with a scar on his
face or hands, would be "scar" in the native language; one having a
deep voice or light voice--that would be his name with the native.
Long hair, short hair, mustache, a smooth face--any mark or
peculiarity--Zulus would know him by words pertaining to these.
Natives are not allowed to own or carry firearms or any weapons used
by Europeans. The same restriction applies to native police. A
knobkerry, a pair of handcuffs and a sjambok (a strip of rhinoceros
hide like a short whip) are the only weapons a native policeman is
supplied with. The policy is a wise one, for, if the blacks knew how
to use firearms, it would mean a constant menace to the whites. Zulus
often carry their assegais with them in their country, and are allowed
to carry sticks at all times, as a dog will attack a black, and the
same dog would not even growl at a white man; besides, deadly snakes
are numerous.
The Zulu system of "telegraphing" news from one part of the country to
another is an interesting accomplishment. Results of battles and
approaching danger are shouted from hilltop to hilltop for hundreds of
miles with surprising speed and accuracy. In crises Zulus seem to rise
out of the ground.
Sugar, salt, kerosene, cotton blankets, tobacco, snuff, lanterns,
Jew's-harps, concertinas, mouth organs, beads, cheap spangles, bright
calicoes, whistles, and numerous other things of a tawdry character
are what Zulus spend their money on. Six cents is the cheapest
purchase he can make, as the three-penny piece is the smallest coin in
circulation. They will haggle and haggle with a trader sometimes for
half an hour over a six-cent purchase, if the trader will listen to
them.
"Bonsella" is a word one will often hear if he has dealings with the
Zulu. "Bonsella" means he wants something that does not belong to him.
With a six-cent purchase he will insist on a "bonsella." A thin slice
of a small bar of soap, a few grains of sugar, a little pinch of
salt, a piece of string will do, if he cannot do better; and should he
fail in getting something from the trader he will ask for a drink of
water.
With similar weapons, and each equally skilled in their use, and even
numbers, one is pretty safe in making the statement that no man can
fight better nor for a longer period than the Zulu. Their military
uniform used to be cow-tails secured to a ring around the neck. The
tails were so thick they presented the appearance of a complete robe
or skin. The Zulu can store enough food away at one meal to last him
for 24 to 36 hours without becoming fatigued. He can run from 50 to 70
miles without stopping. Coupled with these staying qualities, it was
the custom with some of the Zulu kings to kill all soldiers who
returned defeated in battle. That left but two courses open to
him--death or victory.
The Zulu has but a poor and varied quality of religion. Some select
the sun as their guiding light, others a white bird, again hawks will
appeal to him as being worthy to look up to. Unlike the Mohammedan,
his knees are not calloused from kneeling to gods of any sort.
Missionaries claim to have 200,000 followers of the Christian
religion, which is nearly one-quarter of the Zulu population--one
million. People who live in black countries place little credit to the
native for having adopted the European faith. In fact, there is a
prejudice against the mission native. If a man in South Africa were in
need of two "boys," and two mission "boys" and two kraal "boys" had
appeared for work at the same time, he would at once select the kraal
"boys." When a native begins to wear shoes and a European hat, his
usefulness as an employee generally proves of doubtful quantity. When
he embraces the Christian religion he is limited to but one wife. That
does not absolve him, however, from coming forward with the cows for
his bride.
Zululand, and South Africa generally, is well looked after by European
mounted police. The duty of the mounted police is to see that firearms
do not find their way to the native; that whisky is not smuggled over
the border; to learn if discontent exists that might turn into a
revolution. The native police, unmounted, arrests natives for minor
offenses, and tries to find out from his brother violations of the law
that the white man could not know other than through his minion.
"Ba, ba" (father), is a native salute to a European. A bow always
accompanies the words. It is customary to return the native's
recognition, although some Europeans will not go to the trifling
trouble to do so, which is discourteous, to say the least.
Should one be benighted, a European does not think twice as to whether
he will go to a native's hut and sleep on the floor with the family.
In so doing he will be offered every hospitality.
Deadly, poisonous snakes are so numerous in this section that settlers
carry with them a snakebite outfit. This consists of a strong cord, a
syringe containing a poison antidote, and a small lance attached. In
Zululand and Natal a rattle-snake is considered almost harmless. The
puff adder, that coils itself in a pathway and is very sluggish, bites
one by a backward spring. His fangs grow that way. He cannot bite
after one has passed him. Death shortly ensues from the bite of this
reptile if not attended to at once.
A person will die in 20 to 30 minutes after being bitten by a mamba.
There are two kinds of this deadly snake--the green and black--but no
difference in the quality of poison they inject into their victim.
Death from a mamba's bite is said to be an awful one. Sometimes the
bitten person's head will burst and appear as a pumpkin would look
when thrown with force on a stone. This will account for the settlers
carrying the snakebite outfit. The cord is used to wrap around the
member bitten above where the fangs entered, to keep the poison from
getting further into the system; the lance is used to cut out a piece
of flesh where bitten, and the syringe is used to inject the antidote
accurately at the raw part of the member where the fangs stopped. This
precautionary measure must be gone through within a couple of minutes
or one will fall a victim to the mamba's fangs. The snakes grow in
length from three to four feet.
"Wood and iron" houses--corrugated iron mostly--is the style of
European homes seen in Zululand. This also will apply quite generally
to the country districts of South Africa. A half dozen of these, one
story high--a postoffice, three general stores, a court house and a
hotel--are the buildings about which the commercial life of Melmoth
centers. A church building is generally numbered among these groups,
and always a graveyard out of proportion. Many of the hotels of
Zululand are built somewhat on the kraal plan. The dining and sitting
rooms--sometimes one room answers both purposes--are in a one-story
"wood and iron" building. Many of the bedrooms--small houses resting
on posts a foot to eighteen inches from the ground--are located a
short distance from the main building, which they sometimes
half-encircle. Each house, by partitioning, contains several small
bedrooms. The beds with which these rooms are furnished are generally
half-size iron ones, and the light provided is often a candle.
"Keep to the native trail until you come to that clump of wattle
trees," directed the driver of the post cart when ten miles from
Melmoth on my return to Ginginhlovu. A printer who had got tired of
the smell of printers' ink moved to Zululand to make his living in the
dual capacity of farmer and trader. So, with a grip in my hand, I
started over the Zulu trail to the clump of trees in the distance. I
had not gone far when I heard a shout, but could not tell whence it
came. It may be the natives telegraphing the start of an uprising, I
mused. "Halloa!" was again heard, and, looking in another direction, a
wide-brimmed hat was looming over the arch of a grassy hill. It was
the printer. The post cart driver had "set me down," as a Britisher
would say, at the wrong trail.
"The natives wouldn't sell me any chickens when I first came here, so
I wouldn't sell them any goods unless they paid for them with
chickens," was one of the difficulties the printer-trader recounted in
his effort to hew his way in Zululand.
"Sarah," addressing his wife, "come with us this afternoon while we
visit the natives' huts, as you can speak the language better than I,"
obligingly suggested the sturdy trader, who had beaten freight trains
over the United States, sailed before the mast, and had tramped the
desert of West Australia to the gold mines at Coolgardie.
Through the trader's wife we chatted with the Zulu women hoeing corn,
with their pickaninnies on their backs. Later we squeezed through the
small entrances into hut after hut. The lady of the Zulu home
explained how the natives winnowed the mealy meal by blowing the dust
or bran from it with their breath when passing from the hands, to
lodge in a wooden bowl under; how they stirred the meal; explained
their scanty washing outfit, how the wives got along together, and
other interesting features of Zulu life. After spending several
interesting days at the printer-trader's home, it was time to say
good-by; and I left with a keen feeling of indebtedness for the
unstinted hospitality and kindness shown me.
"I've kept my word--I've got the eggs!" remarked Graham when we had
pulled up at his place for luncheon on the return trip.
With pages left unwritten of the Zulu, the strongest, most intelligent
and best built tribe of the Bantu race, we will leave the sailor's
place for Eshowe, take the post cart to Ginginhlovu, and return by
rail to Durban.
CHAPTER IV
My first introduction to South Africa railway travel took place on my
initial trip to Johannesburg. The compartment type of corridor
carriage, as passenger coaches are termed, with an aisle at the side,
similar to that of Great Britain, is in use. Meter gauge--3 feet 6
inches--is the standard of that country, 14 inches narrower than what
is known as "standard gauge"--4 feet 8 inches--in the United States
and in some of the European countries. The narrow spaces of the
compartment (6 by 6½ feet) inclined one to wish for a two person seat.
Two out of a filled compartment have direct access to a window--the
two passengers whose seats are the outside end ones. Most travelers
have seats reserved, in some instances a week in advance, their names
being written on a card on the outside of the car at the compartment
assigned.
Compartments in the railway coaches are heated with what is called
foot-warmers--that is, sometimes the compartment will be provided with
this device. The foot-warmer is an iron pipe, two feet long, eight
inches wide, three inches thick, and filled with hot water. The
foot-warmer is all right when there are but two persons in a
compartment, or when two foot-warmers are supplied and four persons
occupy a compartment, but when six or eight passengers occupy a
compartment--well, 16 passengers' feet cannot get on four feet of
piping. That is the only means of heating passenger coaches in South
Africa.
In some respects accommodation is better on South African trains than
in the United States and Europe--every passenger having a place to
sleep, for instance. Six persons can sleep in a compartment, but five
is generally the maximum number assigned, the extra berth being
reserved for hand baggage. Frequently, when travel is light, one has a
compartment to himself. The back of the compartment against which one
leans while riding is portable, and when pulled out straight is
fastened at each end. Above that shelf, or berth, is another. The same
applies to the opposite side of the compartment, which, with seats on
each side, termed the lower berths, make six in all--three on each
side. These berths, or sleeping shelves, are two feet wide and
upholstered. Travelers generally carry with them a cushion and
blanket, or rug, as it is termed, which is used for sleeping purposes.
The bedding furnished by the railway cost 60 cents. If one is
traveling two nights in succession the bedding is rolled up by a
steward in the morning and put on the top shelf of the compartment,
where it remains during the day, and is taken down the second night
for use. Sixty cents for two nights--30 cents a night. Meals on the
train are very reasonable. Breakfast and luncheon costs 50 cents and
dinner 60 cents. So, paying but 60 cents for a bed, as it were, and
not more than 60 cents for a meal, one finds a great reduction in
traveling expenses in South Africa compared to what is charged for the
same service in the United States. Railroad fare is higher, however,
than in America, the second class rate being three and four cents a
mile, and first-class six cents a mile. A hundred pounds of baggage is
allowed a passenger. The schedule is slow compared with that in
England and on some roads in America, twenty-five miles an hour being
as fast as trains run. Long delays take place at stations, for when a
passenger train stops it often seems as if it had been abandoned.
From Durban to Pietermaritzburg, a distance of 70 miles, an elevation
of 3,000 feet is ascended. Some cultivated land is seen from the
train, but grassy, timberless hills, with smoke and flames from
prairie fires showing here and there off the railway, is what a
stranger notices continuously.
Pietermaritzburg, the capital of Natal, was first settled by the
Dutch. The town hall, postoffice, and government buildings are
imposing structures. In addition, one finds a small museum, botanical
garden and good city parks, an electric railway system and a good
railway station. One is surprised when visiting small cities located
so far out of the world, as it seems, to find them so up to date.
Locally, the place is called, for short, Maritzburg.
The Voortrekkers' Church is a historical monument to, and a solemn
reminder of, the terrible sufferings of the Voortrekkers during the
dark days between the massacres by the hordes of Dingaan, the Zulu
king, of over 600 men, women and children, in February, 1838, and the
eventful overthrowing of Zulu power, at Blood River, in December of
the same year. The massacre of Piet Retief, leader of a colony of Boer
emigrants, and some of his band by the native despot at the head
kraal, and the slaughter of his followers at Weenen, which immediately
followed, is closely identified with the erection of the church.
Retief and some of his followers had been led to believe that Dingaan
wished to make friends of them. While in the king's kraal, they were
seized and massacred. Andries Pretorius, with 450 men, some months
later, started on an expedition to avenge the massacre. Religious
services were held every day during the march of the expedition, and a
vow was made by Pretorius' party that, if they came out victorious in
battle with the bloodthirsty and perfidious Zulu king, a church to the
honor of God would be erected. Pretorius and his burghers met the Zulu
forces at a river then unnamed. Fifteen thousand natives were arrayed
against 450 Boers. After several hours' fighting the Zulus fled,
leaving behind 5,000 dead and wounded. The river was said to be red
with the blood that flowed from wounded natives, and that stream has
since been known as Blood River. Dingaan's Day, December 16, one of
the national holidays in South Africa, is observed in honor of the
bravery of Pretorius and his followers and the avenging of the foul
massacre of Piet Retief and his band of emigrants. The church promised
by Pretorius was built in 1841, three years later.
Maritzburg natives are mostly Basutos, the only tribe in South Africa
that white troops have never conquered. Most of Basutoland is situated
in the Drakensburg Mountains, some parts of which contain rich land.
They have a king, and are said to be wealthy. Europeans cannot travel
in Basutoland without permission from the ruler or some high native
officer. A large amount of firearms and munitions of war is said to
have been smuggled into their country. The Basuto is feared by all in
South Africa, and that will explain why Basutoland is for Basutos
only.
Now we travel northward to Ladysmith, passing Spion Kop south of the
Siege City. Ragged turrets and spires are still to be seen, bearing
gaping evidence of the days of suffering, hunger and fear that the
brave besieged underwent in the Boer war. Historical Majuba Hill next
comes in view, with Mount Prospect opposite. A tunnel has been bored
through the land lying between Majuba and Mount Prospect, known as
Laing's Nek. We travel over rough territory for a while, then find
ourselves on the high veld, having left the Drakensburg mountain range
behind. Continuing to Charlestown, on the south bank of the Vaal
River, and crossing the river to Voxburg, we passed out of Natal and
were in the Transvaal.
"When do we scoff?" asked a passenger, at one stage of the journey.
The term being a strange one, "I don't know" was what a stranger would
reply. "Luncheon is ready" announced a train steward just then as he
passed the compartment. "Let's go and scoff. I'm hungry," said the
South African. "Scoff," in South Africa, has the same meaning here as
"grub" in the United States.
The River Vaal is the boundary line between the Transvaal Province,
Natal Province and the Orange Free State. The meaning of "Transvaal"
is, across the Vaal--trans-Vaal.
On we go over the grassy veld, or prairie, seeing very little
cultivated ground, but cattle are grazing here and there. They are a
brand peculiar to South Africa; their horns grow from two to three
feet, their legs in keeping with the long horns, but their bodies are
narrow and of light weight. The most productive feature of the veld
were ant-hills, ranging in size from a water bucket to a hogshead.
Thousands of these, as far as the eye could reach, mar the green
landscape as freckles or small-pox mark an unblemished skin.
The railroad from Durban to Johannesburg is the crookedest one might
ride over. To save building a small bridge, the track turns for miles
before it gets back to a straight line. When the railway was built the
contractors were paid by the mile. Were the road constructed on
ordinary scientific lines, the distance between the two cities could
be reduced fifty miles. Yet, neat, well-built, attractive stations,
surrounded with flower beds, were passed all the way.
Over the freckled veld we rolled, with Johannesburg in the distance.
The sky was clear, as most always, on the highlands of the Transvaal.
We had traveled to over 6,000 feet above sea level. Objects in the
distance became less distinct--a haze seemed to gather. It was the
smoke from the gold mines on the great Gold Reef--
"Johannesburg!"--"Johannesburg!" a train guard announced.
A well built business city is the impression made by this great gold
center of the world. A long street, with all the business of the city
centered in it, one would expect to find on reaching Johannesburg.
That is the style of some of our western mining towns. Instead, here
are buildings, five to eight stories in height, of stone, brick, and
steel, some of them a city block square in dimension, with arcades
leading from one street to another; large plate glass windows where
goods are attractively displayed; elevators and steam heat
appliances--all centralized in a space five squares in extent. This is
the retail section of Johannesburg. The great banking and mining
companies' buildings--splendid structures, all of modern
architecture--are situated half a dozen squares from this center. The
financial district is a busy place.
"Come, buyers! Come, buyers! Come, buyers!" the auctioneer cries when
he has an assignment to sell something in the marketplace. Every one
is used to the call, and soon a group gathers around. "How much--how
much--how much?" the auctioneer starts with his glib sale talk. The
articles to be sold may be crates of oranges, bunches of bananas, a
crate of chickens, geese, hares, wild fowl, pumpkins, tomatoes,
turnips, cornmeal, oats, hay, a pig, cattle, buck (d
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