Chapter 6

VISIT TO MAKABA.

Shortly after his return, and pending the final arrangements for the removal of the missionary station, it was considered advisable that Robert Moffat should pay his long promised visit to Makaba, the chief of the Bangwaketsi. He left on the 1st of July, 1824, and was accompanied by a large party of Griquas, who were going into that region to hunt elephants.

Skirting the edge of the Kalahari desert for some time they afterwards deviated from their course through want of water, and visited Pitsana, where a great concourse of natives had gathered, consisting of the different sections of the Barolong tribe, who had been driven from their country the previous year during the invasion of the Mantatees. Thence they proceeded onward till they reached Kwakwe, the residence of Makaba and his people, and the metropolis of the Bangwaketsi. Here the missionary was most favourably received by the king, who remarked, with a laugh, "That he wondered they should trust themselves, unarmed, in the town of such a _villain_ as he was reported to be."

He entertained Moffat and his party royally, declaring, "My friends, I am perfectly happy; my heart is whiter than milk, because you have visited me. To-day I am a great man. You are wise and bold to come and see with your own eyes, and laugh at the testimony of my enemies."

Moffat tried on several occasions to converse with the chief and his people on Divine things, but apparently with little success. At length on the Sabbath he resolved to pay Makaba a formal visit, so as to obtain a hearing for the subject. He found the monarch seated among a large number of his principal men, all engaged either preparing skins, cutting them, sewing mantles, or telling news.

Sitting down beside him, and amidst his nobles and counsellors, Moffat stated that his object was to tell him news. The missionary spoke of God, of the Saviour, but his words fell upon deaf ears. One of the men sitting near, however, seemed struck with the character of the Redeemer, and especially with His miracles. On hearing that He had raised the dead, the man said, "What an excellent doctor He must have been to raise the dead." This led to a description of His power, and how that power would be exercised at the last day in the Resurrection. The ear of the monarch caught the sound of a resurrection from the dead, "What," he exclaimed in astonishment, "What are these words about? the dead, the dead arise!"

"Yes, all the dead shall arise."

"Will my father arise?"

"Yes, your father will arise."

"Will all the slain in battle arise?"

"Yes."

"And will all that have been killed and devoured by lions, tigers, hyenas, and crocodiles again revive?"

"Yes; and come to judgment."

"And will those whose bodies have been left to waste and to wither on the desert plains and scattered to the winds again arise?" asked the king, with a kind of triumph, as though this time he had fixed the missionary.

"Yes!" answered he, with emphasis; "not one will be left behind."

After looking at his visitor for a few moments, Makaba turned to his people, saying in a stentorian voice: "Hark, ye wise men, whoever is among you, the wisest of past generations, did ever your ears hear such strange and unheard-of news?"

Receiving an answer in the negative, he laid his hand upon Moffat's breast and said, "Father, I love you much. Your visit and your presence have made my heart as white as milk. The words of your mouth are sweet as honey, but the words of a resurrection are too great to be heard. I do not wish to hear again about the dead rising! The dead cannot arise! The dead must not arise!"

"Why," inquired the missionary, "can so great a man refuse knowledge and turn away from wisdom? Tell me, my friend, why I must not add to words and speak of a resurrection?"

Raising and uncovering his arm which had been strong in battle, and shaking his hand as if quivering a spear, he replied, "I have slain my thousands, and shall they arise!"

"Never before," adds Mr. Moffat in his _Missionary Labours_, "had the light of Divine revelation dawned upon his savage mind, and of course his conscience had never accused him, no, not for one of the thousands of deeds of rapine and murder which had marked his course through a long career."

Starting homewards, the Griqua hunting party, for some altogether unexplained reason, announced their intention of returning with the missionary instead of remaining behind to hunt; a most providential circumstance, which in all probability saved the lives of Moffat and his followers and many more besides.

A few hours after leaving Makaba, messengers met the returning company from Tauane, the chief of the Barolongs, asking the help of the missionary party as he was about to be attacked by the Mantatees. On reaching Pitsana they found that such was the case. The attack was made and repelled by the Griquas, about twenty in number, mounted and armed with guns; and thus the town was saved, the flight of its inhabitants into the Kalahari desert, there to perish of hunger and thirst, prevented, and the safety of Robert Moffat and his companions secured.

The time during which Moffat had been absent from Lattakoo, had been a most anxious one for his wife and those who remained at the station. A band of marauders had gathered in the Long Mountains, about forty miles to the westward, and after attacking some villages on the Kuruman, had threatened an attack on the Batlaping and the mission premises. The dreaded Mantatees were also reported to be in the neighbourhood. One night when Mary Moffat was alone with her little ones and the two Bushmen children, Mr. Hamilton and the assistants being away at the new station, a loud rap came at the door, and inquiring who was there, Mothibi himself replied. He brought word that the Mantatees were approaching.

A hasty message was sent to Mr. Hamilton, who arrived about eight o'clock in the morning when preparations were made for flight. Messengers continued to arrive, each bringing tidings that caused fresh alarm, until about noon, when it was ascertained that the fierce and savage enemy had turned aside and directed their course to the Barolongs.

The station was safe, but the loving heart of the missionary's wife was torn with anguish, as she foresaw that the dreaded Mantatees would be crossing her husband's path just at the time when he, almost alone, was returning on his homeward way.

Prayer was the support of Mary Moffat under this terrible ordeal, and the way prayer was answered has been seen, in the unaccountable manner in which Berend Berend and his party of Griquas changed their minds and resolved upon returning with Robert Moffat, instead of remaining to hunt elephants in the country of the Bangwaketsi.

The remainder of the year 1824 witnessed bloodshed and strife all around. War among the Bechwanas, attacks by the marauders of the Long Mountains, commotions among the interior tribes: the land was deluged with blood; even the warlike Bangwaketsi were dispersed, and Makaba was killed. Once again the missionaries had to flee with their families to Griqua Town, leaving Mr. Hamilton, as he was without family in charge of the new station, with two horses ready for flight in case of danger.

The end of the year found the Kuruman missionaries,--who now consisted of Robert and Mary Moffat, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. Hamilton,--with the exception of the last named, at Griqua Town.

The new station at the Kuruman had been occupied shortly before the departure of the fugitives; and early in 1825, finding that the immediate danger had passed, the Moffats, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, rejoined Mr. Hamilton. Two events of a distressing character to the Batlaping and their missionaries occurred about this time. The first was the passage of two terrible hail-storms over a portion of the country, destroying the crops, killing lambs, and stripping the bark from trees. The second was the death of the young prince, Peclu, who had an excellent disposition, was comparatively enlightened, and whose influence the missionaries expected would have been most salutary among his countrymen.

This sorrowful event, combined with a further attack upon the Batlaping by the marauders, determined Mothibi and his people to leave their present place of settlement and remove to the eastward. For a considerable time, however, they remained in an unsettled state, suffering from attacks, and leading a vagrant life.

The work of laying out the new station was proceeded with. Three temporary dwellings had already been erected, consisting of a wooden framework, filled up with reeds, and plastered within and without; the foundations of more permanent dwellings had also been laid. Mr. Hughes, who had been to Cape Town for supplies, returned, accompanied by a mason named Millen and a few Hottentot assistants from Bethelsdorp. The company at the station was a large one, and to provide them with food was a work of difficulty.

The Kuruman fountain, the source of the Kuruman river, issues from caverns in a little hill. It was the purpose of the missionaries to lead the water from the river to irrigate their gardens. For this purpose a trench was cut two miles in length. This was a work of great labour and was attended by considerable danger. It was found necessary that the men when working should have their guns with them, in case of being surprised by the robbers who roved about. Moffat says, "it was dug in troublous times."

Sickness and death entered the missionary dwellings. An infant son was born to the Moffats, and five days after called away. Mr. Hughes was laid low through a severe cold, and brought to the gates of death. When all hope seemed to have vanished he began to amend, though his health was not restored until he and Mrs. Hughes made a journey to the Cape. In 1827 he left Kuruman and removed to the Griqua Mission. The mother of Mary Moffat died in October, 1825, but the news did not reach her daughter in Africa until April, 1826.

Referring to this time Robert Moffat says: "Our situation during the infancy of the new station, I shall not attempt to describe. Some of our newly arrived assistants, finding themselves in a country where the restraints of law were unknown, and not being under the influence of religion, would not submit to the privations which we patiently endured, but murmured exceedingly. Armed robbers were continually making inroads, threatening death and extirpation. We were compelled to work daily at every species of labour, most of which was very heavy, under a burning sun, and in a dry climate, where only one shower had fallen during the preceding twelve months. These are only imperfect samples of our engagements for several years at the new station, while at the same time, the language, which was entirely oral, had to be acquired."

Notwithstanding all the impediments to such an enterprise, Robert Moffat had made some progress towards establishing a literature in the native, or Sechwana tongue. A spelling-book, catechism, and some small portions of Scripture had been prepared, and sent to the Cape to be printed, in 1825. Through a mistake, these were unfortunately sent on to England, causing much disappointment and delay.

Things settled down somewhat in 1826. The discontented Hottentots returned to the Colony, leaving the missionaries and Mr. Millen to carry on the work of laying out the station, erecting the buildings, and the other manual labour connected with the undertaking, assisted only by such poor help as they could get from the Bechwanas.

The native population at the station had been much reduced. Such of the Batlaping as had not moved away, had settled down about the Kuruman valley. They did not oppose the Gospel, but they appeared quite indifferent to it.

For several years the country had been parched through drought, but early in 1826 rain fell plentifully. The earth was soon covered with verdure, but the bright prospects of abundance were quickly cut off. Swarms of locusts infested the land, and vegetation was entirely destroyed. This led to great scarcity, and although the natives caught and ate the locusts, hunger and suffering prevailed. The missionaries' cattle could not be let out of sight, or they were instantly stolen. One day two noted fellows from the mountains pounced down upon a man who had charge of some oxen. They murdered the man and made off with an ox.

To become proficient in the Sechwana language was the earnest purpose of Robert Moffat. At the end of the year 1826, having moved into his new dwelling, built of stone, and the state of the country being somewhat more tranquil, he left his home and family, to sojourn for a time among the Barolongs, so that he might live exclusively with the natives and attend to their speech.

He made the journey by ox-waggon, and was accompanied by the waggon-driver, a boy, and two Barolongs who were journeying to the same place as himself. The dangers attending these journeyings from tribe to tribe were by no means imaginary, the following, related in Moffat's own words, serving as an illustration of some of the perils often encountered:

"The two Barolongs had brought a young cow with them, and though I recommended their making her fast as well as the oxen, they humorously replied that she was too wise to leave the waggon, even though a lion should be scented. We took a little supper, which was followed by our evening hymn and prayer. I had retired only a few minutes to my waggon to prepare for the night, when the whole of the oxen started to their feet. A lion had seized the cow only a few steps from their tails, and dragged it to the distance of thirty or forty yards, where we distinctly heard it tearing the animal and breaking its bones, while its bellowings were most pitiful. When these were over, I seized my gun, but as it was too dark to see half the distance, I aimed at the spot where the devouring jaws of the lion were heard. I fired again and again, to which he replied with tremendous roars, at the same time making a rush towards the waggon so as exceedingly to terrify the oxen. The two Barolongs engaged to take firebrands and throw them at him so as to afford me a degree of light that I might take aim. They had scarcely discharged them from their hands when the flames went out, and the enraged animal rushed towards them with such swiftness, that I had barely time to turn the gun and fire between the men and the lion. The men darted through some thorn bushes with countenances indicative of the utmost terror. It was now the opinion of all that we had better let him alone if he did not molest us.

"Having but a scanty supply of wood to keep up a fire, one man crept among the bushes on one side of the pool, while I proceeded for the same purpose on the other side. I had not gone far, when looking upward to the edge of the small basin, I discerned between me and the sky four animals, whose attention appeared to be directed to me by the noise I made in breaking a dry stick. On closer inspection I found that the large round, hairy-headed visitors were lions, and retreated on my hands and feet towards the other side of the pool, when coming to my waggon-driver, I found him looking with no little alarm in an opposite direction, and with good reason, as no fewer than two lions with a cub were eyeing us both, apparently as uncertain about us as we were distrustful of them. We thankfully decamped to the waggon and sat down to keep alive our scanty fire, while we listened to the lion tearing and devouring his prey. When any of the other hungry lions dared to approach he would pursue them for some paces with a horrible howl, which made our poor oxen tremble, and produced anything but agreeable sensations to ourselves. We had reason for alarm, lest any of the six lions we saw, fearless of our small fire, might rush in among us."

From these dangers Moffat was mercifully preserved and after journeying for six days he reached the village of a young chief named Bogachu. At this place, and at one about twenty miles distant, he lived a semi-savage life for ten weeks. To use a common expression he "made himself at home" among them. They were kind and appeared delighted with his company, especially as when food run scarce, he could take his gun and shoot a rhinoceros or some other animal, when a night of feasting and talking would follow.

Every opportunity was embraced by the missionary of imparting Christian instruction to these people; their supreme idea of happiness, however, seemed able to rise no higher than having plenty of meat. Asking a man, who seemed more grave than the rest, what was the finest sight he could desire, he replied, "A great fire covered with pots full of meat," adding, "How ugly the fire looks without a pot"

The object of the journey was fully gained; henceforth Robert Moffat needed no interpreter; he could now speak and preach to the people in their own tongue. He found all well on reaching home and prepared to settle down with a feeling of ability to the work of translation.

The prospects of the mission at this time began to brighten. Several thousands of the natives had gathered on the opposite side of the valley, near the mission station. They were becoming more settled in their minds, and would collect in the different divisions of the town when the missionaries visited them; the public attendance at the regular religious services daily increased, and the school was better attended. No visible signs of an inward change in the natives could yet be seen, but Moffat and his fellow-workers felt certain that this was not far off.

War again intervened and darkened the brightening prospects. Once more the missionaries, after prayerful consideration, felt it necessary to flee to Griqua Town, suffering much loss of time and of property. Happily the storm passed over, and, on returning to the Kuruman, they found their houses, and such property as they had left behind, in good order, a proof of the influence they were gaining over the once thievish Bechwanas. Half the oxen and nearly all the cows belonging to the missionaries were, however, dead, no milk could be obtained, and, worse than these evils, the people had fled, leaving their native houses but heaps of ashes.

Sorrowfully these servants of God resolved once more to resume their labours. A few poor natives had remained at the station, whose numbers were being increased by others who arrived from day to day.

At this trying time the hearts of Robert Moffat and his companions were cheered by the arrival of the Rev. Robert Miles, the Society's superintendent, who, having made himself conversant with the affairs of the station, suggested the great importance of preparing something like hymns in the native language. By the continued singing of these, he stated the great truths of salvation would become imperceptibly written on the minds of the people.

The suggestion so kindly made was acted upon, and Moffat prepared the first hymn in the language. The spelling-books also arrived, which enabled the missionaries to open a school in the Sechwana tongue. Mr. Miles returned, and the stated labours of the mission were carried forward. With few interruptions they had been continued for ten years without fruit. But the dawn of a new era seemed now ready to rise above the horizon.

Yet again, however, was their faith to be sorely tried by the terrible scourge--war. The desperadoes consisted this time of a party advancing from the Orange River, among whom were some Griquas. The suspense and anxiety were great, but recourse was had to prayer. On this occasion the missionaries determined to remain at their post. A first attack was repulsed through the intrepidity of an escaped slave named Aaron Josephs, and a peaceful interval intervened of about two months, when a second attack on the mission premises was threatened. By Moffat's directions, the heights at the back of the station were crowded with men, to give the appearance of a large defending force, though probably not a dozen guns could have been mustered among them. The assailants seeing the preparations for defence, drew up at some distance, and, after a short delay, sent forward two messengers with a flag of truce. Moffat went out to meet them, and learned that a renegade Christian Griqua named Jantye Goeman wished to see him at their camp.

A meeting was arranged half way between the station and the camp, and Jantye, who was ashamed to let the missionary see his face, as he had known him at Griqua Town, tried to lay all the blame upon another renegade, a Coranna chief named Paul, who had, in days gone by, entertained Robert Moffat and visited his dwelling.

At this moment a waggon was seen approaching, and fearing it might contain some one from Griqua Town, and seeing that a hostile movement was made towards it, Moffat turned to Jantye and said, "I shall not see your face till the waggon and its owners are safe on the station." He instantly ran off and brought the waggon through, when it was found to contain the Wesleyan missionaries Mr. and Mrs. Archbell from Platberg.

At last, after much hesitation, Paul himself came near. He could not look at Moffat, and kept his hat drawn down over his eyes. He told the missionary that he himself need have no fear, but that revenge should be had upon the Batlaping who were at Kuruman.

"I shall have their blood and their cattle too," said Paul, as his eyes glared with fury.

Long and patiently Moffat argued with him, showing him the enormity of his crimes. At last the victory was won. No shot was fired, and both the station and the Batlaping were saved. Turning to his men, and referring to some of the missionary's cattle which had been stolen, he cried, "Bring back those cows and sheep we took this morning."

It was done. Then he said, "I am going. There are the things of your people. Will Mynheer not shake hands with me for once?"

"Of course I will," said Moffat, "but let me see your face."

"That I will not, indeed," he replied, "I do not want to die yet. I can see your face through my hat."

The rude hand of war was henceforth stayed, and the land had peace for half-a-century, during which time great and happy changes took place at the Kuruman station.