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."
[Illustration: BAROLONG WOMEN.]
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.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VII.
THE AWAKENING.
The long delayed, and fervently prayed for time had come at last. For ten weary years these earnest and faithful missionaries had laboured without seeing any results. Now their hearts were to rejoice as they should witness the work of the Holy Spirit, and see those over whom they had so long mourned, brought to the Saviour, and out of heathen darkness into Gospel light.
"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth;" so was it with the awakening among the Bechwanas at the Kuruman. There seemed no apparent cause for the intensity of feeling that was now displayed by these people. Men, who had scorned the idea of shedding a tear, wept as their hearts were melted. The chapel became a place of weeping, and some, after gazing intently upon the preacher, fell down in hysterics.
The little chapel became too small to hold the numbers who flocked to it, and with the voluntary aid of Aaron Josephs a new building, fifty-one feet long by sixteen wide, with clay walls and thatched roof, was erected to serve as a school-house and place of worship, until the large stone church, which was to form the most prominent feature of the station, should be completed.
This temporary church was opened in May, 1829, and in the following month, after very careful examination, six candidates for baptism were selected from among the inquirers. Speaking of these converts Robert Moffat said, "It was truly gratifying to observe the simplicity of their faith, implicitly relying on the atonement of Christ, of which they appeared to have a very clear conception, considering the previous darkness of their minds on such subjects."
They were baptised on the first Sabbath in July, a large number of spectators from the neighbouring towns, and a party of Griquas, being present. In the evening the missionaries, the new disciples, and a Griqua, twelve in all, sat down to the Lord's table. In connection with this event an interesting anecdote is related showing the strong faith of Mary Moffat!
On one occasion, some time before this event, when all seemed dark, her friend Mrs. Greaves of Sheffield had written to Mary Moffat kindly inquiring if there was anything of use which she could send. The reply returned was, "Send us a communion service, we shall want it some day."
Communication between the Kuruman and England was tardy then, and before an answer came to her letter the darkness increased, and the Bechwanas seemed as far from salvation as ever. On the day preceding the reception of the first converts into the Kuruman Church, a box arrived from England, which had been twelve months on the road, and in it were found the communion vessels that Mary Moffat had asked for more than two years before.
Great as was the change, the missionaries rejoiced with trembling. They knew that there were great prejudices to be overcome, and that the relation in which the Christians stood to their heathen neighbours would expose their faith to trial. But they prayed and believed that He who had begun the good work would carry it on.
The change of heart speedily produced a change in dress and habits.
Those who had been baptised had previously procured decent raiment, and prepared it for the occasion with Mrs. Moffat's assistance. A sewing-school had hitherto been uncalled for, the women's work having been that of building houses, raising fences, and tilling the ground; now Mrs. Moffat met those who desired to learn as often as her strength would permit, and soon she had a motley group of pupils, very few of the whole party possessing either a frock or a gown. The scarcity of materials was a serious impediment to progress, but ornaments, which before the natives had held in high repute, were now parted with to purchase the skins of animals, which being prepared almost as soft as cloth were made into jackets, trousers, and gowns. When a visit was paid by a trader, British manufactures were eagerly bought.
In the progress of improvement some amusing incidents occurred. A man might be seen in a jacket with one sleeve, because the other was not yet finished; or others went about in duffel jackets with sleeves of cotton of various colours; gowns like Joseph's coat were worn, and dresses of such fantastic shapes, that to tell the fashion of the same would have been a puzzle.
To Mrs. Moffat general application was made both by males and females.
One brought skins to be cut into dresses, another wanted a jacket, a third a pattern, while a fourth brought his jacket sewed upside down, and asked why it did not fit. Fat, which before they always considered was to be rubbed on their bodies or deposited in their stomachs, they now found useful in making candles to give light in their dwellings.
The prospects of the missionaries continued cheering, and the increased anxiety for instruction and growth in knowledge among the candidates greatly strengthened their hands. "I seek Jesus," one would say; a second, "I am feeling after God, I have been wandering, unconscious of my danger, among beasts of prey; the day has dawned, I see my danger."
The missionaries were cautious men, and were slow to receive members into their little church, but the evidence was complete that numbers were saved.
The happy death of a native woman about this time afforded them much encouragement. When she knew her end was near, she said to those around, "I am going to die. Weep not because I am going to leave you, but weep for your sins and your souls. With me all is well, for do not suppose that I die like a beast, or that I shall sleep for ever in the grave.
No! Jesus has died for my sins; He has said he will save me, I am going to be with Him." Thus one who a few months before was as ignorant as the cattle, departed with the full assurance of an eternal life beyond the grave.
Rumours had for some time past reached the Kuruman station of a strong and warlike people who dwelt to the eastward, spoke another language, and were strangers to the Bechwanas. In the latter portion of 1829, two envoys were specially sent from Moselekatse, the king of this people, the Matabele, to the mission station at Kuruman, to learn about the manners and teaching of the white men there.
These envoys, who were two of the king's head men, were entertained, the principal objects, industries, and methods of living were pointed out to them; but their greatest wonder was excited when they beheld the public worship in the mission chapel. They listened to the hymns, and to the address, part of which only they understood, and were much surprised when they heard that the hymns were not war songs.