THE SOUND OF MANY WATERS S OON after the Boer War
my husband obtained an appointment in 'South Africa under the Education bepaitm6nt of the Transvaal. He was established in a small dorp on the veldt, midway between Ermelo and Pretoria. There we lived in a wood-and-iron house, taking things as they came and getting what amusement we could out of the Strenuous life.
One cool, grey day in March we went for an excursion outside the town to a gymkhana got up by the soldiers, who were still in the cantonments there. We started off after luncheon with a Cape cart and two mules, driven by a. kaffir, for the younger members of the party ; myself and.a friend were on horseback. At the lower end of the town was a spruit which, in fine weather, was only a few inches deep. It was crossed by a wooden bridge for foot passengers only, but the Public Works Depart- ment was building a stone bridge for heavier traffic, and :already the wide piers had risen some twelve or fourteen feet from the bed of the spruit.
The sky became lowering as we neared our destination, and we had hardly tied up the horses and taken our places in the wooden pavilion to see the gymkhana before the rain began to fall in torrents. It continued to fall till the water was so deep on the course that we could hardly see the ponies for the spray they kicked up round them as they ran. At last, about five o'clock, in a tempor- ary lull,_ we decided to start for home. We packed the two girls into the Cape cart, which, fortunately, had a 'hood and was dry inside, and sent them on ahead. Then we mounted our disconsolate beasts, who had been exposed to the full force of the storm, and were standing with heads and tails down—but were so impatient to get back to their stable that they started almost before We were . in the dripping saddles. It was tricky going, as the path was suite invisible, the water being more than a foot deep, and we had hardly got away before the rain was ' falling again . like ram-rods, blinding us and the , horses. The water, where the ground was lower, was ' up to the knees of the excited animals. But we stumbled _on, praying that our necks might be spared, when sud- denly a dull, sullen roar broke on our ears. We looked blankly at each other for a moment, then "The spruit !
the spruit ! " I cried, and my companion. turned white. "The Cape cart ! Will they try to cross ? " he shouted through the din of the storm. I said no word, but laid whip to my pony's flanks and fled over the veldt.
On we went, heeding nothing, risking our necks at every yard on the slippery, uneven ground, over which it was impossible to guide the ponies' steps. For the same terror held us both—that the kaffir might attempt to cross the raging torrent. At last, to our infinite relief, we saw the Cape cart pausing at the edge of the spruit.
The kaffir, then, had his doubts about the safety of crossing, as well he might. In front of us where, three hours earlier, the water had scarcely covered the horses' fetlocks, we saw a broad expanse of tumbling reddish and yellowish water, fully seventy feet wide, with a roaring current in the middle. Against it the weight of the mules and cart would have been as a bunch of feathers. We shouted for the kaffir to follow us along the veldt towards the spot where the footbridge crossed the stream. At the bridge a great crowd of people—kaffirs; coolies and whites—were watching the water which was still rising fast. We dismounted and sent the kaffir to stable the horses at an hotel near, as it would be impossible to get them home that night, and we waited for a lull in the rain to get the girls out of the Cape cart and across the bridge.
As we stood there, a large beam of timber, tossed here and there, came hurtling down the torrent ; and clinging to it at one end was a wretched kaffir, who had evidently been swept off the bank somewhere higher up. At the other end of the beam was a large snake, half coiled, half reared, with its tongue flickering in and out, hissing with terror and rage. The kaffir was shrieking for help, and with some difficulty a rope was thrown within his reach. He was dragged ashore, more dead than alive.
We had hardly recovered from this excitement when another kaffir came along driving a large railway lorry from the station, which was about a hundred yards away.
The crowd yelled to him not to attempt the crossing. He must have been drunk. He drove the mules straight into the water just below the wooden bridge. In a moment the current had caught them and the lorry, and over- turning them, rolled them over and over down the middle of the stream till they disappeared. It was horrible, and I felt for the poor mules, more than for the wretched man who had driven them to their death, for they screamed with pain and fright while they drowned. He apparently was killed at once, for he never rose to the surface.
As the rain now began to abate a little, we determined to get thezirls out of the Cape cart and across the bridge.
We steed onto the frail wooden structure, tremblingly astride That awful flood, with some misgiving. Just as we were in the middle of it, a yell rose from the crowd. "The bridge ! The bridge ! It's going ! " With our hearts in our mouths we fled across, but as we reached the other side we saw that it was not our wooden bridge they meant, but the unfinished stone bridge which, undermined by the violence of the current, was tottering to its fall. As we all stood, with eyes a-stare, the great stone piers crumbled and melted away into the water below, leaving not a trace. I never saw destruction so swift, so thorough. When the last vestiges had disap;. peared, a kind of sigh swept through the crowd of kaffirs, sounding weird and wild above the roar of the rain and water—" A—a—ah ! A—a--ah ! I " JESSIE ACHESON.
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