Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick ( Chapter 14 )( Page 4 ) The Berg

For those who had eyes to see the book lay open: there, as elsewhere; there, as always.  Jock, with his courage, fidelity and concentration, held the secrets of success!  Jim--dissolute, turbulent and savage-- could yield a lesson too; not a warning only, sometimes a crude but clear example!  The work itself was full of test and teaching; the hard abstemious life had its daily lessons in patience and resource, driven home by every variety of means and incident on that unkindly road.  And the dumb cattle--in their plodding toil, in their sufferings from drought and over-work, and in their strength and weakness--taught and tested too.  There is little food for self-content when all that is best and worst comes out; but there is much food for thought. There was a day at Kruger's Post when everything seemed small beside the figure of one black front ox, who held his ground when all others failed.  The waggon had sunk to the bed-plank in gluey turf, and, although the whole load had been taken off, three spans linked together failed to move it.  For eight hours that day we tried to dig and pull it out, but forty-four oxen on that soft greasy flat toiled in vain.  The long string of bullocks, desperate from failure and bewilderment, swayed in the middle from side to side to seek escape from the flying whips; the unyielding waggon held them at one end, and the front oxen, with their straining fore feet scoring the slippery surface as they were dragged backwards, strove to hold them true at the other.  Seven times that day we changed, trying to find a mate who would stand with Zwaartland; but he wore them all down.  He broke their hearts and stood it out alone!  I looked at the ground afterwards: it was grooved in long parallel lines where the swaying spans had pulled him backwards, with his four feet clawing the ground in the effort to hold them true; but he had never once turned or wavered. And there was a day at Sand River, when we saw a different picture.  The waggons were empty, yet as we came up out of the stony drift, Bantom the sulky hung lazily back, dragging on his yoke and throwing the span out of line.  Jim curled the big whip round him, without any good effect, and when the span stopped for a breather in the deep narrow road, he lay down and refused to budge.  There was no reason in the world for it except the animal's obstinate sulky temper.  When the whip—the giraffe-hide thong, doubled into a heavy loop--produced no effect, the boys took the yoke off to see if freedom would tempt the animal to rise! It did.  At the first touch of the whip Bantom jumped up and charged them; and then, seeing that there was nothing at all the matter, the boys inspanned him and made a fresh start--not touching him again for fear of another fit of sulks; but at the first call on the team, down he went again. Many are the stories of cruelty to oxen, and I had never understood how human beings could be so fiendishly cruel as to do some of the things that one heard of, such as stabbing, smothering and burning cattle; nor under what circumstances or for what reasons such acts of brutality could be perpetrated; but what I saw that day threw some light on these questions, and, more than anything else, it showed the length to which sulkiness and obstinacy will go, and made me wonder whether the explanation was to be sought in endurance of pain through temper or in sheer incapacity to feel pain at all.  This is no defence of such things; it is a bare recital of what took place--the only scene I can recall of what would be regarded as wanton cruelty to oxen; and to that extent it is an explanation, and nothing more!  Much greater and real cruelty I have seen done by work and punishment; but it was due to ignorance, impatience, or--on rare occasions--uncontrollable temper; it did not look deliberate and wanton. There were two considerations here which governed the whole case.  The first was that as long as the ox lay there it was impossible to move the waggon, and there was no way for the others to pass it; the second, that the ox was free, strong and perfectly well, and all he had to do was to get up and walk. The drivers from the other waggons came up to lend a hand and clear the way so that they might get on; sometimes three were at it together with their double whips; and, before they  could be stopped, sticks and stones  were used to hammer the animal on the head and horns, along the spine, on the hocks and shins, and wherever he was supposed to have feeling; then he was tied by the horns to the trek-chain, so that the span would drag him bodily; but not once did he make the smallest effort to rise. The road was merely a gutter scoured out by the floods and it was not possible either to drag the animal up the steep sides or to leave him and go on--the waggon would have had to pass over him.  And all this time he was outspanned and free to go; but would not stir. Then they did the kaffir trick--doubled the tail and bit it: very few bullocks will stand that, but Bantom never winced.  Then they took their clasp knives and used them as spurs--not stabbing to do real injury, but pricking enough to draw blood in the fleshy parts, where it would be most felt: he twitched to the pricks--but nothing more.  Then they made a fire close behind him, and as the wood blazed up, the heat seemed unendurable; the smell of singed hair was strong, and the flames, not a foot away, seemed to roast the flesh, and one of the drivers took a brand and pressed the glowing red coal against the inside of the hams; but, beyond a vicious kick at the fire, there was no result.  Then they tried to suffocate him, gripping the mouth and nostrils so that he could not breathe; but, when the limit of endurance was reached and even the spectators tightened up with a sense of suffocation, a savage shake of the head always freed it--the brute was too strong for them.  Then they raised the head with reims, and with the nose held high poured water down the nostrils, at the same time keeping the mouth firmly closed; but he blew the water all over them and shook himself free again. For the better part of an hour the struggle went on, but there was not the least sign of yielding on Bantom's part, and the string of waiting waggons grew longer, and many others, white men and black, gathered round watching, helping or suggesting.  At last some one brought a bucket of water, and into this Bantom's muzzle was thrust as far as it would go, and reims passed through the ears of the bucket were slipped round his horns so that he could not shake himself free at will.  We stood back and watched the animal's sides for signs of breathing.  For an incredible time he held out; but at last with a sudden plunge he was up; a bubbling muffled bellow came from the bucket; the boys let go the reims; and the terrified animal ridding himself of the bucket after a frantic struggle, stood with legs apart and eyeballs starting from the sockets, shaking like a reed. But nothing that had happened revealed the vicious ingrained obstinacy of the animal's nature so clearly as the last act in the struggle: it stood passive, and apparently beaten, while the boys inspanned it again. But at the first call to the team to start, and without a touch to provoke its temper again, it dropped down once more.  Not one of all those looking on would have believed it possible; but there it was!  In the most deliberate manner the challenge was again flung down, and the whole fight begun afresh. We felt really desperate: one could think of nothing but to repeat the bucket trick; for it was the only one that had succeeded at all.  The bucket had been flung aside on the stones as the ox freed itself, and one of the boys picked it up to fetch more water.  But no more was needed: the rattle of the bucket brought Bantom to his feet with a terrified jump, and flinging his whole weight into the yoke, he gave the waggon a heave that started the whole span, and they went out at a run. The drivers had not even picked up their whips: the only incentive applied was the bucket, which the boy--grasping the position at once-- rattled vigorously behind Bantom, doubling his frantic eagerness to get away, amid shouts of encouragement and laughter from the watching group. The trials and lessons of the work came in various shapes and at every turn; and there were many trials where the lesson was not easy to read. It would have taken a good man to handle Bantom, at any time--even in the beginning; but, full-grown, and confirmed in his evil ways, only the butcher could make anything out of him. And only the butcher did!