Return to South Africa (1883)
Arrival at Aliwal North

« LETTER FROM REV. J. SMITH, OF SOUTH AFRICA.»

SIR, — We left Capetown in the Melrose, a coasting steamer, at 7 p.m. on the 4th June, and reached East London at 6 a.m. on the 7th, having made a good run in fair weather. Our vessel cast anchor about two miles out at sea, and we were taken to the wharf, which is situated a mile up the mouth of the Buffalo river, in a steam tug. The method of transhipping is very novel, and at first sight quite startling. There were about sixty passengers to land here, and each one was set into a large wicker-basket and made secure by cords, then hoisted up by the "donkey," swung from the steamer, and lowered into the tug. This process called forth a good deal of laughter and merriment from the spectators and strong protests and loud shrieks from the children and ladies.

A great sandbank forms right across the mouth of the Buffalo, and renders East London the most dangerous landing-place along the south coast of Africa. The bank can only be crossed at high tide, and even then it is difficult and dangerous, especially with the wind blowing from the south-east. We were hurried off from the steamer in great haste — no time being allowed us to look after our luggage, which was to be landed in a surf boat — and only just crossed the bar in time, the danger signal being hoisted immediately we had entered the river. Having landed, we went straight to the Royal Hotel and got breakfast, feeling thankful that the voyage was at an end, and we could get a meal once more in peace and quietness. Not that we had any particular complaint to make respecting the voyage, which, on the whole, was fair and pleasant — much more so than the first, as we were not nearly so bad with sea-sickness. The passengers were, all things considered, with one or two exceptions, friendly and obliging. Of course, among the young people on a royal mail steamer there was the usual gaming and rollicking and flirting. There were three ministers of religion besides myself on board — Bishop Neils Astrup, a Norwegian, going out to Zululand to resume the work of the late Bishop Schrueder; the Rev. H. E. Grasse, a Moravian, going to the Western division of the Cape, and the Rev. F. Ljungqvist, a Swiss missionary, also going out to Zululand. I found the bishop to be a noble-hearted man, and we soon became fast friends. He is a great scholar, reads Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, German, English, Italian, Spanish, &c. We had many discussions on Biblical criticism, historical theology, and church history. I found it very instructive to listen to the good bishop as he took a Bible word and traced its meaning in a great number of languages. How such a method upsets one's little pet notions of truth, and kindles the fire of a great thirst for knowledge in one's soul. At parting the bishop seized me by the neck quite unawares, and kissed me — the only kiss I ever got from a bishop.

Well, to return from this digression about the bishop. After breakfast I went back to the wharf to get our luggage, but found that the boat was too late to cross the bar, and could not get in before night, if even then, as the sea was very threatening, so I returned to the hotel and went to sleep. At 4 p.m. I went down to the wharf again, but was assured that it was useless to expect the boat that day. However I waited an hour, when she was allowed to run the bar, and she ran it successfully, and entered the river. The luggage, numbering 27 boxes and cases, on being landed was found to be all right, except one box, which had gone on to Natal in the Melrose, being overlooked by the steward. The whole of the luggage belonging to the sixty passengers was locked up in the Custom-house till the morning, it being too late to examine it that night. The next morning, as soon as the doors were opened, there was a great scramble for boxes, everybody being anxious to get his luggage off by train during the day. But the officials could not attend to everybody at once, and they were not to be hurried. Hence somebody must wait. I saw at once how the game was likely to go, and resolved not to be the last. I went, therefore, direct to the manager of the railway, and told him that I had a truck load of luggage, that I must get on to Queenstown by the night train, and he would be doing me a great favour to order my boxes to be put into a truck at once, and the truck attached to the night train. He consented, and gave me an order to that effect, which I took to the Custom-house, made a declaration as to the contents and value of my cases, paid the custom dues, saw the luggage put into the truck; then returned to town, discharged the bill of fare for lodging and boarding, and started at six p.m. for Queenstown, a journey of 165 miles in the night. The night was dark and cold, and it is simply impossible to describe the journey. Of course we saw nothing of the country through which we passed. This we very much regretted. At times we were rattling down a mountain side at the rate of fifty or sixty miles an hour; at other times we did not move beyond walking pace, the engine puffing and panting itself out of steam till we came to a standstill, and had to stop to get up the steam again. Sometimes we pulled up to take in passengers, then to get a cup of coffee or something stronger if we wished for it. At one time we were all very still, being nearly or quite asleep; at another time we were all wide awake, being entertained by the children, who were taken with a crying fit, each trying to brawl louder than its mate. So we whiled away rather better than fourteen hours, arriving at Queenstown at 8.15 a.m. on Saturday, June 9th. As to the opinions of mothers about travelling all night with young children and babies in such a country, in such carriages, with such companions, at such a time of the year, we have not just now either the disposition or time to write one word.

Arrived at Queenstown, we went to the Masonic Hotel, where we got breakfast after a time and fashion. Then we were engaged in getting off our luggage by ox waggon to Aliwal. In this matter we experienced some little difficulty; the clerks and porters were not to be put out of the way nor to be hurried by strangers. It was a most miserable day, the wind blew terrifically, and the dust was blinding; at times we could not stand it, but were compelled to retreat into the shed. Still we persevered, liberated our boxes, saw them weighed, loaded on the waggon, and the waggon on its way to Aliwal by four p.m. We had to wait for the coach on the following Tuesday.

We attended the Wesleyan service on Sunday morning, but there was no food in it for either intellect or heart. The prayers were read by a lay brother in a hard, unsympathetic, undevotional tone, and the responses were mumbled in a timid undertone by a part of the congregation, so that the devotional exercises were the most wretched performance I ever met with.

Mr. Watson arrived from Aliwal at about seven o'clock, and left again about eight the next morning for East London, so that our interview was very short, which I much regretted. We were ordered to be ready to start at five a.m. on Tuesday, and got up and were ready accordingly, but had the mortification to sit waiting an hour in the cold and dark, and then to leave without a bit or drop. The small coach was crowded, and we travelled seven hours before we could get breakfast. We reached Jamestown about eight o'clock at night, having been rolling and jolting on the road about fourteen hours. Here we met Mr. Bradley and some old friends, who gave us a hearty welcome back to South Africa. It was arranged for us to leave next morning at ten, but our driver was ready to start at nine, and we were ordered to take our seats, and were thus deprived of seeing some friends whom we had planned to visit.

The ride to Aliwal was unpleasant, the wind, which was in our faces, being strong and cold, and horses poor and weak, so that we were exceedingly thankful to see the end of our journey, which we did about four p.m., having been out from London just five weeks, the quickest journey ever made by a family to Aliwal. We were greeted at the parsonage by Mrs. G. Ormrod and Mrs. Thomas Knight, who had not only anticipated our arrival, but our bodily wants as well, and provided a good tea for us. But hungry, dusty, and tired as we were, we must just run round the garden to greet the trees and fences which we planted with our own hands seven years ago. Yes, there they are still, bearing the marks made upon them when they were planted. Tea being over, the portmanteaus unpacked, and a number of friendly hands, white and black, shaken, we retired to rest, feeling something like being at home once again. During the two following days but little was done beyond conversing with a multitude of old friends who came to welcome us back to Aliwal. Our luggage arrived early on Saturday morning, and soon a half-dozen hands were busy with hammers and screwdrivers unpacking cases, which had come the 7,000 miles without receiving more than twenty shillings worth of damage. The Sunday services were well attended, and on the Wednesday following the European congregation held a meeting, at which they presented me with an address of welcome. I have since been over to Rouxville and arranged to build a native church there. My magic-lantern has already done good service to the children, both white and black. I have also begun medical practice, and my patients have done well, so that my reputation is quite established, and scarcely a day passes without an application for medicine. Here I must say adieu for the present. —

Yours as ever,

J. SMITH.
Aliwal North, 2nd August, 1883.

Source: Primitive Methodist World, 30 August 1883