General Chat

Hi Terry, copy and paste! Lindy;-))))

Another gem. Thanks lindzy for your patience in typing it out . Terri xx

Accidents and Incidents. The Boston mills were kept extremely busy. Work started at 1 a.m. on Monday morning and continued steadily without a break until mid-night on Saturday. The kaffirs worked only during the day while the Europeans, who went on in shifts, worked day and night. Mr. Mileman, the superintendent, received a salary of twenty-five pounds per month and a free house. This was considered a princely income at that time. One day a bucket on the big wheel needed attention. This work of repair fell to the lot of the superintendent, who, forgetting to wipe out the small quantity of cold water which remained in the bucket, poured some boiling lead into it to remedy the trouble. Naturally the lead spluttered and some of it shot up into his eyes. He was taken to Grey's Hospital as soon as possible, but those were not the days of aeroplanes and motor-cars, no, not even of trains in this country, so he suffered dreadfully. For some time it was very doubtful whether he would ever be able to see again. However, after an operation and two or three months of careful attention at the hospital his eyes became better and he recovered his sight. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two of the kaffir workers at the mills who stand out clearly in Elizabeth's memory were Clout and Jim Crow. The former who was a very reliable boy was in charge of the circular-saw during the day. While at work one day he had a difference with one of the native boys working under him. He turned to reprimand this workman, but instead, a piercing yell rang out, for Clout's four fingers and thumb with a portion of his hand attached had been cut off by the circular-saw. He was indeed of the Stoic mould as he did not even faint but just turned to Mr. Russell and said: "Baas, tata sandhla same uibopa futi." ("Master, pick up my hand and fasten it on again.") He was given a tumblerful of neat brandy, and to satisfy him the cut-off portion of his hand was placed in position and bound up in roughly constructed splints. Mr. Russell wanted to send him to Grey's Hospital immediately, but he refused to go without obtaining his father's permission, and, as the latter lived in a kraal some distance away, this caused a delay although a messenger was despatched to him at once. As Clout was not in a fit state to ride a horse, he was conveyed to Maritzburg in a light wagon which was drawn by oxen as the horses were not trained to harness. This, of course, was a slow way of travelling, in spite of the fact that a boy had been sent ahead on horseback to make arrangements for a fresh team of oxen to be ready at the half-way outspan so that there should not be any unnecessary delay. When Clout reached the hospital he begged and pleaded with the doctors to fix his hand on again, but, on their explaining that this was quite impossible, he became resigned to his fate and evinced no sign of pain while they attended to his wound. Some weeks later, on his return from hospital, he was given a cow and a calf as compensation and was overjoyed. The other boy, Jim Crow, who was as black as the Ace of Spades with gleaming white teeth, was considered to be truly trustworthy, in fact a real gentleman, though black of skin. The Russell children were very fond of him, as he was always ready to gather wild fruit for them or to boil a kettle of water to make them coffee when they went to play in the forest where he lived. He was always obliging to big and small hence popular. Mrs. Russell had occasion to go to Maritzburg so Jim Crow, the most trusted servant, drove the wagon. On the return journey they rested the oxen awhile at Kettlefontein, the recognized outspan. When it was time to inspan again, two of the animals were missing and after a fruitless search, in which the driver helped most zealously, Mrs. Russell was forced to return home minus the two oxen. Later on it transpired that the much-trusted Jim had stolen and sold them. One Friday afternoon he went to a paddock, some distance from the works, where the horses belonging to the Russells and the millhands grazed, and, informing the boy in charge that the Baas wanted the horses, he helped to round up twenty trained animals. These he drove into Maritzburg, and after selling all of them on the early market next morning, he disappeared. On Saturday afternoon the horses were needed for the customary ride, but the boy who had been sent for them brought back the message that Jim had already fetched them the previous afternoon. A charge was laid against him and two policemen gave chase. It was ascertained later on that one night the hunters and their prey had slept about a mile apart, unconscious of the nearness of each other. The policemen learnt from some natives that Jim Crow, on horseback and leading seven other horses which he had stolen along the way, had been seen heading for the Umzimkulu. He reached the river just ahead of his pursuers to find it in full flood. He drew out his pocket-knife, slashed through the riems by which the led animals were coupled together, and plunged into the madly rushing torrent which seemed to spell certain death. The seven horses followed the intrepid rider into the swollen stream. The daring fugitive with all the animals actually managed to reach the other side and escape although the policemen fired on them as they struggled in the swirling waters. This, however, was not the last that was seen of Jim, the Gentleman. Four cousins, Bucknell by name, who had come from Australia to try sheep-farming in South Africa, established two stations, as they were called in those days, one at Fort Nottingham and one at Impendhle. Two of the cousins stayed at each of these stations which were about sixty miles apart. The four men worked in partnership and at certain times would change about, those at Nottingham taking up their abode at Impendhle and vice versa. They thought very highly of the kaffirs and had nothing but praise for them. Once again the Australians had decided to interchange quarters but on this occasion only one man was to go from each station. The Bucknell who should have arrived at Impendhle did not do so and soon it was realized that he was missing. Enquiries were set afoot and it was ascertained that on his way from Fort Nottingham to Impendhle he had made a detour and had called in at the Boston mills. That night he had slept at a kaffir hut where two native boys had been seen in his company. He had a new revolver and had been seen to show it to the interested boys and to explain to them how it worked. These two kaffirs had been heard to offer to show him a short cut to his destination. The three had started together on their way and that was the last that was ever seen of the Australian. The police succeeded in arresting the two boys, one was Jim, the Gentleman, and the other was a notorious native called Bob. On being captured the former related how, after they had left the hut, he and the white man had ridden in front and Bob had ridden behind, and how the latter had suddenly shot the Australian with a revolver. The captives were escorted to Maritzburg where they were to be tried for the murder of the missing man, but one dark night they managed to escape and the police hunted high and low with no result. Some time later Jim was seen in the Pongola Bush, but, as he would not surrender to the armed constables who surrounded his hiding-place, they were compelled to shoot him. That was the end of the eventful career of Jim Crow, the Gentleman. Bob was never captured. All that was ever found of the murdered Bucknell was one of his socks entangled in a little bush at the top of a precipice. The other three cousins returned to Australia shortly after all this. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A native with a small cotton blanket over one arm was