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Page 12
In November, 1818, letters reached Robert Moffat from England. One came
from Miss Smith, in which that young lady stated that she had most
reluctantly renounced hope of ever getting abroad, her father
determining never to allow her to do so. This was a sore trial, but it
only led the child closer to his Father, and that Father, who doeth all
things well, in His own good time, brought to pass that which now seemed
impossible.
Early in 1819, circumstances required Mr. Moffat to visit Cape Town.
Conversing with Africaner on the state and prospects of missions, the
idea flashed into Moffat's mind that it would be well for that chief to
accompany him, and he suggested it to his coloured friend. Africaner was
astonished. "I had thought you loved me," said he, "and do you advise me
to go to the Government to be hung up as a spectacle of public justice?"
Then, putting his hand to his head, he said, "Do you not know that I am
an outlaw, and that one thousand rix-dollars have been offered for this
poor head?" After a little while he replied to the missionary's
arguments by saying, "I shall deliberate and _roll_ (using the words of
the Dutch Version of the Bible) my way upon the Lord. I know He will
not leave me."
[Illustration: AFRICANER.]
To get Africaner safely through the territories of the Dutch farmers to
the Cape was a hazardous proceeding, as the atrocities he had committed
were not forgotten, and hatred against him still rankled in many a
breast. However, attired in one of the only two substantial shirts
Moffat had left, a pair of leather trousers, a duffel jacket, much the
worse for wear, and an old hat, neither white nor black, the attempt was
made, the chief passing as one of the missionary's attendants. His
master's costume was scarcely more refined than his own.
As a whole, the Dutch farmers were kind and hospitable to strangers,
and as Moffat reached their farms, some of them congratulated him on
returning alive, they having been assured that Africaner had long since
murdered him. At one farm a novel and amusing instance occurred of the
state of feeling concerning them both. As they drew near to this place,
Moffat directed his men to take his waggon to the valley below while he
walked towards the house, which was situated on an eminence. As he
advanced the farmer came forward slowly to meet him. Stretching forth
his hand with the customary salutation, the farmer put his hand behind
him, and asked who the stranger was. The stranger replied that he was
Moffat.
"Moffat!" exclaimed the sturdy Boer in a faltering voice, "it is your
ghost!"
"I am no ghost," said the supposed phantom.
"Don't come near me," said the farmer, "you have been long since
murdered by Africaner. Everybody says you were murdered, and a man told
me he had seen your bones."
As the farmer feared the presence of the supposed ghost would alarm his
wife, both wended their way to the waggon, Africaner being the subject
of conversation as they walked along. Moffat declared his opinion that
the chief was then a truly good man.
"I can believe almost anything you say," said the Boer, "but that I
cannot credit."
Finally he closed the conversation by saying with much earnestness:
"Well, if what you assert be true respecting that man, I have only one
wish, and that is to see him before I die, and when you return, as sure
as the sun is over our heads, I will go with you to see him, though he
killed my own uncle."
The farmer was a good man, who had showed Moffat kindness on his way to
Namaqualand. Knowing his sincerity and the goodness of his disposition,
Moffat turned to the man sitting by the waggon, and addressing the
farmer said, "This, then, is Africaner."
With a start, and a look as though the man might have dropped from the
clouds, the worthy Boer exclaimed, "Are _you_ Africaner?"
Africaner arose, doffed his old hat, and making a polite bow replied, "I
am."
The farmer seemed thunderstruck, but on realising the fact, lifted up
his eyes and said, "O God, what a miracle of Thy power! what cannot Thy
grace accomplish!"
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