CHAPTER FIVE – FREDERICK’S ARRIVAL IN AFRICA
The horizon slipped away behind him as Frederick Braughton stood at the stern of the old ship. He leant his tall, lean but muscular frame further out over the ship’s rail to watch the churning wake, his bright blue eyes keenly anticipating the next dolphin jumping through the cool waves. A brisk wind had sprung up ruffling his dark almost black hair and pushing the little ship along at a rate of knots. His stomach was tumbling, performing in a similar manner to the water, but in fear, in anticipation, in excitement.
It was early in the new year, 1865, a new adventure was beginning and he was leaving behind everything he had known – and all because of a decision made on a whim and under no more influence than several glasses of ale and the bravado borne of the companionship of several other males of the species. The challenge had been laid down and Frederick Braughton was never one to shirk the responsibilities (as he saw them) of upholding the family name.
His whole life had been filled with such challenges as would make any ordinary man laugh and turn the other cheek. Frederick, though, was made of more serious stuff and challenges were personal. They were personal to him and by blood, to the family around him and so to the Braughton name. He could no more turn the other cheek than fly in the air – although even that he had attempted by launching himself from the uppermost branches of the old oak in the fields above the town, with nothing more than flimsy wooden wings covered with chicken feathers to stop him crashing to the ground. The broken bones, bruises, cuts, and slight loss of memory rapidly faded away when he saw the unbelieving faces of his challengers and the appreciative comments he overheard as he slipped in and out of consciousness on the way to Doctor Wright’s surgery.
Anyway, those challengers were probably never going to tempt him again as he was on his way with a one-way ticket to the mysterious African continent. How it happened was that during a convivial gathering at the local alehouse, one particularly keen chap (a Scot who never failed to get a dig in about “ye lily livered Sassenachs doon here”) had mentioned in passing that the English would ultimately fail in Africa because they were just too frail to withstand the rigours of life outside of this green and gentle land. Within weeks, Frederick had disposed of his business, scrimped all his savings, and bought the one-way ticket aboard the clapped out, creaking and groaning ship upon which he now found himself. He had initially wondered if he would make it at all, as when he first climbed aboard the crew was surly and uncommunicative. The captain seemed to be drunk and the timbers of the hull looked grey and old. Strangely though, it didn’t really matter if he made it or not. He realised as he stared at the water that as the canny Scotsman who had pushed him on his way would probably never know his fate the honour of the family name would be upheld anyway.
Ironically, he had no family to speak of back home as his parents had died when he was young and the distant relatives to whom he was entrusted never really warmed to him or him to them. As soon as he was old enough, he had left their family home and set out to make his own way in the world. His parents had bequeathed him a single item, a painting, the value of which was doubtful, the beauty of which even more so. However, he decided to sell it for whatever it was worth and used the proceeds to set up in business for himself. Surprisingly, the plain little canvas had fetched rather more than he believed it could possibly be worth, sparking an interest in drawing and painting in him and enabling him to not only start a profitable if small business making furniture and small knick-knacks, but also put down a reasonable advanced rent on a little cottage at the edge of town.
All that was behind him now though and as he turned around, he saw the vast emptiness of the ocean in front of him promising nothing more and nothing less than constant rolling, heaving, and pitching for the next few weeks until they reached the cape.
The trip was, as it turned out, uneventful and even dull. The weather stayed fair the entire way, the captain and crew turned into the perfect travelling companions once they were out of site of land, and even the little ship itself seemed to change into something far more pleasant and charming once in its natural environment. It was as if the entire ensemble had just been waiting to leave land where their natural characters dissolved into a brooding intensity and be again free on the surface of the ocean where they felt at home and were able to be themselves once more.
Frederick spent many a pleasant evening in the company of these wanderers whose sole aim in life was to sail and who would prefer never to dock if they could help it. They told him stories of lands far away, where strange customs mingled with exotic wildlife, colourful plant life; pungent, spiced foods, fearsome locals, and incredible landscapes to create a tapestry of dreams far beyond the wildest imaginings of most Englishmen.
It was from these stories that Frederick started to formulate a plan in his mind that would take him into adventure and action. He had heard of the lands far from the African coast, where few white men had yet managed to venture, but where it was rumoured that great riches were available to those with the courage and strength to grasp them. The sailors on his little ship told him of vast jungles, of ferocious animals, and natives nonetheless so. Diseases unknown in England could strike you down without warning they said, diseases that would drive you mad before eventually driving the life from your body. When he told them of his plan, they laughed and told him to enjoy the rest of his voyage, as he would live not much longer than that if it was inland he was destined to go. However if he was determined to die, then he had might as well join one of the small bands of men that often set out from the cape settlements never to be seen again so that he might at least die in the company of others and not pass from this life on his own. Their words set him even firmer in his resolve to head in to the interior of this wild continent and for the remainder of the voyage his dreams were filled with adventure and riches beyond all imaginings except his own.
From a distance Table Mountain was beautiful, elegant almost, but as the ship sailed closer to the harbour, its dark, imposing, slab-faced bulk was revealed. It was a wall, he realised; a vast barrier to Africa, telling him that this was a continent that would not give up its riches easily. The secrets of this land were hidden beyond and would only be his once he had learned to climb towards them.
When they arrived in Cape Town and after he had secured suitable lodgings, Frederick set about finding out when the next group of men might be heading into the interior. He hardly had the time to admire the beautiful setting of the town, lying as it does with the ocean to one side and the majesty of Table Mountain on the other. He talked with anyone who would listen about his intentions, although most laughed at his enthusiastic but ultimately unrealistic plans. He met Herr Mauch, a celebrated German minerals expert who had recently returned from the lands north of the great river called the Limpopo. The German was reticent to tell Frederick very much about his travels and told him that there was little to find except jungle, wild animals, and natives. Although he did concede that it was a beautiful land despite the hardships one had to endure. There was also a Swede by the name of Nelson who had just recently arrived on the continent and had similar plans to those of Frederick, but typical of his race, had decided to take his time to mount a proper expedition in maybe three or four years time. He was also told of a hunter, a Mr. Frederick Selous who had already been north and told of the great plateaus between the Limpopo in the south and the Zambezi in the north, where wildlife teemed and where two main tribes lived. One group, the Mashona, lived on their ancient homelands in the north and east of the area and was a pastoral, mainly peaceful people. The others were interlopers. They had stormed north from the lands of the Zulu tribes in the south and, under the despotic leadership of Mzilikazi, had fought and hacked their way over the Limpopo, driving the hapless Mashona before them like chaff in the wind, much as the Vikings had pushed the English into the rocky crags of Wales centuries before.
These invaders became known as the Matabele and they lived for war, “the washi
ng of spears”, especially in the blood of the Mashona dogs, although when not fighting, they were excellent cattle raisers (and raiders) upon which the wealth of their new nation was built. They eventually settled beyond the Matoppo hills and the remnants of the Mashona people left from the massacres that had taken place, settled in the mountains near the Zambezi where they lived in constant fear from their new neighbours.
Selous had a plan to head up onto these plateaus to hunt and was at that moment putting a band of willing men together to accompany him. Frederick sought the great hunter out and found him assessing supplies at a store in the town. Never one to be shy, Frederick marched up to Selous and said, ‘Mr Selous, I would like to accompany you on your expedition and hope that you can find a place for a hardworking and fearless individual amongst your company.’
Selous looked at him and glanced up and down at Frederick’s obviously dirty clothes. ‘No!’ With that single word, he turned away and continued checking the quality of the leather straps he was contemplating.
Frederick wasn’t one to be turned down either, so he started to remonstrate to Selous’ back. ‘I know I am only recently arrived here, but I have a great desire to head north to seek out whatever may lie there. I am skilled in working with wood, have some knowledge of metal working and am fit, strong, and healthy.’
To all these words, Selous did not turn his head or acknowledge that he had heard a thing. ‘Mr Selous?’ Frederick put his hand on the man’s shoulder. Selous turned fast and Frederick stepped back at the look in his eye. ‘I said no and I meant no. Please bother me no further.’
It was obvious that Frederick was going to get no further with his quest, so he meekly turned away and headed for the door. Once outside, he looked up and down the street and wondered what he was going to do next. As he stood there thinking about his options, Selous strode out past him. ‘If you’re looking for work, try up at McAdams’, he needs a good wood worker.’ Then he strode away with not a single glance back.
‘Thank you Sir,’ Frederick called after Selous’ retreating form. ‘Where might I find him?’ Selous pointed in the opposite direction without looking back and Frederick stared in the direction of his finger towards the docks area of town.
Jim McAdams had a large workshop and yard near the water’s edge and the family had been working wood there since 1820 when Jim’s father and mother had been among the first rash of English settlers to arrive on the Cape. He produced all manner of goods from tables, chairs, and cupboards to barrels and wagons, although the wagons were built at a second yard a little way out of town.
When he arrived at the workshop, Frederick breathed in the smell of freshly cut wood and sawdust, a smell he had loved all his life. A small, heavily bearded man came towards him brandishing a shining saw. ‘You look like a man born to be in a workshop,’ he said. There’s not many folk come in here sniffing the air in the way you just did. Are you from the trade?’
Frederick smiled at the man’s perception. ‘Yes, I am indeed used to working with wood and somewhat with metal too. My name is Frederick Braughton and I was told that I should speak to Mr McAdams about work.’
‘Well, you’re speaking to the right man all right, but you’ll have to show me what you can do with a lump of wood before the conversation goes any further.’
‘That will not be a problem Sir, what would have me do?’
‘There’s a cabinet that needs new doors over there in the corner. Would you be up to such a task as that?’
‘That I would, just let me borrow some tools and I’ll have it done in no time. However, before I start, you haven’t actually confirmed that there is a job available yet.’
McAdams smiled. ‘You’re obviously no fool. Fix the cabinet and we’ll talk some more about the job, which does exist for your information.’
With that, Frederick set to work and spent a content afternoon crafting a beautiful set of doors and fixing them perfectly straight and even to the cabinet. For good measure, he sanded the cabinet itself and gave it a coat of stain to finish things off.
When McAdams returned he admired the quality of Frederick’s workmanship and could do nothing except offer him a job on the spot. He would start the next day and report to Em for his tasks.
‘Has Em got a first name or a last for that matter?’ Frederick asked.
‘Just Em will do you. Everyone knows Em.’
Frederick then returned to his boarding house for the night and settled down for a good night’s rest.
The next morning, he arrived bright and early at the workshop. He was so keen that he seemed to be the only one to have arrived at such an early hour. He let himself in and was looking around when a voice called from the far side, near the office.
‘Hey you there, what are you doing here?’
The voice was that of a woman and Frederick was so taken aback that at first he didn’t answer. He peered into the gloom and could vaguely make out a female form to go with the voice. Unsure of who this could be and unused to seeing a woman in a place of work, he sauntered over where he could see her before deigning to answer her question.
‘What’s the matter with you man? Have you got no tongue, or is it just that you are so dim as to not understand the question?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the question had come from one who deserved an answer.’ As he got closer, he saw that the girl was dressed in scruffy trousers and a man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up. On her feet were heavy boots and a scarf was tied around her head to hide her hair, wisps of which he could just make out poking down behind her ears. Her face was pretty enough he supposed, with a dark complexion and deep, dark eyes. Her manner of dress and the manner in which she addressed him was something he was not used to. At his comment, her face screwed up in anger, a dark diving ‘V’ furrowing her brow and she pointed at him whilst unconsciously stamping her right foot like a child might when not getting its own way. ‘I think you had better leave here at once or I will set the dogs on you. I have never heard such rudeness and bad manners from an intruder.’
‘I think it is you who had better leave before the foreman gets here, as I work here and have every right to be standing in this place, whereas you, madam, have obviously wandered in here by mistake. I am new in town and so am not sure of its location, but I am sure that the workhouse is located someplace else.’
At this, the girl’s face turned beetroot red and her foot stamped again and again while she struggled to contain her fury. Then she lost the inner battle to control herself, and let rip with a tirade, the like of which Frederick had never been witness to from a man, never mind from a woman. He suddenly thought that perhaps she was an escaped mad woman and that he really ought to protect himself in some way. He grabbed a plank of wood from a pile nearby and started to wave it around in front of him, to the utter amazement of the girl and then to the astonishment of McAdams who had just arrived behind Frederick.
‘What in the blazes is going on here?’ He roared across the workshop. Before the girl could say a word, Frederick called over his shoulder, ‘It’s okay sir, I think she’s escaped from somewhere and she may well be dangerous, but I have her cornered. Just stay back and I’ll try and contain her in some manner.’
At that, both the girl and McAdams suddenly went completely silent, just for a second, and then they burst into laughter, convulsions that looked to the utterly confused Frederick as if they would damage them in some way. He stood for a little while longer with his weapon of choice grasped in his hands in front of him, staring open-mouthed at the two people apparently laughing themselves to death’ at what he was beginning to suspect was his own expense.
Once they had managed to calm down a little, McAdams walked over to the girl and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry my dear, I completely forgot to tell you about young Frederick here. I met him yesterday and he impressed me with his work so I have offered him a job.’ He turned to Frederick and said, ‘My boy, let me introduce you to my daughter Emil
y. Known as Em to all who know her and the best foreman a man could want looking after his interests.’
It was now Frederick who took a turn at a good beetroot impression as he realised what a fool he had just made of himself. He stammered an apology to them both and mentioned that he had never heard of a woman working in a workshop before let alone acting as a foreman.
‘Yes, well you might find that there are many things different out here young man. I hope that there will be no problem for you to work for Em.’ McAdams’ face was stern as he addressed Frederick.
‘No…no of course not, I…I…’ At that point, Frederick suddenly lost the ability to speak, but fortunately saw the funny side of the situation and just stood there grinning like the idiot he felt.
‘Jolly good. Situation solved so let’s all get to work shall we?’
Frederick nodded to McAdams and then turned to Em and with a grin said, ‘Okay boss, what would you like me to do?’
Over the coming weeks, Frederick worked hard and well for his new employers and gained the respect of both Jim McAdams and Em. However, with Em, there was something more. Often the two of them would arrive early and start work whilst chatting about their dreams and aspirations. Em was keen to hear about the latest goings-on in England, a land she had never seen, but felt a belonging to born of the family traditions which hadn’t changed since her grandparents had left Britain more than forty years before. For Frederick’s part, the feelings of closeness were as great as Em’s and he relished the times they spent together both in the early morning and at the end of the day when the other workers had left for their homes. Under the pretence of helping each other on various projects, they spent more and more time working as a team, under the watchful eye of McAdams who was wise enough to know what was going on.
He had a soft spot for Frederick, who was a good worker, always honest, and polite to the customers. He too had spent some time chatting to the lad and learnt of his dreams to head into the north to make his fortune. This troubled him as although he could easily see the way the relationship was heading between his daughter and Frederick. He sensed that the dreams of travel were more than just idle wishes and that one day the young lad would pack his bags and head off, possibly breaking the heart of his precious Emily at the same time.
However, the weeks turned into months and the talk of trekking north diminished to be replaced by dreams of a homestead somewhere close and a settled life in the colony. McAdams fears subsided and when one day Frederick came to him nervously stumbling over step and word to ask for permission to marry Emily. The old man, after but a moment’s thought, gave his blessing. First, though, he ensured that Frederick gave his word that he had given up his plans to head into the wilderness on a dream of riches. Frederick willingly swore that any such ideas had been vanquished by the happiness he had found with Em, and at the time he told the simple truth.
The wedding was held three months later, by which time, work was well underway on a new home for the couple. McAdams had generously provided much of the material needed for construction and the couple had bought some cheap land near the old naval port of Simon’s Town. They worked together to build their nest, with the help of McAdams himself and several other workers from the business who had all experienced Em’s fiery temper from time to time, but who all loved her like a sister.
As for Frederick’s real thoughts on all this, he still harboured the desire to explore the northern territory and make his fortune and he had indeed held back his proposal of marriage for some months while deciding what to do. He eventually considered that his fortune had perhaps already been made with a good job, a beautiful wife, and a home to call his own. Although there was always a nagging doubt in the recesses of his mind, the decision had been made and he would abide by its consequences for as long as he was able.
Acacia - Secrets of an African Painting Page 6
