Chapter 8
Port Elizabeth, South Africa 1904
33º 58'S 25° 35'E
'Arhhh... Uitlander?' he suggested with a slight grumble.
'Well... Yes,' he answered almost with embarrassment as he had begun to loss count of how many times someone had been referred to him as such.
'From where do you hail?' he asked.
'I am from Australia. I arrived a few days ago and I might say I am very impressed with Port Elizabeth. It reminds me of Sydney,' said Arthur.
His eyes grew wide with excitement as he crowed, 'Sydney! I have a brother who is out in New South Wales. His name is Michael Michaelson. Do you know of him?'
'Can't say that I do, Charlie,' he replied with a smirk on his face.
Bang!
Then equally as quickly another shot rang out. This time it was closer to where he stood and Arthur jumped somewhat startled at the sound and much to the amusement of Charlie.
The sows were not impressed and the largest of the group leapt forward without warning and almost knocked over the pen. Several clumps of boggy mud flew up into the air and splattered over the owner.
'I wish they would stop that,' demanded Charlie curtly as he tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to calm his small herd.
'What are they doing?' asked Arthur.
'There is a new gunsmith in town. He's from the United States of America and he's selling a new single action, semi-automatic pistol,' he offered. 'They are good, bought one myself, I did. The pistol is good but the fellow selling them is a bit of mad-hatter.'
A number of stall holders were marching in the direction of the gunsmith to make a complaint to him about their startled animals. Once again, Arthur smiled for he was unaware if they had considered, for a moment, to whom they were going to make their complaint.
'It's been nice chatting to you, Charlie. Best of luck with the sale of your pigs. I hope you get a fair price,' suggested Arthur sincerely.
'Arhhh... You'll learn my friend. Apart from the beautiful beaches and fine weather... there are very few things termed... 'fair' in South Africa,' he smiled.
For the next hour - and three gunshots later - Arthur continued to be fascinated by the life of the market. It had energy of its own. People continued to be friendly; the animals appeared to become more unsettled with each sudden discharge from the 'mad-hatter'.
A situation then occurred that would become a burned memory for Arthur of his time in Port Elizabeth. At the point when he entered the row of stalls dedicated to grain and seed he was surprised at the corridor or brilliant colour. There were barrels and tins, bags and buckets, all fall of various grains for farmers and for mills and for domestic use. There appeared to be hundreds of different sorts of grain. The sight was remarkable and at that point, Arthur made the decision to go to immediately to the Town Hall, from where he knew he would be able to purchase several postcards to send home to his family and also one to Jefferson to tell him of the agricultural delights he was now seeing.
About half way along the alley a quick succession of gunshots rang out. They appeared louder and closer and a subsequent commotion appear to fall across the entire square. Several screams, cracking timbers and ripping sheets of material were heard and Arthur's thoughts turned immediately to the stall holders who went in search of the gunsmith.
Slight vibrations from the ground were felt in both his legs and he did not know which way to look or which action to take. All he knew was that it becoming stronger and stronger and he wondered if this is what it felt like at the commencement of an earthquake.
'Run,' screamed a woman who looked shocked as she passed Arthur.
'Watch out,' yelled a man as he climbed onto one of the large storage bins of native seeds.
'What is going on?' thought Arthur alarmed as he too jumped atop one of the large grain bins. He turned to see what was happening along the lane between the stalls. From the direction where he had just been, the slight vibrations quickly become a stampede of livestock. Arthur burst into laughter when he noticed that leading the collection of escaped animals was a large black Berkshire Hog Sow, squealing like a happy child, ears flapping wildly and with what appeared to be a big smile across its face.
Abruptly the stampeding ceased. Many animals were now pushing their hungry mouths into the Aladdin's Cave they had discovered within the stalls.
The grain merchants were not at all impressed.
The owners of the livestock were even less so.
The mad-hatter was about to be leaving town.
