Buch lesen: «A Frontier Mystery», Seite 9

“Oh all right. I’m not afraid,” I sung out after him, for he had jumped on his horse and was now riding away without another word. “Tre-ek!”

The whips cracked, and the waggons rolled forward, now without opposition. The turbulent crowd had completely quieted down, and although they still kept pace with us it was with a subdued sort of air. The reason was easy to read. We had come off best in the affair – wherefore it was obvious to them that we must be greater than Dolf Norbury. Of their first annoyance I took no notice whatever, treating it as a matter of such small account as not even to be worth remembering; and soon they began to drop off by twos and threes, till at last there was only a handful left – to whom I administered a suitable lecture.

“Think that skunk’ll give us any more trouble, eh, Glanton?” said Falkner, presently.

“Shouldn’t wonder. Anyway we’ll take his advice and keep a bright look out. He’s more than capable of trying a long shot at us from behind, if he sees his chance.”

“By Jove, but that’s a tough customer. If he’d only had science I should have been nowhere with him. It’s science that does it,” he added complacently. “Ever learn boxing, Glanton?”

“No. Yet I’ve held my own in a scrap on an occasion or two.”

“Well learn it. I can tell you it’s worth while. You get the science that way. We used to go in strong for it in the regiment, but there’s every chance of forgetting it here. These silly niggers can’t use their hands at all.”

“No, but they can use other things, and if you’ll take my advice you’ll keep yours off them. Keep them for fellows of the Dolf Norbury stamp.”

It must not be supposed that friend Falkner had come off light in the scrimmage; for in truth a goodly share of punishment had fallen his way. Both his eyes were badly bunged up, and he had a knob like a walnut over one temple. He further owned to the loosening of a couple of teeth. In short his countenance presented an aspect that would not have endeared him to those of the opposite sex on sight, say his cousins whom he had left behind. But he had held his own like a man, and of his pluck there could be no question at all; and I own that he had gone up very considerably in my estimation since the time of our earlier acquaintance.

Chapter Seventeen.
Majendwa’s Kraal

A large, well-built Zulu kraal is to my mind a picturesque and symmetrical object with its perfect double circle of ring fences enclosing the yellow domes of the grass huts, and the large open space in the centre, dappled with many coloured cattle, or alive with the dark forms of its inhabitants. Such a kraal was that of the chief, Majendwa. It lay deep down in a large basin-like hollow; an amphitheatre, as it were, sparsely bushed and surrounded by high, terrace-like cliffs. On one side these rose up to a tall cone of considerable height.

The valley bottom and the slopes of the hills were covered with grazing herds, all sleek and round and shining, for the grass was abundant, and rains had been plentiful in these highlands.

“That looks promising,” I remarked to Falkner, as we gazed around upon this land of plenty. “I hope to take back a good few of these with us.”

“By Jove, yes,” he said. “I say, I wonder if there’s anything to shoot among those cliffs over there.”

“Not very much. An odd reebok or klipspringer is about all you’d get. However, we can try later on. Hallo! That looks uncommonly like Majendwa himself.”

Two tall Zulus were stalking along a path which should converge with ours a little way ahead. We had ridden on, leaving the waggons to follow, and the sound of their creaking and jolting was even now borne to our ears behind, as they wound down the rocky track which led into the hollow from that side, together with an occasional driving shout.

“Is it?” said Falkner, looking up with some curiosity. “By Jingo, he’s a fine-looking chap for a nigger, anyway.”

“Thought you’d worn through that ‘nigger’ string of yours, Falkner,” I said. “Don’t play on it for the benefit of Majendwa, that’s all.”

I may have seen as fine, but I never saw a finer specimen of a Zulu than Majendwa. Tall and straight, and for his age marvellously free from that corpulence which seems to come upon nearly all Zulus of rank or birth in middle life, every movement of his limbs showing great muscular strength the man’s frame was a model. His countenance even from a European standpoint was singularly handsome, the broad, lofty forehead and clear eyes conveying the idea of intellectuality and high breeding, in short he looked what he was, an aristocrat of his race. His greeting was dignified yet cordial.

“I see you, Iqalaqala,” he said, having waited for us to come up – “and am glad. It is long since you brought trade our way.”

I answered that my wandering days were over for the present, yet I could not altogether sit still, so had come straight up to the Abaqulusi to trade with them first. Then following their inquiring glance at my companion, I told them he was a neighbour of mine who had been an officer in the English army, causing them to look at him with redoubled interest.

“What’s it all about, Glanton?” struck in Falkner who was always impatient when I was talking and bound to cut in at the wrong time. “Who’s the other chap?”

“Muntisi, the chief’s second son. He’s got seven, but this and the eldest are the only two who wear the ring.”

“Well, I like their looks. Here, have some ’bacca, old chap,” pulling out his pouch.

Majendwa, who of course didn’t understand the familiarity of the address, received the tobacco, in his dignified way, with a slight smile and a glance of furtive curiosity at Falkner’s parti-coloured countenance, which had by no means shed all traces of his bout of fisticuffs with Dolf Norbury. Then he said:

“Come within, Iqalaqala. I will send men to show your people where to outspan.”

We walked on with them, leading our horses, for we had dismounted to greet them. As we drew near, the kraal, which had seemed deserted, sprang into life. Heads appeared above the thorn fence, watching the approach of the waggons in the distance, and from where the red topknots of women were grouped, a buzz and chatter of expectation went up.

“Hallo, Glanton. You’re never going to leave that there?” said Falkner, as I deliberately put down my rifle outside the gate before entering. “I’m hanged if I’ll leave mine.”

“But you must. It’s etiquette.”

“Oh blazes, but I don’t like it,” he grumbled, as he complied reluctantly. However Majendwa, whose ready tact had seen through his reluctance, told me we need not disarm there, and in fact we had better bring in our weapons, for there was nothing he enjoyed so much as inspecting firearms.

As we passed among the huts, I greeted several men whom I knew personally. Falkner the while staring curiously about him.

“I tell you what, Glanton. Some of these are devilish fine-looking girls,” he remarked. “Quite light coloured too, by Jove.”

I rendered this for the benefit of the chief that my companion observed that the women of the Abaqulusi were far better looking than any he had ever seen in Zululand, which evoked a laugh from those men who heard, and a delighted squeal from those of the sex thus eulogised. Then Falkner committed his first blunder.

We had gained the chief’s hut, and stooping down, I had entered the low door first, Falkner following. When halfway through he drew back.

“Dash it all!” he exclaimed, “I’ve dropped my matchbox.”

“Never mind. Come right through,” I warned. “Don’t stop on any account.”

But it was too late. He had already crawled back, and picked up the lost article.

“Why what’s the row?” he said, startled at my peremptory tone.

“Only that it’s awful bad manners with them to stop halfway through a door and back out again. It’s worse, it makes a sort of bad múti. It’s a pity you did it.”

“Oh blazes, how was I to know? Sort of ill luck, eh – evil eye and all that kind of business? Well, you can put that right with them.”

I tried to do this, incidentally explaining that he was a new arrival in the country and could not talk with their tongue yet, and of coarse was not familiar with their ways, that I hoped they would bear this in mind during the time we should spend at the kraal. But although the chief and his son took the incident in good part I could see they would much rather it had not happened. As regarded the offender himself one thing struck me as significant. Time was, and not so long ago either, when he would have pooh-poohed it, as a silly nigger superstition. Now he showed some little concern, which was a sign of grace.

Tywala, which is beer brewed from amabele, or native grown millet, if fresh and cleanly made, is an excellent thirst quencher on a hot day, and you never get it so well and cleanly made as in the hut of a Zulu chief. Of this a great calabash was brought in, and poured out into black bowls made of soft and porous clay.

“By Jove, Glanton,” cut in Falkner, during an interval in our talk. “This is something like. Why this jolly hut,” looking round upon the clean and cool interior with its hard polished floor, and domed thatch rising high overhead – “is as different as possible to the poky smoky affairs our niggers run up. And as for this tipple – oh good Lord!”

There was a squashing sound and a mighty splash. He had been raising the bowl to his lips, and that by the process of hooking one finger over the rim thereof. The vessel being, as I have said, of soft clay was unable to stand that sort of leverage, and had incontinently split in half, and the contents, liberal in quantity, went souse all over his trousers as he sat there, splashing in milky squirts the legs of Majendwa and three or four other men of rank who had come in to join the indaba. These moved not a muscle, but I could catch a lurking twinkle in the eyes of the chief’s son.

“Here, I say. Tell them I’m devilish sorry,” cried Falkner shaking off the stuff as best he could. “I’m not accustomed to these things, you know.”

I put it to them. They looked at Falkner, then at the shattered bowl, and as a Zulu is nothing if not humorous, one and all went off into a roar of laughter.

“Hallo! That’s better,” grinned Falkner looking up, as he tried to wipe off the liquid with his handkerchief. “Why these are jolly sort of fellows after all. I was afraid they were going to look beastly glum over it. Tell them I’ll get into their ways soon, Glanton. Meanwhile here’s their jolly good health,” taking a big drink out of a fresh bowl that was placed before him, only this time taking care to hold it with both hands.

Soon the cracking of whips and an increased buzz of voices without announced the arrival of the waggons, and we all went out to the place of outspan. The sun was sinking behind the high ridge which bordered the great basin, and the plain in front of the kraal was dappled with homing herds, and on these I looked with the eye of a connoisseur and especially on the little fat, black Zulu oxen, which always fetch a good price for trek purposes. The shrill shout and whistle of the boy herds, blended with the trample and mooing of the cows brought in for the evening milking – but the chief interest on the part of the denizens of the great kraal was centred around the waggons. However it was too late to unload for trade purposes that evening, so beyond getting out a few things for gifts to Majendwa and some of the principal men of the place, I left everything undisturbed.

“Here’s our hut, Falkner,” I said, presently, as we returned within the kraal. “We’re going to sleep here.”

“Sleep here?” he echoed. “Don’t know. I’d much rather sleep at the waggons. How about crawlers,” surveying doubtfully the interior, wherein Tom was depositing the few things we should require for the night.

“Oh, that won’t trouble us. Beyond a few cockroaches of the smaller sort a new hut like this is clean enough. You see Majendwa’s an old friend of mine, and he wouldn’t take it in good part if we didn’t sleep in his kraal, at any rate for a night or two. Now we’re going to dine with him. Look they’ve just killed a young beast in honour of our arrival.”

And dine with him we did, and Falkner himself was fain to own that the great slabs of grilled beef, cut from the choicest part, down the back to wit, which were presently brought in, flanked by roasted mealies, and washed down by unlimited tywala constituted a banquet by no means to be sneezed at. What though a clean grass mat did duty for a plate, and a skewer of wood for a fork, even he admitted that we might have fared much worse.

I did not talk much as to the state of the country with our entertainers that night – that I could get at better by degrees, and later. But they chuckled mightily as I described the scrap with Dolf Norbury.

“Udolfu!” Oh yes, they knew him well, used to trade with him at one time, but they didn’t want such whites as him in the Zulu country, they said. I could understand this the more readily, for I knew that he had tried on his bounce even to the verge of attempted blows with Ngavuma, Majendwa’s eldest son, who was from home just now, and for his pains had got a broad assegai into his ribs which had kept him quiet on the flat of his back for a matter of three or four months or so. So chatting – and translating for the benefit of Falkner – even he agreed we had got through an uncommonly jolly evening, and that the real Zulu was a real brick, by Jove! Then we turned in.

I have a knack of shutting my eyes and going sound off about thirty seconds after my head touches the pillow, or whatever does duty for one, and that night made no exception to my general practice. I heard Falkner fumbling about and cussing because he couldn’t get his blankets fixed up just as he wanted them, and so on; then I recollect my half-smoked pipe dropping from my mouth just as usual, and then I recollect no more, till —

I woke – not at all as usual when there was nothing to wake me. The moonlight was streaming in through the interstices of the wicker slab that constituted the door, throwing a fine silver network upon the floor of the hut. Striking a match I looked at my watch. It was just after one. But as the light flickered and went out I became aware of something else. I was alone in the hut. What the deuce had become of Falkner?

Raising myself on one elbow I called his name. No answer. I waited a little, then got up and crawled through the low doorway.

The moon was nearly at full, and I stood looking over the screen of woven grass which was erected in front of the door, leaving just room on each side for a man to pass. The scene was of wonderful beauty. The great circle of domed huts lying between their dark ring fences, the shimmering solitude of the moonlit plain, and beyond, the far amphitheatre of terraced cliffs rising to the twinkling stars. The calm beauty of it all riveted me, accustomed as I was to night in the open – do we ever get accustomed to such nights as this I wonder? – and I stood thinking, or rather beginning to think – when —

Such a clamour broke forth upon the sweet stillness of the night as though all the dogs in the kraal – no, in the world – had suddenly gone stark, staring, raving mad, and then in the light of the broad moon I saw Falkner Sewin clad in nothing but a short light shirt, sprinting as I feel sure he never sprinted before or since. Behind him poured forward a complete mass of curs, gaunt leggy brutes and as savage as they make them, given the conditions of night and a fleeing unwonted object. The ground was open in front of Majendwa’s huts, so he had some start.

“This way!” I yelled, lest he should mistake the hut, then quick as lightning I was inside. So was he, in about a moment, and was on his back with both heels jammed hard against the slammed-to wicker slab that constituted the door, while the whole snarling mouthing pack was hurling itself against the same, snapping and growling, till finding they couldn’t get in, the ill-conditioned brutes started to fight with each other. Then a man came out of an adjacent hut and shied knobsticks into the lot, dispersing them with many a pained yell. The while I lay there and laughed till I cried.

“If you could only have seen yourself, Falkner, covering distance in the moonlight and a short shirt,” I managed to gasp at length. “Man, what the deuce took you wandering about at night? They don’t like that here, you know.”

“Oh damn what they like or what they don’t like!” he growled pantingly. “I couldn’t sleep – some infernal leggy thing or other ran over me – so thought I’d admire the view a little by moonlight. Then those loathly brutes came for me all at once. Here! give us hold of that fat flask we had the sense to bring along. I want a drink badly.”

“So do I!” I said starting off to laugh again. “Well, you mustn’t do any more moonlight patrols. It’s tagati, as the Zulus say.”

Chapter Eighteen.
A Grim Find

Soon trade became brisk. I had the waggons partly off-loaded, and by dint of stretching a large sail across both of them formed an impromptu store in which the goods were piled. All day long the people crowded up, those who were not dealing enjoying the fun of witnessing the arts and dodges of those who were; just as an outdoor sale on the market square of a town will always attract a number of folks who have nothing else to do, and also, an equal number perhaps of those who have.

Cattle would be driven up; good ones, for I had given out distinctly that it was waste of trouble to bring anything but good ones, – and then the owners, squatting around, would spend an hour or so haggling, to go away firmly resolved not to deal, but they nearly always came back, and, meanwhile, others would take their places, and go through in all probability exactly the same process; for your Zulu at a deal is a born Jew, and will spend an astonishing amount of time haggling out of sheer love of haggling. He would go on for ever but for one consideration – the amount of goods is limited in quantity, and if one neglects to secure his share another does not. So for the first few days I sat tight, making up “lots” with green blankets and cooking pots, butcher knives – always in great request – and brass buttons, beads and Salampore cloth, which by the way, is not cloth at all, but a light gauzy fabric of dark blue, greatly in favour with the unmarried girls. All sorts of “notions” were in request, the veriest trifles as to market value, but highly prized up there; and as a thing is worth what it will fetch, why there comes in much of the trader’s legitimate profit. I always held that no trade was too small to be refused, and I would accept curios, which were always in demand by down-country dealers in such things. Assegais however were extremely difficult to obtain, so much so indeed as to be practically outside articles of barter, and this was significant. Another thing not less so was the universal request, open or covert, for firearms and ammunition. It was not much use my explaining to them that they were better off without either, that a man can do much better with a weapon he understands than with one he does not. For some reason or other they were bent on having them.

However, in a short while I found myself in possession of quite a nice lot of cattle, the sale of which would leave me a very considerable profit over when expenses were cleared, so I was not dissatisfied. Then, all of a sudden, trade fell off, then ceased altogether. There was no apparent reason for it. I stood well with Majendwa, indeed I always erred in the right direction with regard to the principal chiefs when on trading ventures in their districts, holding that it is far better policy to be too liberal than too mean. But there was no blinking the fact that for some reason or other further trade was “off.” No more were my waggons thronged from morning till night. Those from outlying kraals who had been the most eager, stopped away altogether, but now and then someone from close at hand would drop in for something, and even then the deal would be so insignificant as to remind me of my store at Isipanga.

I put the matter squarely to Majendwa, but it didn’t seem to help. He admitted that for some reason or other my trade had stopped. What could he do? He could not order his people to deal. I agreed with him there, still I was puzzled. I had calculated to have easily cleared out all I had at his place. Yet I had done well enough so far, but when I proposed to move further northward, and get into Uhamu’s country, Majendwa seemed for some reason or other unwilling that I should.

“You will do no better there, Iqalaqala,” he said, “and, for the rest, it is not advisable. See, we are alone, and are talking beneath the bullock’s skin. Again I say – do not go there. Return rather to your own country, even if you have to carry back some of the goods you have brought. Or, there may be those on your way who will relieve you of them.”

I looked at him fixedly and a thought struck me. The phrase he had used might well bear two meanings. Had he intended it as a warning? Such might well have been the case.

Falkner the while had been amusing himself as best he could. He soon got tired of watching the barter, though at first it had afforded him some amusement, but I had laid a stern and uncompromising embargo upon any approach even to practical joking. So he would roam off with a rifle or shot gun, and although I was anxious lest he should get into some mischief or other yet he seemed not to. Now he welcomed the idea of clearing out, when we talked things over. To my surprise he propounded an idea when I was telling him how our trade had come to a standstill.

“What if that sweep whose head I punched should be at the bottom of it?” he said. “Dolf Norbury, I mean?”

I thought there might be something in it. However if it were true, he was bound to have gone to work in some such way that it would be impossible to prove anything, and even if we did, it was hard to see what we could do.

“Do? Why call round and punch his head again, of course,” he answered briskly.

“That wouldn’t help us to recover our trade. Besides Dolf Norbury isn’t the sort to let himself be caught that way twice running. This time it would be a case of shooting on sight.”

“That’s a game two can play at,” said Falkner.

“Yes,” I answered, “but in this case it’s a game in which he holds all the hand. It’s clear that he has some following, and we have a lot of cattle to drive. Well, while we were settling accounts with him his, or rather Mawendhlela’s, rips would have no trouble in clearing these off to some part of the country where we should never see a hoof of them again.”

“But would they have the cheek to do that?”

“Wouldn’t they? And this is a time when neither the King nor any of the chiefs would be over-keen to interfere in a quarrel between two white men. Let them settle it themselves is what would be said and meanwhile we should have lost all we came up for.”

“Damn!”

“I echo that sentiment most fervently, but it can’t be helped,” I said. “As it is I’ve a notion we shall have to round up our belongings extra tight till we are clear of the country.”

“Oh well. Let’s make the best of it and sit tight here a week or so longer, Glanton. I’m beginning to enjoy this shooting among rocks. These klip-springers are such cute little devils. It’s more fun shooting them than it used to be markhor, and nothing like the fag.”

Falkner was a capital shot with rifle and bird gun alike, and one of his good points was that he was a keen and thorough sportsman. That being the case he had been able to find game up here where one less keen would have given up in disgust, and it was a good thing, if only that it kept him out of mischief.

Jan Boom, the Xosa, was the only one who would hint at any reason for the falling off of our trade, but, as it happened, I was rather prejudiced against him by reason of his affectation of a certain air of superiority over those of his own colour, on the strength of his knowledge of English. In fact I rather disliked him, and therefore of course distrusted him. Subsequently I had reason to alter my opinion with regard to him: but that will keep. Out of Mfutela I could get nothing on the subject. Either he knew nothing or was too “close” to say: and when a native is “close” why it is rather less difficult to make an oyster open by whispering soft nothings to it than to get him to unfold.

One day Falkner and I started off to have a hunt among the krantzes beyond those which walled in the hollow. We took Jan Boom with us, and a couple of young Zulus to show us the short cut. It was a grey and lowering day, gloomy in the extreme, and every now and then a spot of rain showed what we were likely to expect, but Falkner was keen on sport, and I was getting hipped, besides, in those days I cared little enough for weather. We scrambled about all the morning among the rocks, with absolutely no luck whatever, and then I got sick of it, wherefore after we had lunched upon what we had brought with us I proposed to find my way back to the waggons. Falkner of course wanted to keep on, but I pointed out that my defection need cause no drawback to him, for I would leave him the boys and make my way back alone. So we separated and before we had long done so a distant report, some way above, showed that at any rate he was beginning to find sport.

I struck downward, rapidly making use of half obliterated cattle tracks, for the Abaqulusi were largely a mountain tribe, and there were outlying kraals among the heights as well as in the hollows. Following one of these paths I came suddenly upon a steep gorge, falling abruptly to the next slope some distance below.

This gully was in places almost chasm-like in its formation, and was indescribably wild and gloomy in the utter solitude of the grey afternoon. I had just crossed it where the path dipped, when, looking up, there stood a klipspringer gazing at me.

He was an easy hundred yard shot. Slipping from the saddle on the further side from him, I thought to myself that Falkner would not altogether have the crow over me when we got back. But – when I looked again, expecting to take a quick aim, by Jingo! the little beast had disappeared.

This was annoying, for now a disinclination to return empty handed had seized me. Quickly and noiselessly I made my way up to where he had been. It was as I had thought. He had been standing on a sort of pinnacle; and now, as I peered cautiously over, there stood the little buck, less than the first distance below.

He was outlined against the black and shadowed bottom of the gorge, and was gazing away from me. Now I would have him, I decided. In a second my sights were on him full – I didn’t take long over aiming in those days – when I lowered the rifle with some precipitation. Right bang in a line with where the klipspringer had been standing – had been, observe, for the slight additional movement on my part had caused him to disappear again – was the form of a man.

It gave me a turn, for with lightning rapidity it flashed through my mind that nothing could have saved him. Then consternation gave way to curiosity. The form though that of a man was not that of a living one.

Down in the shadow of a dark hole, overhung by gloomy rocks, it sprawled in a constrained half upright posture against one of these. It was too far off and the light not good enough to be able to distinguish how it was secured in this position, but it seemed to be facing upward in a dreadful attitude of scared supplication. I would go down and investigate. But before I had taken many steps in pursuance of this resolve I stopped short.

For an idea had occurred to me. The body was that of a native, and it was obvious that life had been extinct for some time. What good purpose could I serve by investigating it further? I was in a savage country in which life was held cheap. The man whoever he might be, had quite likely been executed for some offence; the method of his death being in all probability designed to fit the offence. Clearly therefore it was no concern of mine, and accordingly I decided to forego further investigation. And then, as though to confirm me in the good policy of such decision something happened – something that was sufficiently startling.

A bullet pinged against a stone beside me, sending up a hard splash of splinters and dust, and, confound it, the thing had hit barely a yard from where I was standing.

“Hallo, Falkner!” I hailed, deeming the puff of smoke from among the rocks above and opposite must be his work. “Look out I’m here. D’you hear, man?”

But no answer came, not immediately that is. In a minute however, one did come, and that in the shape of another bullet, which banged up the dust just about the same distance on the other side of me. My first impulse was that Falkner was playing one of his idiotic practical jokes at my expense, but with the idea I seemed to feel sure that it was not Falkner – and that, in short, I had better withdraw from this very uncanny spot.

As I hastened to carry this judicious resolve into practical effect I won’t pretend that I felt otherwise than uncomfortable and very much so. Whoever it was up there could shoot – confound him! an accomplishment rare indeed among the natives of Zululand in those days. Clearly too the exact nicety with which both distances had been judged seemed to point to the fact that both shots had been fired by way of warning. That I had at any rate accepted such I trusted I had made clear to the giver of it, as I walked – I hoped without undue haste but rapidly – to where I had left my horse.

Nothing further occurred, although until clear of the heights I kept an uncommonly sharp look out. Once clear of them however, the incident left no great impression on my mind. I had unwittingly stumbled across something unusual and had been about to pry into what didn’t concern me, and it had been resented. The Abaqulusi were an independent and warlike clan who would be sure to resent such. I had received a hint, and a pretty forcible one, to mind my own business, and I concluded that in future I would mind it, at any rate while in these parts. That was all.