The Fire Trumpet Part 86

"There. You won't smoke many more pipes in this world, Lenzimbi," he said.

The Kafirs became quite good-humoured and began to sing, or rather hum, s.n.a.t.c.hes of their war-songs as they stepped briskly out. They ceased to ill-treat their prisoner, and even showed a disposition to talk. They told him about the different engagements that had been fought between them and the colonists, and how they intended to go on fighting until every tribe had risen and joined them, and that then they would eat up the Fingo "dogs," and ultimately, when they had fought enough, make peace with the whites. It was of no use for him to try and persuade them that in six months' time they would be thoroughly beaten and broken up, and their chiefs either hanged or undergoing penal servitude as common convicts. They laughed him to scorn. The open air, the unending bush and impenetrable fastnesses of the rocks and caves were around them now, the white man's warnings they treated as mere fables.

Suddenly Claverton was dragged to the earth, all the Kafirs sinking silently and like shadows. A blanket was thrown over his head, enveloping him in darkness and nearly suffocating him. It was impossible for him to utter so much as a sound. A few minutes of this silent darkness and the impromptu gag was removed. Something had alarmed the savages, and they had taken these precautions. They now resumed their way, and glad indeed was the prisoner to get rid of the horrible extinguisher that had been put upon him, and breathe the fresh air again; for a Kafir blanket, all nauseous with red ochre and grease and something more, diffuseth not a balmy perfume.

Towards dawn they halted for a short rest, and now the air became piercingly cold, for they were at a considerable elevation. Great clouds worked up from seaward, and the wind arose in dull, moaning gusts, driving the grey scud along the slopes beneath, and wrapping in a misty veil the brow of a lofty cliff which every now and then frowned down upon their way. Then, as it grew lighter, Claverton could just make out a town lying far away upon the plain, glimpsed between the slopes of the hills. It was King Williamstown, and at the sight he thought how happily he and Lilian had driven out of it and along that bit of road, the continuation of which he could see like a white thread winding along over the flat. He wae roused by a voice at his elbow.

"Now, white man, we are going to start again."

Turning, he beheld the tall chief, and now, by the light of day, he recognised this man's features. It was the man whom, with two others, he had turned away from Umgiswe's out-station, on the morning of that never-to-be-forgotten ride over to Thirlestane, and whom Lilian had so much wished to see as a specimen of a real Kafir chief. He wondered if the other recognised him.

"Do you know me now, Lenzimbi?" was the quiet, but somewhat sneering question.

"Are you a rich man, Nxabahlana?" said Claverton, answering the query by another, in true native fas.h.i.+on.

The Kafir eyed him suspiciously. "It is war-time now," he replied, with a shrug of the shoulders; "no one can be said to be rich in war-time."

"True; but war does not last for ever. Some day there will be peace, and then, when the whites have taken all their cattle and the Gaikas are starving, and begging for food, supposing that Nxabahlana found he had plenty of cattle in his kraals. He would be a rich man when all his people were poor; and a rich man is always the most powerful chief."

A gleam in the other's eyes, and the least movement of a glance in the direction of the rest, convinced the prisoner that he was understood, and he began to hope.

"Supposing, then," he went on, "that when all of Nxabahlana's wives had been captured and distributed among the Fingoes, or were half-starved and too weak to work, and worn out, and thin, and useless, Nxabahlana had plenty of cattle, he could buy more wives--young, and fresh, and healthy. And then, when all the chiefs of the Gaikas were deposed and in disgrace, supposing the Government were to say: 'During the war a white man, an officer in the colonial forces, was captured by the Gaikas, and his life was saved by a chief who set him free, and provided him with a horse and a guide to lead him into the colonial camp. This, then, is the chief whom we must put in Sandili's place, although he is of the house of the Great Chief, for he is our friend--and his name is Nxabahlana.'"

The eyes of the savage glistened at the prospect thus opened out before him. All Kafirs are by nature covetous, and this man's greediest instincts were powerfully appealed to. Plenty amid scarcity--wives, cattle, power--for that last consideration thrown out by the prisoner had carried more weight than he thought. He, Nxabahlana, was now disliked and distrusted by Sandili. Here, then, would be a good opportunity of securing the favour of the Colonial Government, and benefiting himself at the expense of his kinsman and chief.

"How many cattle will Nxabahlana find in his kraal, after the war, if Lenzimbi goes free?" he asked.

"One hundred fat beasts," replied Claverton. He knew his man, and that the other would take advantage of his necessity to the utmost, so he purposely began at a low figure.

"Aow! A chief cannot buy many wives with that," was the reply, given with a dissatisfied head-shake.

"Say one hundred and fifty, then."

But this, too, proved too little. At length, after much haggling, which evoked many a smile from the prisoner--so strongly was his sense of humour tickled by the notion of haggling over the price of his own life, as if he was merely buying a waggon or a farm--a bargain was struck.

Two hundred head of cattle should be handed over to Nxabahlana at any time and place that worthy chose to name, and if at the close of the war Claverton's good offices should not avail to obtain for the chief a position of considerable wealth and influence, then he was to receive another hundred. In consideration whereof the Gaika agreed to release his prisoner, and, if not to conduct him within the colonial lines, at any rate to leave him in a place of safety. Not that all this was set forth in so many words--both of them knew better than that--the others might be listening. No, the negotiations were carried on in that dark undercurrent of half hints, half veiled references, which the Kafirs employ when anxious not to be readily understood by outsiders; and it will be remembered that Claverton spoke the native languages with ease and fluency, and, what in this instance stood him in almost better stead, thoroughly understood the native character.

"What if Lenzimbi should _forget_ his word, when he found himself safe among his own people?" said the savage, suspiciously. "What if when Nxabahlana went to ask for his reward he received a bullet instead of the cattle, or was seized and thrown into the _tronk_ as a rebel? Look.

Here is a better plan. Lenzimbi shall give the money value of half the cattle now. He can turn paper into money by writing upon it."

"Lenzimbi isn't such a fool as he looks," was the prompt reply. "No, my friend, you know perfectly well that you can trust me far better than I can trust you, and as for writing you a cheque now, which I suppose is what you mean, I couldn't if I would, because I've no paper or ink or anything; and I wouldn't if I could, because you know, as well as I do, that I shall keep to my side of the bargain. Besides, even if I did what you want me to, and gave you a cheque now, how the devil could you read it so as to make sure it was all right? Eh?"

This was conclusive.

"It will be difficult," mused the Kafir, referring to the escape. "Very difficult. Look. Yonder is the camp of your people. We shall pa.s.s very near it presently. Then, if you should find yourself free, make for it as hard as you can. There is no other chance. But until after the war is over you must keep silent about the way in which you escaped.

That is one of the conditions."

Claverton agreed to this, and now hope ran very strong within him. He had every reason to believe that the Gaika would fulfil his word; indeed, two powerful considerations would ensure his doing so, cupidity and fear. For if he were denounced to Sandili as having even contemplated such an act of treason as the release of a prisoner, his life would not be worth a moment's purchase. After some discussion as to the best way the order was given to start, and, with their prisoner in their midst as before, the Kafirs resumed their march. Once Claverton stole a side look at the chief's face, but Nxabahlana was moody and taciturn, and when he did speak to the prisoner it was with the rough brutality he had employed at first; but this might be only a blind. Which was it to be--life or doom? Every chance now was in favour of the former, and hope ran high.

Doubtless the reader will wonder at Claverton's marvellous ill-luck in three times escaping a terrible death only to fall straight into the hands of his enemies. When the Kafirs had abandoned their search as useless, thinking that the white man was a wizard indeed, as Nxabahlana had tauntingly said, that worthy, with a dozen followers, had remained behind. Of a cynical disposition, and a very sceptic as regarded the superst.i.tions of his countrymen, that astute savage, although he had been the first to start the miraculous theory as accounting for the fugitive's disappearance, believed in it himself not one whit. He was puzzled, he admitted, but by natural causes. He would fathom the mystery yet; so he sneeringly watched the bulk of his countrymen move off, while, with a few chosen followers, he remained on the watch.

Carefully they examined the ground, but, of course, found no trace of a footmark. They searched the cave whence the fugitive had emerged, but did not venture far into it, being influenced by two considerations.

One was that not a shadow of spoor was seen to lead into it; another, a very natural repugnance to penetrating deep into that gloomy hole. It was nearly dark, and if the fugitive moved at all, it would be at night.

So Nxabahlana and his warriors took up their position on the cliff a little way above the mouth of the cavern, in a spot commanding a considerable view of the moonlit valley, wherein nothing could move without at once attracting their attention, and waited and watched with the steady patience of their kind. This was at length rewarded when they saw the object of their quest emerge, weary and exhausted, from the cavern, walking, so to say, straight into their very jaws. The sequel we have seen.

During the march Claverton noticed with some uneasiness, that the man who had felt the weight of his fist was watching him very narrowly.

Whichever way he looked, this man's shrewd, suspicious glance was upon him, and more than once it seemed to wander to the chief. Could he have overheard? If so, it would add seriously to the difficulties in the way of escape. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that if it was to be effected Nxabahlana would manage it somehow.

And now, as they drew nearer to the critical spot, the sound of voices was heard close by, causing, however, no alarm to the party, and a large body of Kafirs, emerging from the bush, joined them. Of course a halt was called while they exchanged news, and great was the exultation of the new arrivals over the capture of so formidable an enemy as this white man had proved--for his fame had spread among them. They crowded round to look at him as he sat on the ground, some jeering, some threatening, but all, in their heart of hearts, rather respecting the man who sat there absolutely in their power, and yet taking no more notice of them than if they were stones.

"Whaaow!" exclaimed a great mocking voice at his side. "Whaaow, Lenzimbi! I told you we should meet again. You knocked me down once-- twice. It was your turn then--now it is mine," and, looking up, he recognised at a glance his old enemy--Mopela.

"Ha--ha! I told you so, didn't I? How do you like that, Lenzimbi--how do you like that?" continued the savage, striking him twice on the head with the shaft of his a.s.segai. "Yesterday, you--to-day, I. Haow!"

"What has come over the warriors of the Amaxosa that they keep such a cur in their midst?" said Claverton, looking straight before him, and steadily ignoring his persecutor. "Only a cur bites and worries a helpless man, but if one even looks at a stone he runs away with his tail between his legs, as this cur called Mopela would do if my hands were for a moment free--even as he has done twice already."

With a yell of rage, and foaming at the mouth, Mopela flourished his a.s.segai within an inch of Claverton's face, but the prisoner never flinched. It seemed that the savage was working himself up to such a pitch that in a moment he would plunge the weapon into the body of his helpless enemy, when his arm was seized in a firm grasp, and Nxabahlana said, coldly:

"Stop, Mopela. You must not kill the prisoner. He belongs to the Great Chief, Sandili."

"Yes, yes," chimed in the others, "he belongs to Sandili; he is not ours!" And favouring Claverton with a frightful glare of disappointed hate, Mopela fell back sullenly among the rest.

"Yes, the white man belongs to Sandili. He is not ours--he is not ours!" repeated the Kafir whose suspicions had been awakened, with a significant glance at his leader's face.

The latter, who, by the way, was Mopela's half-brother, ignored the hint, and gave orders to resume the march.

"Aow!" exclaimed one of the Kafirs, suddenly stopping. "This is not the way to Sandili."

"No, no. It isn't?" agreed several of the others.

"It takes us dangerously near the white man's camp," said the suspicious one, stopping short with a determined air.

"And we might be attacked by a strong patrol," urged Mopela. "Senhlu is right."

A great hubbub now arose. The Kafirs, to a man, objected to pursuing that road any further. It was not safe, they said; they might lose the prisoner, and perhaps all be shot themselves. No. The best plan would be to go straight to head-quarters, and as soon as possible.

Nxabahlana saw that they were determined to have their way. He was only a petty chief, and the great bulk of these men were not his own clansmen; moreover, he was greatly out of favour with Sandili and Matanzima, who would be glad of a pretext to get rid of him. He dared not persevere in his plan; to incur further suspicion would be to court death. So he gave way.

"I intended to have reconnoitred and carried back some news to the Great Chief," he replied, coldly, and with a sneer. "But since you are all so afraid of the white men that you dare not venture within three hours'

run of their camp, you can have your way. I shall carry out my scheme alone, while you go back with the prisoner."

To this plan they one and all objected. It might be that they detected defection in the tone of their leader's voice. He, however, deemed it safer to fall in with their wishes.

"So be it, then," he said. "We will all go straight to Sandili." And the whole party, turning, struck off into the deep wooded fastnesses of the mountains; and the captive's heart sank within him, for he knew that the plan for his deliverance had failed on the verge of its fulfilment, and now every step carried him nearer and nearer to his death. Half an hour ago the flame of life and hope glowed brightly; now the last spark was extinguished in the darkness of a certain and terrible doom.

On they went--on through the dark forest, where the crimson-winged louris flashed across the path, sounding their shrill, cheery whistle, and monkeys skipped away with a chattering noise among the long, tangled trailers and lichens which festooned the boughs of the ma.s.sive yellow-wood trees. Now and then an ominous, stealthy rustle betokened the presence of some great reptile, quietly gliding away among the safe recesses of the thicket; and high above, the harsh, resounding cry of a huge bird of prey floated from a mighty cliff overhanging the line of march. All these things the prisoner noted as a dying man looks at the trivial sights and sounds of earth; for he knew he should never leave this place alive. The clouds had cleared off, and now the sun's rays poured down upon his head like molten fire; fortunately for them the Kafirs had left him his hat, or their captive would have been s.n.a.t.c.hed out of their merciless grasp by a sunstroke, long before he reached the place of torture and death.

At about noon they halted; and one of the Kafirs, advancing a little way ahead, uttered a loud, strange call. It was answered, and, being beckoned to come on, the whole party moved forward and joined him. Then they formed up in a column, and, striking up a war-song, they stepped out, beating time with the handles of their sticks and a.s.segais; those nearest to him, turning every now and then to brandish their weapons in the prisoner's face.

And now they entered an open s.p.a.ce covered with huts--these, however, being of a very temporary order--and a swarm of human beings crowded out to meet them. A few starved-looking dogs rushed forward, yelping, but were promptly driven back with stones; and men, women, and children, stood eagerly watching the return of the warriors, and speculating loudly on the ident.i.ty and probable fate of the captive.