The news spread quickly that the "Great Man," his wife and some friends
were coming north of the Zambesi to shoot. Williams, the Native
Commissioner, heard it from the boy who looked after his fowls a full
week before he received official warning from Headquarters.
How the chicken-boy heard of it remains a mystery. He who can tell you
how news travels so rapidly in Africa can no doubt explain; but in
answer to questioning, the boy replied: "People say so."
Thanks to this advance notice, Williams had time to make his plans at
leisure. He had experience of native rumours of this kind, and,
invariably acting upon them, gained a reputation for good organising.
No doubt the Sovereign's representative would want to shoot lion,
buffalo, eland, sable, and, in addition, at least a specimen of each of
the lesser inhabitants of the plain and forest. Well, he would do this
and that and the other, and it would not be Williams's fault if a
thoroughly representative bag were not made.
Like all sportsmen in official positions, living far from Headquarters
and having a large district to control, Williams knew exactly where the
game was most plentiful. He kept the information to himself as a general
rule, for he well knew that if he did not do so his special reserves
would soon cease to exist.
But for the direct representative of the King nothing was too good.
Williams made his plans, built a camp and awaited the arrival of his
visitors.
Two days before the "Great Man" was due to arrive, old Garamapingwe, the
musician, passed that way. He stopped to pay his respects to Williams.
"Good day, my father."
"Good day to you, Garamapingwe."
"What are the news, my Chief?"
"I look to you for news."
"Oh, there is nothing but the coming of the 'Great Man.'"
"Yes, he is coming."
"I should like to see the 'Great Man.'"
"You shall, Garamapingwe."
"Much thanks to you, my Chief."
An idea occurred to Williams. No doubt the sport which he had planned to
provide would be excellent, but what about the evenings spent round the
camp fire after dinner?
It might happen that his guests did not want to play bridge. He himself
detested the game--most unnatural of him, but there it was. He disliked
"shop" out of hours, and one could have too much talk of personal
experiences. He must provide for a possible gap.
How many men in a thousand had heard native African music? Not the stuff
you can hear any day from the boys' compound at the back of the house,
but music, worthy of the name of music, made by men like Garamapingwe?
Very few.
So Williams added to his plan.
* * * * *
It was Friday. The Great Man had been shooting for three days. The first
two were decidedly promising. Nothing very wonderful had been shot, but
very fair heads of eland, buffalo, roan and waterbuck had been secured
by various members of the party.
The Great Man had done fairly well, but he was perhaps more at home with
a shot gun.
But Friday had been a bad day. At the Great Man's request Williams had
gone with him to look for Sable antelope. So far no one had shot a
Sable. Well, they came across Sable, and in this manner.
At daylight all had gone their several ways.
The Great Man and Williams had gone east. Good luck, Sable spoor and
quite fresh. Williams was a fair tracker: he had picked up something of
the art from the bushmen down south. They followed it, Williams leading,
carefully. The report of a rifle in the distance! The Great Man stopped.
Williams felt savage. Who was this poaching? Who had left his beat and
jumped their claim? He motioned the Great Man to sit down.
They waited.
They waited for ten minutes and then the snapping of a twig, somewhere
to the left, attracted Williams's attention.
By Jingo, there they were, the Sable.
Led by a cow, a noble herd of Sable antelope came slowly through the
forest.
The Great Man looked at Williams, who grinned and commanded quiet by
lifting his hand.
On they came, cows, cows and more cows. Where was the bull? Surely a
big bull accompanied such a herd of cows?
More cows and young bulls, but as yet no big, black, outstanding bull.
Williams was puzzled.
The Great Man became restive under inaction: to him there was no
apparent difference between a cow and a bull. He had never seen Sable
antelope before.
The huge herd filed past within forty yards.
Still no bull.
The Great Man looked at Williams and his expression was none too
pleasant.
Williams felt desperate. He began to think it best after all to let the
Great Man kill a good cow and have done with it when, looking to the
left, he saw the bull. It was the bull! Black as ink, with a snow-white
belly. Horns seemed above the average.
A great spasm of joy gripped Williams's heart. Here was a bull worthy of
the Great Man, the direct representative of the Sovereign.
In response to a sign from Williams, the Great Man looked, saw, raised
his rifle and--Williams checked him. Good Heavens, what was the matter
with that bull? Seemed to be going short, off fore. It couldn't be.
Then he motioned to the Great Man to take his shot. The next moment the
noble bull crashed to the ground and the cows filed on at a gallop and
so out of sight.
"A good shot and a good bull, Sir," said Williams, but he was conscious
of a sickening sense of dread.
They hurried up. The bull lay stone dead with a bullet exactly placed
behind the shoulder.
"Shall I mark out the head skin for you, Sir? You'll want to keep this
head?"
"Yes, please."
Williams worked like a man possessed. He cut the sleek, black skin from
the withers to the brisket as the bull lay. Without moving the carcass
he made a slit up the mane to the base of the skull. Here he stopped and
listened. He heard something. Footsteps approaching. With a gasp of
despair he dropped his hunting knife and faced the way the bull had
come.
Curse the fellow! There he was; the Great Man's A.D.C., babbling like
the fool he was. He was talking in English to the native who accompanied
him. "Are you sure you are on the right track?" The native said nothing
because he didn't understand one word of any language but his own. The
A.D.C. headed straight for the Great Man's bull. Presently he looked up
and walked forward smiling.
"Hullo, Soames, what are you doing here in my patch of country?"
"I hit a Sable bull about two miles back and followed him."
"You hit a bull?"
"Yes, Sir."
"So I have killed your bull for you, have I?"
"Oh no, Sir. It's your bull, of course."
"My dear boy, I know the laws of shooting. Mr. Williams, was this bull
hit before I killed him?"
"I'll look, Sir," said Williams, feeling like a detected thief.
Fancy having to say "yes" to the question! There was the bullet hole in
the off fore fetlock. What a shot!
* * * * *
The party dined under a sense of restraint that night. The Great Man
congratulated his A.D.C. on having secured a fine bull, but that didn't
improve matters.
After dinner it was a silent party round the camp fire.
Williams spoke.
"Would you like to hear some African music, Sir?"
"Very much indeed. Do you play?"
"No, Sir, but I have a man here."
"By all means let us hear him."
Garamapingwe was sent for.
The old musician came, followed by two other natives. He himself carried
two curious looking musical instruments, one of the men carried another;
the third man, led by a little native boy, was blind and empty handed.
The three natives greeted the Great Man suitably who as suitably
replied.
They then sat down on the other side of the fire and Garamapingwe struck
a few bold chords. No common musician he.
Williams said something in the vernacular to Garamapingwe, who replied.
"What did he say?" asked the Great Man.
"I asked him what he was going to sing," replied Williams, "and he said:
'The Song of the Great Occasion.'"
"Will you please ask him what this great occasion is of which he is
going to sing?"
The question was put and the reply translated. "The great occasion is
the visit paid to our poor country by the Great Man who represents the
King of the white men."
"How very interesting! Please tell him to proceed."
Garamapingwe sang and played vigorously. He played an instrument with
either hand. His companion played one with both his hands. The blind
man droned in chorus to Garamapingwe's recitative. It was a very fine
performance. The Great Man had an ear for music. Williams was delighted,
for the Great Man seemed both pleased and interested.
The second verse was ended and the third began, when suddenly the blind
man leaped into the air, interrupting the harmony with a piercing
shriek.
All but Williams and the natives thought this part of the performance.
They were not left long in doubt. Clutching wildly at his clothing, the
blind man moaned and moaned and moaned. He stripped himself and turned
to the fire to be inspected by his fellows. The Great Man's wife fled to
her tent. Williams had the musicians hustled away.
A large scorpion had crept up and stung the blind man as he sat.
Thus the song of the Great Occasion ended abruptly.