A VOICE FROM THE DEAD
Compton had found his father's book. When the woman gave it to him
he sat down for an hour turning over the leaves, closely filled with
neatly written handwriting interspersed with many sketches. To him
it was a message from the dead--a priceless treasure; and as he read
and saw how valuable it was as a record of close and intelligent
observation in a new field, he was seized with an eagerness to be
off with it out of the wilderness. He hurried to the cave, but, of
course, there was no one there. Then, still carrying the priceless
book, he ran on to the gorge, where the warriors whose task it was
to guard that part were gathering. Some of them were examining the
broken lengths of cotton, and drew his attention to them.
"It is medicine," he said briefly. "Have ye seen Ngonyama?"
They had not seen him since in the early morning one had noticed the
great chief and the Spider enter the gorge.
"And it is not meet," they added, "that we should seek to find out
where the chiefs had gone, since the place below was taboo."
"It is well," said Compton; and he returned to the cave to wait with
as much patience as he could summon, under the impression that his
friends had, of course, gone down to the pool in search of the
missing boat.
The afternoon, however, passed quickly, for he was poring over the
Journal, and it was almost dark when a step without attracted his
attention.
"I say," he shouted, "come and see."
But it was not Venning who entered, but the chiefs mother. She
looked tired, and her short skirt was stained with mud and moss.
"Halloa, it's you, is it?"
She squatted before the fire with her eyes on the book. "Ye will
make medicine now, son of the wise man. Ye will teach our men how to
build swift boats, and how to make the 'fire that kills."
"You are wet; you have been in the water."
"Oh! it is a little thing."
"I thought you were the great one, or the Spider. I have not seen
them since the morning."
"Maybe they have gone a journey. What says the medicine?"
"It says that until they return safe as when they went, it will not
speak," said Compton, with a chill suspicion growing in his mind.
She laughed. "Look again, son of my friend. Maybe they will not
return except the things be done that must be done."
"What things?"
"I have said. The things that will make our people strong for the
going out--the swift canoes and the shooting fire. That is my word."
"And this is my word. If any injury befall them, the medicine that
is here"--and he tapped the book--"will work against yon and yours."
He looked at her very sternly, attempting to carry the matter with a
high hand, for he judged from her words that something had happened
to his friends.
"Wow! Are my people so few that a boy can talk to me in this way?"
She snapped her fingers.
"And what stand would you and your people have made against the wild
men but for Ngonyama? What will they do when Hassan comes again, if
the great one is not at hand to help?"
"Ohe! Little chief," she laughed, "you cannot frighten me with
tales of Hassan; and think well over my word."
She went away down towards the new village that had been built
beyond the river, and her voice rose in a chant as she went--a chant
that was taken up and thrown back by the women returning home from
the gardens. Compton built up the fire, and then walked up to the
mouth of the gorge, restless and consumed with anxiety. Those words
of the woman, "maybe they will not return," haunted him. They seemed
to him ominous of danger. All night he patrolled up and down the
ledge, between the cave and the gorge, fearing they would not come,
and yet expecting to hear their voices at any moment; and in the
morning he was heavy-eyed from want of sleep. The night-guards from
the gorge trotted by, their places having been relieved.
"Have ye seen Ngonyama and the Spider?"
"There is smoke," they said. "Maybe the white chiefs make the
fire."
"Where?"
"Beyond the water that is taboo."
He hurried off with his glasses, and from the gorge saw smoke rising
far down the forest; and the sight gave him hope, for it might mean
that his friends had followed the river down from Deadman's Pool on
the trail of the missing boat. Bidding the men keep a good watch,
and report any new development to him at once, he went back to the
eave to breakfast and to renewed study of the journal. As he read,
his attention became riveted on a series of sketches which laid bare
the subterranean passages under the south-west portion of the cliff,
between the gorge and the canon giving outlet to the river. As he
read, too absorbed to think of anything else, he came upon the
following note:--
"If it chance that understanding eye should fall on these notes, let
my directions be carefully observed. No stranger--certainly no
white man--would be permitted to leave the valley once he discovered
its existence, by setting foot within its encircling cliffs. Let him
not try to escape by the gorge on the south, for though apparently
undefended, it is really guarded by a band of women who have the
right to kill any person--not taboo--who passes through. These
women, victims of a dark and degrading superstition, are recruited
from the village, and once they quit the valley they are never seen,
for they live about the shores of the pool beneath the cliff and in
caverns adjoining, which form the lower or basement rooms of a
series of stupendous vaults produced by volcanic agency. By night
they prowl about the slopes above the pool; by day, some of them
keep watch over the passage through the gorge and through the canon
from loopholes to which they have access from the lower vaults. I
know, because I myself tried to escape by this passage, and only
escaped owing to the vigilance of the chief woman in the valley, who
exercises control over the band, and who had her own purpose to
achieve in saving my life. I was useful to her. When ultimately,
after much labour, I discovered the only safe way out, I was, owing
to repeated attacks of fever, too weak to avail myself of the
discovery. My hope is that my efforts may be of service to some one
--if, unhappily, any should follow in my footsteps--who would be
better prepared to face the dangers and the difficulties of the
forest beyond. Listen, then, to these instructions; On the ledge
skirting the south cliff, and leading up to the gorge, there is a
cave, which may be recognized from the existence near it of a bath
hewn out of the lava by human hands. That cave is the key to the
underground passage."
Compton looked up with shilling eyes. "The very place I am in," he
muttered.
"For many months it was my home--if I may so misuse a word so
charged with bitterness to me. Not a day passed but my thoughts went
in sickness of spirit to my home, to my wife and little one; and it
was when I was thinking of them that I thought I heard them calling
my name from the cave. A sick man's fancy! But there had been a
sound, and on entering to the far end of the cavern, I heard it
repeated--a faint droning, such as would be produced by a shell held
to the ear. There was, too, a current of air, and, feeling in the
darkness, I found the crack through which it emerged. With a spear-
head I easily broke the rock away, for it was a mere envelope.
Thrusting the spear in, I felt there was an opening beyond. When I
had satisfied myself that the passage extended for some distance, my
first precaution was to find a slab of rock to fit the opening I had
made."
Compton laid down the book, looked out to see that no one was near,
and crept to the far end of the cave. Pressing with his hand, he
soon found the rock yield. Satisfied, he returned to the journal
with renewed eagerness.
"My first careful examination of the passage disclosed the welcome
fact that it extended a great distance in a westerly direction, but
without lights I saw it would be dangerous to attempt a thorough
investigation. Accordingly, I occupied myself for several days in
making a supply of candles, using the barrels of my gun as a mould,
and mixing beeswax with oil clarified from the fat of animals, such
as monkeys and coneys. Provided with two such candles, I began my
explorations underground, and after many failures discovered a way
of escape, which others may benefit by. The passage, in an
uninterrupted course, dips under the gorge and enters the south-west
cliff, which is completely honeycombed. After dipping under the
gorge, it branches in several directions, but care must be taken to
follow the extreme right-hand passage. This follows the outer shell,
skirts what I have called the Hall of Winds, dips down through a
long tunnel, and emerges on the outer slope at a point near the spot
where the river disappears. The passage is safe, but can only be
taken provided a candle or torch is used. If these directions should
come under the notice of some unhappy traveller, let him accept my
earnest wishes for success in his efforts to escape from a place
which to me was first a haven of rest and then a hateful prison, and
there is a feeling I have that I have not written this in vain."
The son of the lonely Englishman who had written the foregoing in
sadness of spirit, but in hope for others, sat long staring before
him with a lump in his throat.
"Not in vain, my father--not in vain did you labour," he murmured.
Again he read over the directions, then very carefully he packed the
journal and strapped it on his back, to be with him wherever he
went. Noticing how the time had passed while he had been receiving
the message from the dead, he hurried to the gorge to see if there
were any signs of his friends, and his eyes went to the dark walls,
and to the silent pool far below, with a feeling of intense
repugnance at the thought of the ghoulish women who lurked unseen,
but seeing all.
"Have you seen Ngonyama?"
"The smoke ascends no longer, Inkose; but we have seen the signal
answered."
"How so?"
"Another smoke arose yet further off, and yet another, and beyond
that another, till the word of the fire-makers was passed back even
to the wide waters."
"Then it was not Ngonyama who made the fire."
"It was made by the enemy, Inkose."
"Have you sent out spies?"
"Of what use, lion's cub? Muata, the black one, hangs on their
trail, and when the time has come he will spring. Wow! They are
fools to come up by that path."
He went back deep in thought, and made up his mind to see the wise
woman again. So he passed down into the valley, crossed the river
to the new village built on a small flat-topped hill, and found the
chief's mother sitting before his hut.
"I want my brothers," he said at once.
"The valley is open--search for them. You are a chief; put the men
to the search. Why come to me?"
"Because you only know."
"Haw! If they are not in the valley they are out of the valley, and
once they are out they have broken the law. Who am I that you should
ask, since the law is made by the men?"
"Maybe, mother, they are not in the valley or out of the valley."
She threw a startled look at Compton, which he was keen to notice;
then, with an expression of puzzlement, she nodded her head.
"Your meaning is dark, lion's cub. See, the valley is kraaled in
like the goat-pen, and if the goats be not in the kraal they are
outside the kraal. As for Ngonyama, see where the women build his
hut against his coming."
"I see," said Compton. "Perhaps he was sent for by the chief, and
has gone a journey, for the enemy are on the move."
"That is plainer to me," she said quickly. "It must be so, for the
chief loves Ngonyama."
"Yes; that must be the reason. It lifts a load off my mind, mother."
"Ow aye I did not like to see your face clouded; and now you will
make medicine for me?"
"I will; bat there are a few things I require. I am young at this
work, mother, and cannot do without all the aids."
"Oh ay, I know," and she nodded her head with a fierce look in her
eyes. "The blood of a man, the heart of a kid, and the tongue of a
crocodile."
"No, no; a calabash of fat and a little wax. Only that."
"Your medicine is not like mine," she said musingly; "but I have it
in my mind now that the good white man used much fat in his
medicine."
She went into her hut, and returned presently with a calabash filled
with fat and a square of wax.
"And ye will build fast canoes?"
"We will do great things, mother," said Compton, taking the things.
"But it is not well that people should pry in upon one who is making
medicine. He must have quiet."
"Wow! No one shall pass your house in the rocks, O wizard of mine."
He hurried up to the cave, passing the reed patch on his way to cut
several stout stems, and began without delay his preparations for
making candles. While the fat and wax were melting in a couple of
"billies," he cut down the canes into sections of about six inches
each, and buried them on end with the mouth up in soft ground near
the bath, with a length of stout cord strung down the centre of each
tube, and secured by a cross-piece. When the stuff had melted, he
filled up the moulds, twelve in all, and left them to cool off. Then
taking a stout cane left over, he cut away one of the joints,
leaving a socket, thus converting it into a very handy candle-stick.
Next he made up a parcel of food and medicine, carefully oiled his
rifle, to protect it against the damp underground, and then went off
up to the gorge to have a last look for his friends.
The warriors were buzzing about the barricade, evidently in a state
of great excitement, and Compton saw the cause of this in the person
of a solitary man ascending the slope from the direction of the
pool.
"It is the chief's runner," said the men as the man came plainly
into view.
Up he came, breasting the steep ascent with a look behind at
frequent intervals as if he feared pursuit, and when he reached the
wall, he drew a great breath of relief.
"Mawoh!" he grunted. "I saw the dead water heave, and there was a
laugh from nowhere."
"What message?" asked one of the headmen.
"It is for Ngonyama," said the runner.
The headman fell back and looked at Compton, who then stepped
forward.
"Give the message to me."
"Wow! This, then, is the chief's word. 'Say to Ngonyama, the great
white one, that the enemy will come against the valley up from the
dead water. Ngonyama will let them advance until they are in the
jaws of the rocks. Then will Muata, the black one, fall on the rear
and eat them up.' So said the chief."
Compton tamed to the headmen. "Where are the white chiefs?"
"We do not know, Inkose," they said uneasily.
"Ye will take the orders of your chief yourselves then, for unless
my brothers are restored in safety, I will not help you."
"Maybe," said a man in a whisper, "the wizards have taken them to
themselves to learn wisdom."
"Who are these wizards?" demanded Compton, sternly.
"Haw! Inkose, how shall we know?" But their eyes went fearfully to
the silent walls of the gorge.
"Who does know?"
"We know not, Inkose. These things are not for us."
"I know;" and Compton eyed them sternly. "It is a woman who is chief
in this place. Say to her the words of the chief, and bring me her
reply."
They hesitated, muttering.
"Ye know the black one," said Dick, quietly. "He has asked for
Ngonyama. Let the woman produce Ngonyama or give her authority, lest
the black one turn his anger on you."
"The lion's cub says well," answered an old man. "I will go."
As he went off, Compton bade the indunas see to the defence, "For,"
said he, "without the white men, you will have to fight hard for
your kraal." The indunas laughed as they gave their orders, saying
that all they wished for was a good fight. Compton retired to his
cave, and it was not long before the chiefs mother herself came up
with her bodyguard of women, armed with bow and arrows.
"Ye sent for me, O great chief?" she cried, with a little mocking
laugh.
"You have heard the chiefs message?"
"And this is my answer," she replied, pointing to the women. "We
will meet the enemy."
"And Ngonyama?"
"Ngonyama! I have heard that name too often. See, young one, there
is not room in a kraal for two strong bulls."
She nodded her head with a very hard look in her eyes.
Compton kept down his rising wrath at this ominous speech.
"Very well, mother," he said quietly. "You know best. I will now get
about my work, if ye order that I am left in silence."
"I will see to that," she answered; "and see to it that you do all I
have asked, lest you also go to those wizards you spoke of to the
men."
She looked at him meaningly, and went on with her escort.
Compton watched them out of sight, then ran to his moulds. Taking
out the canes, he split them down in turn, disclosing a dozen
candles, roughly moulded, and very greasy, but he hoped suitable for
his venture. One he fixed in the socket of the torch, the others he
packed away carefully in an oilskin bag. Then slinging on his
carbine, bandolier, haversack, and making them all secure by
strapping a belt over all, he crept through the opening at the far
end of the cave, replaced the rock, and lit his candle. After much
spluttering and a great deal of smoke, the flame caught, and he
started on his tour, breathing a fervent hope that it would lead him
to his lost friends.