two and pressing it tenderly. "You shall go back to the Transvaal, my
lass, and we will buy a farm in Rustenburg and live comfortably and go
to Nachtmaal (Communion) once a quarter. And if I do want a hunt now
and again, why I'll cross the Crocodile River and try the Nuanetsi and
Sabi River veldt, where Roelof Van Staden and his friends travel to.
But we must have one more trek together, Alie, and this time you and the
child shall go with me. Coming to the Lake, on my way home from this
last hunt, I met messengers from Ndala, captain of a tribe far up the
Okavango, who asks me to take my waggon up to his kraal and hunt
elephants in his country. He promises me the half of all ivory shot,
and will find spoorers and show me his best veldt and give me every
help. Twice before has Ndala sent to me thus, and once to my father in
years gone by. I believe it is a splendid hunting veldt. Elephants as
thick as pallah in river bush, thousands of buffalo, plenty of rhenoster
and lots of other game. We ought, with luck, to pick up four hundred
pounds worth of ivory. And so, wife, we'll pack the waggon, get more
powder and cartridges at the Lake and trek up to Ndala's."
"And this shall be your last trek in this country, Karel?" asked his
wife.
"Myn maghtet, the very last," said Van Zyl. "How soon can we start?"
"I shall be ready in three days," returned Alie.
"In three days be it," said Van Zyl in his deep voice. And then, with a
mighty yawn, he stretched himself, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and,
putting his arm round his wife's waist, went indoors for the night.
Two months later the Van Zyls were nearing Ndala's kraal on the
Okavango, sometimes called the Cubangwe River--that great and little
known stream flowing from the north-west towards Lake Ngami. They had
had a hard trek of it past the Lake; across a score or two of streams
and small rivers, skirting many a swamp and lagoon, and now at last, one
hot afternoon, as they looked up the broad, shining river, they set eyes
on a green island lying in midstream, dotted about with huts, and knew
that they were in sight of Ndala's kraal. Hans, the Hottentot, had once
been up to this place and knew Ndala, and Hans pointed out the captain's
hut and showed them where their waggon should stand by the river bank,
and so they outspanned and prepared to make themselves comfortable.
Across the river, beyond the island, the country undulated gently in
well-wooded, bush-clad, sandy ridges, with here and there a palm or a
baobab to catch the eye. Reddish boulders of sandstone projected from
the river's brim, between the southern shore and the island, forming a
little cataract over which the swift waters poured with a pleasant and
not too angry or unseemly swirl. And as they unyoked the tired oxen and
Alida Van Zyl, tired with sitting, descended from the waggon to look
about her, all seemed fair and pleasant and peaceful to the
travel-stained trekkers. For they had had a hard passage up the river,
and the cattle were in need of rest and good feeding, if they were to
drag the great waggon back to the Lake and thence--Alida's soul rejoiced
as she thought of it--to the dearly-loved Transvaal once more.
And now long, narrow, dug-out canoes shot out from the island and came
paddling across the stream with envoys from the chief, to know whose was
the waggon and what was the business of the newcomers, and to bring a
message of greeting and peace from Ndala, the lord and ruler of all this
wild and little known country.
Whilst his wife unpacked some of her waggon gear, and Zwaartbooi, the
foreloper, got out the pots and kettle and lit a fire to prepare the
evening meal, Van Zyl, taking with him Hans as interpreter, ferried
across in one of the native canoes to interview Ndala.
The chief, a tall youngish Cubangwe, with a rather shifty eye, received
them in his kotla, an open inclosure adjoining his hut, surrounded by a
tall reed fence. He expressed himself pleased to see Van Zyl and hoped
that he might have much fortune with the elephants in his country. Then
Van Zyl, having thanked the chief for his courtesy, ordered his
Hottentot, Hans, to lay before Ndala the presents which had been brought
for him. These were a fine blanket of gaudy colours, a quantity of
beads, a cheap smooth-bore musket, and some powder, bullets and caps.
As these articles were temptingly laid before Ndala, the chief's eyes
gleamed approvingly and, in spite of his efforts, a broad grin
overspread his features. Then more conversation followed between Ndala
and Hans--conversation which Van Zyl was unable to follow--and
presently, after half an hour's interview, the reception was at an end.
Van Zyl was paddled back to his waggon, and during supper related to his
wife the friendly reception he had met with from the Cubangwe captain.
Next morning at about eight o'clock Ndala in person came over to the
Boer's camp. Never before had he seen a white man's waggon, and he was
naturally burning with curiosity to set eyes upon the treasures gathered
within the recesses of that mysterious house on wheels. He brought with
him as presents a goat, some Kaffir corn, and a tusk of ivory weighing
about 30 lbs. Nothing would content him but that he should mount the
fore-kist (box) of the waggon and pry into that strangely fascinating
interior. He saw many things that stirred his cupidity. Two fine
rifles, cartridges, bags of sugar and coffee, cases of trading gear--
store-clothing, cheap knives, blankets, beads, looking-glasses, powder,
lead, and other rich and rare things which were being got out for
purposes of trading and with a view to re-settling the contents of the
waggon after the confusion of a long trek. And, with the greedy delight
of a miser with his gold, he plunged his arms up to the elbows in a case
of blue and white bird's eye beads, which lay too temptingly exposed to
his gaze, and asked that the whole of this fabulous treasure should be
despatched to his kraal. To this Van Zyl demurred. He would give the
chief a portion of the beads, a complete suit of cord clothes, a shirt
and a pair of velschoons. After a long and heated argument, conducted
through the interpretation of Hans, Ndala somewhat sulkily gave way and
expressed himself content to take what the Boer offered him. As for Van
Zyl, his eyes flashed angrily, as, turning to his wife, sitting in the
shade near the back of the waggon, he said, "They are all alike these
kaal (naked) Kaffir captains. Thieves and schelms, only desiring to rob
of his all the white man who ventures into their country. I thought,
from what Hans had said, that this Ndala was a better fellow; but,
Allemaghte! he's no better than the rest of the dirty cattle. However,
there's ivory to be got here, without doubt, and we must have patience."
"For my part," Alida replied, "I like the appearance of this man not at
all. Watch him, Karel. I believe he will try to do you an ill turn
before you have finished with him."
Meanwhile Ndala had been holding conversation with Hans, as he peered
about the camp and inspected the cattle, and especially that, to him,
wonderful curiosity the Dutchman's hunting horse. Van Zyl had started
from the Queebe Hills with three nags. Of these one had died of
horse-sickness, while another had been killed by lions, so that only his
grey, a tried old favourite, "salted" against the sickness and a
splendid beast in the hunting veldt, remained to him. Ndala gazed long
and curiously at the shapely grey, as Hans indicated its good points and
expatiated on its manifold virtues.
Once more the chief wandered back to the waggon, where Van Zyl was
measuring out some of the blue and white beads into a skin bag. His
greed was too much for him, and again through Hans he demanded that the
Dutchman should hand him over the whole case full, pointing out that,
considering his importance as monarch over all these regions, so
trifling a present ought not to be denied to him.
But Van Zyl was, like many of the Dutch Afrikanders, a man of quick
temper, little accustomed to be dictated to by natives who in his own
country were mere hewers of wood and drawers of water to the white man.
The blood sprang to his face, his eyes flashed angrily, and, flinging
down the leather bag of beads, which he had just tied up, he turned
angrily upon the chief.
"Tell him," he said, with an impatient gesture to Hans, "that he may
take it or leave it. I have offered gifts enough until I see elephants
and gather ivory. If Ndala is not content, tell him I'll inspan the
waggon again and trek out of his country and go into some other veldt,
where elephants are at least as plentiful and chiefs more
accommodating."
Ndala had taken one quick glance at the angry Boer, as he burst forth,
and now stood, till he had finished speaking, motionless, impassive,
with eyes downcast. He uttered not another word to Van Zyl, but with a
swift motion of his hand from Hans to the bag of beads, said to the
Hottentot:
"Carry it to the boat. I will go across again."
Accompanied by three of his headmen who had come across with him, Ndala
stalked down to the shore, talking meanwhile quietly to Hans. Arrived
at his boat, he saw his presents carefully bestowed, and then taking his
seat was poled over to his kraal.
Late that night, while the Van Zyls slept peacefully in their waggon,
Hans, the Hottentot, crept stealthily down to the river, without waking
a single member of the camp, and was ferried across to Ndala's by a
couple of strong-armed natives waiting for him with their canoe.
Arrived at the island, he was conducted to the chief's hut, and there
alone with Ndala he sat in deep and secret colloquy for a full hour or
more. Presently he was ferried back very quietly to the south shore
again, where, creeping into his own camp, he regained the shelter of his
blanket without having awakened a soul.
Next morning a canoe came across early from Ndala, laden with a number
of sweet water melons, some more grain and another goat as a present to
the Van Zyls. At the same time the chief sent a message to Van Zyl to
say that, if he were ready for a hunt on the following day, some of his
tribesmen would be ready to act as spoorers and show him a troop of
elephants which was known to be frequenting some bush about half a day's
journey from the kraal. This was excellent news, and Van Zyl brightened
up instantly.
"Myn maghtet, Alie!" he said to his wife, after taking a huge pull at
his kommetje of coffee, "the carle is not so bad as I thought him. Tell
his headman, Hans," he said to his Hottentot, "that I'll swim the horse
across as soon as day breaks to-morrow and go after the elephants."
For the remainder of that day the whole camp was busily employed; Van
Zyl and his two men in completing a big and strong thorn kraal for the
cattle, against the attack of lions; Alida Van Zyl in finishing off some
bultong (dried meat), cooking bread, tidying up the stores and putting
together various articles required by her husband while away hunting.
Towards afternoon Van Zyl, having finished his work at the ox-kraal,
opened a keg of powder, heated some lead and zinc, and sat himself down
to the work of reloading some cartridges for his elephant rifle.
Near him, in the shade of the spreading acacia tree by which the waggon
was outspanned, crawled on a couple of blankets little Jan, his two year
old child. Now and then the big Boer would pause from his work to
admire the strong, chubby limbs of his little son, or would stretch
forth a big hand to tickle the restless little rascal, eliciting from
him crows, gurgles and screams of childish laughter. Once Alida came
from her cooking to look at the pair.
"Maghte!" said her husband, as he looked up at her from playing with the
boy. "How the child grows. If he goes on like this, he will be strong
enough to carry a rifle by the time he is ten years old."
They retired early that night--before eight o'clock--and at the earliest
streak of dawn Karel Van Zyl had drunk his coffee, eaten some meat and a
rusk and said farewell to his wife and child. He kissed Alida's broad,
smooth cheek and, yet more tenderly, his sleeping child, lying there up
in the waggon, on the kartel-bed, in the big hole which his sire had
lately quitted. And then, taking with him Hans and his horse, he went
down to the stream. The good grey had swum rivers before and understood
the business; yet he paused for a moment on the brink, looking forth
over the broad, swift stream, and snuffed the air once or twice.
"Crocodiles, _oude kerel_ (old fellow)?" said his master, patting him on
the neck. "They shall not harm you."
The grey tossed his head, shook his bit, and Hans, looking at him, said
to his master:
"He is all right, Baas. He trusts you. Witfoot will swim."
So, unfastening the long raw-hide reim from the head stall, they lead
Witfoot down, got into a couple of canoes and pushed off. Witfoot swam
quietly and cleverly between the two canoes, and presently, passing
below Ndala's island, they reached the northern bank. Here Ndala was
waiting for them with a number of his tribesmen. They exchanged
greetings, and then the Cubangwe captain picked out a dozen of his best
hunters to accompany Van Zyl and his Hottentot and show them where the
elephants were. And so, bidding friendly farewells, they parted.
Hans marched just ahead of Van Zyl, carrying, as he always did, till
game was known to be near, his master's rifle and a bandolier full of
spare cartridges. One of Ndala's men carried the second rifle, with
which Hans himself was usually intrusted. For three hours they marched
north-west under the blazing sun, over heavy sand-belts, through bush
and thin forest, until high noon, when Van Zyl reined up his horse,
pulled off his broad-brimmed hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with
his big cotton print handkerchief.
"Hans," he said, looking round for Ndala's hunters, "those schepsels are
surely spreading out very wide for the spoor. I haven't seen one of
them for half an hour past." As he spoke he climbed leisurely from the
saddle and loosened the girths. Hans, who alone knew why the men had
vanished, answered him:
"I don't think you will set eyes on them again, Baas. You may say your
prayers, for your last hour is nigh and I am going to shoot you."
Van Zyl heard the clicks of two hammers being cocked and turned swiftly
round.
"That is a verdomned impudent joke of yours, Hans," he said, "for which
I shall welt you handsomely when we get back to camp. Give me the gun."
But Hans, standing within ten feet of his master, had the rifle at the
ready, and there was a fiendish look in his eyes which Van Zyl had never
before remarked.
"Don't move a step nearer," said the Hottentot, "but say your prayers,
for before God I am going to shoot you dead."
Van Zyl saw that there was something more in the man's demeanour than he
had bargained for. He turned a thought paler beneath his tan.
"What do you mean, Hans?" he said.
"I mean this," returned the Hottentot, still keeping his rifle ready.
"I haven't forgotten the cruel floggings I have had from you and your
father in years gone by, and I am dog-tired of your service. Ndala has
made me a good offer. We shall go halves in your goods and I am to take
your wife for my own vrouw. And," added the man, with a brutal leer, "I
shall make her a very good husband, if she behaves herself."
At that last foul insult Van Zyl clenched his fists, swore a great oath
and rushed at the Hottentot. But the man was too quick for him. He
levelled his rifle, pulled trigger, and a heavy bullet crashed through
the brain of the unfortunate Dutchman and passed out at the back of his
skull, leaving a huge gaping wound at the point of exit. Van Zyl
dropped heavily upon the hot sand and never stirred again.
Regardless of the pool of blood, welling swiftly from the warm body, the
Hottentot proceeded leisurely to strip his late master of his clothes,
into most of which he introduced his own squat and meagre figure. Then,
mounting the grey horse, which had meanwhile been patiently grazing hard
by, he rode off. A quarter of a mile away, before entering a patch of
bush, he drew rein and looked back. As he expected, the vultures were
already descending from the sky, prepared for their foul banquet. Some
of them were even now collected in a thorn tree near the body. In a few
hours their task would be finished and only Karel Van Zyl's bones would
remain for the jackals and hyaenas.
An hour before sunset that same afternoon Alida Van Zyl sat in her
waggon sewing. On the kartel by her side lay her little son Jan,
playing with a wooden doll carved for him by April, their Basuto herd
boy and foreloper. April himself was just now squatting by the camp
fire, looking after the stew-pot and solacing his ease with an
occasional pinch of Kaffir snuff. It was a lovely late afternoon, the
heat of the day was passing, a pleasant breeze from the southeast moved
upon the veldt, and as Alida expanded her lungs and inhaled the pure,
invigorating air, and rested peacefully, after a day of work and
washing, life, even in this remote wilderness, seemed very pleasant.
Once or twice she looked up from her work and let her eyes rest upon
that fair scene in front of her. The ever-moving river, running its
perpetual course south-eastward, looked wondrously beautiful; its
murmurs, as it swept over the low cataracts and swirled onward, sounded
very sweet to the ear and suggested a perennial coolness. Bands of
sand-grouse were coming in from their long day in the veldt to drink at
the river's edge. Their sharp but not unpleasing cries sounded
constantly overhead as they sped swiftly to the stream and then, after
wheeling hither and thither once or twice, stooped suddenly to the
margin, alighted and drank thirstily. Skeins of wild duck passed up and
down the stream. Now and again splendid Egyptian geese took flight and
with noisy "honks" flew on strong pinions to some other part of the
water or to the trees fringing the river-course. Dainty avocets,
sandpipers and other wading birds were to be seen here and there in the
shallows, while ashore the francolins were calling sharply to one
another.
As she sat in the kartel, with her feet resting on the waggon-box, Alida
Van Zyl's thoughts ran in a pleasant current back to her Transvaal home.
She pictured to herself the long, trying trek over, Lake Ngami and the
weary Thirstland passed, Khama's and Secheli's countries traversed, and
beautiful Marico in the Western Transvaal entered. And from there
Rustenburg, with its fair hills and valleys and smiling farmsteads, was,
as it were, but a step. Three or four months of elephant-hunting here
at Ndala's, and her man would have finished his wanderings in these
regions and they would be inspanning and turning their faces for home
again. And then peace from wanderings and a comfortable homestead and
the faces of kinsfolk and friends. A pleasant, pleasant thought.
While she thus dreamed her day dream of the future, a canoe had,
unnoticed by her, shot across the stream and made its landing on the
shore a hundred yards or so behind the waggon. In a few minutes the
sound of approaching footsteps made her look up from her sewing.
She saw--for the moment she believed her eyes must have deceived her--
not five yards from the waggon, Hans, the Hottentot--Hans carrying her
husband's rifle and tricked out in clothing, notwithstanding that
sleeves and trousers were liberally turned up, at least three sizes too
big for him. There was a strange look in the man's eyes, half guilty,
half triumphant, as he glanced up at his mistress. What in the name of
the Heer God could it all mean? And then a pang gripped her heart.
Surely something had happened, else why was Hans here at the waggon and
alone? But Alida was a stout-hearted woman; her husband had never yet
met with a severe mishap. Surely, surely all was well?
"Hans," she cried in the sharp commanding voice she always used to her
native servants, "what in the name of Fortune are you back here for and
dressed like a figure of fun? Whose are the clothes, and where is your
master?"
Hans looked with an evil leer at his mistress and replied:
"The clothes were the Baas's, je'vrouw, and they are now mine. Surely
you can recognise them? As for the Baas, he is dead. Ndala and I have
settled all that, and we have divided his belongings, and you, Vrouw Van
Zyl, are now to be my wife."
The man advanced close up to the waggon-box and again leered hatefully
at his mistress. Alida turned pale as death, but she mastered herself
and replied with angry scorn:
"What is this cock-and-bull story about the Baas being dead? You are
drunk, man. I shall have you well thrashed for your lying when your
master comes home. Be off and get under the waggon and go to sleep.
Loup, yo schelm!"
"The Baas will never come back again," returned the Hottentot, "he is
dead. I shot him in the veldt." He put his finger to a dark crimson
stain upon the collar of his coat. "See, that is Karel Van Zyl's blood.
Dead he is, I say. And now get down from the waggon and let me kiss
you. You are to be my wife in future and, mind you, you'll have to
behave yourself."
Something, as she looked at the Hottentot and his absurd clothing and
the dark stain of blood, told Alida Van Zyl that all this was God's or
the Devil's truth she was listening to. But, like most of her race, she
was a strong-minded woman, bred through long generations of ancestors to
a life of rough toils and many dangers. She was horror-stricken, but
not in the least likely to faint. Suddenly she half rose, stretched up
her hand to the side of the waggon and took down from the hooks on which
it rested a loaded carbine which Karel Van Zyl always left for her
protection. Cocking the weapon, she pointed it at Hans and threatened
to pull the trigger. Hans ducked as the carbine was levelled and sprang
out of harm's way. Darting round to the side of the waggon, he yelled
in a shrill, angry voice:
"I shall come for you later on, my fine Vrouw, and when it is dark I
shall know how to manage you. Put away that gun or you may come to the
same end as your husband."
He passed away down to where the canoes lay and held converse with some
of the tribesmen there, and there was silence in the camp. But, as
Alida felt, the silence was in itself very ominous.
In a little while, as the swift African twilight fell, April, the
Basuto, crept up to the waggon and whispered to his mistress. Alida,
who for the last half-hour had been very busy with certain preparations
in the interior of the waggon, came to the fore-kist, carbine in hand,
and listened to him. April with a scared face told her rapidly that
things were so wrong that he was going to make a bolt for it and take to
the veldt and so try and make Moremi's town at Lake Ngami. Hans had
threatened to shoot him, and he could expect no protection from Ndala.
What to advise his mistress he knew not. She asked him if her husband
was really dead, and whether she could herself expect aid from Ndala and
his people. Alas! April assured her that the Baas had, indeed, been
slain, so much he had gleaned from Ndala's people. As for the chief
himself, he had the worst opinion of him, and upon the whole he, April,
thought his mistress had better submit herself to the Hottentot. Later
on help might come, if he himself could get safely to the Lake.
But April would stay no longer, not even at his mistress's earnest
entreaty, and crept away. A minute later Alida heard the stamp of feet,
sounds of a scuffle, and then a blood-curdling scream rang through the
growing darkness. More struggling, the sound of thuds, a muttered
groan, and then all was silence. Alida, listening with awed white face
and nerves at their fullest tension, shuddered and drew back to her
child. That was poor April's death scream beyond a doubt.
She lighted a lantern and then, sitting far back in the waggon, close to
her sleeping child, waited for the next scene of this dark tragedy. Who
can picture the distress of this poor creature, strong, able-bodied, yet
helpless against a cruel destiny. To quit the waggon would be madness.
If she attempted to escape with her child into the veldt, a few hours of
spooring by the morning light would bring her enemies upon her. Dark
and bitter as have been the hours of many a Dutch Afrikander woman in
her times of trial, few can have endured the tortures that now racked
the soul of Alida Van Zyl. With pale, set face she sat there in mute,
yet stubborn, despair, waiting, watching, praying to the God who, it
seemed, had now clean forsaken her.
An hour after dark Hans came up to the waggon again.
"Well, Vrouw," he said, before showing himself, "is it peace?"
"Ay," returned Alida in a dry voice and with a strange hard look in her
face, "it is peace. I am in your hands. You may climb up."
Hans appeared at the front of the waggon and looked at his mistress.
She had no gun in her hand. Apparently all was well. He climbed to the
waggon-box and turned to face her. At that moment Alida Van Zyl seized
the candle from her open lantern and dropped it into an open cask of
gunpowder which stood ready just behind the kartel. The darkness was
for one awful moment broken by a blaze of hellish fire; a frightful
explosion rocked the earth and rent the air for miles; and in that dire
catastrophe Alida Van Zyl, her child, Hans the Hottentot, and half a
dozen natives, prying round the waggon to watch the progress of affairs,
were, with the waggon itself, blown to a thousand pieces.