Quatermain, known in Africa as Macumazahn, which has recently been
published under the name of "Marie," Mr. Curtis, the brother of Sir
Henry Curtis, tells of how he found a number of manuscripts that were
left by Mr. Quatermain in his house in Yorkshire. Of these "Marie" was
one, but in addition to it and sundry other completed stories, I, the
Editor to whom it was directed that these manuscripts should be handed
for publication, have found a quantity of unclassified notes and papers.
One of these notes--it is contained in a book, much soiled and worn,
that evidently its owner had carried about with him for years--reminds
me of a conversation I had with Mr. Quatermain long ago when I was his
guest in Yorkshire. The note itself is short; I think that he must have
jotted it down within an hour or two of the event to which it refers. It
runs thus:
"I wonder whether in the 'Land Beyond' any recognition is granted for
acts of great courage and unselfish devotion--a kind of spiritual
Victoria Cross. If so I think it ought to be accorded to that poor old
savage, Magepa, at least it would be if I had any voice in the matter.
Upon my word he has made me feel proud of humanity. And yet he was
nothing but a 'nigger,' as so many call the Kaffirs."
For a while I, the Editor, wondered to what this entry could allude.
Then of a sudden it all came back to me. I saw myself, as a young man,
seated in the hall of Quatermain's house one evening after dinner. With
me were Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good. We were smoking, and the
conversation had turned upon deeds of heroism. Each of us detailed such
acts as he could remember which had made the most impression on him.
When we had finished, old Allan said:
"With your leave I'll tell you a story of what I think was one of the
bravest things I ever saw. It happened at the beginning of the Zulu war,
when the troops were marching into Zululand. Now at that time, as you
know, I was turning an honest penny transport-riding for Government, or
rather for the military authorities. I hired them three wagons with the
necessary voorloopers and drivers, sixteen good salted oxen to each
wagon, and myself in charge of the lot. They paid me--well, never mind
how much--I am rather ashamed to mention the amount. I asked a good
price for my wagons, or rather for the hire of them, of a very well
satisfied young gentleman in uniform who had been exactly three weeks in
the country, and, to my surprise, got it. But when I went to those in
command and warned them what would happen if they persisted in their way
of advance, then in their pride they would not listen to the old hunter
and transport-rider, but politely bowed me out. If they had, there would
have been no Isandhlwana disaster."
[Illustration]
He brooded awhile, for, as I knew, this was a sore subject with him, one
of which he would rarely talk. Although he escaped himself, Quatermain
had lost friends on that fatal field. He went on:
To return to old Magepa. I had known him for many years. The first time
we met was in the battle of the Tugela. I was fighting for the king's
son, Umbelazi the Handsome, in the ranks of the Amawombe regiment--I
mean to write all that story, for it should not be lost.[2] Well, as I
have told you before, the Amawombe were wiped out; of the three thousand
or so of them I think only about fifty remained alive after they had
annihilated the three of Cetewayo's regiments that set upon them. But
Magepa was one who survived.
I met him afterwards at old King Panda's kraal and recognised him as
having fought by my side. Whilst I was talking with him the Prince
Cetewayo came by; to me he was civil enough, for he knew how I chanced
to be in the battle, but he glared at Magepa, and said:
"Why, Macumazahn, is not this man one of the dogs with which you tried
to bite me by the Tugela not long ago? He must be a cunning dog also,
one who can run fast, for how comes it that he lives to snarl when so
many will never bark again? _Ow!_ if I had my way I would find a strip
of hide to fit his neck."
"Not so," I answered; "he has the king's peace and he is a brave
man--braver than I am, anyway, Prince, seeing that I ran from the ranks
of the Amawombe, while he stood where he was."
"You mean that your horse ran, Macumazahn. Well, since you like this
dog, I will not hurt him"; and with a shrug he went his way.
"Yet soon or late he will hurt me," said Magepa, when the Prince had
gone. "U'Cetewayo has a memory long as the shadow thrown by a tree at
sunset. Moreover, as he knows well, it is true that I ran, Macumazahn,
though not till all was finished and I could do no more by standing
still. You remember how, after we had eaten up the first of Cetewayo's
regiments, the second charged us and we ate that up also. Well, in that
fight I got a tap on the head from a kerry. It struck me on my man's
ring which I had just put on, for I think I was the youngest soldier in
that regiment of veterans. The ring saved me; still, for a while I lost
my mind and lay like one dead. When I found it again the fight was over
and Cetewayo's people were searching for our wounded that they might
kill them. Presently they found me and saw that there was no hurt on me.
"'Here is one who shams dead like a stink-cat,' said a big fellow,
lifting his spear.
"Then it was that I sprang up and ran, I who was but just married and
desired to live. He struck at me, but I jumped over the spear, and the
others that they threw missed me. Then they began to hunt me, but,
Macumazahn, I, who am named 'The Buck' because I am swifter of foot than
any man in Zululand, outpaced them all and got away safe."
"Well done, Magepa," I said. "Still, remember the saying of your people,
'At last the strong swimmer goes with the stream and the swift runner is
run down.'"
"I know it, Macumazahn," he answered, with a nod, "and perhaps in a day
to come I shall know it better."
I took little heed of his words at the time, but more than thirty years
afterwards I remembered them.
Such was my first acquaintance with Magepa. Now, friends, I will tell
you how it was renewed at the time of the Zulu war.
As you know, I was attached to the centre column that advanced into
Zululand by Rorke's Drift on the Buffalo River. Before war was declared,
or at any rate before the advance began, while it might have been and
many thought it would be averted, I was employed transport-riding goods
to the little Rorke's Drift station, that which became so famous
afterwards, and incidentally in collecting what information I could of
Cetewayo's intentions. Hearing that there was a kraal a mile or so the
other side of the river, of which the people were said to be very
friendly to the English, I determined to visit it. You may think this
was rash, but I was so well known in Zululand, where for many years, by
special leave of the king, I was allowed to go whither I would quite
unmolested, that I felt no fear for myself so long as I went alone.
Accordingly one evening I crossed the drift and headed for a kloof in
which I was told the kraal stood. Ten minutes' ride brought me in sight
of it. It was not a large kraal; there may have been six or eight huts
and a cattle enclosure surrounded by the usual fence. The situation,
however, was very pretty, a knoll of rising ground backed by the wooded
slopes of the kloof. As I approached I saw women and children running to
the kraal to hide, and when I reached the gateway for some time no one
would come out to meet me. At length a small boy appeared who informed
me that the kraal was "empty as a gourd."
"Quite so," I answered; "still, go and tell the headman that Macumazahn
wishes to speak with him."
The boy departed, and presently I saw a face that seemed familiar to me
peeping round the gateway. After a careful inspection its owner emerged.
He was a tall, thin man of indefinite age, perhaps between sixty and
seventy, with a finely-cut face, a little grey beard, kind eyes and very
well shaped hands and feet, the fingers, which twitched incessantly,
being remarkably long.
"Greeting, Macumazahn," he said. "I see you do not remember me. Well,
think of the battle of the Tugela, and of the last stand of the
Amawombe, and of a certain talk at the kraal of our Father-who-is-dead"
(that is, King Panda), "and of how he who sits in his place" (he meant
Cetewayo) "told you that if he had his way he would find a hide rope to
fit the neck of a certain one."
"Ah!" I said, "I know you now; you are Magepa the Buck. So the Runner
has not yet been run down."
"No, Macumazahn, not yet; but there is still time. I think that many
swift feet will be at work ere long."
"How have you prospered?" I asked him.
"Well enough, Macumazahn, in all ways except one. I have three wives,
but my children have been few and are dead, except one daughter, who is
married and lives with me, for her husband, too, is dead. He was killed
by a buffalo, and she has not yet married again. But enter and see."
[Illustration]
So I went in and saw Magepa's wives, old women all of them. Also, at his
bidding, his daughter, whose name was Gita, brought me some _maas_, or
curdled milk, to drink. She was a well-formed woman, very like her
father, but sad-faced, perhaps with a prescience of evil to come.
Clinging to her finger was a beautiful boy of something under two years
of age, who, when he saw Magepa, ran to him and threw his little arms
about his legs. The old man lifted the child and kissed him tenderly,
saying:
"It is well that this toddler and I should love one another, Macumazahn,
seeing that he is the last of my race. All the other children here are
those of the people who have come to live in my shadow."
"Where are their fathers?" I asked, patting the little boy (who, his
mother told me, was named Sinala) upon the cheek, an attention that he
resented.
"They have been called away on duty," answered Magepa shortly; and I
changed the subject.
[Illustration]
Then we began to talk about old times, and I asked him if he had any
oxen to sell, saying that this was my reason for visiting his kraal.
"Nay, Macumazahn," he answered, in a meaning voice. "This year all the
cattle are the king's."
I nodded and replied that, as it was so, I had better be going; whereon,
as I half expected, Magepa announced that he would see me safe to the
drift. So I bade farewell to the wives and the widowed daughter, and we
started.
As soon as we were clear of the kraal Magepa began to open his heart to
me.
"Macumazahn," he said, looking up at me earnestly, for I was mounted and
he walked beside my horse, "there is to be war. Cetewayo will not
consent to the demands of the great White Chief from the Cape"--he meant
Sir Bartle Frere. "He will fight with the English; only he will let them
begin the fighting. He will draw them on into Zululand and then
overwhelm them with his _impis_ and stamp them flat, and eat them up;
and I, who love the English, am very sorry. Yes, it makes my heart
bleed. If it were the Boers now, I should be glad, for we Zulus hate the
Boers; but the English we do not hate; even Cetewayo likes them; still
he will eat them up if they attack him."
"Indeed," I answered; and then, as in duty bound, I proceeded to get
what I could out of him, and that was not a little. Of course, however,
I did not swallow it all, since I suspected that Magepa was feeding me
with news that he had been ordered to disseminate.
Presently we came to the mouth of the kloof in which the kraal stood,
and here, for greater convenience of conversation, we halted, for I
thought it as well that we should not be seen in close talk on the open
plain beyond. The path here, I should add, ran past a clump of green
bushes; I remember they bore a white flower that smelt sweet, and were
backed by some tall grass, elephant-grass I think it was, among which
grew mimosa trees.
"Magepa," I said, "if in truth there is to be fighting, why don't you
move over the river one night with your people and cattle, and get into
Natal?"
[Illustration]
"I would if I could, Macumazahn, who have no stomach for this war
against the English. But there I should not be safe, since presently the
king will come into Natal too, or send thirty thousand assegais as his
messengers. Then what will happen to those who have left him?"
"Oh, if you think that," I answered, "you had better stay where you
are."
"Also, Macumazahn, the husbands of those women at my kraal have been
called up to their regiments, and if their wives fled to the English
they would be killed. Again, the king has sent for nearly all our
cattle, 'to keep it safe.' He fears lest we Border Zulus might join our
people in Natal, and that is why he is keeping our cattle 'safe.'"
"Life is more than cattle, Magepa. At least you might come."
"What! And leave my people to be killed? Macumazahn, you did not use to
talk so. Still, hearken. Macumazahn, will you do me a service? I will
pay you well for it. I would get my daughter Gita and my little grandson
Sinala into safety. If I and my wives are wiped out it does not matter,
for we are old. But her I would save, and the boy I would save, so that
one may live who will remember my name. Now, if I were to send them
across the drift, say at the dawn, not to-morrow, and not the next day,
but the day after, would you receive them into your wagon and deliver
them safe to some place in Natal? I have money hidden, fifty pieces of
gold, and you may take half of these and also half of the cattle if ever
I live to get them back out of the keeping of the king."
"Never mind about the money, and we will speak of the cattle
afterwards," I said. "I understand that you wish to send your daughter
and your little grandson out of danger, and I think you wise, very wise.
When once the advance begins, if there is an advance, who knows what may
happen? War is a rough game, Magepa. It is not the custom of you black
people to spare women and children, and there will be Zulus fighting on
our side as well as on yours; do you understand?"
"_Ow!_ I understand, Macumazahn. I have known the face of war and seen
many a little one like my grandson Sinala assegaied upon his mother's
back."
"Very good. But if I do this for you, you must do something for me. Say,
Magepa, does Cetewayo _really_ mean to fight, and if so, how? Oh yes, I
know all you have been telling me, but I want not words, but truth from
the heart."
"You ask secrets," said the old fellow, peering about him into the
gathering gloom. "Still, 'a spear for a spear and a shield for a
shield,' as our saying runs. I have spoken no lie. The king _does_ mean
to fight, not because he wants to, but because the regiments swear that
they will wash their assegais, they who have never seen blood since that
battle of the Tugela in which we two played a part; and if he will not
suffer it, well, there are more of his race! Also he means to fight
thus," and he gave me some very useful information; that is, information
which would have been useful if those in authority had deigned to pay
any attention to it when I passed it on.
Just as he finished speaking I thought that I heard a sound in the dense
green bush behind us. It reminded me of the noise a man makes when he
tries to stifle a cough, and frightened me. For if we had been overheard
by a spy, Magepa was as good as dead, and the sooner I was across the
river the better.
"What's that?" I asked.
"A bush buck, Macumazahn. There are lots of them about here."
Not being satisfied, though it is true that buck do cough like this, I
turned my horse to the bush, seeking an opening. Thereon something
crashed away and vanished into the long grass. In those shadows, of
course, I could not see what it was, but such light as remained glinted
on what might have been the polished tip of the horn of an antelope
or--an assegai.
"I told you it was a buck, Macumazahn," said Magepa. "Still, if you
smell danger, let us come away from the bush, though the orders are that
no white man is to be touched as yet."
Then, while we walked on towards the ford, he set out with great detail,
as Kaffirs do, the exact arrangements that he proposed to make for the
handing over of his daughter and her child into my care. I remember that
I asked him why he would not send her on the following morning, instead
of two mornings later. He answered because he expected an outpost of
scouts from one of the regiments at his kraal that night, who would
probably remain there over the morrow and perhaps longer. While they
were in the place it would be difficult for him to send away Gita and
her son without exciting suspicion.
[Illustration]
Near the drift we parted, and I returned to our provisional camp and
wrote a beautiful report of all that I had learned, of which report, I
may add, no one took the slightest notice.
I think it was the morning before that whereon I had arranged to meet
Gita and the little boy at the drift that just about dawn I went down to
the river for a wash. Having taken my dip I climbed on to a flat rock to
dress myself, and looked at the billows of beautiful, pearly mist which
hid the face of the water, and considered--I almost said listened
to--the great silence, for as yet no live thing was stirring.
Ah! if I had known of the hideous sights and sounds that were destined
to be heard ere long in this same haunt of perfect peace! Indeed, at
that moment there came a kind of hint or premonition of them, since
suddenly through the utter quiet broke the blood-curdling wail of a
woman. It was followed by other wails and shouts, distant and yet
distinct. Then the silence fell again.
Now, thought I to myself, that noise might very well have come from old
Magepa's kraal; luckily, however, sounds are deceptive in mist.
Well, the end of it was that I waited there till the sun rose. The first
thing on which its bright beams struck was a mighty column of smoke
rising to heaven from where Magepa's kraal had stood!
I went back to my wagons very sad, so sad that I could scarcely eat my
breakfast. While I walked I wondered hard whether the light had glinted
upon the tip of a buck's horn in that patch of green bush with the
sweet-smelling white flowers a night or two ago. Or had it perchance
fallen upon the point of the assegai of some spy who was watching my
movements! In that event yonder column of smoke and the horrible cries
which preceded it were easy to explain. For had not Magepa and I talked
secrets together, and in Zulu.
On the following morning at the dawn I attended at the drift in the
faint hope that Gita and her boy might arrive there as arranged. But
nobody came, which was not wonderful, seeing that Gita lay dead, stabbed
through and through, as I saw afterwards (she made a good fight for the
child), and that her spirit had gone to wherever go the souls of the
brave-hearted, be they white or black. Only on the farther bank of the
river I saw some Zulu scouts who seemed to know my errand, for they
called to me, asking mockingly where was the pretty woman I had come to
meet?
After that I tried to put the matter out of my head, which indeed was
full enough of other things, since now definite orders had arrived as to
the advance, and with these many troops and officers.
[Illustration: "Then he lifted himself upon one arm, and with the other
saluted"]
It was just then that the Zulus began to fire across the river at such
of our people as they saw upon the bank. At these they took aim, and, as
a result, hit nobody. A raw Kaffir with a rifle, in my experience, is
only dangerous when he aims at nothing, for then the bullet looks after
itself, and may catch you. To put a stop to this nuisance a regiment of
the friendly natives--there may have been several hundred of them--was
directed to cross the river and clear the kloofs and rocks of the Zulu
skirmishers who were hidden among them. I watched them go off in fine
style.
[Illustration]
Towards evening some one told me that our _impi_, as he grandiloquently
called it, was returning victorious. Having at the moment nothing else
to do, I walked down to the river at a point where the water was deep
and the banks were high. Here I climbed to the top of a pile of
boulders, whence with my field-glasses I could sweep a great extent of
plain which stretched away on the Zululand side till at length it merged
into hills and bush.
Presently I saw some of our natives marching homewards in a scattered
and disorganised fashion, but evidently very proud of themselves, for
they were waving their assegais and singing scraps of war-songs. A few
minutes later, a mile or more away, I caught sight of a man running.
Watching him through the glasses I noted three things: first, that he
was tall; secondly, that he ran with extraordinary swiftness; and,
thirdly, that he had something tied upon his back. It was evident,
further, that he had good reason to run, since he was being hunted by a
number of our Kaffirs, of whom more and more continually joined in the
chase. From every side they poured down upon him, trying to cut him off
and kill him, for as they got nearer I could see the assegais which they
threw at him flash in the sunlight.
Very soon I understood that the man was running with a definite object
and to a definite point; he was trying to reach the river. I thought the
sight very pitiful, this one poor creature being hunted to death by so
many. Also I wondered why he did not free himself from the bundle on his
back, and came to the conclusion that he must be a witch-doctor, and
that the bundle contained his precious charms or medicines.
This was while he was yet a long way off, but when he came nearer,
within three or four hundred yards, of a sudden I caught the outline of
his face against a good background, and knew it for that of Magepa.
"My God!" I said to myself, "it is old Magepa the Buck, and the bundle
in the mat will be his grandson, Sinala!"
Yes, even then I felt certain that he was carrying the child upon his
back.
What was I to do? It was impossible for me to cross the river at that
place, and long before I could get round by the ford all would be
finished. I stood up on my rock and shouted to those brutes of Kaffirs
to let the man alone. They were so excited that they did not hear my
words; at least, they swore afterwards that they thought I was
encouraging them to hunt him down.
But Magepa heard me. At that moment he seemed to be failing, but the
sight of me appeared to give him fresh strength. He gathered himself
together and leapt forward at a really surprising speed. Now the river
was not more than three hundred yards away from him, and for the first
two hundred of these he quite outdistanced his pursuers, although they
were most of them young men and comparatively fresh. Then once more his
strength began to fail.
Watching through the glasses I could see that his mouth was wide open,
and that there was red foam upon his lips. The burden on his back was
dragging him down. Once he lifted his hands as though to loose it; then
with a wild gesture let them fall again.
Two of the pursuers who had outpaced the others crept up to him--lank,
lean men of not more than thirty years of age. They had stabbing spears
in their hands, such as are used at close quarters, and these of course
they did not throw. One of them gained a little on the other.
Now Magepa was not more than fifty yards from the bank, with the first
hunter about ten paces behind him and coming up rapidly. Magepa glanced
over his shoulder and saw, then put out his last strength. For forty
yards he went like an arrow, running straight away from his pursuers,
until he was within a few feet of the bank, when he stumbled and fell.
"He's done," I said, and, upon my word, if I had a rifle in my hand I
think I would have stopped one or both of those bloodhounds and taken
the consequences.
[Illustration]
But, no! Just as the first man lifted his broad spear to stab him
through the back on which the bundle lay, Magepa leapt up and wheeled
round to take the thrust in his chest. Evidently he did not wish to be
speared in the back--for a certain reason. He took it sure enough, for
the assegai was wrenched out of the hand of the striker. Still, as he
was reeling backwards, it did not go through Magepa, or perhaps it hit a
bone. He drew out the spear and threw it at the man, wounding him. Then
he staggered on, back and back, to the edge of the little cliff.
It was reached at last. With a cry of "Help me, Macumazahn!" Magepa
turned, and before the other man could spear him, leapt straight into
deep water. He rose. Yes, the brave old fellow rose and struck out for
the other bank, leaving a little line of red behind him.