A stir among the throng. Two stalwart savages rose and stood before the
orator. They were magnificent specimens of their race, prior to its
deterioration in morale and physique through the destroying agencies of
ardent spirits and contagious disease. Of commanding stature and
herculean build, these men represented a type, once common enough, but
now becoming more and more rare among the border tribes. The wizard
muttered an incantation over each, and the two betook themselves to the
bush. A moment of dead silence and they reappeared, dragging with them
two goats--one spotlessly white, the other, jet black.
The animals were thrown upon the ground in front of the wizard, and
securely tied; even their mouths being bound up, lest the sound of their
agonised bleatings upon the still night air, should reach unwelcome
ears. Then, still chanting his hellish incantation, the cruel monster
bent down, and, with his keen assegai, gashed and mutilated the wretched
creatures in a manner too shocking for detailment, beginning with the
white one. A hoarse rattle, smothered by the precautionary gag, burst
from their tortured throats, and their convulsive struggles were
frightful to behold. Yet they aroused no spark of compassion in these
merciless breasts.
In silence the Kafirs contemplated the barbarous performance; then,
unable to contain themselves any longer, they sprang to their feet and
burst into a low war-song, rattling the shafts of their assegais as they
beat time to the savage rhythm. It was a weird and gruesome scene, such
a sight as a man might witness once and remember all his life long.
Above, the great beetling cliff looming up against the midnight sky;
around, the shadowy sleeping heights; in the midst that band of demon
warriors, the green light of the magic fire touching their grim
countenances with an unearthly hue as they circled round the hideous
wizard and the quivering bodies of his tortured victims, chanting their
terrific war-song. Every now and again a convulsive shudder would heave
through the bodies of the miserable animals, whose glazing eyes rolled
piteously as they writhed their necks and bared their jaws in their
terrible agony.
For upwards of half an hour the dance went on, the chief men deeming it
necessary from time to time to put in a restraining word, lest the
suppressed excitement of their followers should break bounds; for sound
travels far at night, and it would never do to attract attention.
Suddenly several voices exclaimed:
"The omen! The omen!"
In a moment all gathered round the gory and mangled carcases. One of
the goats had ceased its struggles. The wizard pricked it with his
assegai, but without producing the smallest sign of sensibility. The
poor creature was stone dead. _It was the black one_.
The savages stared at each other in awed silence, then their
astonishment found words.
"Ha! The black goat dies! The black goat dies and the white goat
lives! Ha!"
This patent fact established, they troubled themselves no more about the
other wretched victim, which showed unmistakable signs of lingering for
some time to come, but turned attentively to the wizard in subdued and
eager expectancy. Nomadudwana's tone was now no longer one of fiery
exhortation. When he spoke it was with deliberation, even solemnity.
"The omen is sure. The black goat dies and the white goat lives. This
night I have heard a voice--the voice of Sefele whom his brethren cast
from yonder height and thought to slay. To slay! One who holds
converse with the spirits! This night I have talked with Sefele in that
cave which none can find but he who is loved by the shades of our
ancestors. These are the words of Sefele: `The fulness of time is not
yet. Though it be long in coming, let not the fighting men of the
Amaxosa fall asleep; let them watch the whites with sure and wakeful
glance; let them take of their flocks and of their herds, when they can.
Let them go and work for the whites and cast dust in their eyes--even
as we have led away on a false search the fool who lives yonder,'
(pointing to Armitage's homestead, lying silent and deserted on the
other side of the river) `and have made helpless with drink the
wallowing Hottentot, his dog. But above all, let them acquire the
fire-weapons of the whites and plenty of ammunition.' Thus speaks
Sefele. Take his words with you. The fulness of time is not yet, but
the omen is sure. Lo, the dawn is not far distant. Return as you
came."
An awed murmur went round the band. The magic fire disappeared. They
looked wonderingly at each other. Nomadudwana had vanished.
Breaking up into twos and threes the Kafirs rapidly dispersed, eager to
be gone from the dreaded spot when no longer under the protecting
presence of the powerful magician who communed with the spirit in the
unknown cave. They were impatient, but not disheartened. They must
continue to deceive the hated and masterful whites with soft words and
lying promises. These superstitious souls, with their faith in the
assurances of their wizards, saw their triumph ahead. What they did not
see was their broken and decimated tribes hunted and starving, driven
out of the land of their forefathers, utterly cowed and submissive.
What they did not see was the flower and pick of their manhood strewing
their native hills and kloofs with stiffened corpses in thousands, to
the advantage of the _aasvogel_ and the jackal.
There was something else that they did not see. They did not see a
recumbent human figure which, from the very brow of the sacred cliff,
had watched the uncanny and repulsive rites from beginning to end. They
did not see this figure, snugly concealed and motionless, watch till the
last of their outlying scouts finally left his post and moved away, and
then descend from the airy vantage ground with the dry chuckle of one
who has stolen a march on an uncommonly shrewd adversary, and going to
where a horse was securely hidden, mount and ride off. Even their keen
vision failed to descry this.
By sunrise these fierce warriors, who had borne such eager part in the
wild war-dance and the hideous and cruel rites of the night through,
would be once more so many quiet, civil herds and waggon-drivers, for,
with few exceptions, they were all in farm service in the surrounding
neighbourhood. But how came they here, how did they preserve so
inviolate the secret of the nocturnal gathering? The whole thing is
very simple. Two or three natives, inoffensive of aspect and
deferential of manner, provided moreover with unimpeachable passes, had
gone the round of the various employers of labour seeking for work here,
come to visit a relative there, anxious for a day or two's job in
another place, and so on. And wherever they had been they had delivered
their "word" among all fellow-countrymen there employed, provided these
were to be trusted, that is to say. That "word" was brief if slightly
obscure to the uninitiated. Moreover, it occurred quite incidentally in
the thick of conversation on ordinary topics. But those to whom it was
addressed understood perfectly its import.
"At the full of the moon."