It was Christmas-time at the Cape, when many a man and woman of British
blood, jaded by the sun and drought of an up-country life, flocks down
to the sea. Cape Town and her charming suburbs were crowded; and the
pleasant watering-places of Muizenberg and Kalk Bay were thronged with
folk dying once more to set eyes on the blue ocean, to inhale the fresh
breezes, and to remind themselves of their own sea-girt origin. From
every corner of South Africa--from the old Colony, the Free State, the
Transvaal, from far Bechuanaland--they had come. You might see
sun-scorched wanderers from the far interior, hunters, explorers,
prospectors, and pioneers. Some had come to restore broken health; some
to taste again the sweets of civilisation, to spend hard-won money; or,
perchance, an enthusiast might be seen who had been attracted south a
thousand miles and more by the week's cricket tournament on the Western
Province ground at Newlands.
Cape Town was at her best and bravest. Adderley Street was as crowded
as Bond Street in June; and upon every hand were to be seen and heard
pleasant faces, cheery voices, and the hearty greetings of friends long
severed by time and distance.
On the evening of the 23rd December, a young man sat in his pleasant
bedroom in the _annexe_ of the International Hotel, which lies rather
out of the heat of the town on the lower slopes of Table Mountain. It
was an hour before dinner, and the young man sat in his shirt-sleeves
before the open window, idly smoking a pipe, and feasting his eyes on
the glorious view that lay before him.
Jack Compton had just come down from two years' travel and sport in the
far interior; you might tell that by his lean, sun-tanned face and
deeply embrowned arms, and by the collection of curios--bird-skins,
photographs, horns, heads, assegais, and other articles that littered
the room--and, after a rough time of it, was now enjoying to the full
the ease and relaxation of life at the Cape. It was a noble prospect
that lay spread before him--none nobler in the world. Cape Town, with
its white houses and dark-green foliage, contrasted strongly in the near
foreground with the peerless blue and the sweeping contours of Table
Bay. Out at the entrance to the bay, Robben Island swam dimly into the
far Atlantic. Across the bay, the eye was first smitten by the blinding
dazzle of the beach of white sand below Blaauwberg. Then rose chain
upon chain of glorious mountain scenery, the jagged sierras of
Stellenbosch and the far line of Hottentots Holland melting in blues and
purples upon the horizon. Under the setting sun the crests of these
distant sierras were rapidly becoming rose-tinted, and the warm browns
and purples glorified a thousandfold. Never, thought Jack Compton, as
he pulled contentedly at his pipe, had he beheld a more enchanting
scene.
At that instant his door was flung open, and a tall, sunburnt, keen-eyed
man of thirty entered the room.
"Hallo, Jack, you old buffer!" he exclaimed, "what are you up to,
sitting here brooding like a pelican at a salt pan? I've been looking
for you. I've been chatting for the last two hours with a most
interesting Johnnie just come round from Walfisch Bay. He's been
trading and hunting in a new veldt far inland to the north-east, and
he's had some extraordinary times. The country he's been in is,
seemingly, quite unknown to Europeans; the game's as thick as sheep in a
fold; and he's had the most wonderful shooting. But there's one
adventure, which he'll tell us more about after dinner, which has hit my
fancy amazingly. As far as I can make out, Cressey--that's the name of
the man--has discovered some extraordinary link with the past--a Kaffir
woman, chief of some native tribe, with good white blood in her veins.
Cressey has got some of her belongings, and has promised to show them to
us later on."
"But," put in Jack Compton, "what sort of a man is this Cressey? Can
you depend upon what he says? There are some champion liars in this
country, and any amount of improbable yarns floating from one ear to
another. The Afrikander is the most credulous person in the world, and
there's something in the climate which quickly infects the Britisher--
witness yourself. I suppose gold and diamonds are primarily responsible
for it all, and the old-fashioned Boer, who's the most marvel-swallowing
creature of the nineteenth century."
"That's all right, old chap," laughingly replied Tim Bracewell. "I
won't say any more at present. You shall judge for yourself. In my
opinion this man Cressey isn't one of your natural-born Ananiases. He
gives one the impression of being perfectly straightforward. He's a
quiet, unassuming sort of man, rather hard to draw than otherwise. By
the bye, we mustn't talk too loud--he's got a bedroom somewhere in this
building."
Half an hour later the two friends were lounging about the _stoep_ of
the International, waiting the summons to dinner, when a quiet-looking
man in blue serge came up the steps. Tim Bracewell stepped forward and
met him, and introduced him to Compton. The new comer was a well-set-up
man of middle height. He had fair brown hair, a short beard, and a pair
of keen, steady, blue-grey eyes.
After dinner, which the three men partook of at a table together, they
came out to the _stoep_ again, and fixed themselves in a snug corner for
coffee and cigars. They had exchanged a good deal of their experiences
together at the dinner-table, and Tim Bracewell now called upon Cressey
to give them the promised history of his main adventure.
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"Well," said Cressey, "it's a queer yarn, and I don't know what you'll
say to it. You're the first I've told it to; and let me ask you not to
talk about it outside. I don't want to be bothered by papers and
interviewers and all the rest of it. I shall report my story to the
Colonial Secretary for what it's worth, and then I've done all I intend
to. I started from Walfisch Bay with two wagons, loaded up with
trading-gear, just eighteen months ago. I intended to hunt a bit, and I
had five good ponies with me. I had also in my outfit three very good
native `boys'--one especially, `April,' a most useful chap; he was a
'Mangwato, a capital fellow at languages, and understood Zulu and Dutch,
and one or two Zambesi dialects. He was a good driver, cook, and
hunter--one of the best all-round natives I ever came across.
"Well, I trekked through Damaraland and Ovampoland up to the Cunene
River. I hadn't much trouble with the Ovampo, as I knew their chiefs
and headmen. But they're a rum lot, and you've got to watch it in their
country. I did pretty well, and sent down a decent troop of cattle
taken in barter to a place I've got in Damaraland.
"After several months, I left the Cunene, and worked up for a new bit of
country hitherto unexplored. I crossed the Okavango somewhere up
towards its sources, and then found myself in the wild country of the
Mukassakwere Bushmen. Here there was plenty of game, and I had some
grand sport. The Bushmen were mad for meat and tobacco, and were only
too eager--once they had found out my killing powers--to show me game.
I had a glorious time among elephant rhinoceros, `camel' (giraffe), and
all the big antelopes. Elands were running in big troops, almost as
tame as Alderney cows, and we lived like fighting cocks. I got a fine
lot of ivory in this country; and then, taking some of the best of the
Bushmen with me, pushed still farther north by east.
"One afternoon, after a long, troublesome trek through some heavy
bush-country, in which we had been all hard at work cutting a path for
the wagons, we emerged pretty thankfully into clear country again.
Before us lay spread a vast open grassy plain, dotted here and there
with troops of game. Beyond the plain, some thirty miles distant, there
stood in purple splendour against the clear horizon a majestic mountain
chain, its peaks just now tinted a tender rose by the setting sun. We
all stood for a while gazing, open-mouthed, at the glorious scene before
us, and then camped for the night. Round my servants' camp-fire I
noticed a good deal of animated conversation going on. Two Bushmen in
particular were full of chatter and gesticulation. Their curious
clicking speech came fast and thick, and they pointed often in the
direction of the mountains in our front.
"After a time I called April to my fireside and interrogated him. He
informed me that the Bushmen were speaking of a kraal of natives settled
behind the mountain chain; that these natives were governed by a
wonderful white-skinned woman; that they were quarrelsome and
treacherous; and that we might have trouble with them. Having learned
thus much, I tumbled into my wagon, pulled up the sheepskin kaross, and
fell asleep.
"Early next morning I was up making ready for a longish ride. I was
mighty curious to see this native village that the Bushmen spoke of, and
especially the white-skinned chieftainess; at the same time I determined
to prepare for any eventuality. I sent the wagons, after breakfast,
back upon our spoor again, directing my men to camp in a strong place
between some hills, more than a day's journey back. Here there was good
water; the camp could be rendered pretty impregnable by the help of a
_scherm_ of thorn-bushes; and, with my horses, I and my attendant could
easily retreat thither in case of trouble. I now selected my two best
ponies, and, taking April with me, and the two Bushmen to act as guides,
we set off for the mountain. My man and I were each armed with a good
double rifle, and had plenty of ammunition, water-bottles, and some
_billtong_ (sun-dried meat), biscuits, coffee, and a kettle; and, as I
knew there were no horses among the natives in these regions, I had
little fear of escape, if escape became necessary.
"We rode all that day across the big plain. It was a perfect treat to
see the game on every side of us. There were rhinoceroses, elands,
hartebeests, Burchell's zebras, blue wildebeests, and tsesseby. They
were excessively tame, and often came close up and stared at us. We
fired no shot, however, but rode quietly on, occasionally diverging a
little to avoid some sour-looking black rhinoceros, which stood,
threatening and suspicious, directly in our path. We camped that night
in a little grove of thorn trees just beneath the mountain.
"At earliest dawn of the next day we were up and away. The Bushmen led
us to a kloof or gorge in the mountain chain, the only approach to the
kraal we sought. We rode for two hours up a slight ascent over a very
rough, rocky path; and then, suddenly turning an angle of the
mountain-wall, we came in full view of the native town. A broad grassy
valley, perhaps seven miles square, lay before us. This plain was
dotted with circular native huts, built very much after the Bechuana
fashion, and neatly thatched. Herds of cattle, goats, and native sheep
were pasturing here and there, or lying beneath the shade of the acacias
scattered about the plain. The town stood in an excellent position.
The mountain chain upon the one hand, and a broad and deep river,
flowing south-east, upon the other, served as sure defences against any
sudden attack from without.
"Beyond the river, eastward, a vast sweep of broad plain, belted with
dark-green ribands of bush and forest, stretched in interminable expanse
to the hot horizon.
"Descending to the valley, we were not long in reaching a collection of
huts, where we were pulled up short by a score of gesticulating natives,
armed with huge bows and arrows, and spears. We had some trouble with
these people; but after various messages and a halt of an hour or so, we
were told to follow two headmen to the Queen's residence.
"Mounting our horses--a proceeding which roused the most lively interest
among the crowd, which by this time had gathered round us--April and I
followed our guides, the Bushmen walking alongside. Passing numerous
groups of well-built, well-tended huts, we were at last brought to the
Queen's _kotla_, a large circular enclosure, fenced by a tall stockade,
in which was set the hut of the great lady I sought. A messenger soon
brought permission, and we rode into the enclosure.
"In a couple of rapid glances I took in the whole scene. In front of a
large, roomy, carefully thatched, circular hut were gathered some thirty
headmen of various ages, all standing, and all armed with long spears,
battle-axes, or bows and arrows. In the centre of this knot of dark
Africans sat the chieftainess, a very fair-skinned woman, undoubtedly.
Behind her stood two black female attendants, furnished with long
fly-whisks, with which they occasionally guarded their mistress from the
annoyances of insects. I rode up boldly to within ten yards of this
group, and dismounted, as did my man April. Handing my horse to April,
I took off my broad-brimmed hat, made my politest bow to the Queen's
grace, and then, calling Naras the Bushman, motioned him to stand
forward and interpret Naras waited expectantly on the Queen, and, while
she addressed him, I had leisure to examine her closely and very
curiously. Mapana--that was her name--for a woman of native blood, was
astonishingly fair. I can best liken her colouring to that of a fair
octoroon. Her beauty amazed me. I have been in the West Indies, where,
especially among the French islands, are to be seen some of the most
beautiful coloured women in the world. Mapana's beauty and grace
reminded me in the strongest manner of some of these French octoroons.
Her hair was soft and wavy--not harsh, like a pure African's--and curled
naturally upon her well-shaped head. Her features were good and
regular; her mouth bewitching; her dark eyes tender, kindly, and
marvellously beautiful. There was an air of refinement and grace about
her, which strangely puzzled me. She wore a necklet of bright gold
coins about her neck, and thick ivory bangles upon her shapely arms. A
little cloak of antelope skin just covered her shoulders, but concealed
not at all her perfect shape and bust. A short kilt or petticoat of
dressed antelope skin, and neat sandals of giraffe hide, completed her
costume. It is hard to judge the age of Africans. I guessed Mapana's
years at one or two and twenty. She sat there in an attitude of easy,
natural grace, her pretty hands just covering a sword, apparently of
European make, which lay across her lap. I think I never set eyes on a
more perfectly captivating creature. I am not as a rule at all
impressionable, but, as Mapana spoke, my downfall was complete--I fell
in love with her at once.
"Mapana had one of those rare voices which, almost more than mere beauty
alone, seem created to enslave mankind. I once, years ago, on a trip
home to England, heard Sarah Bernhardt. The tones of her silvery voice
came nearer to Mapana's than any I ever heard.
"How so fair a woman came to be heading a barbarous tribe here in this
outlandish corner of Africa, and whence she took her European descent,
puzzled me intensely. I was determined somehow to hunt out the mystery.
I had noticed, when we first encountered Mapana's tribesmen at the foot
of the mountains, that much of their speech resembled the Sechuana and
Basuto tongues, with which I am well acquainted. The languages of the
various Bantu tribes have strong affinities. I noticed many words even
resembling Zulu and Amakosa among these people, who, by the way, called
themselves Umfanzi. The difference of idiom and intonation at first
bothered me; in a little while, however, as Mapana questioned and
cross-questioned the Bushmen, I began pretty clearly to understand her.
I spoke in a low tone to April; he too comprehended her speech. I now
ventured to address her myself. I spoke slowly and distinctly; and,
after a little, she began to understand much of what I said, as, too,
did her headmen and counsellors. I explained that I was a subject of a
great white Queen, dwelling far across some mighty waters; that I had
heard of another white Queen, and had travelled far to pay her my
respects, and to enter upon terms of goodwill and friendship with her
and her tribe.
"My words seemed to give satisfaction. Mapana spoke in an aside with
some of the older men about her, and then addressed me. She told me
that she was of white descent herself--at a remote distance of time--
that the blood had always been cherished in her tribe, and that she and
her counsellors were glad to receive me. She directed me to be lodged
in a new hut just outside her _kotla_, and intimated that she would be
pleased to receive me later in the day. Meanwhile food and water, and
whatever else we required, should be placed at my disposal. A guard of
a couple of armed men was told off to keep away intrusive or too curious
tribespeople from our quarters.
"We killed a sheep, and enjoyed a square meal; after which I went,
surrounded by a concourse of interested natives, to a stream close by,
where I had a good wash, combed out my hair and beard, and made myself
presentable for the next interview with the fascinating Mapana. For the
rest of the afternoon we sat resting, and luxuriated in a quiet smoke.
"At about four o'clock a young headman came with a message that Mapana
wished to see me again. He seemed by no means pleased with his errand,
and preceded me with a very unprepossessing scowl upon his face. The
Queen was now only attended by a few of her women. I sat down near her;
my conductor stood leaning upon his assegai.
"`Seleni,' said Mapana, looking at him, `I wish to speak with the white
man alone; you can leave me.'
"`Queen,' answered the young man, not too civilly, I thought, `this man
is a stranger. Who knows his heart? He may cherish mischief. I stay
to guard the Queen from danger.'
"Mapana flushed a little. It was pretty to see the colour run under the
clear brunette of her skin. `There is no danger,' she said, with some
asperity. `Go, till I call for you.'
"Making an obeisance, Seleni, much against his will, stalked out of the
_kotla_.
"Mapana turned to me. `Seleni is a kinsman of mine,' she said, `and he
presumes upon it.'
"I had noticed that this young man, and one or two others among the
headmen, were slightly paler in colour than the rest of the tribe, and I
told Mapana so.
"`Yes,' she returned. `Seleni is descended from the white man from whom
I descend, but by a baser branch. My forefathers come directly from the
white man who settled among the Umfanzi long ago, and married the
chief's daughter. That white man--Morinza, we call him--became ruler
over the tribe, taught us many things, and left the family of chiefs to
which I belong. I have sent for you,'--here she inquired my name, which
I told her--`to look upon the things which I have here. They were
Morinza's, and they have always been cherished in my family.'
"Here she took the circlet of coins from her neck and handed it to me.
She had also for my inspection the sword I have spoken of, and an
old-fashioned book, very handsomely bound in red leather, curiously gilt
and stamped. This book she took from a covering of soft hide, in which
it was carefully wrapped.
"I was intensely interested, and first examined the gold coins composing
the necklet. There were seven in all, four large and three smaller. I
recognised at once the head of Charles the First, and made out without
difficulty that the coins were twenty-shilling and ten-shilling pieces
of that king's reign. I next took up the sword. The scabbard had once
been handsome in leather and metal, but was now worn and battered. The
sword itself, a straight, narrowish rapier, was a very beautiful one.
It was in excellent condition and finely engraved. On the centre of the
blade were these words in old-fashioned lettering:--"
"Rupertus Mauritio Suo Bredae, 1638."