THE DOOM POOL
Fortune showed itself strangely favourable to the plans of Nahoon and
Nanea. One of the Zulu captain’s perplexities was as to how he should
lull the suspicions and evade the vigilance of his own companions, who
together with himself had been detailed by the king to assist Hadden in
his hunting and to guard against his escape. As it chanced, however, on
the day after the incident of the visit of Maputa, a messenger arrived
from no less a person than the great military Induna, Tvingwayo ka
Marolo, who afterwards commanded the Zulu army at Isandhlwana, ordering
these men to return to their regiment, the Umcityu Corps, which was to
be placed upon full war footing. Accordingly Nahoon sent them, saying
that he himself would follow with Black Heart in the course of a few
days, as at present the white man was not sufficiently recovered from
his hurts to allow of his travelling fast and far. So the soldiers
went, doubting nothing.
Then Umgona gave it out that in obedience to the command of the king he
was about to start for Ulundi, taking with him his daughter Nanea to be
delivered over into the _Sigodhla_, and also those fifteen head of
cattle that had been _lobola’d_ by Nahoon in consideration of his
forthcoming marriage, whereof he had been fined by Cetywayo. Under
pretence that they required a change of veldt, the rest of his cattle
he sent away in charge of a Basuto herd who knew nothing of their
plans, telling him to keep them by the Crocodile Drift, as there the
grass was good and sweet.
All preparations being completed, on the third day the party started,
heading straight for Ulundi. After they had travelled some miles,
however, they left the road and turning sharp to the right, passed
unobserved of any through a great stretch of uninhabited bush. Their
path now lay not far from the Pool of Doom, which, indeed, was close to
Umgona’s kraal, and the forest that was called Home of the Dead, but
out of sight of these. It was their plan to travel by night, reaching
the broken country near the Crocodile Drift on the following morning.
Here they proposed to lie hid that day and through the night; then,
having first collected the cattle which had preceded them, to cross the
river at the break of dawn and escape into Natal. At least this was the
plan of his companions; but, as we know, Hadden had another programme,
whereon after one last appearance two of the party would play no part.
During that long afternoon’s journey Umgona, who knew every inch of the
country, walked ahead driving the fifteen cattle and carrying in his
hand a long travelling stick of black and white _umzimbeet_ wood, for
in truth the old man was in a hurry to reach his journey’s end. Next
came Nahoon, armed with a broad assegai, but naked except for his
moocha and necklet of baboon’s teeth, and with him Nanea in her white
bead-bordered mantle. Hadden, who brought up the rear, noticed that the
girl seemed to be under the spell of an imminent apprehension, for from
time to time she clasped her lover’s arm, and looking up into his face,
addressed him with vehemence, almost with passion.
Curiously enough, the sight touched Hadden, and once or twice he was
shaken by so sharp a pang of remorse at the thought of his share in
this tragedy, that he cast about in his mind seeking a means to unravel
the web of death which he himself had woven. But ever that evil voice
was whispering at his ear. It reminded him that he, the white _Inkoos_,
had been refused by this dusky beauty, and that if he found a way to
save him, within some few hours she would be the wife of the savage
gentleman at her side, the man who had named him Black Heart and who
despised him, the man whom he had meant to murder and who immediately
repaid his treachery by rescuing him from the jaws of the leopard at
the risk of his own life. Moreover, it was a law of Hadden’s existence
never to deny himself of anything that he desired if it lay within his
power to take it—a law which had led him always deeper into sin. In
other respects, indeed, it had not carried him far, for in the past he
had not desired much, and he had won little; but this particular flower
was to his hand, and he would pluck it. If Nahoon stood between him and
the flower, so much the worse for Nahoon, and if it should wither in
his grasp, so much the worse for the flower; it could always be thrown
away. Thus it came about that, not for the first time in his life,
Philip Hadden discarded the somewhat spasmodic prickings of conscience
and listened to that evil whispering at his ear.
About half-past five o’clock in the afternoon the four refugees passed
the stream that a mile or so down fell over the little precipice into
the Doom Pool; and, entering a patch of thorn trees on the further
side, walked straight into the midst of two-and-twenty soldiers, who
were beguiling the tedium of expectancy by the taking of snuff and the
smoking of _dakka_ or native hemp. With these soldiers, seated on his
pony, for he was too fat to walk, waited the Chief Maputa.
Observing that their expected guests had arrived, the men knocked out
the _dakka_ pipe, replaced the snuff boxes in the slits made in the
lobes of their ears, and secured the four of them.
“What is the meaning of this, O King’s soldiers?” asked Umgona in a
quavering voice. “We journey to the kraal of U’Cetywayo; why do you
molest us?”
“Indeed. Wherefore then are your faces set towards the south? Does the
Black One live in the south? Well, you will journey to another kraal
presently,” answered the jovial-looking captain of the party with a
callous laugh.
“I do not understand,” stammered Umgona.
“Then I will explain while you rest,” said the captain. “The Chief
Maputa yonder sent word to the Black One at Ulundi that he had learned
of your intended flight to Natal from the lips of this white man, who
had warned him of it. The Black One was angry, and despatched us to
catch you and make an end of you. That is all. Come on now, quietly,
and let us finish the matter. As the Doom Pool is near, your deaths
will be easy.”
Nahoon heard the words, and sprang straight at the throat of Hadden;
but he did not reach it, for the soldiers pulled him down. Nanea heard
them also, and turning, looked the traitor in the eyes; she said
nothing, she only looked, but he could never forget that look. The
white man for his part was filled with a fiery indignation against
Maputa.
“You wicked villain,” he gasped, whereat the chief smiled in a sickly
fashion, and turned away.
Then they were marched along the banks of the stream till they reached
the waterfall that fell into the Pool of Doom.
Hadden was a brave man after his fashion, but his heart quailed as he
gazed into that abyss.
“Are you going to throw me in there?” he asked of the Zulu captain in a
thick voice.
“You, White Man?” replied the soldier unconcernedly. “No, our orders
are to take you to the king, but what he will do with you I do not
know. There is to be war between your people and ours, so perhaps he
means to pound you into medicine for the use of the witch-doctors, or
to peg you over an ant-heap as a warning to other white men.”
Hadden received this information in silence, but its effect upon his
brain was bracing, for instantly he began to search out some means of
escape.
By now the party had halted near the two thorn trees that hung over the
waters of the pool.
“Who dives first,” asked the captain of the Chief Maputa.
“The old wizard,” he replied, nodding at Umgona; “then his daughter
after him, and last of all this fellow,” and he struck Nahoon in the
face with his open hand.
“Come on, Wizard,” said the captain, grasping Umgona by the arm, “and
let us see how you can swim.”
At the words of doom Umgona seemed to recover his self-command, after
the fashion of his race.
“No need to lead me, soldier,” he said, shaking himself loose, “who am
old and ready to die.” Then he kissed his daughter at his side, wrung
Nahoon by the hand, and turning from Hadden with a gesture of contempt
walked out upon the platform that joined the two thorn trunks. Here he
stood for a moment looking at the setting sun, then suddenly, and
without a sound, he hurled himself into the abyss below and vanished.
“That was a brave one,” said the captain with admiration. “Can you
spring too, girl, or must we throw you?”
“I can walk my father’s path,” Nanea answered faintly, “but first I
crave leave to say one word. It is true that we were escaping from the
king, and therefore by the law we must die; but it was Black Heart here
who made the plot, and he who has betrayed us. Would you know why he
has betrayed us? Because he sought my favour, and I refused him, and
this is the vengeance that he takes—a white man’s vengeance.”
“_Wow!_” broke in the chief Maputa, “this pretty one speaks truth, for
the white man would have made a bargain with me under which Umgona, the
wizard, and Nahoon, the soldier, were to be killed at the Crocodile
Drift, and he himself suffered to escape with the girl. I spoke him
softly and said ‘yes,’ and then like a loyal man I reported to the
king.”
“You hear,” sighed Nanea. “Nahoon, fare you well, though presently
perhaps we shall be together again. It was I who tempted you from your
duty. For my sake you forgot your honour, and I am repaid. Farewell, my
husband, it is better to die with you than to enter the house of the
king’s women,” and Nanea stepped on to the platform.
Here, holding to a bough of one of the thorn trees, she turned and
addressed Hadden, saying:—
“Black Heart, you seem to have won the day, but me at least you lose
and—the sun is not yet set. After sunset comes the night, Black Heart,
and in that night I pray that you may wander eternally, and be given to
drink of my blood and the blood of Umgona my father, and the blood of
Nahoon my husband, who saved your life, and whom you have murdered.
Perchance, Black Heart, we may yet meet yonder—in the House of the
Dead.”
Then uttering a low cry Nanea clasped her hands and sprang upwards and
outwards from the platform. The watchers bent their heads forward to
look. They saw her rush headlong down the face of the fall to strike
the water fifty feet below. A few seconds, and for the last time, they
caught sight of her white garment glimmering on the surface of the
gloomy pool. Then the shadows and mist-wreaths hid it, and she was
gone.
“Now, husband,” cried the cheerful voice of the captain, “yonder is
your marriage bed, so be swift to follow a bride who is so ready to
lead the way. _Wow!_ but you are good people to kill; never have I had
to do with any who gave less trouble. You——” and he stopped, for mental
agony had done its work, and suddenly Nahoon went mad before his eyes.
With a roar like that of a lion the great man cast off those who held
him and seizing one of them round the waist and thigh, he put out all
his terrible strength. Lifting him as though he had been an infant, he
hurled him over the edge of the cliff to find his death on the rocks of
the Pool of Doom. Then crying:—
“Black Heart! your turn, Black Heart the traitor!” he rushed at Hadden,
his eyes rolling and foam flying from his lips, as he passed striking
the chief Maputa from his horse with a backward blow of his hand. Ill
would it have gone with the white man if Nahoon had caught him. But he
could not come at him, for the soldiers sprang upon him and
notwithstanding his fearful struggles they pulled him to the ground, as
at certain festivals the Zulu regiments with their naked hands pull
down a bull in the presence of the king.
“Cast him over before he can work more mischief,” said a voice. But the
captain cried out, “Nay, nay, he is sacred; the fire from Heaven has
fallen on his brain, and we may not harm him, else evil would overtake
us all. Bind him hand and foot, and bear him tenderly to where he can
be cared for. Surely I thought that these evil-doers were giving us too
little trouble, and thus it has proved.”
So they set themselves to make fast Nahoon’s hands and wrists, using as
much gentleness as they might, for among the Zulus a lunatic is
accounted holy. It was no easy task, and it took time.
Hadden glanced around him, and saw his opportunity. On the ground close
beside him lay his rifle, where one of the soldiers had placed it, and
about a dozen yards away Maputa’s pony was grazing. With a swift
movement, he seized the Martini and five seconds later he was on the
back of the pony, heading for the Crocodile Drift at a gallop. So
quickly indeed did he execute this masterly retreat, that occupied as
they all were in binding Nahoon, for half a minute or more none of the
soldiers noticed what had happened. Then Maputa chanced to see, and
waddled after him to the top of the rise, screaming:—
“The white thief, he has stolen my horse, and the gun too, the gun that
he promised to give me.”
Hadden, who by this time was a hundred yards away, heard him clearly,
and a rage filled his heart. This man had made an open murderer of him;
more, he had been the means of robbing him of the girl for whose sake
he had dipped his hands in these iniquities. He glanced over his
shoulder; Maputa was still running, and alone. Yes, there was time; at
any rate he would risk it.
Pulling up the pony with a jerk, he leapt from its back, slipping his
arm through the rein with an almost simultaneous movement. As it
chanced, and as he had hoped would be the case, the animal was a
trained shooting horse, and stood still. Hadden planted his feet firmly
on the ground and drawing a deep breath, he cocked the rifle and
covered the advancing chief. Now Maputa saw his purpose and with a yell
of terror turned to fly. Hadden waited a second to get the sight fair
on his broad back, then just as the soldiers appeared above the rise he
pressed the trigger. He was a noted shot, and in this instance his
skill did not fail him; for, before he heard the bullet tell, Maputa
flung his arms wide and plunged to the ground dead.
Three seconds more, and with a savage curse, Hadden had remounted the
pony and was riding for his life towards the river, which a while later
he crossed in safety.