The party turned away, tired and hungry, and marched in silence to the
clump of trees near the spruit below the house. There was no other
water near, so they made camp for the night there.
It was dark. Occasionally the brighter gleams of the fire lighted up
the circle of sullen faces. There was nothing to eat or drink, so they
had settled down to a monotonous chorus of curses on the renegade he had
turned his back on his own colour. One by one each added his quota of
bitter, unmeasured abuse until their vocabularies, comprehensive as they
were, began to give out, and only now and then a mere exclamation of
disgust, or a well-brooded curse, would break the heavy silence.
There being nothing to cook, there was nothing to do at that time of
evening but to brood on their wrongs. They did this thoroughly until a
faint rustle in the wood made them look round, and then a child's voice
close behind the group gave the Kaffir salutation "Makos!" Someone
raised a brand from the fire, and by its light they saw two _umfaans_
bearing on their heads a large earthen bowl each. One bowl contained
fresh milk, the other a stew of fowls and stamped mealies.
The boys had the look of bright intelligence characteristic of the Zulu
race, but when Bankerpitt asked sharply, "Who sent this?" they exchanged
one glance, and a cloud of the densest stupidity settled on their faces.
Bankerpitt repeated his question, dragging one urchin closer to the
fire. The reply, given in a thin, childish treble, was:
"It is food, white man! It is here!"
"Tell me!" he said fiercely, giving the child's arm a shake, "does it
come from that white dog up there?"
Even in the urchins of the race there is the instinct of evasion which
enables them to baffle the closest inquiries.
"It is food for the white man. It is here!" was all that Bankerpitt's
bullying could elicit.
"If we take it, it's because we must; but, by God! we'll pay him for it,
same as we would any other blasted nigger!" exclaimed Bankerpitt
savagely; and he drew from his leathern belt-pouch the three shillings
it contained and thrust them into the _umfaan's_ hand. The coins were
dropped like hot coals, and the child said:
"I want no money, white man; I bring a gift."
But the men were hungry and took the food; and presently the two
_umfaans_ drew nearer to the fire, and, squatting on their haunches,
awaited with ox-like patience the emptying of their bowls. When at last
the boys stood up to go, the youngest of the party, who had been a
silent and amused witness of his leader's attempt to get information out
of them, said something in a low tone, to which one boy replied:
"Inkosikaas."
A soft significant whistle was the only comment.
"What was that, Geddy?" said Bankerpitt quickly.
"I asked who sent them with the food."
"Well, who did?"
"He says `The missis'!"
"Shrine of the Mighty!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
That was the first experience of Induna Nairn.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second came this wise, about a year later.
There had been a row in Delagoa about some cattle which had been stolen.
The rightful owners took their own way about getting them back, for
they had more confidence in themselves than in the Portuguese; but,
unfortunately, just at the last moment, an accident happened which made
trouble for them. That was why they had been across the border away in
Swazie country for so many months, and that was why they were coming
back over the mountains and in a quiet way, for they were not sure of
the reception which might await them.
One of them was Geddy, the youngster of the former party.
Geddy had not forgotten his experience of Nairn's "hospitable roof," and
had given his companion, with considerable force and numerous
illustrations, a fair picture of the well-remembered night. It is not
surprising that they decided to give "the damned white nigger's" house
the "go-by."
Nairn's house stood on the track; in fact, the only feasible road up the
Berg was a bridle-path cut by Nairn up to his house; thence the ordinary
native paths led in all directions, and--by reason--one or more led to
the Kaap. In order to pass the house in mid-trek they made their
morning off-saddle below the Berg, intending by noon to be some miles
beyond the Peak. Near the Berg there are two climates, one for "below"
and one for "on top," and it was quite reasonable and natural to rise,
as they did, out of the placid spring morning on the flats into a
first-class thunderstorm with high wind and driving rain as soon as they
reached the exposed plateau. The tired horses refused to face the
sheets of rain, and snorted and shook with fright at the lightning
stabbing here and there and everywhere, and the deafening crashes of
thunder. There was nothing for it but to dismount and, as the poor
brutes turned their tails to the storm, to crouch to leeward of them for
such shelter as they could give, and pray to Heaven that hail would not
follow the rain.
Drenched, sopping, numbed and pierced by the cold wind that succeeded
the storm, they resumed their ride half an hour later. Their clothes
were setting hard in the wind, their blankets--strapped over the
pommels--carried pounds weight of water, and the pulpy saddles clung
like indiarubber.
The poor horses toiled on, slipping and sprawling along the greasy,
smooth-worn Kaffir path, and when they rounded a little koppie that
flanked Nairn's house, and came suddenly on the well-worn track that led
to the house itself--not twenty yards off--they pricked their ears, and
with a low whinny of welcome and joy trotted towards the house. Geddy
pocketed his pride and, bowing to circumstances that were too much for
him, allowed his horse to follow the other's lead. He did not, however,
dismount as the other did, but sat in the saddle with an air of
neutrality, awaiting the turn of events.
Geddy was prepared for many possible developments, and--by reason of the
feeling description given him of the previous visit--his companion was
also forearmed against contingencies, and was ready with replies suited
to any form of incivility; but when Nairn stepped out on to the stoep
looking infinitely amused, and remarked frankly, "By Gad! you are two
miserable-looking objects!"--when this happened the two just looked down
at themselves and then at each other, and finally burst into laughter
more genuine and prolonged than the ostensible cause would seem to
warrant.
The house must have contained four rooms; but they only saw two. It was
a very quiet place. Oddly enough there were no dogs about, and the
fowls did not seem to be as self-assertive there as Swazie fowls usually
are. There were no noises at all about the place, not even the welcome
sounds of life. All seemed to be toned down, _weighed_ down, to about
the level of sociability which had marked Nairn's manner on the first
visit. Geddy, feeling a little mean, it is true, was careful not to
betray any indications of having been there before, but while they were
getting into dry clothing in Nairn's bedroom, he drew his companion's
attention to a large calabash that stood on the window-sill half full of
milk. It had been cracked, and there was a small V-shaped nick in the
rim, below which, and encircling the gourd itself was a delicate network
of plaited brass, copper, and iron wires.
"That was the one the milk came in that night," said Geddy, in a
whisper. "I remember spilling some on account of that nick, and then I
noticed the wire."
His companion nodded. It was not an important nor even a very
interesting discovery.
The younger waited a little, and then, slightly disgusted at the other's
slowness, said:
"Well, either he sent the grub to us himself or--"
"Or what?"
"Or--Where's the missis?"
They took in the room at a glance; but there was no answering evidence
there. And when they joined Nairn they found that there were
easy-chairs in the dining-room; so there they sat and smoked, and
watched the rain set in as the regular spring drizzle does above the
Berg.
The chairs, like the rest of the furniture, were rough-made from
bushwood; but it seemed odd that a hermit should have three. There was
a bookcase in the room, and it was full of well-bound and well-worn
books, "mostly odd volumes--very few series," as Geddy remarked
afterwards. There were a good many books of science, and all the poets
he could recall; and there were books in Latin, French, Greek, and
German. Somehow he did not like to ask the real questions he wanted to
put about the books. He did not quite know how far to go. In reply to
one question, Nairn had said dryly that he had brought them with him,
and was apparently indisposed to say more. He was not an easy man to
draw.
During the day they had evidence of the respect in which Nairn was held
by his dependents. He spoke to them in the lowest possible voice and in
the fewest possible words, and never--except once, when something had
occurred which annoyed him--never looked at, or even in the direction of
the individual addressed. On that occasion he was asking a question of
a tall and remarkably good-looking Swazie woman.
She stood like a bronze statue while he spoke, and when he looked at her
and his eyes blazed anger, although his voice did not alter, the colour
rose to the woman's face, and turned her brown skin a reddish-bronze.
Her head was slowly lowered, and the only answer was a faint whisper of
the word, "Inkos--chief!" The incident was trifling, but Geddy noticed
it, and noted that his way with his boys and the men about the place was
the same, and began to see why they called him "Induna Nairn."
As the rain had not abated Nairn insisted upon their remaining
overnight. He was pleasant, courteous, and most interesting, full of
the strangest and most intimate knowledge of the country and the
natives. He frequently illustrated remarks by references to other
countries and other people, but neither of his guests cared to put the
direct question as to whether he had been to those countries or only
read of them. He gave no information about himself Geddy was not
satisfied with this, and with his sense of what is due to one's host
somewhat dulled--doubtless by the recollection of his previous visit--
took every opportunity of leading up to those topics which Nairn most
avoided, but which Geddy hoped would throw a light upon the man himself.
Beaten on the subject of the books, baffled when he led up to personal
experiences, foiled gently but firmly at every attempt, Geddy at last
got an inspiration and laid for a bold stroke.
They were at dinner, and the peculiarly savoury character of the stew
recalled to the youngster again the question that had been puzzling him
all along. Summoning all his nerve, he said with cheery zest:
"By Jove, Nairn, after months of roast mealies and tough game--without
salt, too--this does taste delicious!"
"Glad you like it," said his host quietly. "Staple dish, you know.
Just stewed fowl and stamped mealies!"
"Yes, by George! but such a stew! Who--who's your cook?"
"Well, I suppose it becomes an easy task when the bill of fare doesn't
vary once a month;" and Nairn looked up curiously at his guest.
"But how do you manage it, eh? No boy ever cooked like this."
Nairn delayed replying until a faint guilty flush touched up the other's
cheeks, and then laughingly--and with a significant look of complete
intelligence--he said:
"I was just wondering, Mr Geddy, if you were as favourably impressed
with it _the last time you were here_?"
Had the roof dropped in on him the collapse of Geddy would not have been
more complete. Heron laughed unrestrainedly, perhaps because (as has
been said) there is something not altogether displeasing in the
misfortunes of our friends; perhaps, too, because his view of the
incident referred to was untinged by the bitter sense of personal
humiliation, and his humour had therefore full play.
Nairn did not press his discomfited guest, but, smiling pleasantly, took
up the burden of the talk.
"I know quite well what you thought of me, and I know even something of
what you said about `the white dog,' etc, but I think (and I fancy
neither of you will take offence at plain speaking)--I think that I did
right in repulsing what had all the appearance of imposition." He
pushed back his chair and turned to the younger man. "Just put yourself
in my place, now, Geddy. I came to this place of my own choice. I seek
nothing of other men, and I desire to go my own way unmolested. I was
here before your people came in their feverish hunt for gold. I dare
say I shall be here when you have ended the fruitless search. If things
should turn against me and your luck be in the ascendant--why! there is
room in Africa for us both. I can move on."
Nairn spoke in an easy, unemotional way, as though discussing an
abstract question of minor importance.
"Do you know," he continued after a while, "I sought out this spot and I
chose this life because here there is no nineteenth century, no
struggle, no ambition, no unrest. Here is absolute peace and content
for me because I need take no thought of the morrow. You who spend your
lives and energies on the outside edge of civilisation paving a way for
others' feet--you are beglamoured by your `life of freedom, adventure,
and romance,' My dear sirs, that is a view that I cannot pretend even to
understand, much less sympathise with. It may appear unnatural to you,
but it is a fact, that I dislike the society of civilised men, and most
of all that of the pioneers--the sappers and miners of civilisation--who
think a white skin a warrant for anything. Odd as it may seem to you, I
do not regard each white man as a friend or a brother. On the contrary,
I see in him a possible enemy and a certain nuisance."
Nairn leaned back in his chair, and thoughtfully polished the bowl of
his pipe.
They had finished dinner, and were lighting up for a smoke. The others
puffed away in silence.
He had said his say candidly and without heat, and no offence had been
meant or taken. Presently Heron said:
"What puzzles me, Nairn, is, since you distrust every white man you see,
what the devil made you ask _us_ in?"
"Ay! that's it," said Geddy good-humouredly. "That's the very question
I was going to ask. What made you change your opinion?"
"Well," said Nairn, with simple directness, "your case is peculiar. I
had a certain sympathy with you, you see, for we are all outlaws
together--I from choice!"
Both men coloured faintly, and Geddy asked at once:
"How could you know that at the time? How did you know us--or me?"
"My dear fellow, I knew you by several means. In the first place, I had
met you before--you see, I do not see so many white faces that I can't
remember them; and in the second place, the _umfaan_ to whom you spoke
that night, you recollect, also recognised you."
Geddy, who recalled in a flash both the question he had asked that night
and the answer given by the boy, shrank under Nairn's direct, calm look.
"But," he continued without pause, "you forget--or did you not know?--
that for a month there was a detachment of police on the watch for you
here."
"Lucifer! What luck we didn't come sooner!" exclaimed Heron, aghast.
"They'd have had us, as sure as God made little apples!"
"Oh, that was all right," said Nairn, smiling. "I was well posted as to
their plans and movements. You see, I heard of your affair in Delagoa,
and I knew you had gone for a spell to Mahaash's and Sebougwaan's, and
you were safe enough there. In any case, I took the precaution of
sending word to Mahaash to stop you if you wanted to come back before
the coast was clear. He had a letter for you from me for some time, but
returned it yesterday with a message to say you were coming this way,
and that was why I was expecting you when you turned up this morning."
Geddy put out his hand, saying:
"By God, Nairn, you are a trump! You've been a perfect Providence to
us; and--and I take back all I said about you that other time."
Nairn smiled and shook his head.
"I'm afraid," he answered, "that it was only because you were in a
scrape that I sided with you at all. It seemed a bit of a damned shame
that the Government should set on a couple of fellows because they had
chosen to settle their grievances their own way, which is what you did,
I believe?"
Heron smiled grimly, and nodded reply.
"You seem to have had pretty good information about us," Geddy remarked.
"I suppose your neighbours keep you well posted?"
"Yes; there are Boswells among them, too. I have had faithfully
retailed to me the whole of the affair of Mahaash and the silver spur.
Don't put another chief to ride a bucking horse with a spur. They may
not all fall as lightly as Mahaash, and they may not all be as
good-tempered."
"Upon my soul," said Heron, "I did it in perfect good faith. He wanted
a present, and I gave him what I could best spare. How could I possibly
know that that old crock would buck?"
"Well, you had a lucky escape. Umketch would have had you kerried.
They don't like to appear ridiculous. How did you lose your
pocket-book, Geddy?"
"How--the--deuce--"
Nairn laughed heartily.
"Why, man, it has been here for weeks, waiting for you! They bring me
all these things, with their gossip and their troubles. An old fellow,
a witch-doctor, brought the pocket-book. He said he found it by
divination--casting the dollas; the old fraud! He walked up here, some
forty miles, just to gossip about you. It took him three days before he
produced the book. The first day he talked of the prospects of rain,
and the grass and the cattle; the next he spoke about the rumours that
were afloat about white men working into the ground and bursting it open
with guns, and wondered if white men would overrun Swazieland; and he
wound up with the admission that he had _heard_ of two having been seen,
and on horseback, too, and with rifles. Notwithstanding which, he
believed them to be English, for one had given a shilling to a young
girl as a present, and the other had a book in which he wrote. There it
is on the shelf beside you. He wanted to sell it, but I took it from
him, and told him he would probably have bad luck, and one of his cows
would be barren or lose her calf this year because he had meddled with
your goods, and failed to return the book to you. He stole it, of
course?"
"The old scoundrel!" said Geddy, reaching for the book; "he must have
found it while we were yet in sight. I left it in a hut in one of the
kraals."
"Yes; I'm afraid he was an old thief," said Nairn. "The raw Swazie
would think nothing of a twenty or thirty mile jaunt to return it; but
these witch-doctors are mostly old Basuto ruffians, steeped in guile.
They have few scruples when there is a prospect of profit."
"On my word," laughed Heron, "I don't know what you may not know about
us with agencies like this, and a whole nation making a confidante of
you! What a rum life you do lead!"
Nairn looked at him curiously, and remarking dryly that they were a very
peculiar people, rose from his seat, and made it clear that he thought
it time for bed. He showed them to his own room, where an extra bed had
been fixed up, and wishing them "Good-night," left them.
Quoth Geddy:
"I didn't like to ask him where he would sleep if we took his room, as
one feels bound to do in common civility. I'd have got another of those
gentle cold-blooded sneers for my pains. You know, old chap, with all
due respect--and all that sort of thing--for our host, he's beastly
uncivil the moment you ask questions. It's a regular case of scratch
the Russian and you find the Tartar."
"Yes; you're right. Although it seems a bit ungrateful to say so, I'm
dashed if I'd care to have much to do with him. Did you see him shut up
when I remarked about his living a queer life? Gad! his lips closed up
until they fitted like the valves of an oyster. He's as suspicious as
the devil!"
"I say, look here--a photo! Just look, man! `Harrison Nairn' on the
back of it! Quite a decent-looking chap. Heron, I wonder who _she_
is?"
"God knows! I don't!"
"Someone else's, you can bet, or he wouldn't lie so low, eh?"
"H'm! looks devilish like it."
"I say, Heron."
"What?"
"I wonder what he'd say if he heard us, eh?"
"Shut up, man; go to sleep!"
"I say! The ideal white man--`a possible enemy and a certain
nuisance.'"
"For Heaven's sake, man, shut up! They'll hear you sniggering.
Good-night!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------