I FALL IN AGAIN WITH THE REVEREND JOHN LAPUTA
Once, as a boy, I had earnestly desired to go into the army, and had
hopes of rising to be a great general. Now that I know myself better, I
do not think I would have been much good at a general’s work. I would
have shirked the loneliness of it, the isolation of responsibility. But
I think I would have done well in a subaltern command, for I had a
great notion of carrying out orders, and a certain zest in the mere act
of obedience. Three days before I had been as nervous as a kitten
because I was alone and it was “up to me,” as Americans say, to decide
on the next step. But now that I was only one wheel in a great machine
of defence my nervousness seemed to have fled. I was well aware that
the mission I was bound on was full of risk; but, to my surprise, I
felt no fear. Indeed, I had much the same feeling as a boy on a
Saturday’s holiday who has planned a big expedition. One thing only I
regretted—that Tam Dyke was not with me to see the fun. The thought of
that faithful soul, now beating somewhere on the seas, made me long for
his comradeship. As I shaved, I remember wondering if I would ever
shave again, and the thought gave me no tremors. For once in my sober
life I was strung up to the gambler’s pitch of adventure.
My job was to go to Umvelos’ as if on my ordinary business, and if
possible find out something of the evening’s plan of march. The
question was how to send back a message to Arcoll, assuming I had any
difficulty in getting away. At first this puzzled us both, and then I
thought of Colin. I had trained the dog to go home at my bidding, for
often when I used to go hunting I would have occasion to visit a kraal
where he would have been a nuisance. Accordingly, I resolved to take
Colin with me, and, if I got into trouble, to send word by him.
I asked about Laputa’s knowledge of our preparations. Arcoll was
inclined to think that he suspected little. The police and the
commandos had been kept very secret, and, besides, they were moving on
the high veld and out of the ken of the tribes. Natives, he told me,
were not good scouts so far as white man’s work was concerned, for they
did not understand the meaning of what we did. On the other hand, his
own native scouts brought him pretty accurate tidings of any Kaffir
movements. He thought that all the bush country of the plain would be
closely watched, and that no one would get through without some kind of
pass. But he thought also that the storekeeper might be an exception,
for his presence would give rise to no suspicions. Almost his last
words to me were to come back hell-for-leather if I saw the game was
hopeless, and in any case to leave as soon as I got any news. “If
you’re there when the march begins,” he said, “they’ll cut your throat
for a certainty.” I had all the various police posts on the Berg clear
in my mind, so that I would know where to make for if the road to
Blaauwildebeestefontein should be closed.
I said good-bye to Arcoll and Wardlaw with a light heart, though the
schoolmaster broke down and implored me to think better of it. As I
turned down into the gorge I heard the sound of horses’ feet far
behind, and, turning back, saw white riders dismounting at the dorp. At
any rate I was leaving the country well guarded in my rear.
It was a fine morning in mid-winter, and I was in very good spirits as
I jogged on my pony down the steep hill-road, with Colin running beside
me. A month before I had taken the same journey, with no suspicion in
my head of what the future was to bring. I thought about my Dutch
companions, now with their cattle far out on the plains. Did they know
of the great danger, I wondered. All the way down the glen I saw no
sign of human presence. The game-birds mocked me from the thicket; a
brace of white _berghaan_ circled far up in the blue; and I had for
pleasant comrade the brawling river. I dismounted once to drink, and in
that green haven of flowers and ferns I was struck sharply with a sense
of folly. Here were we wretched creatures of men making for each
other’s throats, and outraging the good earth which God had made so
fair a habitation.
I had resolved on a short cut to Umvelos’, avoiding the neighbourhood
of Sikitola’s kraal, so when the river emerged from the glen I crossed
it and struck into the bush. I had not gone far before I realized that
something strange was going on. It was like the woods on the Berg a
week before. I had the impression of many people moving in the bush,
and now and then I caught a glimpse of them. My first thought was that
I should be stopped, but soon it appeared that these folk had business
of their own which did not concern me. I was conscious of being
watched, yet it was clear that the bush folk were not there for the
purpose of watching me.
For a little I kept my spirits, but as the hours passed with the same
uncanny hurrying to and fro all about me my nerves began to suffer.
Weeks of espionage at Blaauwildebeestefontein had made me jumpy. These
people apparently meant me no ill, and had no time to spare on me, But
the sensation of moving through them was like walking on a black-dark
night with precipices all around. I felt odd quiverings between my
shoulder blades where a spear might be expected to lodge. Overhead was
a great blue sky and a blazing sun, and I could see the path running
clear before me between the walls of scrub. But it was like midnight to
me, a midnight of suspicion and unknown perils. I began to wish
heartily I had never come.
I stopped for my midday meal at a place called Taqui, a grassy glade in
the bush where a tiny spring of water crept out from below a big stone,
only to disappear in the sand. Here I sat and smoked for half an hour,
wondering what was going to become of me. The air was very still, but I
could hear the rustle of movement somewhere within a hundred yards. The
hidden folk were busy about their own ends, and I regretted that I had
not taken the road by Sikitola’s and seen how the kraals looked. They
must be empty now, for the young men were already out on some mission.
So nervous I got that I took my pocket-book and wrote down certain
messages to my mother, which I implored whoever should find my body to
transmit. Then, a little ashamed of my childishness, I pulled myself
together, and remounted.
About three in the afternoon I came over a low ridge of bush and saw
the corrugated iron roof of the store and the gleam of water from the
Labongo. The sight encouraged me, for at any rate it meant the end of
this disquieting ride. Here the bush changed to trees of some size, and
after leaving the ridge the road plunged for a little into a thick
shade. I had forgotten for a moment the folk in the bush, and when a
man stepped out of the thicket I pulled up my horse with a start.
It was a tall native, who carried himself proudly, and after a glance
at me, stalked along at my side. He wore curious clothes, for he had a
kind of linen tunic, and around his waist hung a kilt of leopard-skin.
In such a man one would have looked for a _ting-kop_,[1] but instead he
had a mass of hair, not like a Kaffir’s wool, but long and curled like
some popular musician’s. I should have been prepared for the face, but
the sight of it sent a sudden chill of fright through my veins. For
there was the curved nose, the deep flashing eyes, and the cruel lips
of my enemy of the Kirkcaple shore.
Colin was deeply suspicious and followed his heels growling, but he
never turned his head.
“The day is warm, father,” I said in Kaffir. “Do you go far?”
He slackened his pace till he was at my elbow. “But a short way, Baas,”
he replied in English; “I go to the store yonder.”
“Well met, then,” said I, “for I am the storekeeper. You will find
little in it, for it is newly built and not yet stocked. I have ridden
over to see to it.”
He turned his face to me. “That is bad news. I had hoped for food and
drink yonder. I have travelled far, and in the chill nights I desire a
cover for my head. Will the Baas allow me to sleep the night in an
outhouse?”
By this time I had recovered my nerve, and was ready to play the part I
had determined on. “Willingly,” I said. “You may sleep in the storeroom
if you care. You will find sacks for bedding, and the place is snug
enough on a cold night.”
He thanked me with a grave dignity which I had never seen in any
Kaffir. As my eye fell on his splendid proportions I forgot all else in
my admiration of the man. In his minister’s clothes he had looked only
a heavily built native, but now in his savage dress I saw how noble a
figure he made. He must have been at least six feet and a half, but his
chest was so deep and his shoulders so massive that one did not remark
his height. He put a hand on my saddle, and I remember noting how slim
and fine it was, more like a high-bred woman’s than a man’s. Curiously
enough he filled me with a certain confidence.
“I do not think you will cut my throat,” I said to myself. “Your game
is too big for common murder.”
The store at Umvelos’ stood as I had left it. There was the sjambok I
had forgotten still lying on the window sill. I unlocked the door, and
a stifling smell of new paint came out to meet me. Inside there was
nothing but the chairs and benches, and in a corner the pots and pans I
had left against my next visit. I unlocked the cupboard and got out a
few stores, opened the windows of the bedroom next door, and flung my
kaross on the cartel which did duty as bed. Then I went out to find
Laputa standing patiently in the sunshine.
I showed him the outhouse where I had said he might sleep. It was the
largest room in the store, but wholly unfurnished. A pile of barrels
and packing-cases stood in the corner, and there was enough sacking to
make a sort of bed.
“I am going to make tea,” I said. “If you have come far you would maybe
like a cup?”
He thanked me, and I made a fire in the grate and put on the kettle to
boil. Then I set on the table biscuits, and sardines, and a pot of jam.
It was my business now to play the fool, and I believe I succeeded to
admiration in the part. I blush to-day to think of the stuff I talked.
First I made him sit on a chair opposite me, a thing no white man in
the country would have done. Then I told him affectionately that I
liked natives, that they were fine fellows and better men than the
dirty whites round about. I explained that I was fresh from England,
and believed in equal rights for all men, white or coloured. God
forgive me, but I think I said I hoped to see the day when Africa would
belong once more to its rightful masters.
He heard me with an impassive face, his grave eyes studying every line
of me. I am bound to add that he made a hearty meal, and drank three
cups of strong tea of my brewing. I gave him a cigar, one of a lot I
had got from a Dutch farmer who was experimenting with their
manufacture—and all the while I babbled of myself and my opinions. He
must have thought me half-witted, and indeed before long I began to be
of the same opinion myself. I told him that I meant to sleep the night
here, and go back in the morning to Blaauwildebeestefontein, and then
to Pietersdorp for stores. By-and-by I could see that he had ceased to
pay any attention to what I said. I was clearly set down in his mind as
a fool. Instead he kept looking at Colin, who was lying blinking in the
doorway, one wary eye cocked on the stranger.
“You have a fine dog,” he observed.
“Yes,” I agreed, with one final effort of mendacity, “he’s fine to look
at, but he has no grit in him. Any mongrel from a kraal can make him
turn tail. Besides, he is a born fool and can’t find his way home. I’m
thinking of getting rid of him.”
Laputa rose and his eye fell on the dog’s back. I could see that he saw
the lie of his coat, and that he did not agree with me.
“The food was welcome, Baas,” he said. “If you will listen to me I can
repay hospitality with advice. You are a stranger here. Trouble comes,
and if you are wise you will go back to the Berg.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, with an air of cheerful idiocy.
“But back to the Berg I go the first thing in the morning. I hate these
stinking plains.”
“It were wise to go to-night,” he said, with a touch of menace in his
tone.
“I can’t,” I said, and began to sing the chorus of a ridiculous
music-hall song—
“There’s no place like home—but
I’m afraid to go home in the dark.”
Laputa shrugged his shoulders, stepped over the bristling Colin, and
went out. When I looked after him two minutes later he had disappeared.
[1] The circlet into which, with the aid of gum, Zulu warriors weave
their hair.