IN THE AMATOLAS.
The corporal had already spread the news among the men of Ronald's
intended enterprise, and they gave him a hearty cheer as he rode off.
Mr. Nolan had advised him to keep the native who was going to fetch his
horse back.
"You won't want to walk into King Williamstown in that guise," he said;
"therefore you had best put your uniform into the valise, and tell the
man to meet you at any point you like--I should say the nearer to the
bush the better; for if you succeed in getting the young lady out of
these rascals' clutches you may be pursued, and, if your horse is
handy, may succeed in getting her away, when you would otherwise be soon
overtaken."
Ronald thankfully accepted the suggestion, for he saw that it might
indeed be of vital importance to him to have his horse ready at hand.
With a last wave of his hand he rode off, the chief and his six
companions trotting alongside.
The sun had set an hour when they reached the spot at which the chief
had directed his two followers to meet him. They had not yet arrived.
"Do you think they will be sure to be able to find the place?" Ronald
asked the chief.
"A Fingo never loses his way," the chief replied. "Find his way in dark,
all same as day."
In spite of the chief's assurance, Ronald was fidgety and anxious. He
wrapped a blanket round him, and walked restlessly up and down. It was
nearly an hour before the chief, who, with his companions, had thrown
himself down and lighted a pipe, which passed from hand to hand, said
suddenly:
"One man come!"
Ronald listened intently, but could hear nothing. A moment later a dark
figure came up.
Kreta at once questioned him, and a long conversation took place between
them.
"What is he saying, chief? What is he saying?" Ronald broke in
impatiently several times; but it was not until the man had finished
that the chief translated.
"White girl alive, incos, the other two women alive, but not live long,
torture them bad. Going to take girl to Macomo."
"Thank God for that," Ronald exclaimed, fervently, for he had all day
been tormented with the fear that Mary Armstrong might have met with her
fate directly she was carried away.
"Where are they going to take her?"
"A lot of them go off to-night; go straight to Amatolas; take her with
them."
"How many, Kreta; will there be any chance of attacking them on the
way?"
The chief asked a question of his messenger.
"Heaps of them," he said to Ronald, for the natives are incapable of
counting beyond very low figures. "Too many; no chance to attack them;
must follow behind. They show us the way."
"But how do we know whereabouts they will come out of the wood, Kreta?
It's miles long; while we are watching at one place, they may be off in
another."
"That's so, incos; no use to watch the wood. We must go on to the Great
Fish River. Only two places where they can ford it--Double Drift and
Cornetjies Drift, one hour's walk apart. Put half one place, half the
other; then when they pass, follow after and send messengers to fetch up
others."
"That will do very well, chief; that's a capital idea of yours. You are
sure that there's no other way they can go?"
"Heaps of ways," the chief said, "but those shortest ways--sure to go
short ways, so as to pass over ground quickly."
"What are they going back for?"
"No bullock in bush, incos, eaten up all the things round, want to go
home to kraals; besides hear that many white soldiers come over sea to
go to Amatolas to fight."
"How far is it to these fords?"
"Three hours' march. We start now. Kaffirs set out soon. Get on horse
again."
Ronald was not sorry to do so, for he felt that in the dark he should
run a considerable risk of laming himself against stones or stumps, and
in any case he would scratch himself very severely with the thorns.
"Tell me, chief," he said, when they had started, "how did your
messenger learn this, and what has become of your other man?"
"Not know about other man," the chief said. "Perhaps they caught him and
killed him; perhaps he is hiding among them and dare not venture out.
This man tell he go into forest and creep and crawl for a long time,
then at last he saw some Kaffirs come along; he followed them, and at
last they came to place in the bush where there was a heap of their
fellows. They were all gathered round something, and he heard women
crying very loud. Presently some of the men went away and he could see
what it was--two white women tied to trees. The Kaffirs had stripped
them and cut their flesh in many places. They die very soon, perhaps
to-night or to-morrow morning. Then he crawl up and lay in the bushes,
very close, and listen to talk. He heard that to-night heap party go
away to Amatolas and take white woman as present for Macomo; then other
Kaffirs come and lie down all about, and he did not dare move out till
the light go away. Then he crawl through the bushes a good piece; then
he got up and ran to bring the news."
"He has done very well," Ronald said; "tell him he shall be well
rewarded. Now I think he might as well go to the camp and tell the
officer there from me that two of the white women have been killed; but
that the other has been taken away, as I hoped she would be, and that I
am going after her."
"Message no use," the chief said, after a moment's thought; "better take
him with us, may be useful by-and-by; may want to send to settlement."
"Perhaps it would be as well," Ronald agreed; "and the message is of no
real importance."
After three hours' fast travelling--the natives going at a run, in spite
of the darkness of the night, and Ronald leaving the reins loose, and
trusting to his horse to feel his way--they came to the river; after
making a narrow examination of the bank, the chief pronounced the ford
to be a quarter of a mile lower down, and in a few minutes they came
upon the spot where a road crossed the river.
"I think this way they are most likely to take," the chief said, when
they had crossed the stream. "Country more broken this way, and further
from towns, not so much chance of meeting soldiers. You and I and four
men will stay here; three men go on to other ford, then if they cross
there, send one man to tell us; the other two follow them, and see which
way they go."
"Do you know the Amatolas at all, chief?"
"Not know him, incos; never been there; travel all about these parts in
last war, but never go up to Amatolas."
"Then, of course, you do not know at all where Macomo's kraal is?"
"Not know him at all. We follow men, sure enough we get there."
The three men had not started above five minutes, when the chief said in
a low tone:
"They are coming," and gave an order to one of his men, who at once set
off at the top of his speed to overtake the others and bring them back.
It was nearly ten minutes before Ronald could hear the slightest sound,
then he became conscious of a low murmur of voices in the air, and a
minute or two later there was a splashing of water at the ford, fifty
yards from the spot where they had lain down under a bush. One of the
natives had, at Kreta's orders, taken the horse away, the chief telling
him to go half a mile off, as were it to paw the ground suddenly, or
make any noise, the attention of the Kaffirs, if within hearing, would
be instantly drawn to it.
Dark as the night was, the figures of those crossing the water could be
dimly made out, and Ronald judged there must be fully three hundred of
them. After the first few had passed they came along in such a close
body that he was unable to make out whether there was a female among
them. The numbers of the Kaffirs sufficed to show him there was no
chance whatever of effecting a rescue of Mary Armstrong while surrounded
by so large a body.
As soon as all had crossed, two of the Fingoes followed close upon their
traces, five minutes afterwards another started, and scarcely had he
gone when the three men who had been sent to the other ford returned
with the messenger who had recalled them. They left at short intervals
after each other, and then Ronald mounted his horse, which had now been
fetched up, and followed with Kreta.
"There is no fear of our missing them, chief?"
"No fear of that, incos; that star over there shines over the Amatolas,
they go straight for it; besides, the two men behind them can hear them
talking. If they turn off one come back to tell us."
But they did not turn off, but kept on for hours in a straight
undeviating line, travelling at a fast walk. Roland Mervyn kept
wondering how Mary Armstrong was bearing up. She was a strong active
girl, accustomed to plenty of exercise, and at ordinary times could
doubtless have walked a long distance; but the events of the day, the
sudden attack upon the waggons, her capture by the Kaffirs, her
uncertainty as to the fate of her father, the harrowing tortures of her
companions, which she had probably been compelled to witness, and the
hopelessness of her own fate, might well have broken her down. He was
sure that the Kaffirs would compel her to walk as long as she could drag
her limbs along, but as she was destined as a present to their chief,
they might, when she could go no further, carry her.
He groaned at his helplessness to aid her, and had he not had a perfect
faith in the cunning of his companions, and in their ability to follow
her up wherever she was taken, he would have been inclined to take the
mad step of charging right in among the Kaffirs, upon the one chance of
snatching her up and carrying her off from among them.
Roland Mervyn, of the Cape Rifles, was a very different man from Captain
Mervyn, of the Borderers. The terrible event that had caused him to
throw up his commission and leave the country had in other respects been
of great advantage. He had for years been haunted by the fear of
madness, and whenever he felt low and out of spirits this fear of
insanity had almost overpowered him. The trial had cured him of this; he
had convinced himself that had he inherited the slightest taint of the
curse of the Carnes, he would have gone mad while he was awaiting his
trial; that he had kept his head perfect under such circumstances seemed
to him an absolute proof that he was as sane as other men, and
henceforth he banished the fear that had so long haunted him.
It was in truth that fear which had held him back so long from entering
into a formal engagement with his cousin Margaret. He looked upon it as
an absolutely settled thing that they would be married some day, but had
almost unconsciously shrunk from making that day a definite one; and
although for the moment he had burst into a fit of wild anger at being
as he considered thrown aside, he had since acknowledged to himself that
Margaret's decision had been a wise one, and that it was better that
they two should not have wedded.
He had always been blessed with good spirits, except at the times when
the fit of depression seized him; but since he had been at the Cape, and
been on active duty, these had entirely passed away, and his unvarying
good temper under all circumstances had often been the subject of remark
among his comrades.
As he rode along that night he acknowledged, what he had never before
admitted to himself, that he loved Mary Armstrong. The admission was a
bitter rather than a pleasant one.
"I shall never marry now," he had said to his mother, at his last
interview with her. "No wife or child of mine shall ever hear it
whispered that her husband or father was a murderer. Unless this cloud
is some day lifted--and how it can be, Heaven only knows--I must go
through the world alone," and so he thought still. It might be that as
Harry Blunt he might settle down in the Colony and never be recognised;
but he would always have the fear that at any moment some officer he had
known, some man of his regiment, some emigrant from his own county,
might recognise him, and that the news would be passed round that Harry
Blunt was the Captain Mervyn who escaped, only from want of legal proof,
from being hung as the murderer of his cousin.
"I didn't think I was such a fool," he muttered to himself, "as to be
caught by a pretty face. However, it will make no difference. She will
never know it. If her father recovers, which is doubtful, she will go
back with him to the old country. If not, she will go back alone, for
without friends or relatives she cannot stay here, and she will never
dream that the sergeant of the Cape Rifles, who had the luck twice to
save her life--that is, if I do save it--was fool enough to fall in love
with her."
An hour before morning one of the Fingoes came back from the front with
the news that the Kaffirs had turned off into a kloof, and were going to
halt there. The party soon collected, and retired to a clump of trees a
mile back. One of them was ordered to act as sentry near the kloof, and
bring back word at once should any movement take place. The rest of the
party, upon reaching the shelter of the trees, threw themselves upon the
ground, and were soon fast asleep; even Ronald, anxious as he was,
remaining awake but a few minutes after the others.
The sun was high before they awoke. As they were eating their breakfast
the sentry returned, and another was despatched to take his place. The
man reported that he had seen nothing of the main body of Kaffirs, but
that four of them were placed on the watch near the kloof. Kreta led
Ronald to the edge of the wood, and pointing to a jagged range of hills
in the distance said, "Amatolas."
"How far are they away, Kreta?"
"Six hours' fast walking," the chief said. "They get to foot of hills
to-night. If Macomo's kraal anywhere this side, they may get there. If
not, they wait and rest a bit, and then go on. No need travel fast when
get to hills; they know very well no white soldier there."
"What had we better do, do you think?"
"They have plenty of men always on look-out, sure to be some on hills. I
will send two men after these fellows, and they creep and crawl through
the bushes, find out the way and bring news to me; then when they come
back we will start."
"But we must be there in the evening," Ronald said; "we must be there,
chief; do you hear?"
"Yes, incos, but it seems to me that it do no good to throw our lives
away. If you say go, Kreta will go too, but if we killed, girl will be
killed too, and no good that, that Kreta can see; if we go in daytime we
killed, sure enough. Not possible to get into Amatolas without being
seen; all grass and smooth land at foot of hill. On hill some places
trees, there we manage very well; some open spaces, there they see us."
"I don't wish to throw our lives away, chief; if I wanted to throw my
own away, I have no right to sacrifice yours and your men's; but scouts
on the look out would surely take us at a distance for a party of their
own men returning from some plundering expedition, probably as part of
the party ahead, who had hung back for some purpose on the road."
"Great many kraals, great many people in Amatolas," the chief said;
"sure to meet some one. They begin to ask questions, and see very soon
we not Kaffirs, see directly you not Kaffir; might pass at night very
well, but no pass in day. But perhaps we have time, incos. Chiefs wander
about, hold council and meet each other; perhaps Macomo not at home,
very likely he away when they get there."
"Pray God it may be so," Ronald said, despairingly. "It seems the only
hope we have. Well, Kreta, I put myself in your hands. You know much
more about it than I do. As you say, we shall do no good to Miss
Armstrong by throwing away our lives, therefore, I put aside my own
plans and trust to you."
"I no say we can save her, incos, but if we can we will. You make sure
of that."
The next night took them to the foot of the hills, and when the Kaffirs
halted, the chief ordered two of his men to make a circuit, climb the
hill, and conceal themselves in the bush before morning broke, so that
when the Kaffirs moved on they could at once follow them without having
to cross in daylight the grassy slopes of the foot hills. Minute
instructions were given to both to follow close behind the Kaffir party,
the order being that if either of them could pounce upon a solitary
native, he was to stun him with his knobkerry, and force him when he
recovered to give information as to the distance, direction, and road to
Macomo's kraal, and that he was then to be assegaid at once. Feeling
that Ronald might not altogether approve of this last item, for he was
aware that the white men had what he considered a silly objection to
unnecessary bloodshed, Kreta, whilst telling Ronald the rest of the
instructions he had given to the spies, did not think it necessary to
detail this portion of them.
"Where shall we stay till morning?" Ronald inquired of him; "the country
seems perfectly flat and unbroken, their look-out will see us a long way
off."
"Yes, incos, we lie down in little bush behind there. We send horse back
to first wood and tell man to bring him every night to bottom of the
hill, or if he sees us from a distance coming down the hill with Kaffirs
after us, to come to meet us. We lie down till morning. Then when they
go on, we go on too, little time afterwards, as you said, and follow as
far as first wood; look-out think we belong to big party; then we hide
there till one of my men come back. I told them we should be somewhere
in wood, and he is to make signals as he walks along. We will push on as
far as we can, so that we don't come upon kraals."
"That will do very well indeed," Ronald said, "for every inch that we
can get nearer to Macomo's kraal is so much gained."
He removed the pistols from his holsters, and fastened them to his belt,
putting them so far back that they were completely hidden by the blanket
he wore over his shoulders, and then went with the party some little
distance back, and lay down till morning. Almost as soon as it was
daybreak, the Fingo who was on the watch announced that the Kaffirs were
moving, and the little party at once followed. The Kaffirs had
disappeared among the woods, high up on the hill side, when they began
to ascend the grassy slope. They had no doubt that they were observed by
the Kaffir watchmen, but they proceeded boldly, feeling sure it would be
supposed that they belonged to the party ahead of them.
The path through the forest was a narrow one, and they moved along in
single file. One of the party went fifty yards ahead, walking
cautiously, and listening intently for suspicious sounds; the rest
proceeded noiselessly, prepared to bound into the forest directly the
man ahead gave the signal that any one was approaching. For upwards of a
mile they kept their way, the ground rising continually; then they
reached a spot where a deep valley fell away at their feet. It divided
into several branches, and wreaths of smoke could be seen curling up
through the trees at a number of points. Similar indications of kraals
could be seen everywhere upon the hill side, and Kreta shook his head
and said:
"No can go further. Heaps of Kaffir all about. Must wait now."
Even Ronald, anxious as he was to go on, felt that it would be risking
too much to proceed. The kraals were so numerous that as soon as they
got into the valley they would be sure to run into one, and, moreover,
the path would fork into many branches, and it would be impossible for
them to say which of these the party ahead had taken.
They turned aside into the wood for some little distance and lay down,
one being left on the watch in the bush close to the path. The hours
passed slowly while they waited the return of one of the scouts, who had
been ordered to follow close upon the footsteps of the Kaffirs to
Macomo's kraal. It was three o'clock before the look-out by the path
returned, accompanied by one of them.
He said a few words to the chief, and although Ronald could not
understand him he saw by the expression of Kreta's face that the news
was satisfactory.
"Girl got to Macomo's kraal," the chief said. "Macomo not there. Gone to
Sandilli. May come back to-night. Most likely get drunk and not come
back till to-morrow. Macomo drink very much."
"All the better," Ronald said. "Thank God we have got a few hours before
us."
The man gave a narration of his proceedings to Kreta, who translated
them to Ronald.
Directly the Kaffirs had passed the point where he and his comrade were
hidden, they came out of the bush and followed closely behind them,
sometimes dropping behind a little so as to be quite out of sight if any
of them should look round, and then going on faster until they could get
a glimpse of them, so as to be sure that they were going in the right
direction. They had passed through several kraals. Before they came to
each of these the men had waited a little, and had then gone on at a
run, as if anxious to catch up the main body. They had thus avoided
questioning.
Three hours' walking took them to Macomo's kraal, and they had hung
about there until they found out that Macomo was away, having gone off
early to pay a visit to Sandilli. Kreta did not translate his followers'
description of the manner in which this information had been obtained,
and Ronald, supposing they had gathered it from listening to the
Kaffirs, asked no questions. As soon as they had learned what they
wanted to know, one of them had remained in hiding near the village, and
the other had returned with the news. He had been nearly twice as long
coming back as he was going, as this time he had been obliged to make a
circuit so as to pass round each of the kraals, and so to avoid being
questioned.
"Did he see the young lady?" Ronald asked; "and how was she looking?"
Yes, he had seen her as they passed his ambush the first thing in the
morning. She looked very white and tired, but she was walking. She was
not bound in any way. That was all he could tell him.
"How soon can we go on, chief?" Ronald asked, impatiently. "You see, it
is three hours' marching even if we go straight through."
"Can go now," the chief said. "Now we know where Macomo's kraal is we
can go straight through the bush."
They went back to the path. The Fingo pointed to the exact position
among the hills where Macomo's kraal was. There were two intermediate
ridges to be crossed, but Ronald did not doubt the Fingo's power to
follow a nearly direct line to the spot.
"Now," the chief said, "you follow close behind me. Keep your eyes
always on ground. Do not look at trees or rocks, or anything, but tread
in my footsteps. Remember if you tread on a twig, or make the least
sound, perhaps some one notice it. We may be noticed anyhow. Fellows
upon the watch may see us moving through the trees overhead, but must
risk that; but only don't make noise."
Ronald promised to obey the chief's instructions, and the party, again
leaving the path, took their way through the trees straight down into
the valley. At times they came to such precipitous places that they were
forced to make detours to get down them. One of the men now went ahead,
the rest following at such a distance that they could just keep him in
sight through the trees. From time to time he changed his course, as he
heard noises or the sound of voices that told him he was approaching a
kraal. At times they came across patches of open ground. When it was
impossible to avoid these they made no attempt to cross them rapidly, as
they knew that the sharp eyes of the sentries on the hill top could look
down upon them. They, therefore, walked at a quiet pace, talking and
gesticulating to each other as they went, so that they might be taken
for a party going from one kraal to another.
It was eight o'clock in the evening, and the sun had set some time, when
they approached the kraal of Macomo.
It was a good-sized village, and differed little from the ordinary
Kaffir kraals except that two or three of the huts were large and
beehive-shaped. There was a good deal of noise going on in the village;
great fires were burning, and round these numbers of the Kaffirs were
dancing, representing by their action the conflict in which they had
been engaged, and the slaughter of their enemies. The women were
standing round, keeping up a monotonous song, to the rhythm of which the
men were dancing.
As they approached within a hundred yards of the edge of the clearing
round the village, a sharp hiss was heard among the bushes. Kreta at
once left the path, the others following him. They were at once joined
by the other scouts.
"What is the news?"
"The white woman is still in the woman's hut next to that of Macomo."
"Are there any guards at the door?" Ronald asked. The chief put the
question.
"No, no guards have been placed there. There are many women in the hut.
There was no fear of her escape. Besides, if she got out, where could
she go to?"
"Well, now, incos, what are we to do?" the chief asked. "We have brought
you here, and now we are ready to die if you tell us. What you think we
do next?"
"Wait a bit, Kreta, I must think it over."
Indeed, Ronald had been thinking all day. He had considered it probable
that Mary Armstrong would be placed in the hut of one of the chief's
wives. The first question was how to communicate with her. It was almost
certain that either some of the women would sit up all night, or that
sentries would be placed at the door. Probably the former. The Kaffirs
had made a long journey, and had now doubtless been gorging themselves
with meat. They would be disinclined to watch, and would consider their
responsibility at an end when they had handed her over to the women. It
was almost certain that Mary herself would be asleep after her fatigue
of the last three days; even the prospect of the terrible fate before
her would scarce suffice to keep her awake.
"Do you think two women will sit up with her all night?"
"Two or three of them, sure," Kreta replied.
"My plan is this, Kreta; it may not succeed, but I can think of no
other. In the first place, I will go into the kraal. I will wait until
there is no one near the door, then I will stoop and say in a loud
voice, so that she may hear, that she is to keep awake at night.
Macomo's women are none of them likely to understand English, and before
they run out to see what it is, I shall be gone. If they tell the men
they have heard a strange voice speaking unknown words, they will be
laughed at, or at most a search will be made through the kraal, and of
course nothing will be found. Then, to-night, chief, when everything is
still, I propose that three of you shall crawl with me into the kraal.
When we get to the door of the hut, you will draw aside the hide that
will be hanging over it and peep in. If only two women are sitting by
the fire in the centre, two of you will crawl in as noiselessly as
possible. I know that you can crawl so that the sharpest ear cannot hear
you. Of course, if there are three, three of you will go in; if two, two
only. You will crawl up behind the women, suddenly seize them by the
throat and gag and bind them. Then you will beckon to the young lady to
follow you. She will know from my warning that you are friends. If she
has a light dress on, throw a dark blanket round her, for many of the
Kaffirs will go on feasting all night, and might see her in the light of
the fire. Then I will hurry her away, and your men follow us so as to
stop the Kaffirs a moment and give us time to get into the bushes if we
are seen."
"Kreta will go himself," the chief said, "with two of his young men. Do
you not think, incos, that there is danger in your calling out?"
"Not much danger, I think, Kreta. They will not dream of a white man
being here, in the heart of the Amatolas. I think there is less danger
in it than that the girl might cry out if she was roused from her sleep
by men whom she did not know. She might think that it was Macomo come
home."
Kreta agreed in this opinion.
"I will go down at once," Ronald said; "they're making such a noise that
it is unlikely any one outside the hut would hear me, however loud I
spoke, while if I waited until it got quieter, I might be heard. Take my
rifle, Kreta, and one of the pistols; I want to carry nothing extra with
me, in case I have to make a sudden bolt for it."
Mary Armstrong was lying apparently unnoticed by the wall of the hut,
while a dozen women were chattering round the fire in the centre.
Suddenly she started; for from the door, which was but three feet high,
there came a loud, clear voice, "Mary Armstrong, do not sleep to-night.
Rescue is at hand."
The women started to their feet with a cry of alarm at these mysterious
sounds, and stood gazing at the entrance; then there was a clamour of
tongues, and presently one of them, older than the rest, walked to the
entrance and looked out.
"There is no one here," she said, looking round, and the greater part of
the women at once rushed out. Their conduct convinced Mary Armstrong
that she was not in a dream, as she at first thought, but had really
heard the words. Who could have spoken them, or what rescue could reach
her? This she could not imagine; but she had sufficient self-possession
to resume her reclining position, from which she had half risen, and to
close her eyes as if sound asleep. A minute later, one of the women
appeared with a blazing brand, and held it close to her eyes.
"The girl is asleep," she said in Kaffir, which Mary understood
perfectly; "what can have been the words we heard?"
"It must have been an evil spirit," another woman said; "who else can
have spoken in an unknown tongue to us?"
There was a good deal of hubbub in the kraal when the women told their
story; some of the men took up their weapons and searched the village
and the surrounding bushes, but the greater portion altogether
disbelieved the story. Whoever heard of a spirit talking in an unknown
tongue to a lot of women? If he had wanted to say anything to them, he
would have spoken so that they could understand. It must have been some
man who had drunk too much, and who bellowed in at the door to startle
them; and so gradually the din subsided, the men returned to the dance,
and the women to their huts.
Had Mary Armstrong been in spirits to enjoy it, she would have been
amused at the various propositions started by the women to account for
the voice they had heard; not one of them approached the truth, for it
did not occur to them as even possible that a white man should have
penetrated the Amatolas to Macomo's kraal.