Inspector Manvers was a shrewd as well as a smart officer, and it was
not long before he had obtained from the two frightened women who had
been made prisoners, sufficient information to warrant him in making
several additional arrests. These, which were effected cleverly and
quietly, included no less a personage than Ivuzamanzi, the son of
Tyingoza. This would have astonished me, I own, but for Jan Boom's
narrative; besides after the defection of Ivondwe I was prepared to be
astonished at nothing.
An exhaustive search was made of the gruesome den of death, and in the
result the identity of poor Hensley was established beyond a doubt, as
his nephew had said. The police spared no pains. They dragged the
bottom of the waterhole with grappling hooks, and brought up a quantity
of human bones, and old tatters of rotted clothing. It was obvious that
quite a number of persons had been done to death here.
"The _Abangan 'ema zolweni_ were strong in numbers but otherwise weak.
Their brethren were too young, and--they talked." Such had been Jan
Boom's dictum, and now events combined to bear it out. Two of the
younger prisoners, fearing for their lives, confessed. This example was
followed by others, and soon ample evidence was available to draw the
web tight round the witch doctor, Ivondwe, Ivuzamanzi and Atyisayo, as
prime movers in the whole diabolical cult. And then, that there could
be no further room for doubt, Ukozi himself confessed.
I own that I was somewhat astonished at this. But since his
incarceration the witch doctor's spirit seemed completely to fail him,
which was strange; for a native, especially one of his age and standing,
does not, as a rule, fear death. But fear, abject and unmistakable, had
now taken hold of this one. He trembled and muttered, and at times it
seemed as if his mind would give way. Then he declared his willingness
to make a statement. Perhaps his life would be spared.
But he was given to understand he need entertain no hopes of that kind
if he should be convicted at the trial. Even then he persisted. He
wanted to throw off the load, he said, for it lay heavy on his heart.
His statement was consistent with that of all the others, moreover it
tallied with all that Jan Boom had told me. The part of it that was
peculiar was the manner in which they had been able to remove their
victims so as to leave no trace. This had been done by means of muffled
shoes. The drug administered had the effect of putting them into a kind
of trance. They had all their faculties about them, save only that of
volition, but afterwards they would remember nothing. Nyamaki had been
easily removed because he lived alone. He, like Major Sewin, the witch
doctor had gradually imbued with a taste for the occult. After that all
was easy. It had at first been intended to entrap the Major, then his
nephew, but for the reasons that Jan Boom had already given me, this
plan was abandoned. Then it was decided to seize his eldest daughter.
Such a sacrifice as that could not fail to move the Spirit of the Dew,
and to bring abundant rain.
No, she had in no way been injured. To have injured her would have been
to have rendered the whole rite invalid. As for Ivondwe, he had gone to
the Major's with the object of forwarding the plan when it was ripe. He
was almost as great among the Brethren of the Dew as Ukozi himself.
Ivuzamanzi? Yes, he, too, was among the foremost of them. Tyingoza
belonged to the Brotherhood, but he had been enrolled unwillingly, and
had never taken part in any of their deeper mysteries: nor indeed, did
they come within his knowledge.
Thus ran Ukozi's confession. When it was read out at the trial it
created a profound sensation, as, indeed, did the whole case in the
columns of the Colonial Press, which clamoured for a signal example to
be made of the offenders. And the Court by which they were tried was of
the same opinion.
When those who had turned Queen's evidence had been sifted out--of
course with the exception of Ukozi--there was still a round dozen for
trial. The Court-house at Grey Town was crammed. Natives especially,
had mustered in crowds, but so far from there being any turbulence, or
tendency to rescue, these were, if anything, considerably awed by the
very circumstances of the case itself. Most of them indeed had never
heard of the _Abangan 'ema zolweni_, and a new and stimulating matter of
discussion was thus supplied to them.
The confession of Ukozi, and of the others of course went far to
simplify the trial. Still, the fairness and impartiality for which
British jurisprudence is famous, was fully extended to the accused. I
personally can bear witness to a good hour in the box, most of which was
spent in cross-examination for the defence. The same held good of
Kendrew and Falkner, the latter of whom by the way, drew down upon
himself some very nasty remarks from the Bench, by reason of having
stated in answer to a question as to whether he had not expressed a wish
to see these men hanged--that he would cheerfully see every nigger in
Natal hanged if he had his way, and they had their deserts. But he
didn't care. As he confided to me afterwards, what did it matter what
an old fool in a gown said when he knew he couldn't have his head
punched for saying it.
Aida, too, was called upon to go through the ordeal, and of course she
did it well. In fact a murmur of appreciation ran through the native
section of the audience when she emphatically agreed with the defending
counsel's suggestion, in cross-examination, that she had not been
ill-treated in any way. There was, too, a great cloud of native
witnesses. Jan Boom, in particular, had a long and trying time of it,
but the Xosa was a man of parts, and a good bit of a lawyer himself in
his way. There was no shaking his evidence on any one single point.
Thus, as I have said, in spite of his confession, Ukozi and his fellow
accused were given every chance.
The indictment, so far, was confined to the murder of Hensley. Had it
broken down--which of course was inconceivable--the prisoners would have
been re-indicted for the murder of the native victims, of two, at any
rate, whose identity could have been easily established. Failing
necessity, for the sake of their relatives, in view of possible danger
involved to these, it was not deemed expedient to include them in the
formal ground of indictment. The verdict of course, could only be
"Guilty." The four--viz. Ukozi, Ivuzamanzi, Ivondwe and Atyisayo--were
brought in as principals--the others as accessories--some before, some
after the fact.
Never shall I forget the scene in court, as they were asked whether they
had anything to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon
them. It was just sundown, and an angry storm had been raging outside
for fully an hour. Growling, cracking peals of thunder had interrupted
the judge's summing up, and now, during a lull, the glare of a wet
sunset came in through the windows, and a few heavy drops of rain still
fell like stones on the corrugated iron roof during the tense silence.
They stood in the dock those twelve dark figures, some leaning eagerly
forward over the rail, their eyeballs protruding in the climax of the
moment's excitement, others impassive and statuesque. Amid the public
was a subdued, hush. The native public especially seemed turned to
stone.
In answer to the appeal the bulk of the prisoners shook their heads.
They had nothing to say, they declared, and then subsided into stolid
silence. But when it came to the turn of Ivondwe, he harangued the
Court at some length. The white man, he said, professed to be the
protector and tolerator of all religions. Now this, for which they
stood there, was part of the black man's religion--or at any rate a
section of it. Why then, was not that tolerated too? Ivuzamanzi, when
it came to his turn, answered with heat, that he was the son of a
chief--that he was a Zulu of the tribe of Umtetwa; that he cared nothing
for a set of preaching whites and their stupid laws; that he only wished
he had crossed the river long ago, and gone to _konza_ to Cetywayo.
There he would have been in a warrior land where the head-ring of his
father and chief could not have been insulted with impunity by a
swaggering _igcwane_ like the one who sat yonder--pointing to Falkner--
who, however, perhaps fortunately, didn't understand what was being said
until the interpreter had rendered it, and then it was too late to kick
up a row. Then he might have joined one day in driving the whites into
the sea, where sooner or later they would all be driven. He was the son
of a chief and could die like one. He was not going to lie down and
howl for mercy like a miserable cheat of an _isanusi_.
This with a savage glare at Ukozi.
The latter said not much. He had confessed. He had done what he could
to put right what had been done. His life was in the hands of the
Government.
The judge drew on the black cap, and proceeded to pass formal sentence.
The twelve prisoners before him, he said, after a long and painstaking
trial extending over several days, had been convicted of the most
heinous crime known to the law, that of murder, the penalty of which was
death. They had only been indicted for, and found guilty of one murder,
but there was ample evidence that many others had lain at their door.
This murder then, was the outcome of one of the vilest, most benighted
forms of superstition that had ever disgraced our common humanity,
whether black or white. As for urging, as one of the prisoners had
done, that such murder was part of the black man's religion--or
anybody's religion--why he could only say that such a statement was a
slander upon the honest, straightforward, native population of the
Colony, of whose good and trustworthy qualities he personally had had
many years of experience. It was a relic of the blackest and most
benighted days of past heathenism, and it was clear that a bold attempt
had been made on the part of the prisoner Ukozi, to revive and spread it
in the midst of a peaceful and law-abiding native population living
contentedly under the Queen's rule and under the Queen's laws. Once
these terrible superstitions--and their outcome of foul and mysterious
murder--took root, there was no seeing where they would end, therefore
it was providential that this wicked and horrible conspiracy against the
lives of their fellow subjects had been brought to light, and he would
especially urge, and solemnly warn, his native hearers present in court
to set their faces resolutely against anything of the kind in their
midst. Not for one moment would it be tolerated, nor would any plea of
custom, or such a travesty of the sacred name of religion, as had been
brought forward by one of the prisoners, be even so much as considered
in mitigation of the just doom meted out by the law to all who should be
found guilty of such an offence.
Sentence of death was then formally passed upon the whole dozen.
There were many influential natives among the audience in court. These,
I could see, were impressed, and in the right direction, moreover I
gathered from their comments, which I overheard as they dispersed, that
to many of them the existence of the Brotherhood of the Dew came as a
revelation. And the comments were diverse and instructive.
"_Au_!" one man remarked. "There is but one among the twelve who wears
the head-ring, and he is the one that shows fear."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The death sentence in the case of all but three was subsequently
commuted to various terms of imprisonment. Those three were Ukozi,
Ivondwe and Ivuzamanzi. As for the latter, Tyingoza had got up a large
deputation to the Governor, begging that his son's life should be
spared, but without avail. Ivuzamanzi had taken an active part in this
new outlet of a destructive superstition, and it was felt that as the
son of an influential chief, he of all others should be made an example
of.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know how it was--call it morbid curiosity if you like--but
anyhow I was there when these three paid the last penalty. I had
visited them in the gaol once. Ivondwe had talked as if nothing had
happened, about old times and what not. The witch doctor was cowering
and piteous. Could _I_ do nothing to save him. He would remember it to
the end of his days, and would tell me many things that would be useful
to me. I told him plainly I could do nothing, but in consideration did
not add that I would not if I could, for if ever miscreant deserved his
fate he did. I gave them some tobacco however, poor wretches, and that
was all I could do for them. Ivuzamanzi was stormily abusive, so I did
not waste time over him. Yet for him, I felt pity, as one led away,
and--was not he the son of my old friend?
It had been decided that the execution should, contrary to custom, be a
public one. It was reckoned that the opportunity would be a good one
for striking terror among the natives, as an example of the fate that
would certainly overtake, sooner or later, all who should indulge in
similar practices. Rightly it was argued that a terrible superstition
of this nature, fostered by a secret society and finding its logical
outcome in barbarous and abominable forms of murder, needed to be
sternly stamped out.
On a grey and cloudy morning Ukozi, Ivondwe and Ivuzamanzi were led
forth to die. There had been rain in the night, which had left a raw
chill in the air; while the wind sang mournfully as it drove the low
clouds along the hill tops. A pit had been dug in front of the gaol, to
serve as a drop, and over this the gallows had been erected. From an
early hour natives had been coming in by twos and threes, and now a
crowd of several hundreds of them had assembled. Their demeanour
however was neither turbulent nor defiant, on the contrary it was
remarkably subdued, and they conversed in awed undertones. With a view
to any possible demonstration a full troop of Mounted Police was
disposed around the scaffold, with bandoliers filled, and all ready for
action, but the precaution was unnecessary. The temper of the dark
crowd was one of subdued awe as it contemplated the preparations for
this grim and unaccustomed method of exit from life; in short just the
very effect intended to be produced by making the execution a public
one.
A hollow murmur ran over the crowd like a wave as the gaol doors swung
open and the prisoners appeared, pinioned. Their demeanour was varied.
That of Ukozi showed, unmistakably, fear--shrinking fear. At sight of
the scaffold something like a tremor ran through the frame of the witch
doctor, and he half stopped instinctively, while his lips moved in
piteous protest. Ivondwe was as impassive as a statue; but the chief's
son walked with his head thrown back, his tall form erect, and a bitter
scowl of hate and defiance upon his face. Then his glance met mine.
"That is the man through whom I am here," he roared. "Are there none
present to whom I may bequeath my vengeance?" And he glared around.
"Yet I saved thy life once, son of Tyingoza," I answered, speaking so
that all could hear, and this I did with a purpose.
"Walk on, Ivuzamanzi, and die like the son of a chief," said the sheriff
to him in a low tone. And he obeyed.
The Indian hangman and his assistant did their work quickly and well,
and the three disappeared from view, hardly a quiver in the ropes
showing that they had met death instantaneously, and in infinitely more
merciful fashion than the lingering and horrible manner in which they
had meted it out to so many unsuspecting victims sacrificed to their
abominable and devilish superstition; and as I thought of one who came
within an ace of adding to the number of such victims I could feel no
pity for them now, which may have been wrong, but if it is I can't help
it.
In pursuance of the policy which had decreed that the execution should
be public, the natives were allowed to come forward in batches and view
the bodies if they wished. Many did so come forward, and the sight of
the three hanging there, still and motionless, with the white caps drawn
over their heads and faces, seemed to impress them deeply, judging from
the remarks they made as they went away. Moreover I have reason to
believe the effect was salutary and lasting. The pomp and awe and
mystery of it appealed to them powerfully.
I had a reason for answering Ivuzamanzi, otherwise I would not have
seemed to wrangle with a man on the very steps of the scaffold. For, be
it remembered, he was the son of a powerful chief, and his words might
be in the highest degree dangerous to myself, and I had no hankering to
be marked out as the object of a vendetta. But I knew that natives have
a strong sense of justice, and the fact that I had once saved his life
being made known, would go far towards taking the sting out of his
denunciation.
"He feared," said a native voice at my elbow.