At the time when Dawes and Gerard were commencing their return journey
from Swaziland--having achieved, as we have said, a fairly successful
enterprise--there began to get about rumours with regard to a certain
tribe, or rather clan, which was credited with strange, and, to native
ideas, most gruesome and repellent practices. The principal of these
was a custom, or a rule rather, that each member of this weird
confraternity should drink a portion of the blood of some human being
slain by him. It need not be an enemy slain in battle, or even an enemy
at all. Any one would do, whether man, woman, or child. From this
practice the clan was said to take its name--Igazipuza--"blood-drink,"
i.e. "Blood-drinkers."
Rumour could not yet quite locate its habitation nor its numerical
strength. Whether, again, it inhabited the grim natural fastnesses of
the Lebombo range, or the hill-country just south of the Pongolo, was
equally uncertain. What was certain, however, was that its sporadic
raids, and the ruthless massacre of all who fell in its way, had about
depopulated the strip of debatable borderland between the Swazi and the
Zulu countries. Kraals were deserted, and crops left standing, as the
inhabitants fled northward in blind panic at the mere rumour of the
approach of the Igazipuza, so complete was the terror inspired by the
very name of this ferocious and predatory clan.
Its chief was one Ingonyama, a Zulu, to which nationality belonged the
bulk if not the whole of its members. Indeed, on this consideration, if
on no other, would Dawes have scouted the imputed blood-drinking custom
as absolutely mythical, for no one has a greater horror of coming in
contact with human blood that he has not himself shed than the Zulu, and
even when he has shed it, he takes the earliest opportunity of
undergoing a very elaborate series of purifying rites. True, he is far
from unwilling to render himself liable to the latter process, but he is
scrupulously particular on the point of the observance. The clan was
far more likely to owe its weird name to the war-cry of its members than
to any such legendary practice. But, however sceptical John Dawes, and,
through him, Gerard, might be upon the point, certain it is that the
Swazis were firm believers in the lurid and repulsive legend; and, as
Dawes had said, the wonder was that any of that race had been induced to
enter into their service at all; indeed, they had only done so as part
of their bargaining. The cattle they had acquired would need herds and
drivers, and these the Swazi chiefs had agreed to supply as a portion of
the barter.
Now the said chiefs, talking matters over quietly with Dawes, had given
their opinion that the existence of such a predatory clan was an
undoubted fact. Ingonyama was a Zulu of rank, and a man of the Qulusi
tribe. He was known as a skilful and dashing fighter, and had gathered
around him, in his mountain stronghold, an increasing number of kindred
spirits, and now had rendered his name and theirs a terror to the whole
northern border. That Cetywayo should allow such a growing power to
spring up within the pale of his own rule was accountable perhaps by the
consideration that, pending his quarrel with the English and the
probable invasion of the country, he could not afford to alienate so
valuable an ally as this influential vassal; also, it might be, by the
fact that Ingonyama, over and above his skill and valour as a war-chief,
was accounted a witch-doctor or magician of no small cleverness and
renown. Such, then, was the nature of this new form of terror which
overhung the return path of the trading expedition; and gazing up at the
fantastic contours of the succession of conical hills, and the gloomy
belts of forest around their base--the wild fastnesses of this fierce
horde--every man who took part in that trek was fully capable of
appreciating the peril of the situation.
The night passed without disturbance; so, too, did the somewhat dreaded
hour of dawn. While making up the fire for the early cup of coffee,
Sintoba took the opportunity of saying to his master--
"There is going to be trouble, _Inkose_. Those Swazi dogs intend to run
away."
"So?" said Dawes, as calmly as though the other had told him the fire
was rather difficult to light.
"I heard them talking it over, and Fulani says they told him all about
it. They are coming to you in a body to ask for their pay, and then
they are going to leave."
"So?" said Dawes again. "Now, listen, Sintoba. No one ever played me
any such trick with impunity, and it is not going to be done to-day. Do
you and Fulani stroll up to me while I am talking to them--quite
quietly, you know, as if you were looking for a _ram_ or something which
might be in the waggon. My answer to them shall not be given in a
corner. Now go away, or they will suspect."
"What is to be the programme?" said Gerard, when they were alone; for
although far from having attained Dawes's ease and fluency in the Zulu
language, still he had learned a great deal, and understood the burden
of the above, if not every word.
"Simplicity itself, Ridgeley, as you'll see directly," replied Dawes,
sipping his steaming coffee with the utmost deliberation. "But I think
our Swazi friends will not shape a course for their own country to-day.
Ah, here they come."
The Swazis, to the number of six, were approaching from their side of
the camp. It could be seen that they had rolled up all their effects
into bundles, which were lying where they had slept. Their spokesman, a
tall, lanky, wolf-faced fellow, named Kazimbi, asked if they could speak
to the Inkose.
"Not yet, Kazimbi," replied Dawes, imperturbably. "Wait until I have
done my coffee."
The men drew back and stood talking in smothered whispers. Dawes
finished his cup, and filled himself up another, taking rather longer
over it than he would ordinarily have done. Then he lighted his pipe.
"Now I am ready," he said, rising and strolling over to the waggon,
where he seated himself on the disselboom. Gerard, who had hardly been
able to restrain his impatience, followed.
"The people want to go home, Inkose," began Kazimbi, when they had
ranged themselves in front of the two white men. "They are tired."
"Or frightened?" said Dawes, quietly.
"They are grateful to you, Inkose, and call you their father. But the
way is long they say, far longer than they expected it would be when
they were induced to leave their own country. They are tired and
footsore and want to return."
"That is not all, Kazimbi. They are frightened."
"_Whou_!" exclaimed the man with a half smile, and bringing his hand to
his mouth with a rapid gesture. Then realising the futility of any
further humbug, he said. "That is so, Inkose. We Amaswazi are not as
you white people. The Amazulu hate us. There is an _impi_ of them sent
to harry our border, to kill our people, although we are not at war. We
fear to go any further. This is the country of the Igazipuza. We fear
them. We do not want to be killed by the Igazipuza."
And an emphatic hum of approval arose from his compatriots at the
speaker's words.
"I cease to wonder that the Amazulu despise you," said Dawes, calmly.
"I cease to wonder that brave men such as they should look upon you
Amaswazi as a nation of dogs, when six of its men, at the first chance
of danger, wish to run away, and leave those who have paid and fed them,
to bear its full brunt. Are you not dogs even to hint at such a thing?"
The Swazis looked at each other, sullen but not ashamed.
"It is this way, Inkose," pursued the spokesman. "It is we who are in
danger, not you. The Amazulu have no enmity against you white people.
They will not harm you. They respect you. But it is us they hate. The
Igazipuza will kill us and drink our blood. We must save our lives
while there is yet time."
"Now have my ears been filled with the words of a fool, Kazimbi,"
replied Dawes. "Listen! You say you wish to return to your own country
because you fear these Igazipuza. You say in the same breath that they
respect us whites and hate and despise you Amaswazi. Now are you not
therefore far safer when with us, as part of ourselves, as the hands and
feet of the people these Igazipuza respect, than you would be when
wandering through the country by yourselves? Then indeed would they not
cut the hearts out of you and drink your blood, O fool, Kazimbi, tongue
and mouthpiece of five other fools? And would you not deserve it?"
Disconcerted, abashed, and somewhat angry at the quiet but cutting irony
thus turned upon him, Kazimbi made no immediate reply, while murmurs of
impatience began to arise among his countrymen. Gerard, who had
followed every word of the dialogue with the keenest of interest,
noticed that Sintoba--and Fulani, the other waggon-driver, a big,
strong, trustworthy native--had edged up close behind the group, though
apparently engaged on some other business. The leaders, too, a couple
of ordinarily intelligent native lads, were squatting hard by, watching
the proceedings. None of these apparently were armed, whereas the
Swazis all carried sticks.
"_Au_!" exclaimed Kazimbi sullenly, and throwing off all disguise. "Pay
us our wage, and let us depart."
"If you depart it will be without your wage, which you will have
forfeited by breaking your agreement and the agreement of your chiefs,"
said Dawes. "Are you prepared to face your chiefs with such a story?
Are you willing to throw away the wage of all this service?"
But the malcontents were past reason. The turbulent murmurs grew in
volume.
"We must go!" they cried. "Wage or no wage we will go. We do not want
to be killed by the Igazipuza."
"Well, I say you shall not go," said Dawes, rising to his feet.
"_Hau_!" burst from the group. "_Hau_! we are going now." And an
insolent laugh went up.
"Stand! The first who moves is a dead man."
The defiant laugh died in their throats. They gazed in direst
consternation at the revolver presented full at them, at the resolute
grey eyes behind it--at the two revolvers, for Gerard, quick to grasp
the situation had covered them with his. The complete turning of the
tables was ludicrous.
"We hold twelve lives here," said Dawes, "and you are but six. The
first man who moves will be shot dead, and once we begin shooting, in
half a minute there will not be one of you left standing. Now you,
Kazimbi, walk six paces away from the rest. Only six."
Grey with apprehension, the Swazi obeyed. No sooner had he gained the
requisite distance than he was seized from behind by Sintoba and Fulani,
and securely bound with _reims_. The others standing huddled together
like sheep, still covered by the deadly six-shooters, whose dread
capacities they knew only too well, were round-eyed with fear. And
behind them they caught a glimpse of the two leaders, each armed with a
broad-bladed stabbing assegai, which had come forth from some cunning
place of concealment.
"Tie him across the waggon wheel," said Dawes. And in a trice the
spokesman of the malcontents was spread-eagled across the wheel,
triangled in such wise that he could move neither hand nor foot.
Dawes took a couple of _reims_ from an after-ox yoke, and deliberately
tied a knot in each. No longer was there any necessity to hold the
others covered with the pistols. They were completely cowed. Then
speaking, he said--
"You are a set of miserable cowards, you Amaswazi. You thought
yourselves just strong enough to defy me and run away and leave me in
the lurch, but you have found out your mistake. Now this is my word to
you. You will return to your duties as before, until I choose to
dismiss you, and it will depend upon your future behaviour whether I
shall fine you a part of your wage for this mutinous conduct or not.
You will either do this or--face the other alternative. Here it is. If
you refuse, you may go. But you go without food or blankets or arms,
not even a stick. Very likely I shall follow you up in the bush, and
shoot some or all of you. But I shall not shoot you dead, only in the
leg or somewhere that will disable you. Then when the Igazipuza find
you, as I have no doubt they will, it is no swift and easy death that
will be yours. I should not wonder if they spent the whole day burning
you with fire. Even if you escape them and return home, what will your
chief say to you for deserting me, and thus causing him to break his
word, for by some means or other I will take care to let him know. But,
first of all, I shall spend the whole morning flogging Kazimbi here. I
believe him to be the fomenter of all the discontent. I think he may
very likely die under the lash before I have done with him, but am not
sure. Now take your choice. Which is it to be?" concluded Dawes,
whirling the knotted _reims_ in the air, and bringing them down with a
sounding swish upon the disselboom of the waggon.
The Swazis, completely cowed, stared stupidly at the speaker. Kazimbi,
triced up all ready for the lash, turned grey with fear, and moaned
piteously for mercy. Whatever course the others might decide to follow,
he would not desert, he protested. He would be the white men's dog to
the end of time, only let them spare him now. It was hard that his skin
should depend on the decision of the others, he pleaded--drawing down
upon himself the somewhat grimly ironical retort that, whereas he had
been their spokesman, now they were his.
"We will remain as before," said the others, almost immediately. "We
will fulfil our duties until we are no longer wanted."
"Very good," said Dawes, with the self-possession of a man who had
foreseen this result all along. "Untie Kazimbi."
On returning to where they had left their property, such of the Swazis
as possessed assegais found that those weapons had been removed. Their
sticks only were left them. Then orders were given to inspan and the
trek was resumed.
As though to obliterate their former misconduct, the behaviour of the
malcontents was admirable. But the eye of their masters was ever upon
them. Dawes and Gerard, riding on horseback, had a knack of turning up
here, there, and everywhere during the trek. No opportunity for
desertion was allowed them.
"I don't know quite what to think, Ridgeley," said Dawes, as they rode
on a little ahead, about an hour before the evening outspan. "We've
squashed their devilment for the time being, but, after all, we are very
much at their mercy. The _schelms_ might hook it any hour of the night
they chose, for all we'd be the wiser. We can't mount guard over them
all night--besides, it's bad policy."
"Why shouldn't we mount guard over them all night--one of us by turns?
It would be no joke if they did clear out. We should be mighty short
handed with all the trek stock. Besides, they might betray us to these
Igazipuza they seem in such a mortal funk of."
"Not the least chance of that. They'd get the worst of it themselves.
Besides the Igazipuza know all about us by this time--even if they
haven't been watching us all along. Remember that fellow who killed our
buck--Vunawayo!"
"The idea of being watched is distinctly demoralising," said Gerard.
"There's a sort of creepy, eerie feeling about the notion, don't you
know."
"I'm inclined to plead guilty to something of an error of judgment,"
said Dawes. "A fellow of my experience ought to have known better than
pooh-pooh any native story however tall. I didn't believe in the
existence of these people, and now I do. The chap we met yesterday left
us under no sort of doubt as to their existence. I'm afraid we shall
have trouble with them yet. All this stock we've got along is
temptation enough to any thieving gang. No. We ought to have avoided
this border altogether, and trekked straight down to Luneburg. Well
it's of no use now talking of what ought to have been done. We must
just push on and trust to luck to get us through."
Nothing in Nature suggested the brooding peril which overhung their
path. The deep blue of the sky was without a cloud. The scenery of
this beautiful wilderness, with its boldly outlined hills, was wild and
romantic, but not forbidding. There was plenty of the smaller species
of game to be shot for the going after--partridges and francolin, and a
bush-buck or so--and the warm air was musical with the voices of
ringdoves, with many a strange bird-call from the black strips of bush
which belted the slopes of the hills.
"Hallo, hallo! What's all this?" said Dawes, suddenly, as they rounded
a spur.
There was a prodigious flapping of wings, and a cloud of great white
vultures rose from the ground to join a number of others which were
wheeling lazily overhead. At sight of the horsemen, however, the
swooping circles widened and the great birds darted off. In a moment
they seemed to disappear.
"Here's a chap who can't fly!" cried Gerard, eagerly, putting his horse
at one of the _aasvogels_, who, thoroughly gorged, could only waddle
along like a puffin. And then a cry of horror escaped him, and his face
paled. Boiling gently down the slope of the ground, where the vulture
had let go of it, was a severed head--the head of a native child of
about nine or ten years of age. Grim and gory, with the eyes picked out
by the carrion birds, the frightful object rolled. Gerard felt nearly
sick with horror. At the same time Dawes's horse, shying violently,
nearly unseated his rider.
The slope of the hill here was covered by a low, bushy scrub. Lying
about among this, contorted into ghastly attitudes, were several bodies,
all natives, and representing all ages and sexes. They had been torn by
the vultures, and ripped and mangled by their slayers, and the
appearance they presented to those who thus came upon them wholly
unexpectedly in the midst of the wilderness was inexpressibly hideous
and horrible. Three of the bodies were those of full-grown men, the
rest women and children--thirteen persons in all. They were covered
with assegai-stabs, out of which the blood seemed yet to ooze, and they
were all ripped up, a circumstance which pointed to their slayers being
of Zulu nationality. Why had these poor creatures, thus travelling
peaceably through the country--for fragments of mats and other articles
pointed to the probability of it being a family trek--been thus fallen
upon and ruthlessly butchered--men, women, and children, even to the
month-old baby speared again and again on its mother's back? Who had
done it? The two white discoverers of the massacre looked at each
other, and the mind of each shaped the same reply--Igazipuza.
A shadow passed between them and the sun, then another and another. The
vultures, having become accustomed to the cause of their first alarm,
had gathered again, impatient to drop down to their horrible feast. To
Gerard it seemed that all the virtue had gone out of the sweet golden
sunlight, yielding place to a flaming brassy glare, and the atmosphere
seemed to reek of blood.
"Poor devils!" said Dawes. "They're `eaten up' and no mistake. We had
better not let on about this to the `boys,' or all that diplomacy this
morning is just thrown away. Nothing on earth would keep them from
taking to their heels."
After all, it is human to err, and Dawes for once was wrong in his
judgment. Had the Swazis but stumbled upon the horrid sight, it would
most effectually have killed in them any further desire to tempt their
fate in a journey on their own account. They would have demanded
nothing better than to hug the vicinity of the waggons as closely as
possible.
With a dire foreboding of impending peril upon them the two quitted the
spot, and rode back upon their track, for they had come on ahead rather
further than they had intended. They had not progressed far, when Dawes
said quietly--
"Don't start, Ridgeley. But if you can do so without turning your head,
look up--to the left."
Gerard did so. High up on the slope of the hillside was a flash and
shimmer of something. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun glinted
upon the points of spears, upon the smooth surface of great shields. A
group of armed savages sat watching the two horsemen.
Whatever their intentions might have been, whether hostile or the
reverse, they made not the slightest attempt at concealment. There they
sat--out in the open. Had they been watching them when they discovered
the massacre; could they, indeed, have been seen from that point of
vantage? That these were the perpetrators of that barbarous deed Dawes
had little doubt. They were but few, certainly--a dozen at most--but
how many more were concealed close at hand, ready to spring out upon
them!
It was a terribly trying situation. While feigning to talk at their
ease as they rode along, the nerves of both of our two friends were
strung to the uttermost. Every moment might come the whiz of assegais
from the bush, which in places grew right down to the path--every moment
the roar of the war-shout, the swift and tiger-like charge. To Gerard
especially, less accustomed to peril than his companion, and by nature
less cool, the situation was desperately trying; and by the time they
reached the waggons, and the spot being convenient, ordered an outspan
then and there, the dark cloud of peril hovering above them seemed to
brood thicker and thicker. Even the very sun seemed to set in a lurid
sea of blood.