Gerard, up to his chin in water, concealed by the sweeping boughs, stood
back within his hiding-place hardly daring to breathe.
Then it was that his quickness of foresight in swimming rather than
wading, in swimming beneath the surface rather than in the ordinary way,
stood him in good stead, for the first would have troubled the water,
while the second would have sent a line of bubbles floating down the
sluggish current, revealing the method of his escape to his pursuers.
Now they were puzzled.
By the greatest good luck the manner and place of his entering the river
had been perfect for its purpose. He had got upon the tree trunk in
such wise as to leave no spoor. Even in letting himself down into the
water by the branches, he had managed so as to avoid breaking off a
shower of twigs and fresh leaves, or even bark, to float down and
indicate the way of his disappearance. The spoor seemed to come
abruptly to an end--as if the fugitive had been whisked up to the skies.
The Zulus were puzzled.
They squatted in a ring with their heads together and discussed matters.
What did it mean? The fugitive could not have climbed a tree. In the
first place there was no tree with sufficient foliage to afford him
cover; in the second, he was not in any tree within sight; in the third,
the spoor did not lead up to the foot of any tree. For Gerard, by a
deft spring of a couple of yards, had landed himself upon the nearly
horizontal trunk without treading beneath it. They came to the
unanimous conclusion that he must have got into the river. But how?
The spoor no more led to the river than it did to any tree. Still,
there he must be.
Acting upon this idea they spread themselves out to search along beneath
the bank, and then it was that Gerard first discovered their shadowed
heads upon the water. But searching along the bank was no simple
matter, for the bank itself was a high clayey wall, perpendicular for
the most part, and often overhanging. Moreover it was concealed by
profusion of bushes, whose tangled boughs swept right down into the
water itself, as we have shown.
Gerard, in his hiding-place, could hear the muffled hum of conversation,
though he could not distinguish the words. Then he heard the rustle of
the bushes drawing nearer and nearer above his head. To keep his
balance he was obliged to hold on to a bough with one hand, while the
other held his rifle, not even above water. He himself was submerged to
the chin; fortunately the weather was hot, and his involuntary bath, so
far, was not in itself unpleasant.
A sound over his head caused him to look upward--then start back as far
as he could go. Something shot down from above, and there passed within
a few inches of Gerard's horrified eyes the broad blade of a great
stabbing assegai. It was immediately withdrawn, then down it came
again, this time narrowly failing to transfix the hand by which he
supported himself on the bough. The blood ran chill within his veins,
as he saw what had happened. The Igazipuza had spliced a short-handled
broad-bladed assegai to a pole, and with this improvised lance were
going along the bank prodding down into every likely looking place which
they could not otherwise reach.
He flattened himself as far back as he could against the perpendicular
bank, and again the murderous blade came stabbing down, grazing his
shoulder this time. Heavens! he could get no further back. The next
thrust would transfix him. The perspiration stood in cold beads upon
his forehead, and his brain seemed to be whirling round as again and
again he watched the deadly spear descend. Then hope returned. He
seemed far enough in under the bank to be just outside any thrust they
could make from above. They appeared unable to get his angle. Surely
they would decide that he was not there, and move on.
And this was in fact what happened, and Gerard began to breathe freely
again. He need not have though.
There was silence for a few minutes. Had they gone on--given up the
search? It almost seemed like it. And then just as hope was beginning
to burn once more, there travelled to his ears a sound which quenched it
utterly.
He heard a splash, as of somebody entering the water, nearly a hundred
yards up the stream--a guarded, would-be noiseless sort of splash--then
another and another, and the purport thereof was plain. His pursuers
had adopted another plan. They intended to search along beneath the
bank in person.
Silently, and with the most intense caution, Gerard worked himself into
such a position that he could watch this new move. By the ripples on
the water, by the shaking of the bushes, he could see they were drawing
nearer and nearer. Then the dark forms of three warriors came full into
view as, half swimming, half wading, they passed an exposed point. And
now they were barely sixty yards off.
If only it was dark--dusk even! But the day had only just begun. His
enemies had the whole of it before them. In despair he looked around.
Was there no escape? No--none.
Yet in the blackest moment of dead despair there leapt forth hope, a
hope so wild, extravagant, that Gerard was almost unnerved by the
extravagance of it. The river-bank, as we have said, was perpendicular,
and the soil of the nature of clay, and the action of the water had worn
along the base of this a number of holes, all now below the surface, for
the river was a trifle above its normal level. All? We are wrong.
All--save one.
In the high bank immediately behind his head, some few inches long and
barely an inch above the surface of the water, was an aperture, hardly
in fact distinguishable. But Gerard, his quickness of resource
sharpened by his imminent peril, saw it, saw in it a possible means of
escape.
The hole continued under the water, almost to the ground. He thrust his
foot in, then his entire leg. He could not touch the end. He thrust
his hand into the portion above water and reached upward. It seemed a
hollow dome, just large enough for his head. If he could stand upright
in this strange recess the searchers might pass within a few inches of
him without discovery.
But he must attempt it at once, so that the slight disturbance of the
water which was unavoidable should have time to clear off before they
arrived. Holding his breath--and his rifle, which though soaked and
useless for the time being, he would not let go as long as he could
avoid it--he dived into the aperture, and as he felt his footing and his
head rose above water, he found it was even as he had expected. He was
in darkness, save for the light which came in under the water and
through the narrow crevice exposed. He could, however, breathe without
difficulty, for the air came in by the same way. But there was a
terribly damp and earthy exhalation about it, which suggested an
unpleasant sensation of being entombed alive.
No room was there, however, for any mere fanciful and imaginative
apprehensions, for scarce was he ensconced within his strange and
well-nigh miraculous place of refuge than a disturbance of the water
which came rippling into the hole in little wavelets, momentarily
shutting out the air, pointed to the near approach of his enemies.
Hardly daring to breathe himself, he could hear the laboured breathing
and the stealthy splash of someone swimming or wading. They had almost
gained his late hiding-place, then! Where would he have been but for
this later one?
And then--oh, horror! was he not premature in his congratulations? He
had discovered the recess. Why should not they? And having discovered
it, why should they not resort to the same plan as that which they had
adopted to sound his other possible or actual hiding-places, viz. to
thrust in their assegais as far as they would go? He would in that case
be slaughtered like a rat in a trap, denied even the option of selling
his life. Could he not get back far enough into the hole to be beyond
the reach of spears? No. For even if it went back far enough--as to
which he was in ignorance--he dared not trouble the water to anything
like the extent such a change of position would involve. He must take
his chance.
He heard the splash draw near, then the rustle of the overhanging boughs
as the searchers put them aside. The savages had gained his late
hiding-place. They stood upon the very spot which he had up till a
minute or two ago occupied. He expected each moment to feel the sharp
dig of the spear-points cleaving his vitals.
Not thus, however, was his suspense destined to be interrupted, but in a
different manner, hardly less startling, hardly less fatal. From those
on the bank there thrilled forth a warning cry, loud, quick, terrible--
"_Xwaya ni 'zingwenya_!" ("Look out! Alligators!")
There was silence for a moment. Gerard heard a quick, smothered
ejaculation of dismay; then a sound of splashing, and once more the
bushes were put aside. His enemies had precipitately abandoned the
search, and were intent on securing their own safety. And now the
horror of his own position came fully home to him. This new and truly
hideous peril was one he had not foreseen. The alligator is scarce
enough in the rivers of Zululand, still it exists, or did at that time.
So intent had he been on escaping from his human enemies, that he had
not given a thought to the existence of the grisly denizens of these
long, smooth reaches. And here he was at their mercy. Even this very
hole which had afforded him so opportune a refuge might be the den of
one of these voracious monsters. And with the thought, it was all that
poor Gerard could do to keep his nerves in hand, to retain his
self-possession. With this new horror and his long immersion he began
to feel chilled to the bone. That dark death-trap was like a tomb. His
teeth chattered and his knees shook beneath him. His head seemed
whirling round and round. He expected to feel himself seized by those
horrible grinding jaws, gnashed to fragments while utterly powerless to
make a struggle against his loathsome assailants. An unspeakably
terrible fate!
Meanwhile the first sharp warning cry had changed into a wild uproar.
Shouting, stamping with their feet, hurling sticks and stones into the
water, the Igazipuza on the bank were endeavouring to scare off the
voracious reptiles until their comrades should be safe ashore again, and
indeed the frightful din of which they were guilty was enough to scare
the life out of every alligator between the Tugela and the Zambesi.
Gerard could stand the position no longer. Under cover of the noise,
and in the certainty that the attention of his enemies would be folly
occupied, he slipped from the recess back into his former and more open
hiding-place, and, parting the branches peered eagerly forth.
At first he could distinguish nothing. The surface of the smooth reach
gleamed like a mirror in the sunlight. Then he perceived a dark, moving
object gliding down stream, furrowing up the dazzling surface into lines
of fire, and his heart well-nigh failed him for horror and despair. In
the long bony head just showing above water, the bull-nosed snout, the
stealthy glide, he recognised the most hideous and repulsive of
reptiles, an alligator, and not a small one, either.
The brute seemed to care not overmuch for all the shouting and turmoil
on the bank. Whether it was that he knew instinctively there were no
firearms in the party, or was conscious of his superiority in his own
element, his self-possession was complete. He glided quietly on, then
halted, then turned himself hither and thither, wheeled in a circle, and
halted again, his flat, ugly head lying on the water like the stump of a
tree.
Now that their comrades were safe on land again, the Igazipuza had
ceased their clamour. Indeed, they rather laid themselves out to
observe quietness, for the appearance of the alligator suggested a new
idea. If the fugitive was still hiding along the bank he would
assuredly come forth, preferring to take his chances at their hands to
the certainty of death at the jaws of the horrible brute. Even if
otherwise it would still be rather fun to see him dragged forth and
devoured. The alligator was their hunting-dog, they must not scare it
away when it was about to show them some sport. So they sat still,
eagerly watching it.
Not less eagerly was it watched by the fugitive himself. Gerard, from
his hiding-place stared forth upon the monster with a frightful
fascination. It was lying out in the stream barely fifty yards distant.
As he gazed, it sank out of sight suddenly and noiselessly. Only a few
bubbles marked the place where it had been.
The situation was becoming, if possible, more horrible still. As long
as he could see the enemy it was bad enough. Now that he no longer
could, it was ten times worse, and he pictured the amphibious demon
gliding beneath the water to seize him. What chance had he, standing in
it up to his neck? The water, though not altogether clear, was
sufficiently so to enable him just to see the bottom, and now he hardly
dared look down in it, lest he should descry the hideous squab form of
the frightful reptile, and gaping jaws opening to close upon him. Then
he looked out again. There was the flat, dark object lying on the
surface exactly where it had disappeared, and--near it was another. Oh,
Heavens! There were two of them!
The cunning plan of the Igazipuza nearly succeeded. So inexpressibly
revolting did the prospect of such a fate appear, that Gerard was on the
point of quitting his concealment, of coming forth to meet his death in
open day on the spears of his enemies rather than remain there to be
torn limb from limb beneath the water by these loathsome monsters. But
still something kept him back, a resolution to hold out as long as life
was left; for not only did his own life hang upon the ultimate carrying
out of his mission, but that of Dawes and those dependent on them. So
he summoned all his determination to his aid, and resolved to hold out
courageously.
With the instinct of a true adventurer, he began to sum up his
resources, and they were practically _nil_. His firearms were soaked,
and even if they would go off, he might just as well surrender to his
enemies as fire a shot. He had a knife--a large sheath-knife--which had
formed part of his original outfit, and of which he was secretly proud.
It was an elaborate concern, with a brass-studded sheath and a blade
like a young claymore, and had been the object of much good-natured
banter on the part of Dawes, who pronounced it of doubtful
ornamentality, and still more doubtful utility, for it was too awkward
and cumbersome for a hunting-knife, though he conceded it might come in
handy some day to throw at a fellow, the only conceivable purpose to
which it could be turned. Now, however, the great dagger-like weapon
seemed to Gerard to be worth its weight in gold, for in it lay his sole
resource. To be sure, a hand-to-hand conflict with a full-sized
alligator in his own element, perhaps with two, armed only with a knife
however large, is a formidable undertaking enough, yet Gerard was strong
and athletic, and his courage was now the courage of despair.
He could hear the muttered conversation of his human enemies on the
bank, where they sat overlooking the river a little higher up than his
place of concealment, and again he looked at the alligators. The latter
were moving again, slowly gliding to and fro, approaching somewhat
nearer his position. Were they beginning to scent his presence? It
seemed like it, from their uneasy suspicious movements.
And now Gerard made up his mind that if he was to fight, he must himself
be out of the water. But how? seeing that the clay bank was
perpendicular, and the bush that screened him was not high enough to
shelter him, even if he could get out of the water, not to mention the
prodigious rustle which would certainly betray him to the quick ears of
the watchful savages, did he attempt to spring into its branches. Ah!
He thought he saw a plan. By cutting a step or two in the clay bank, he
could raise himself almost entirely out of the water. It would only be
up to his knees, at any rate, and he could hold on to a bough with his
left hand, while he fought desperately for his life with his right. But
he must abandon his rifle.
And then his very reluctance to do this suggested to him a further
expedient. Those terrible jaws must be held at something more than mere
arm's length. Fishing out of his pocket some _reimpjes_, or strips of
raw hide, which no dweller in the South African _veldt_, somehow or
other, ever seems to be without, he spliced his great knife quickly but
securely to the end of the rifle, thus turning the latter into a most
efficient bayonet, instead of being forced to abandon it. Having thus
made his preparations, he again peered forth to watch the alligators.
And what a lifetime did it seem to him, standing there submerged, a
hunted fugitive, the spears of his enemies lying in wait for him on the
bank, possibly the stake of torture, the ravenous jaws of the loathsome
monsters below. The hot rays of the sun, mounting higher and higher,
beat down fiercely upon his hiding-place, which, in this instance, was
fortunate, since it neutralised the shivery chill engendered by his long
immersion. Minutes seemed hours. He could not hold out for ever.
Exhaustion would come upon him, and then--Ha! Now for it!
The alligators, which had been cruising to and fro in an aimless sort of
way, were now heading straight for his place of concealment. Had they
scented him? Forty yards--thirty--twenty--he watched them with a
horrible fascination. Then they both disappeared. Now was the time.
Placing a foot in the nick he had cut in the clay bank, and with his
left hand firmly grasping a bough overhead, Gerard drew himself up. By
cautiously shifting his position, he gained a little more height, and
thus hanging by the grip of his left hand, his body bent out over the
water, in which he had stood up to his knees, Gerard awaited the attack
of the formidable reptiles.