Never in the whole course of his hard, chequered, adventurous life,
could John Dawes recall a day spent in such wearing, intolerable
suspense, as that following the night of his young companion's escape.
That it was an escape he now entertained no doubt. The hours wore on,
and still no return of a triumphant band bringing with it the recaptured
fugitive. This augured well as regarded Gerard.
As regarded himself the trader knew that any hour might be his last.
There was an ominous stillness brooding over the Igazipuza kraal
following on the night of furious revelry. None of its denizens came
near him; but for all that he knew that every one of his movements was
intently watched. Try as he would he could not altogether conceal his
anxiety from his own people. The Swazis cowered beneath the waggons in
terror, and even the sturdier Natal natives, with their strong admixture
of Zulu blood, sat together in gloomy silence. Every one of them,
however, had a short stabbing assegai concealed beneath his blanket,
ready to sell his life as dearly as possible, and these preparations
they hardly took the trouble to dissemble from the chief's councillor,
Sonkwana, who still remained at the waggons, squatting on the ground
tranquilly taking snuff from time to time, a very model of taciturnity.
Thus the day wore on, and still no sign of the returning pursuit. With
great good luck Gerard would have reached the king's kraal by that time
to-morrow. Then from speculating as to how his brave young companion
had fared, Dawes's mind went back to the scene of the previous night.
His shaft had told. The threat to appeal to Cetywayo had not been
without its effect upon Ingonyama, and that effect a considerable one.
Still, with morning no message of emancipation had come from the chief,
and Dawes did not think it advisable once more to trust himself within
the kraal; and not being the man to ask another to go where he preferred
not to venture himself, he refrained from sending one of his servants
upon this errand. Still he was very uneasy.
Still more uneasy would he have been, could he have overheard the
conference then proceeding in the chief's hut. Seated around in a half
circle, Ingonyama, Vunawayo, and some three or four councillors were
engaged in earnest discussion, the subject nothing less than the
advisability of putting him and his to the assegai forthwith. The chief
could hardly contain his chagrin and impatience.
"If they return and fail to kill or bring back the boy," he was saying,
"six of their leaders shall die. The Tooth shall bite them. They
deserve that for allowing him to slip through them."
"We have kept this white man and his Kafula dogs too long," said
Vunawayo, darkly. "Why not begin with him, now, this very day?"
"Ha! He is no fool, this Jandosi," said Ingonyama, with a ferocious
scowl. "What if his dog already barks in the ear of the king?"
"Even then, is not the bark of one dog, less than that of two--of
several?" urged Vunawayo. "The king might not listen to one where he
might to many. Besides, he has less and less reason to love the
English; who, men whisper, are trying to pick a quarrel with him about
one thing after another. Such is not the time for whispering into his
ear tales against his own chiefs--against the best of his fighting men.
Is the king a fool that he would exchange the hundreds of the Igazipuza
spears for the lives of two miserable white dogs? No. Let Jandosi's
`tongue' go prate at Undini--if it can reach there. It is as likely to
be cut there as here."
"What, then, would you counsel, my brethren?" said Ingonyama, looking
round.
The _indunas_ shrugged their shoulders, and all glanced tentatively at
Vunawayo. He, evidently, was the Mephistopheles of the group.
"We think Vunawayo speaks clearly," said one of them at length. "This
white man and they that are with him should die."
"I have long thought so," said the chief, scowling ferociously at the
recollection of the indignity he had suffered the previous night, held
at the muzzle of the trader's pistol. "And now--the manner of it.
Shall they die by the bite of The Tooth?"
"That must depend," replied Vunawayo. "This white dog has teeth of his
own, and he will show them. They, too, can bite. He will die; but it
will be biting hard. He will not leave his waggons, and he is well
armed and brave. Now my counsel is this. He cannot always live without
sleep, no man can. Wherefore towards dawn, when sleep is heaviest, let
a company be told off to rush in upon and surprise him. They will be on
him before he can wake, and thus will take him alive."
"I doubt them finding any such easy capture," muttered the chief, with a
dissentient head-shake. "Is there no better plan?"
"Only this, father," said Vunawayo, with a grin of ferocious exultation.
"Have you not said that they who let the boy slip through them and
escape should supply meat for The Tooth? Now, therefore, let us spare
them their lives on condition that they find such meat for The Tooth
instead of themselves. Thus will they dare and do all to secure Jandosi
alive."
"So be it, then," said Ingonyama, after a moment's reflection. "This
night shall he be taken."
Meanwhile the object of these amiable intentions was meditating a bold
stroke. Seated at his waggons, carefully thinking out the situation, he
decided that once more a bold line might better serve his purpose; in
pursuance of which plan he hailed a boy who was passing.
The latter stopped, stared, hesitated; then reassured by a signal from
the _induna_ Sonkwana, he drew near wonderingly.
"I have a fancy to see my oxen here," said John Dawes. "What is your
name, boy?"
"Sicalu," was the rather sullen reply.
"Well, Sicalu, you shall go with my driver, Fulani, and help to bring
them in. When you return this little looking-glass shall be yours. But
you will carry the `word' of your father, Sonkwana, the _induna_ of the
chief, that those who guard the oxen may know I require them."
The lad stared, as well he might. So, too, did Sonkwana. Indeed, it
was hard to say which was the more amazed of the two. As for the
trader's own people, such thorough confidence had they in him, that they
were astonished at nothing, in which spirit Fulani no sooner heard the
above order than he stood prepared to carry it out.
"Will you not ride out yourself and look at your cattle Jandosi, as you
have ever done before?" said the councillor.
"Not so, Sonkwana. This time they shall be brought to me. Give the boy
the `word,' _induna_ of the chief."
Sonkwana cast a sidelong glance toward the kraal, then looked slyly at
the speaker. What did it matter! Let him be humoured this once.
"Go," he said to the boy.
The hours of the afternoon crept on, and still Dawes sat there,
outwardly calm, inwardly in a state of indescribable suspense. By this
time, he was sure Gerard had got through, otherwise he would have been
brought back. Sonkwana, too, sat wondering. He would fain have
departed, but that his involuntary "host" never left him out of his
sight, and to undertake to cross several hundred yards of open ground
contrary to the wishes of a man who could hit a small pebble at almost
any distance with the rifle ever ready in his hand, was not in Zulu
human nature, at any rate, in cold blood. So in outward tranquillity
Sonkwana vied with his "host" aforesaid, and sat and took a great deal
of snuff.
More surprise, however, was awaiting both him and his clansmen. Towards
sundown, the trader's outspan became alive with the lowing of cattle and
the shout and whistle of those in charge. Then in the most
matter-of-fact way, John Dawes gave orders to inspan.
Prompt, intelligent, and as we have said, having every confidence in
their employer, the two drivers, Sintoba and Fulani, and their
well-trained subordinates, were quick to act. In an incredibly short
space of time, the waggons were ready for the road. But during the
process, Dawes had never left the side of the hostage.
The latter, for his part, looked with a kind of contemptuous amusement
upon the whole affair. Did this fool think he was going to walk off in
any such free and easy sort of fashion without the "word" of the chief.
He glanced towards the kraal.
So too, we may be sure, did Dawes, with well-concealed, but infinitely
greater anxiety. Heads could be seen clustering at the palisades, but
still no armed force issued from the gates. What could it mean?
"Trek!" he cried, when the inspanning was completed.
"Trek--trek!" echoed the drivers, and the whips cracked to the
accompaniment of a running gamut of the names of the horned members of
the span. The oxen plunged forward to the yokes, and the great vehicles
rolled heavily from their standing place of many weeks.
"_Whau_, Jandosi!" said Sonkwana. "If you are leaving us, had I not
better carry your word of farewell to the chief?"
"Not so, Sonkwana. The road is not very familiar to me; besides, it is
fitting that a councillor of the chief should start me in safety on my
journey. There is safety on the road, but off it there is death," he
added darkly.
No shade of his meaning was lost upon his hearer, who made a virtue of
necessity, and accepted the position in such wise as though it had been
himself who had suggested it. Besides, the guard on the ridge was
strong. That had yet to be passed.
On moved the waggons; on moved the whole trek; deliberately making for
the exit of the hollow, the leader and driver of each in their places,
the three Swazis driving the cattle, for the sheep and goats had been
bartered away for cows and oxen; John Dawes walking beside the first
waggon, with Sonkwana. On--past the kraal with its great circle of
domed huts, but still no opposition. What did it mean? This silence,
this passiveness on the part of their hitherto aggressive and turbulent
gaolers was portentous.
It was a critical time for Dawes. Each moment he expected the air to be
rent with the ferocious war-cry, to hear the ground rumble beneath the
advance of running feet. How came it that he was allowed to march out
thus with colours flying and drums beating, to march out with all the
honours of war? The chief's councillor was in his power.
No sooner had he arrived at this conclusion than his sense of security
was rudely interrupted. They had gained the ridge, and now, with loud
and threatening shouts, the guards rushed down upon them.
"Order them back, Sonkwana. Order them back," said Dawes, in a quick
low tone. "To hesitate is death," he added.
The _induna_ glanced at Dawes. The latter's attitude, though apparently
careless, he well knew was not really so. He himself would receive a
bullet in the brain without being able to lift a finger, and save for a
short stick he was unarmed. Reluctantly, therefore, he obeyed.
But even his authority hardly seemed to avail here. The guards, some
two score of stalwart and boisterous savages, continued to advance, but
with less demonstration of hostility, with less fell intent of purpose.
Finally, in compliance with the energetic signalling of the councillor,
they halted and began to parley.
The while the trek had not halted, and the two waggons already over the
ridge were proceeding down the rugged hillside with the utmost care and
deliberation. Suddenly Dawes beheld a quick, cunning expression of
triumph flit across the face of the hostage, and following the glance of
the latter, the curtain of despair descended in black folds once more
upon his heart.
For the _veldt_ was alive with warriors, swarming down from the ridge,
charging forward in silence, swift in deadly fixity of purpose. They
had already passed the cattle herds, and were making straight for
himself.
"Order them back, Sonkwana! Order them back!" cried Dawes again, this
time drawing his revolver and pointing it straight at the head of the
hostage.
But the latter saw his chance, or thought he did. Ducking his head
suddenly, he made a rapid plunge to the side, intending, so near were
his tribesmen, to fling himself into their ranks. The trader in his
flurry and dismay would be certain to miss his aim, he reckoned.
He reckoned without his host, however. Instead of the ball whistling
through empty air where his head had been but a moment before, Dawes's
eye, keen as a razor, quick as lightning, had marked the move. By a
sort of backward throw of the hand he covered the fleeing form of the
foolhardy Sonkwana, and pressed the trigger. The chief's councillor
toppled heavily forward on his face, and lay with outstretched arms. He
was stone dead.
What followed was appalling. The report of the pistol was completely
drowned in the wild roar of rage that went up. The first life had been
taken, and that life a valuable one.
"Stand back!" cried Dawes, his eyes flashing fire.
He might as well have tried to make his voice heard amid the thunder of
an Atlantic gale beating among the rocks of the Lizard, or have tried to
force back the power of its gigantic surges. His double gun levelled
low, he poured the contents of the smooth barrel, loaded heavily with
_loepers_--a large variety of buck shot--into the dense crowd. The
result was terrible.
It was all he had time to do, though. The wild, shrill yells of pain
were drowned in the thunderous din, as the resistless volume of the
charge poured over him. He had a vague recollection of once again
raking the closely packed assailants with his other barrel ere he was
swept from his feet, and hurled half-stunned to the earth, and of a
fierce, grim feeling of satisfaction that he had sold his life pretty
dearly. Then the gleaming blades of spears flashed before, his eyes,
and he knew his last hour had come.
Still their points did not pierce him. Half-stunned, half-dazed, he
became aware that some one was standing over him, averting the
threatened blows. Collecting his scattered senses, he stared and stared
again at this unexpected preserver. He recognised Vunawayo.
He was seized and held fast, and amid many a brutal kick and blow, his
hands and feet were securely bound, and he was flung into the waggon
like a log of wood. Then with wild yells and shouting, the Igazipuza
forced round the oxen, and compelling the terrified servants to obey
their behests, and lead and drive the spans, they started upon their
triumphant return amid an indescribable scene of tumultuous rejoicing.
At the first onset Sintoba had drawn the assegai which he carried
concealed about his person, and had leaped to the assistance of his
master. Had tried to, that is, for he, too, had been overwhelmed and
borne down by the impetuous fury of the rush. The same fate had
overtaken those in charge of the hindmost waggon, except one of the
young leaders whom the savages had slaughtered in the first fierce
caprice of their blood-lust, and whose corpse, ripped up and otherwise
hideously hacked, lay by the wayside as they returned. The other
servants, as we have said, they compelled to engineer the waggons.
Battered, bruised, his bones nearly broken, his joints racked well-nigh
to dislocation point by the terrific jolting, poor Dawes lay where they
had thrown him, grinding his teeth in his impotent rage and pain.
Better to have been killed outright, he thought. He was only spared for
some lingering torture--the hideous stake of impalement, most likely.
Many had fallen at his hand in that brief moment--their spirits would be
satisfied by no less a sacrifice.
The savages, running beside the waggons, jeered at his sufferings.
"Does it hurt--does it hurt, Jandosi?" they cried, as an extra big jolt
would nearly brain the unfortunate man. "Ah! ah! there are some things
that hurt far more--far more!"
Thus in wild and riotous shouting the whole crowd arrived once more at
the gate of the Igazipuza kraal--and here the terrible confusion of the
tumult beggars description--the shrill nasal singing of the women who
turned out to meet them, the yelping clamour of dogs, the howling of
those whose relatives were slain, and the sonorous rhythm of the
war-song, all mingled together in the most ear-splitting, brain-stunning
din.
Sintoba and his fellows, having outspanned in compliance with the
peremptory orders of their captors, were seized and unceremoniously
bound. Then poor Dawes was hauled out of the waggon and brutally
dragged through the kraal, amid kicks and cuffs, to where the chief was
sitting. Then he was flung roughly and anyhow upon the ground.
For some moments did Ingonyama contemplate the helpless form of his
captive in silence, and in his massive countenance was a gleam of
ruthless, vengeful ferocity. He had sat in fear, here on this very
spot, the last time this white man occupied it with him--in fear of his
life, be, Ingonyama, the chief of the redoubted Igazipuza. Now the
tables were turned. This miserable captive, bruised, helpless, lying
there half-stunned, should taste what it meant to tread on the paw of
the lion.
"Well, Jandosi?" he began sneeringly. "You are a bird whose song is
over loud; yet now surely are your wings cut."
If John Dawes's bodily attitude was abject, it was only through force of
circumstances. His mental one was very far from having attained that
state. With a painful effort he succeeded, amid the jeering laughter of
the spectators, in raising himself to an upright sitting posture.
"You are right, Ingonyama," he replied. "My song is over loud--for you.
It is even how being sung at Undini, in ears in which it is bad for you
that it shall be poured. Did I not tell you my `tongue' was a long one
and spoke far? Even now it speaks."
"_Hi_! And did I not tell you that we have a Tooth here which can bite
it short? You and your `tongue' shall be bitten on The Tooth, Jandosi!"
"_Ehe! E-he_!" roared the listeners. "To The Tooth, to The Tooth with
him!"
It was the hour of sunset, and the sweet golden glow fell upon a wild
sea of ferocious figures, of hideous mouthing faces and gleaming
spear-blades. The whole population had mustered within the kraal, and
were crowding up, striving to obtain a view of the chief and his
councillors and the white prisoner; and again and again from the savage
roaring throats went up the fiendish shout.
"To The Tooth! to The Tooth!"
"Even now I do not fear you, Ingonyama," went on the trader, intrepidly.
"For my death will surely be avenged--ay, as surely as yonder sun will
rise to-morrow. It may be that the might of the king will rise up and
stamp flat this tribe of _abatagati_ [those who practise arts of
wizardry]; it may be that my own countrymen will. But it shall surely
be done, ye who call yourselves Igazipuza, and my death shall be
avenged."
Again the wild, roaring clamour drowned his words. The intrepidity of
the man exasperated them while compelling their admiration. Of the
latter, however, Ingonyama felt none. He only remembered his own
humiliation at this man's hands, here on this very spot. His features
working, his eyes rolling in fury, he said slowly--
"Let him be bitten on the point of The Tooth."
"Ha! on the point of The Tooth! on the point of The Tooth!" roared the
ferocious crowd in deafening chorus. And a multitude of eager hands
were stretched forward to seize the unfortunate man, and drag him away
to his hideous death of torture.