Suddenly, as if by magic, the wild war-dance ceased, and the fierce,
murderous rhythm was reduced to silence. Sinking down in a half-sitting
posture, quivering with suppressed excitement, their dark forms bent
forward like those of so many crouching leopards, their eyeballs rolling
in the lurid glow, the Kafirs rested eagerly, awaiting what was to
follow.
A group of chiefs advanced within the circle of light. A little in
front of these, prominent among them by reason of his towering stature
and herculean build, was a warrior of savage and awe-inspiring aspect.
His countenance bore an evil, scowling sneer, which looked habitual, and
his eyes glowed like live coals. He wore a headdress of monkey skins,
above which waved a tuft of plumes from the tail of the blue crane. His
body was nearly naked, and his muscular limbs, red with ochre, were
decorated with fringes of cows' tails and tufts of flowing hair. On his
left arm, above the elbow, he wore a thick; square armlet of solid
ivory, and in his hand he carried a large, broad-bladed assegai. One
shoulder was swathed in a rude bandage, the latter nearly concealed by
fantastic hair adornments.
A hum of suppressed eagerness went round the crowd of excited barbarians
as this man stood forth in their midst. It subsided into a silence that
might be felt as he spoke:
"I am Hlangani, the son of Ngcesiba, the Herald of the Great Chief
Sarili [Or Kreli], the son of Hintza, of the House of Gcaleka. Hear my
word, for it is the word of Sarili, the Great Chief--the chief paramount
of all the children of Xosa.
"This is the word of the Great Chief to his children of the House of
Ngqika [Or Gaika]. Lo, the time has come when the Amanglezi [English]
seek a quarrel with us. We can no longer live side by side, say they.
There is no room for the Ama-Gcaleka in the land they have hitherto
dwelt in. They must go.
"So they have located our dogs, the cowardly Amafengu (Fingoes), our
slaves and our dogs, on the next land to ours, that we may have a
continual plague to scourge us, that our sides may be wrung with the
pest of these stinging flies, that our name may be spat upon and laughed
at by those who were our own dogs. Thus would these English provoke us
to quarrel.
"Who were these Amafengu? Were they not our dogs and our slaves? Who
are they now? Still dogs--but not _our_ dogs. Who will they be
shortly? Not our dogs--not our slaves--but--our masters! Our masters!"
roared the fierce savage, shaking the broad assegai which he held, until
it quivered like a band of flame in the red firelight. "The sons of
Gcaleka will be the slaves of their former slaves--the dogs of their
former dogs. Not the sons of Gcaleka only, but all the children of
Xosa. Not the House of Gcaleka only, but the House of Ngqika. Who is
doing this? The Amanglezi! Who would tread upon the necks of our
chiefs and place the fetters of their lying and hypocritical creeds upon
the limbs of our young men till the latter are turned into slaves and
drunkards? The Amanglezi! Who would stop the mouths of our _amapakati_
[Councillors] and drown the collective wisdom of our nation in floods of
fire-water? The Amanglezi. Are we men--I say? Are we men?"
A low suppressed roar ran through the circle of fierce and excitable
barbarians as the orator paused. Again sounded the ominous rattle of
assegai hafts. It needed all the self-control of their habitually
self-contained race to restrain them from breaking forth anew into their
frenzied war-dance. But a wave of the speaker's hand availed to quell
the rising tumult and he continued:
"This is the `word' of the rulers of the Amanglezi. The time has come
when the Amaxosa races must be subdued. They are growing too numerous.
They are waxing too strong. Their power must be broken. We must begin
by breaking up the influence of the chiefs. We must put down
chieftainship altogether. Hear ye this, ye sons of Ngqika? Hear you
this, O Matanzima, warrior son of Saudili, the Great Chief of the House
of Ngqika? Hear you this, O Nteya--_pakati_ of the race of Ngqika?
Hear you this, O Nxabahlana, of the House of the Great Chief, you who
have led our bands to war before the very birth of many of the young men
I see before me? Hear ye this, Maquades and Mpanhla and Sivulele, and
you, Panganisi and Untiwa, of the House of Seyolo of the House of
Hlambi, golden mouthed in council--in the battle-field flames of
consuming fire? Hear ye this, all ye gathered here before me this
night--tried warriors, and young men who have never seen war. The
children of Xosa are growing too strong. They must be subdued. The
power of their chiefs must be broken. Such is the word of the rulers of
the Amanglezi."
This time, as the orator paused, there was no restraining the fierce
excitement of his hearers. Each warrior named, who had greeted the
mention of himself with a low, but emphatic "_ha_"--now sprang to his
feet. No further example was needed. Again, the wild rhythm of the
war-song rose upon the night; again the fierce thunder-roll of the tread
of hundreds of feet shook the ground. Again the circle of firelight was
alive with grim, threatening forms, swaying in measured time, to the
unearthly chant, to the accompaniment of the shaking of fantastic
adornments, to the quivering rattle of assegai hafts. For some minutes
this continued--then when the excitement was almost at its height, a
mysterious signal was given and the whole wild crowd dropped quickly
into its listening attitude again.
"Such is the word of the Amanglezi," went on the speaker. "Now hear the
word of Sarili, your father, the Paramount Chief, the father of all the
children of Xosa. Hear the word of the Great Chief conveyed by the
mouth of Hlangani, the herald--`Lo, the time has come when we must unite
in the strength of brethren. The Amanglezi are urging our very dogs on
to provoke us. The Amafengu are located on our borders, to taunt and
jeer at our young men--to lure our young women over into their kraals
that the very name of Gcaleka may be debased and defiled. Not a day
passes that this does not happen. Why do we not revenge this? Why do
we not execute a sudden and fearful vengeance upon these dogs who spit
at our name and nation? We dare not. The Amanglezi say: "Your dogs are
now our dogs. Touch them and we shall send armies of soldiers and you
will be eaten up"--But, dare we not? Dare we not? Answer me, all ye
children of the race of Xosa! I, Sarili, your father, call upon you--I,
Sarili, your chief. Answer! Show that the war-fire of our free and
warrior race is not dead. It has been smouldering for many years, but
it is not dead. It is ready to break forth as the destroying lightning
leaps from the black thunder-cloud. It is ready to blaze forth in its
strength and to consume all within its reach.
"`Where is my father, Hintza? Where is he who was lured into the white
man's camp by fair promises and then shot down? Do I not hear his
spirit calling unto me day and night. I cannot sleep, for the spirit of
my father is crying for vengeance. It is crying day and night from the
depths. Yet, not to me only. Who was Hintza? My father, yet not my
father only. The father of all the sons of Xosa!
"`Lo, the white Governor has summoned me, your chief, to meet him. He
has invited me, your chief, with fair promises to visit him at his camp.
Shall I go, that I, Sarili, may meet with the same dealing that laid
low my father, Hintza? I will, indeed, go, but it will be with the
whole array of the fighting men of the Amaxosa at my back.
"`Hear my "word," my children of the House of Nteya, _pakati_ of the
race of Ngqika. Hear my "word" as spoken through the mouth of Hlangani,
my herald. Receive these oxen as a present from your father to his
children. Eat them, and when you have eaten and your hearts are strong,
stand prepared. Let the war-cry roll through the mountains and valleys
of our fair land. Let the thunder of your war-dances shake the earth as
the reeds by the water side quiver beneath the rushing of the storm
wind. Let the trumpet tongues of your war-fires gleam from the mountain
tops--tongue roaring to tongue--that the Amanglezi may hear it and
tremble; for the spirit of Hintza, my father, which has slumbered for
years, is awake again and is crying for vengeance--is crying and crying
aloud that the time has come.'"
The speaker ceased. A dead silence fell upon his hearers--a weird
silence upon that tumultuous crowd crouching in eager expectancy in the
red firelight. Suddenly, upon the black gloom of the night, far away to
the eastward, there gleamed forth a streak of flame. Then another and
another. A subdued roar ran around the circle. Then, as by magic, a
crimson glare fell upon the serried ranks of expectant listeners,
lighting up their fantastic war panoply as with the light of day. From
the hill top above the kraal there shot up a great tongue of red flame.
It leaped high into the velvety blackness of the heavens. Splitting up
into many a forking flash it roared in the air--the gleaming rays
licking up into a cloud of lurid smoke which blotted out the stars in
its reddening folds. The distant war signal of the Gcaleka chieftain
was answered.
"Ha!" cried Hlangani, in a voice of thunder. "Ha! Now will the heart
of your father, Sarili, be glad. Now have ye proved yourselves his
children indeed, oh, sons of Ngqika! Now have you proved yourselves
men, for the trumpet tongues of your war-flames are crying aloud--tongue
roaring to tongue upon the wings of the night."
With the quickness of lightning the warriors had again thrown themselves
into formation, and now worked up to a pitch of uncontrollable
excitement, the unearthly cadence of the war-song rose into a fiendish
roar, and the thunder of the demon dance rolled and reverberated among
the hills, while lighting up the fierce array of grim, frenzied figures
in its brooding glare, the huge beacon, high above on the hilltop,
blazed forth sullenly upon the night in all its menacing and destructive
significance.
Suddenly, as if by magic, the mad orgy of the savages was suspended.
For advancing into their very midst--fearlessly, boldly, contemptuously,
even--rode a solitary horseman--a white man, an Englishman.