It may not here be out of place to offer a word of explanation as to the
extraordinarily cordial relations existing between Eustace Milne and his
barbarian neighbours. A student of nature all the world over, he had
rejoiced in finding ready to his hand so promising a subject as this
fine race of savages, dwelling in close proximity to, and indeed in and
among, the abodes of the white colonists, and instead of learning to
look upon the Kafirs as so many more or less troublesome and indifferent
farm servants, actual stock-lifters and potential foemen, he had started
by recognising their many good qualities and resolving to make a
complete study of the race and its characteristics. And this he had
effected, with the thoroughness which marked everything he undertook. A
quick linguist, he soon mastered the rather difficult, but melodious and
expressive Xosa tongue, in which long and frequent conversations with
its speakers had by this time rendered him nearly perfect; a man of keen
intellect, he could hold his own in argument with any of these people,
who, on subjects within the scope of their acquaintance, are about the
shrewdest debaters in the world. His cool deliberation of speech and
soundness of judgment commanded their abundant respect, and the friendly
and disinterested feeling which he invariably evinced towards them being
once understood and appreciated, a very genuine liking sprang up on both
sides.
Of course all this did not pass unnoticed by his white acquaintances and
neighbours--who were wont to look upon him as an eccentricity in
consequence, and to chaff him a good deal about his "blanket friends,"
or ask him when he expected to be in the Cabinet as Secretary for Native
Affairs. A few of the more ill-natured would sneer occasionally, his
cousin among the latter. But Eustace Milne could take chaff with
perfect equanimity, and as for the approval or disapproval of anybody he
regarded it not one whit.
Stay--of anybody? Yes--of one.
And that approval he had gained to the full. Eanswyth, watching her
cousin during the year that he had been living with them, had felt her
regard and respect for him deepen more and more. Many a time had his
judgment and tact availed to settle matters of serious difficulty and,
of late, actual peril, brought about by the hot-headed imperiousness of
her husband in his dealings with the natives. Living a year beneath the
same roof with anybody in ordinary work-a-day intercourse affords the
best possible opportunity of studying the character of that person.
Eanswyth, we say, had so studied the character of her husband's cousin
and had pronounced it well-nigh flawless. But of this more elsewhere.
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"Who are those people, Ncanduku?" said Eustace, after a few preliminary
puffs in silence. "Except yourself and Sikuni here, they are all
strangers to me. I do not seem to know one of their faces."
The chief shrugged his shoulders, emitting a thick puff of smoke from
his bearded lips.
"They are strangers," he answered. "They are Ama-Gcaleka, and are
returning to their own country across the Kei. They have been visiting
some of their friends at Nteya's kraal."
"But why are they all so heavily armed? We are not at war."
"_Whau_, Ixeshane! You know there is trouble just now with the Amafengu
[Fingoes]. These men might be molested on their way back to their own
country. They are afraid, so they go armed."
"Who are they afraid of? Not the Amafengu, their dogs? Why should they
go armed and travel in such strength?"
The chief fixed his glance upon his interlocutor's face, and there was a
merry twinkle in his eye as he turned away again.
"A man is not afraid of one dog, Ixeshane, nor yet of two," he replied.
"But if a hundred set upon him, he must kill them or be killed himself."
Eustace uttered a murmur of assent. Then after a pause he said:
"To travel in a strong party like that in these times is not wise. What
if these Gcalekas were to fall in with a Police patrol--would there not
surely be a fight? That might bring on a war. I am a peaceable man.
Everybody is not. What if they had met a less peaceable man than
myself, and threatened him as they did me? There would have been a
fight and the white man might have been killed--for what can one man do
against twenty?"
"He need not have been killed--only frightened," struck in the other
Kafir, Sikuni.
"Some men are easier killed than frightened," rejoined Eustace. "Last
night some people from Nteya's kraal attacked my brother, [The term
`brother' is often colloquially used among Kafirs to designate other
degrees of relationship] stole his gun, and tried to kill him. But they
did not frighten him."
In spite of the conventional exclamation of astonishment which arose
from his hearers, Eustace was perfectly well aware that this was no news
to them.
"That is bad news," said Ncanduku, with well-feigned concern. "But it
may not have been done by any of our people, Ixeshane. There may have
been some Fingo dogs wandering about the land, who have done this thing
in order that the English may blame us for it."
It was now Eustace's turn to smile.
"Does a dog wander to the mouth of a den of lions?" he said, keenly
enjoying the notion of turning the tables. "Will a few Fingoes attack a
guest of Nteya's within the very light of the fires of the Gaika
location?"
"Your brother, Umlilwane, is too hot-headed," answered the chief, forced
to shift his ground. "Yet he is not a young man. Our young men, too,
are hot-headed at times and escape from under the controlling eye of the
chiefs. But Nteya will surely punish those who have done this thing."
"Let your friends proceed on their way, Ncanduku," said Eustace
suddenly, and in a low tone. "I would speak with you alone."
The chief assented, and at a word from him the Gcalekas rose to their
feet and gathered up their weapons. With a respectful salute to the
white man they filed off into the bush, and soon the faint rattle of
assegai hafts and the deep bass hum of their voices faded into silence.
"Now we are alone," began Eustace after a pause. "We are friends,
Ncanduku, and can talk freely. If there is trouble between the Gcalekas
and the Fingoes, surely Kreli is able to take care of his own interests.
Why, then, should the Gaikas have lighted the war-fires, have danced
the war-dance? The quarrel is not theirs."
"The wrongs of the Paramount Chief are the wrongs of the whole Xosa
race," answered the Kafir. "See now. We love not your brother,
Umlilwane. Yet, tell him to collect his flocks and his herds and to
leave, to depart into a quieter country, and that speedily; for the land
will soon be dead." [Native idiom for war.]
"And what if he refuses?"
"Then he, too, will soon be dead."
For some minutes Eustace kept silence. The Kafir's remark had added
fuel to the fire which was burning within his heart. It seemed a direct
answer to lurid unspoken thoughts which had been surging through his
mind at the time of his surprise by the at first hostile party.
"Umlilwane is an obstinate man," he said at length. "What if he laughs
at the warning?"
"When a man sits inside his house and laughs while his house is burning,
what happens to him, Ixeshane?"
"He stands a fair chance of being burnt too. But listen, Ncanduku. You
have no quarrel against the _Inkosikazi_. [Literally Chieftainess. In
this instance `lady.'] Surely not a man of the House of Gaika would harm
her!"
The chief shook his head with a troubled expression.
"Let her go, too!" he said emphatically. "Let her go, too, and that as
soon as possible. When the red wave of war is rolling over the land,
there is no place where the delicate feet of white women may stand dry.
We are friends, Ixeshane. For your sake, and for that of the
_Inkosikazi_, tell Umlilwane to gather together his cattle and to go."
"We are friends, indeed, Ncanduku. But how long can we be so? If war
breaks out between our people how can I sit still? I cannot. I must
fight--must fight for my own race, and in defence of our property. How,
then, can we remain friends?"
"In war-time every man must do his duty," answered the Gaika. "He must
obey the word of his chief and fight for his race and colour."
"Truly spoken and well understood. And now a warning for a warning. If
I had the ears of your chiefs and _amapakati_ [Councillors] this is what
I should say: Do not be drawn into this war. Let the Gcalekas fight out
their own quarrel. They stand upon wholly different ground. If they
are vanquished--as, of course, they will be in the long run--the
Government will show them mercy, will treat them as a conquered people.
But you, and the other tribes within the colonial border, are British
subjects. Queen Victoria is your chief, not Kreli, not Sandili, not
Seyolo, not Ndimba--no man of the House of Gaika or Hlambi, but the
White Queen. If you make war upon the Colony the Government will treat
you as criminals, not as a conquered people, but as rebels against the
Queen, your chief. You will be shown no mercy. Your chiefs will very
likely be hung and your fighting men will be sent to the convict prisons
for many a long year. That when you are beaten. And how long can you
carry on the war? Things are not as they were. The country is not as
it was. Think of the number of soldiers that will be sent against you;
of the police; of the settlers, who will turn out to a man--all armed
with the best breechloaders, mind. And what sort of weapons have you?
A few old muzzle loaders more dangerous to the shooter than to his mark.
What can you do with these and your assegais against people armed with
the best rifles in the world? I am indeed your friend, Ncanduku, and
the friend of your race. Let my warning sink deep in your mind, and
carry it to the chiefs. Let them be wise in time."
"The words of Ixeshane are always the words of wisdom," said the Kafir,
rising in obedience to the other's example. "But the young men are
turbulent. They will not listen to the counsels of their elders. The
cloud grows darker every day. I see no light," he added, courteously
holding the stirrup for Eustace to mount, "Go in peace, Ixeshane, and
remember my warning."
And gathering up his assegais the chief disappeared among the trees,
following the direction taken by the larger party.