It was a glorious April morning, and the scene was pleasant enough on
the banks of the Limpolulo, not far from a small kraal of native huts
called Origstadt, where a tributary stream runs into the river. A light
subaltern's tent, with its single pole, was pitched under a clump of
spreading trees; close to it stood a waggon, with a hooped tilt and
strong canvas covering, while fourteen powerful oxen were browsing near.
Behind the tent two horses were picketed. Seven men were variously
employed, some cutting wood for the fire, which blazed up merrily under
a tree, some cooking, and others mending the heavy harness, in readiness
for the morrow's march. On a branch near, hung the carcase of a fat
eland, from which animal a strongly built Hottentot was employed cutting
a large slice with his long sharp knife. In front of the tent, with a
couple of Madras cowrie baskets at his feet, busily engaged sponging out
a rifle, Captain Hughes was seated. There was not much water in the
river, though there had been trouble enough in crossing it the day
before with the waggon, on account of the huge boulders of stone rolled
down during the rainy season. A rich plain stretched away towards the
mountains, which were those of the Drakenburgh range, and the course of
the river, as it wound here and there, could be easily marked until it
was lost in the thick woods near the hills. Unlike the vast dried up
plains of India, this African land was undulating, dotted with clumps of
trees and covered with grass, which here and there near the river grew
to a great height. A conical hill, called the Silver Mountain, rose
about ten miles away, and beyond the Drakenburgh range lay the country
ruled by the powerful native chief Mozelkatse. In the trees by the
water side the parrots were screaming and chattering, and some beautiful
squirrels were playing among the branches or chasing each other in the
sunshine.
A deep dead silence reigned around, broken only by the murmur of the
water, the occasional scream of the parrots, and the hum of the
mosquitoes, which were so numerous on the banks of the Limpolulo as to
be nearly unendurable even to the practised Indian. A more peaceful
scene could not be imagined, when suddenly the silence was broken, and a
long peculiar melancholy cry came floating on the breeze.
Starting up, his rifle in two pieces in his hand, the soldier listened
eagerly. The men had evidently heard it too, for their chattering
ceased; the tall, powerful Kaffir, who had been cutting up the eland,
pausing with the knife between his teeth, a large lump of meat in either
hand, and his head bent on one side, in an attitude of deep attention, a
perfect bronze statue. An interval of silence intervened, and then once
more the same prolonged, tremulous, far distant cry came floating as it
were down on the breeze.
"No Zulu cry that, master," said Luji, dropping, as he spoke, the knife
from between his teeth, and his frame relaxing from its stiffened
position of intense listening. Again the tremulous cry came, sounding
so far away that even in that clear air it seemed as though the final
notes of the word coooi, long dwelt upon, alone reached the river bank.
"I have it, Luji!" suddenly exclaimed Hughes. "Put that venison down,
get your rifle, and follow me." The Kaffir obeyed, dropping the two
huge lumps of meat into a cauldron, which, half filled with mealies, was
destined to make a stew for the twelve o'clock meal, and then
deliberately washing his hands in the water, he went to the waggon,
disappeared under the tilt for a moment, and soon stood by his master's
side, armed with a heavy rifle.
"What master think the cry?" he asked.
"I think it is the Australian bush cry, which I never heard before, but
which I have read of; and if I am right there must be a European, not
able to find our camp."
Luji, as has already been said, was a Hottentot, and a true type of his
class. He was not brave to rashness, but was a merry, careless fellow,
ever ready for anything, and reckless and improvident to a degree seldom
equalled. He was no beauty, his woolly hair surmounting a yellow-black
face, ornamented by a mouth large enough to suffice for even his
enormous appetite. High cheek-bones, the elongated eyes peculiar to his
race set widely apart, a broad powerful chest, and sinewy limbs,
complete the portrait.
He was faithful, very idle, and a fair shot. Merry as a child when
pleased, but if wronged or annoyed, passionate and revengeful. He spoke
the language of the Zulu Kaffirs, had a fair smattering of English, and
was a good cook.
Over-readiness with his long knife was a fault in him, and had already
given much trouble. The rest of the men were Kaffirs and Bechuanas, one
of them named Noti being a good shot, and a well-known hunter; and all
were picked men, models of manly beauty cast in bronze.
Restless, active, and unused to control, the whole band were difficult
to manage, but far above the average stamp of their class,--waggon,
horses, and men having been carefully selected by the Government Agent
on the Zulu frontier, one who had enjoyed a long experience in the
country.
So long as the way lay across the plain, all was simple enough, and the
two followed a sort of rough trampled path made by the antelope. Now
dipping into a deep hollow where the grass grew luxuriantly, now topping
a gentle rise, and pausing to listen for the direction whence came the
guiding cry, they neared the forest-land at the foot of the mountain
range of the Drakenburgh. Troops of eland crossed their path from time
to time, but their minds being pre-occupied with the thought of some
danger abroad, these were not molested. At last, just after having
mounted the slope of one of the undulating rises, they entered upon a
green plain, where, feeding about a hundred yards away, were a herd of
antelope, such as Captain Hughes had not yet met with. They were of a
grey colour, while a narrow white line, taking its origin between the
shoulders, ran to the base of the tail, following exactly the vertebral
column.
From this line seven or eight others of a similar colour ran downwards
towards the belly. The horns were beautifully twisted, like corkscrews,
and the grey colour of the face was broken by an angular white bar.
Shading his eyes with his hand, Hughes gazed at these graceful antelope.
"They are koodoos, master," whispered Luji.
The herd was led by a noble buck, and showed no fear, approaching the
two strange figures with signs of great curiosity. Advancing to within
thirty paces, they stood still and gazed. No sportsman could resist the
opportunity, and as they turned to fly the report of the rifle was
heard, and the buck, which stood at least four feet high, bounded into
the air and fell dead, the ball having entered just behind the shoulder.
Leaving it where it lay right in their return path, the remainder of
the herd having galloped away at a tremendous pace, the rifle was again
loaded, and the two pursued their way. They had advanced about six
miles across the plain, hearing the cry from time to time, and replying,
when suddenly it ceased, just as their onward path seemed barred by a
closely set forest of mahunoo trees, with an undergrowth of dwarf acacia
and tangled creepers. It seemed impossible to pass, but at length,
after long search, the dry bed of a stream was found, up which there
seemed a chance of progressing. Slowly and with much difficulty they
made their way on; sometimes crawling on hands and knees, dragging their
rifles after them, and winning patiently yard by yard; at others fairly
stopped by masses of rock, and forced to cut their way through the spiky
branches of the mimosa, bound together with the wild vines and creeping
cane-like plants. For fully half a mile did the two thus work their way
onwards, their clothes torn and their hands bleeding. The cry had come
from the thicket, and yet further progress seemed hopeless, and they
were fairly exhausted. Pausing to rest, the deep stillness of the
African plain seemed oppressive, when suddenly Luji put his black hand
on the Captain's shoulder, wildly signing to him to listen, his great
mouth working convulsively. Nothing was to be seen as they crouched in
the bed of the stream, and, for Hughes at least, nothing to be heard. A
few seconds passed thus, when, from the tree tops, the long, plaintive,
trembling cry peculiar to the Australian bushranger came, quivering and
undulating through the air. There was no mistake now; it was close to
them, whatever it was; and sounded like the cry of some enormous bird in
pain. Luji seemed dreadfully agitated, and then for the first time, his
hearing sharpened by his position, the soldier could distinguish sounds
the more practised Hottentot had heard before. The noise was that of
bones being crunched by powerful teeth. This then was the meaning of
the long mournful cry which had come sweeping down to them on the banks
of the Limpolulo, and perhaps it was over the remains of a fellow
creature some savage animals were holding high carnival. The soldier's
blood ran cold as his imagination pictured the scene passing close to
him, while Luji's eyes seemed to roll in their sockets as he
gesticulated wildly and signed to his master to retreat, hoarsely
muttering in his ear, "Lions, master; two, three lions!"
Gently putting aside the brushwood which seemed to bar all onward
progress, while he trailed his gun after him, Captain Hughes advanced up
the bed of the stream. There was stern resolution in the knit brow and
firmly compressed lips. The tangled bushes closed after him, and the
great powerful Hottentot turned, to work his way back, leaving his
master to face the danger alone. Once the man hesitated, turned again,
took two or three paces, as if to follow, and then stopped. At this
moment a tremendous roar rang through the thicket. It decided the
matter, and Luji never halted until he gained the edge of the mahunoo
grove, and, rifle in hand, climbed up a tree, where he sat patiently
waiting the _denouement_.
Foot by foot, yard by yard, the more determined soldier now alone worked
his way on, the growlings and snappings growing more and more distinct,
until at last he reached the foot of a large "masuku" tree, whose roots
ran down the bank into the bed of the stream, the action of running
water having bared them. Suddenly a roar which sounded close to him
made him crouch down. It was the same which had decided Luji's retreat.
He almost fancied the beating of his own heart could be heard, mixed
with the snarling and snapping of some wild animals, and the rending of
flesh. His breath seemed to come quick, as, grasping the tap-root of
the tree with the left hand, slowly and cautiously he raised himself to
a level with the bank. It was a splendid sight for an African hunter.
An open space in the bush lay before him, and at the further end, where
a narrow path seemed to lead into the forest, lay the headless and torn
carcase of a horse. An English saddle with its broken girths had fallen
from its back, while to the right an enormous lioness, turned from him,
was gently moving her tail to and fro like a great cat, as she
contemplated her two cubs rending the dead horse.
Slowly and with great care bringing up his rifle, the hunter aimed
deliberately behind the shoulder, knowing that there the shot must prove
mortal, the lioness not being ten paces away as he pulled the trigger.
Hearing some noise, the watchful animal sprang up just as the report
rang out, and the ball, striking too low, instead of killing, wounded
her. The next moment lioness and man were rolling together at the
bottom of the gully, the growl of the wounded animal ringing savagely
among the rocks and bushes. Gripping the helpless hunter by the
shoulder, the lioness sprang with him up the bank. The trusty rifle lay
at the bottom of the nullah, but still the man did not lose his presence
of mind. The pistols at his belt might yet serve him. Slipping his
hand down, he found they were gone, doubtless dropped also in the
nullah, and then only a shout of agony came from his lips as he found
himself, helpless and defenceless, a prey to the lioness.
Her eyes seemed to gleam with fury as she looked into his. Oh, the
agony of that moment, as, bleeding and impotent, his head pressed
against her shaggy neck, he was dragged up the bank, bodily, the sharp
fangs meeting in the flesh of the shoulder. Reaching the open, the
great brute for an instant relaxed her hold, probably only to secure a
firmer grip, and the unfortunate hunter fell to the ground. Placing her
huge paw on the prostrate man's breast, she looked upwards and growled
savagely. The sharp ring of a heavy rifle seemed to mix with the voice
of the lioness, and a stream of warm blood deluged the face and breast
of the fallen hunter, as the whole weight of the dying animal fell upon
and almost crushed him, while consciousness, for the first time in his
life, departed.
"Her head was within a foot of you when I fired," were the first words
which greeted his ears as he revived, and saw a stranger standing beside
him, endeavouring to drag away the carcass. The cubs had bolted
precipitately at the first shot, and presently Luji, who had heard the
double report, coming cautiously up, the hunter was freed from the
weight of the dead animal, a hole was scooped in the sandy bed of the
nullah, some fresh water procured, and, some hours afterwards, the two
who had thus strangely met were comfortably seated outside the little
tent on the forks of the Limpolulo, discussing the eland and mealie stew
which had been prepared for dinner.
"A curious situation for you, a missionary, to be in," said Hughes,
continuing a conversation which the process of dinner-eating had
interrupted.
"Curious enough, and not a very pleasant one," returned the new comer.
"I was returning from the country of the Matlokotlopo, where I had been
to find the chief Mozelkatse, without whose permission I knew it would
be useless for me to attempt penetrating further."
This new comer was of German origin, though his name smacked more of
Polish or Hungarian ancestry. He was a man evidently past his prime,
and his spare muscular frame, his dark hair slightly flecked here and
there with grey, his sunken cheeks and high cheek-bones, told of years
of care, hardship, and, perhaps, of dangers bravely faced; while the
bright, black, restless eyes, the broad, high forehead, the finely
chiselled lines of the mouth, and the firm erect carriage, promised
intellectual intelligence, combined with a determined spirit, well
calculated to cope with the chances of a life such as he was evidently
leading.
"Is this, like my own, your first trial of life on the plains of South
Africa? If so we have begun well," asked Hughes.
"Oh, I could tell you of many a tale of life among the savages of the
Pacific, and of years passed with the hardly more civilised tribes of
North-Western India, and my very object here shows that I am not at my
maiden essay," replied Wyzinski, laughing. "Shall I tell you the
history of the land, and my own views at the same time?"
"Let us light our pipes first, and have some more wood thrown on the
fire. Hallo what's all that?" said Hughes, laughing.
What was it, indeed? for on the evening breeze there came sounds of
talking and laughter, and soon, over the plain, streamed the
missionary's followers, at once swelling the party to fourteen. With
them were Luji and the carcasses of the lioness and the koodoo, flung
across a horse, and as evening drew on there was high feasting in the
camp on the forks of the Limpolulo. Meat was plentiful, and the new
comers gorged themselves with it, singing, laughing, and dancing round
the camp fires. The lioness was skinned, and its hide stretched out on
the branches of a tree; the stars came out, and as they did so the
plains around woke into life. The cries of the jackals, the hyenas, and
the deer, came on the night air, and once or twice, too, a far away low
rumble told of the lion in the distant mountains, seeking, perhaps, his
dead mate. The air was warm and pleasant, as, reclining by the fire in
front of the tent, Hughes and the missionary talked on far into the
night.
"You are among a strange nation," continued the latter. "The first
history of the Zulus is that, in the year 1810, they conquered the land,
but where the nation came from or how it originated no one knows. It
sprang suddenly into notice under their King Chaka, who knew something
of military training, and brought his army into a high state of
discipline. After he had reigned thirteen years, his brother Dingaan
murdered him and then ascended the throne. This wily savage at once
opened out the country to the European traders and to us missionaries,
and the result was that the English annexed that part of the land now
called Natal. In 1829 another brother of the murdered Chaka revolted,
avenged his death by killing Dingaan, and under the title of King Panda
mounted the throne. He is now a very old man, some say one hundred
years of age, and a very enlightened monarch, only he won't let any one
penetrate into the interior."
"And why should you wish so strongly to get into the interior?" asked
Hughes. "Is your object to found new missions, or are you seeking a
crown of martyrdom?"
"Neither one nor the other," replied the missionary, "and I must go back
some six hundred and thirty years before the birth of our Saviour, to
explain my object to you."
"Go ahead!" said Hughes.
"Well, then, about that period, Pharaoh Necho was king of Egypt, and he
collected a large fleet, consisting of one hundred ships, great and
small, in the Red Sea, and if he had not done this, you and I would not
be talking at this moment on the banks of the Limpolulo."
"I don't exactly see what the Egyptian king has to do with the matter.
Listen, Wyzinski, there's the lion again!"
"Well, King Necho's fleet sailed right into the Southern Ocean, until
winter came with its cold and storms, against which the frail ships of
that day could not contend. They then ran for the nearest harbour, and
the crews landing tilled the soil until the fine season came round
again. Then, reaping their crops, with a well-filled hold they made
sail for other lands, and thus those adventurous seamen roamed about the
then unknown ocean, passing Aden, Zanzibar, and Mozambique, and on one
occasion wintering in a beautiful inlet hereaway to the northward,
called Santa Lucia Bay."
"And were none of the ships lost?" asked Hughes.
"Some on this very coast," replied Wyzinski; "and their crews, unable to
return to Egypt, settled in this land, and it is believed by many, by
none more firmly than myself, that the present race of Zulus,
incontestably the finest in Southern Africa, sprang from the fusion of
Pharaoh's seamen with the then cultivators of the soil. Others go
further still, and say that this now almost savage land was the ancient
Ophir, discovered by Pharaoh's fleet, and from which at a later period
the ships of Tarshish drew gold, cedar-wood, and precious stones. Some
of our brethren who have dwelt long in the land tell of a geological
stratum promising great mineral wealth."
"Then you are in search of gold?" asked Hughes, with a slight curl of
the lip, for he could not help, when gazing on the intelligent face of
the man before him lighted up by the fitful gleams of the fire,
regretting that a missionary should show such a thirst for gold.
"Diamonds, gold, and precious stones are said to exist, as also vast
forests of ebony and cedar-trees," continued the missionary, gazing
abstractedly into the fire; "but with these revelations came strange
tales as to the existence of ruined cities almost swallowed up by giant
forest growth; the remains of a mighty but extinct race, said to lie
three weeks' journey to the north and west of our settlement at Santa
Lucia Bay. It is these ruins I seek."
"And Mozelkatse's pass is necessary to reach them?" asked Hughes.
"Yes! will you join me in the search?" replied the missionary, eagerly,
pausing for a while as the other looked moodily into the embers without
replying; and then continuing, "I must not deceive you as to the
difficulty and even the danger of the search. Efforts have already been
made to reach the ruins, and they have ever failed. The jealous care of
the native chiefs surrounds them with attributes of sanctity; the
terrible tetse-fly haunts the country; and the waggons must be left
behind. There are danger and difficulty in the path, but it is one
which has never yet been trodden by European foot. Up to the present
moment all efforts made to penetrate the country have failed, and the
old temples and palaces of a once glorious race, if indeed they do
exist, serve as a den for the beasts of prey, or a refuge for the hardly
less savage Kaffir."
The missionary's pale face and sunken cheek was lighted up with an
enthusiastic glow. The scene was a strange one, the dancing firelight,
the blue sky overhead, the far-away ghostlike outline of the mountains,
the loud laughter of the Kaffirs, as they gorged themselves with eland
and koodoo meat, the white tent gleaming under the starlight, and the
strange cries of the wandering inhabitants of the African plain. Then,
too, the words, "difficulty and danger." Could he refuse to share them
with the man who had that day saved his life?
He struck his hand into the missionary's opened and muscular palm.
"Willingly I will go with you, sharing your danger, your triumph, or
your defeat. But what about the pass from Mozelkatse? Did you obtain
it?" he asked.
"No. As I told you, I was returning from the country of the
Matlokotlopo, where I had been for the purpose. I had left my people at
Zoutpansburgh to follow me, and came on alone, intending to camp on the
banks of this river. In the grey of the morning I was waylaid by the
lioness, and rode for my life. In the open I held my own easily, but
once entangled in the bush, was forced to leave my horse, and had barely
time to climb a tree, losing everything save my rifle. The lioness
pulled down my horse in a moment, and her cubs soon joined her. My
rifle was a single one, while all my powder and ball were left in my
holsters. I tried the cry used in the Australian bush, reserving my
fire until the last moment. The rest you know."
"But what about Mozelkatse? On your own showing, it is useless to
proceed unless you have his protection," asked Hughes.
"He is to be back in seven days, having left his kraal, on a grand
hunting expedition, at the foot of yonder mountains, and he sent me a
messenger saying he would be glad to meet me," replied the missionary.
"Then there are seven days for me to get rid of the marks of that
confounded lioness. Good-night, Wyzinski; it is getting late, and my
day has been rather an exciting one."
Volume 1, Chapter IV.