Madula's kraal, in the Sikumbutana, was in a state of quite unusual
excitement.
The kraal, a large one, surrounded by an oval ring-fence of thorn,
contained some seventy or eighty huts. Three or four smaller kraals
were dotted around within a mile of it, and the whole lay in a wide,
open basin sparsely grown with mimosa and low scrub, shut in by
round-topped acacia-grown hills bearing up against the sky-line at no
great distance.
The time was towards evening, usually the busy time of the day, for then
it was that the cattle were driven in for milking. But now, although
the sun was within an hour of the western horizon, no lowing herds could
be descried, threading, in dappled streams, the surrounding bush,
converging upon the kraal. The denizens of the calf-pens might low for
their mothers, and might low in vain; and this was primarily at the root
of the prevailing excitement.
In the neighbourhood of the chief's hut squatted six or eight
head-ringed men, sullen and resentful, conversing not much, and in low
murmurs. At a respectful distance the young men of the kraal clustered
in dark groups; less reserved, judging from the fierce hubbub of angry
voices, which their elders made no effort to restrain. Few women were
visible, and such as were, kept well within the shelter of the huts at
the back of those of the chief, peering forth anxiously, or darting out
to retrieve some fat runaway toddler, which seemed to be straying in the
direction of all sorts of imaginary danger. And, in the centre of all
this brewing commotion, quite unconcerned, although clearly the object
of it, stood ten men, or to be more accurate, eleven. These were of the
same colour and build, of the same cast of features, as those around
them, but whereas the excited inhabitants of the kraal wore nothing but
the _mutya_, these were clad in neat uniform, consisting of blue serge
tunic, red-braided khaki knee-breeches, and fez caps; and while the
others showed no weapons--as yet--save knobsticks, these were armed with
Martini rifles and well-filled bandoliers. They consisted, in fact, of
a sergeant and ten men of the Chartered Company's Matabele Police, and
to their presence and errand there at that time was due the brooding,
not to say dangerous, excitement prevailing. The nature of that errand
stood revealed in the _indaba_ then being held between the two opposing
parties.
"Who talks of time?" said the police sergeant, swelling himself out in
his uniform, with the swagger of a native of no class who finds himself
in a position of authority, and by virtue of it qualified to domineer
over and flout those of his own race to whom formerly he looked up with
deference. "Who talks of time? You have had time, Madula--more than
enough time--yet the cattle have not been sent in. Now we have come to
take them. It is the `word' of the Government."
A click, expressive of contemptuous disgust, broke from the groups of
bystanders, and with it deep-toned murmurs of savage wrath. But its
only effect was further to develop the arrogant swagger of the native
sergeant.
"Keep your dogs quiet, Madula," he said insolently, with a sneering
glance at the murmurers. "_Hau_! A man cannot talk amid such a barking
of curs."
"A man! _Hau_! A man! A dog rather. A dog--who cringes to those who
throw stones at him and his father's house," they shouted, undeterred by
the presence of their elders and chief; for the familiar, and therefore
impudent manner in which this uniformed "dog of the Government" had
dared to address their chief by name, stung them beyond control. "Who
is the `dog'? Nanzicele, the bastard. Not his father's son, for Izwe
was a brave man and a true, and could never have been the father of such
a whelp as Nanzicele. _Au_! Go home, Nanzicele. Go home!" they
shouted, shaking their sticks with roars of jeering laughter, in which
there was no note of real mirth.
At these insults Nanzicele's broad countenance grew set with fury and
his eyes glared, for beneath the uniform seeming to tell of discipline
and self-restraint, the heart of a savage beat hard--the heart of a
savage as fierce and ruthless as that which beat in the dusky breast of
any of those around. A Matabele of pure blood, he had fought in the
ranks of Lo Bengula during the war of occupation, and that he and others
should have taken service under their conquerors was an offence the
conquered were not likely to forgive. As to his courage though, there
was no question, and for all his insolence and swagger, no qualm of
misgiving was in his mind as he faced the jeering, infuriated crowd with
a savage contempt not less than their own. They represented a couple of
hundred at least, and he and his ten men, for all their rifles and
cartridges, would be a mere mouthful to them in the event of a sudden
rush.
"Dogs? Nay, nay. It is ye who are the dogs--all dogs--dogs of the
Government which has made me a chief," was his fierce retort, as he
stood swelling out his chest in the pride of his newly acquired
importance. "You have no chiefs now; all are dogs--dogs of the
Government. I--_I_ am a chief."
"_Hau_! A dog-chief. _Nkose_! We hail thee, Nanzicele, chief of the
dogs!" roared some; while others, more infuriated than the rest, began
to crowd in upon the little knot of police. Before the latter could
even bring their rifles to the present, Madula rose, with both hands
outspread. Like magic the tumult was stayed at the gesture, though
deep-toned mutterings still rolled through the crowd like the
threatening of distant thunder.
The chief, Madula, was an elderly man, tall and powerfully built. Like
the police sergeant he was of the "Abezantzi," the "people from below"--
i.e. those from lower down the country, who came up with Umzilikazi, and
who constituted the aristocratic order of the Matabele nation, being of
pure Zulu parentage; whereas many of his tribal followers were not;
hence the haughty contempt with which the police sergeant treated the
menacing attitude of the crowd. Standing there; his shaven head--
crowned with the shiny ring--thrown back in the easy unconscious dignity
of command; his tall erect frame destitute of clothing save the _mutya_
round the loins--of adornment save for a string of symbolical wooden
beads, the savage chieftain showed to immeasurable advantage as
contrasted with the cheap swagger of the drilled and uniformed convert
to the new civilisation who confronted him. Now he spoke.
"Hearken, Nanzicele. Here we have none of the King's cattle. All we
have is our own. When we sent in such of the King's cattle as were
among us, we were told to send in more. We asked for time to search and
see if there were a few more that had been overlooked, and we were
granted time. Now we have searched and there are no more. If there are
no more we can send no more. Can anything be clearer than that?"
A full-throated shout of assent went up from the young men. Their chief
had spoken, therefore there was an end of the matter. Nanzicele and his
police could now go home, and go empty handed. But Nanzicele had no
intention of doing anything of the sort.
"Then that is your `word,' Madula," he said. "You will send no cattle?"
"Have I not spoken?" returned the chief. "_Whau_! The Government must
employ queer messengers if it sends men who cannot understand plain
words. If there are no King's cattle for me to send, how can I send
any? Is not that `word' plain enough, Nanzicele?" And again a shout of
uproarious delight went up from the young men.
"There is a plainer `word,'" retorted the police sergeant, "and that is
the `word' of the Government. All the cattle in the country are King's
cattle, therefore the cattle of Madula are King's cattle, and as Madula
will not send them in I am here to take them. Fare ye well, children of
Madula. You have resisted the arm of the Government, and you have
insulted its mouth. Fare ye well;" and there was a volume of
threatening significance in the tone.
No movement was made to hinder them as the handful of police marched out
between the serried ranks of dusky forms, the glare of savage animosity
darting forth from hostile eyes. But as they gained the outside of the
kraal a great roar of derision went up, coupled with allusions which
caused Nanzicele to scowl darkly. For the incident to which they
referred was the curt refusal of a follower of Madula to give him one of
his daughters to wife, at less than the current market value; in which
the obdurate parent received the full support of his chief, who was in
nowise disposed to befriend the Government policeman. The man had since
married his daughter to somebody else, but Nanzicele had neither
forgotten nor forgiven. And now the young men of the kraal followed him
jeering, and improvising songs asking whether Nanzicele had found a wife
yet.
But soon such good humour as underlay their mirth was turned to
downright hate. They had followed the retreating police as far as the
brow of an eminence some little distance from the kraal, and now a sight
met their view which turned every heart black with pent up hostility.
Away over the plain a dust cloud was moving, and behind it the
multicoloured hides of a considerable herd of cattle. These were
travelling at a swift pace, propelled by the shouts of a number of
running figures. The bulk, if not the whole, of Madula's cattle were
being swept away by the Government emissaries.
No further time had Madula's people to devote to this handful of police,
whom hitherto they had busied themselves with annoying. With long-drawn
whoops of wrath and rally, they surged forward, intent only on retaking
their cherished, and, in fact, their only possessions. Assegai blades
flashed suddenly aloft, drawn forth from their places of concealment,
and the plain was alive with the dark forms of bounding savages. There
would be a collision and bloodshed, and the country was in no state for
the heaping of fuel upon a smouldering fire.
But Nanzicele's native astuteness had not been caught napping. He had
been prepared for some such move, for his quick glance had not been slow
to note that many of those who had followed him from the kraal were
arrayed in skin karosses or other nondescript articles of attire,
whereas, only just before, except for their _mutyas_, they had been
naked. This could mean nothing but concealed weapons, and when such
were produced he was ready for the contingency. With hurried, muttered
commands to his men to hold their rifles in readiness, he pressed them
forward at the double, and arrived on the scene of turmoil not much
later than Madula's excited tribesmen.
These, for their part, had rushed the situation on all sides, and things
were already tolerably lively. The scared and maddened cattle, frenzied
by the dark forms surging around them front and rear, halted, bunched,
"milled" around for a moment in blind unreasoning fear, then broke up
and streamed forth over the plain in a dozen different directions,
bellowing wildly, and pursued by the whooping, bounding figures in their
rear and on their flanks; and in a few moments, save for long lines of
lingering dust-clouds, not one remained in sight. Nanzicele's plan had
miscarried entirely. In a fury the latter turned upon his corporal.
"Fool--dog--jackal!" he snarled. "Is this how my orders are obeyed?
Instead of carrying them out promptly, were ye all asleep or drinking
beer with the women? Yonder cattle should have been halfway to Jonemi's
by this time, and lo now, Madula and his herd of Amaholi are laughing at
us. Thou, Singisa--I will have thee flogged out of the ranks with
raw-hide whips. Was I to keep Madula talking for a moon instead of a
very small piece of a day, to give thee time to rest thy lazy carcase
and go to sleep? Ye shall all suffer for this, and dearly."
But the corporal was not much perturbed by this threat. He merely
shrugged his shoulders.
"I know not," he said. "But this I know, Nanzicele. Seven men cannot
move quicker than two hundred, and as many were yonder"--pointing in the
direction of the retreating dust-clouds. "And we were under no orders
to fire upon Madula's people, nor indeed do I think we were under orders
to take his cattle at all."
"Thou art a fool, Singisa," retorted Nanzicele, with a savage scowl.
But whether Singisa was a fool or not, the fact remained with them that
Nanzicele's plan had miscarried. All he had effected by his attempted
_coup de main_ was to render the name of the Matabele police a trifle
more putrescent in the nostrils of the Matabele than it already was, and
in the mean time Madula's cattle were still in Madula's possession.
And, after all, that possession is nine points of the law--meaning
presumably nine-tenths--still remains a good old English axiom.