Presented to the LIBRARY of the
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
h
Janette White
'ALLAN QUATERMAIN:
BEING
AN ACCOUNT OF HIS FURTHER ADVENTURES AND DISCOV- ERIES IN COMPANY WITH SIR HENRY CURTIS, BART., COMMANDER JOHN GOOD, R.N., AND ONE UMSLOPOGAAS,
H. RIDER HAGGARD/
Author of ' She,' • King Solomon's Mints, tie,.
aiiqutb
ROSE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1887.
I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK OF ADYXNTUK*
TO MY SON,
ARTHUR JOHN RIDER HAGGARD,
IN THE HOPS THAT IN DATS TO COME
HE, AND MANY OTHER BOYS WHOM I SHALL NEVER KNOW, MAT, I THE ACTS AND THOUGHTS OF
ALLAN QUATERMAIN AND HIS COMPANIONS.
AS HEREIN RECORDED, FIND SOMETHING
TO HELP HIM AND THEM TO REACH TO WHAT, WITH SlR HlNXT
CURTIS, I HOLD TO BE THE HIGHEST SANK WHBRXTO
WS CAN ATTAIN— THE STATE AND
DIGNITY OF
ENGLISH GENTLEMEN, 1887.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 9
CHAPTER L THE CONSUL'S YARN 14
CHAPTER IL THE BLACK HAND a5
CHAPTER III. THE MISSION STATION
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER VL THE NIGHT WEARS ON .
CHAPTER VIL A SLAUGHTER GRIM AND GREAT .
33
ALPHONSE AND HIS ANNETTE , . . 43
CHAPTER V. UMSLOPOGAAS MAKES A PROMISE .
CHAPTER VIIL ALPHONSE EXPLAINS gl
CHAPTER IX.
rHAPTERX,
CHAPTER XL T*K FBOWKWO Crrr ...... IM
CHAPTER XIL TMS Sort* Qutcm ..... .... ."3
CHAPTER XIII. AKHTT TVS Zo-Vnm Ptorut . ....
CHAPTER XIV.
• U
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVL
9TATVB .......... 169
CHAPTER XVIL
CHAPTER XVI IL I Rn WAI . . .
CHAPTER XIX.
Contents. vii
CHAPTER XX.
PAGE
THE BATTLE OF THE PASS aoS
CHAPTER XXL AWAY 1 AWAT I
CHAPTER XXH. How UMSLOTOQAAS mm THE STAIB .
CHAPTER XXIIL I HAVE SPOKE* , .
• . . . . «39
CHAPTER XXIV.
Br ANOTHKX HAND
NOTE BY GEORGE CUITIS, ESQ.
AUTHOK'S ACKNOWUCDGMSJrn
ALLAN QUATERMAIN.
INTRODUCTION.
DECEMBER 23.
1 1 HAVE just buried my boy, my poor handsome boy of whom I was so proud, and my heart is broken. It is very hard hav- ing only one son to lose him thus, but God's will be done. Who am I that I should complain ? The great wJieel of Fate rolls on like a Juggernaut, and crushes us all in turn, some soon, some late — it does not matter when, in the end it crushes us all. We do not prostrate ourselves before it like the poor Indians ; we fly hither and thither — we cry for mercy ; but it is of no use, the blind black Fate thunders on and in its season reduces us to powder.
* Poor Harry to go so scon ! just when his life was opening to him. He was doing so well at the hospital, he had passed his last examination with honours, and I was proud of them, much prouder than he was, I think. And then he must needs go to that small-pox hospital. He wrote to me that he was not afraid of small-pox and wanted to gain the experience ; and now the disease has killed him, and I, old and grey and withered, am left to mourn over him, without a chick or child to comfort me. I might have saved him, too — I have money enough for both of us, and much more than enough — King Solomon's Mines provided me with that ; but I said, " No, let the boy earn his living, let him labour that he may enjoy rest." But the rest has come to him before the labour. Oh, my boy, my boy !
4 1 am like the man in the Bible who laid up much goods and builded barns — goods for my boy and barns for him to store them in ; and now his soul has been required of him, and I am left desolate. I would that it had been my soul and not my boy's !
* We buried him this afternoon under the shadow of the grey and ancient tower of the church of this village where my house
IO Allan QuaUrmain,
is. It was a dreary December afternoon, and the sky was heavy with snow, but not much was filling. The coffin was put down by the fire, and a few big flakes lit upon it They looked very white upon the black cloth ! There was a little :. about getting the coffin down into the grave — the necessary ropes had been forgotten : so we drew back from it, and waited in silence watching the big flakes (all gently one by one like heavenly benedictions, and melt in tears on Harry's pall But that was not all A robin redbreast came asbold as could be and lit upon the coffin and began to sing. And then I am afraid that I broke down, and so did Sir Henry Curtis, strong man though he is ; and as for Captain Good, I saw him turn away too ; even in my own distress 1 could not help noticing '
The above, signed ' Allan Quatermain,' is an extract from my diary written two yean and more ago. I copy it down here be- cause it seems to me that it is the fittest beginning to the history that I am about to write, if it please God to spare me to finish If not, well it does not matter. That extract was penned seven thousand miles or so from the spot where I now lie painfully and slowly writing this, with a pretty girl standing by my side fanning the flies from my august countenance. Harry is there and 1 am here, and yet somehow I cannot help feeling that I am not far off Harry.
When 1 was in England I used to live in a very fine house — «t least I call it a fine house, speaking comparatively, and judging from the standard of the houses I have been accus- tomed to all my life in Africa—not five hundred yards from the old church where Harry is asleep, and thither I went after the funeral and ate some food ; for it is no good starving even if one has just buried all one's earthly hopes. But I could not eat much, and soon I took to walking, or rather limping— being permanently lame from the bite of a lion—up and down, tip and down the oak-panelled vestibule ; for there is a vestibule in my houte in England. On all the four walls of this vestibule were placed fairs of horns -about a hundred pairs altogether, all of which 1 had shot myscls> They are beautiful specimens as I never keep any boms which are not in every way perfect, tiniest it may be now and again on account of the associations connected with them. In the centre of the room, however, over the wide fireplace, there was a dear space left on which I had
Introduction. 1 1
fixed up all my rifles. Some of them I have had for forty years, old muzzle-loaders that nobody would look at nowadays. One was an elephant gun with strips of rimpi, or green hide lashed round the stocks and locks, such as used to be owned by the Dutchmen — a ' roer ' they call it. That gun the Boer I bought it from many years ago told me had been used by his father at the battle of the Blood River, just after Dingaan swept into Natal and slaughtered six hundred men, women and children, so that the Boers named the place where they died ' Weenen,' or the ' Place of Weeping ' ; and so it is called to this day, and always will be called. And many an elephant have I shot with that old gun. She always took a handful of black powder and a three-ounce ball, and kicked like the very deuce.
Well, up and down I walked, staring at the guns and the horns which the guns had brought low ; and as I did so there rose up in me a great craving : — I would go away from this place where I lived idly and at ease, back again to the wild land where I had spent my life, where I met my dear wife and poor Harry was born, and so many things, good, bad, and in- different had happened to me. The thirst for the wilderness was on me ; I could tolerate this place no more ; I would go and die as I had lived, among the wild game and the savages. Yes, as I walked, I began to long to see the moonlight gleaming silvery white over the wide veldt and mysterious sea of bush, and watch the lines of game travelling down the ridges to the water. The ruling passion is strong in death, they say, and my heart was dead that night. But, independently of my trouble, no man who has for forty years lived the life I have, can with impunity go coop himself in this prim English country, with its trim hedgerows and cultivated fields, its stiff formal manners, and its well-dressed crowds. He begins to long — ah, how he longs ! — for the keen breath of the desert air ; he dreams of the sight of the Zulu impis breaking on their foes like surf upon the rocks, and his heart rises up in rebellion against the strict limits of the civilized life.
Ah ! this civilization, what does it all come to ? For forty years and more I lived among savages, and studied them and their ways ; and now for several jj^ars I have lived here in Eng- land, and have, in my own stupid manner, done my best to learn the ways of the children of light ; and what have I found ? A great gulf fixed ? No, only a very little one, that a plain man's thought may spring across. I say that as the savage is,
12 Allan Q*at<r*uu*.
so it the white roan, only the latter is more inventive, and pot •eaM* the CMruhy of combination; tare and except also tha savate, aa I have known him, is to a large extent free frou greed of money, which eats like a cancer into the heart ot white man. It is a depressing conclusion, but in all essentials &m^^te&da(3MHmtomHu*&L I dare say that the highly civilised lady reading this will smile at an old fool of a hunter's simplicity when she thinks of her black bead bedecked slater ; and so will the superfine cultured idler sctemifiraHy eating a dinner at his dub, the cost of which would keep a starving fiunfly for a week. And yet, my dear young lady, what are those pretty things round your own neck? —they have a strong family resemblance, especially when you wear that nrrr low dress, to the savage woman's beads. Your habit of turning round and round to the sound of horns and tom-toms, your fondness for pigments and powders, the way in which you love to subjugate yourself to the rich warrior who has captured you in marriage, and the quickness with which your taste in feathered head-dresses varies,— all these things suggest touches of kinship ; and remember that in the funda- mental principles of your nature you are quite identical As for vou, sir, who also laugh, let some man come and strike you m the face whilst you arc enjoying that marvellous-looking dish, and we shall soon see how much of the savage there is in you. There, I might go on for ever, but what is the good? Civi- 1 lisatxm is only savagery silver-gilt A vain glory is it, and, like a northern light, comes but to fade and leave the sky more dark. Out of the soil of barbarism it has grown like a tree, and, aa I believe, into the soil like a tree it will once more, sooner or later, fell again, as the Egyptian civilisation fell, as the I lenk civilisation fell, and as the Roman civilisation and many others of which the world has now lost count, fell also. Do not let me, however, be understood as decrying our modern in- representing as tney do the gathered experience of applied for the good of all Of course they have !*1**" . ooipWi for instance ; but then, remember, wtbwed theakkrypepole who fill them. In a savage land Keidat Besides, th* Question will arise: How many "" to Chnrtianit *» distinct from c:
» tion? And so the balance sways and the story runs-here a
l^k> "^ Ntlureti ***** average struck across the
two, whereof the turn total forms one of the factors in that
Introduction. 1 3
mighty equation in which the result will equal the unknown quantity of her purpose.
I make no apology for this digression, especially as this is an introduction which all young people and those who never like to think (and it is a bad habit) will naturally skip. It seems to me very desirable that we should sometimes try to understand the limitations of our nature, so that we may not be carried away by the pride of knowledge. Man's cleverness • is almost infinite, and stretches like an elastic band, but human nature is like an iron ring. You can go round and round it, you can polish it highly, you can even flatten it a little on one side, whereby you will make it bulge out on the other, but you will never, while the world endures and man is man, increase its total circumference. It is the one fixed, unchangeable thing — fixed as the stars, more enduring than the mountains, as un- alterable as the way of the Eternal. Human nature is God's kaleidoscope, and the little bits of coloured glass which repre- sent our passions, hopes, fears, joys, aspirations towards good and evil and what not are turned in His mighty hand as surely and as certainly as it turns the stars, and continually fall into new patterns and combinations. But the composing elements remain the same, nor will there be one more bit of coloured glass nor one less for ever and ever.
This being so, supposing for the sake of argument we divide ourselves into twenty parts, nineteen savage and one civilised, we must look to the nineteen savage portions of our nature if we would really understand ourselves, and not to the twentieth, which, though so insignificant in reality, is spread all over the other nineteen, making them appear quite different from what they really are, as the blacking does a boot, or the veneer a table. It is on the nineteen rough serviceable savage portions that we fall back in emergencies, not on the polished but unsub- stantial twentieth. Civilisation should wipe away our tears, and yet we weep and cannot be comforted. Warfare is abhorrent ; to her, and yet we strike out for hearth and home, for honour and fair fame, and can glory in the blow. And so on, through everything.
So, when the heart is stricken, and the head is humbled in the dust, civilisation fails us utterly. Back, back, we creep, and lay us like little* children on the great breast of Nature, that she, perchance, may soothe us and make us forget, or at least rid remembrance of its sting. Who has not in his great grief felt
j^ Allan Quatermain.
a longing to look upon the outward features of the universal Mother ; to lie on the mountains and watch the clouds drive across the sky and hear the rollers break in thunder on the shore, to let his poor struggling life mingle for a while in her life ; to feel the slow beat of her eternal heart, and to forget his woes, and let his identity be swallowed in the vast, impercep- tibly moving energy of her of whom we are, from whom we came, and with whom we shall again be mingled, who gave us birth, and will in a day to come give us our burial also ?
And so in my great grief, as I walked up and down the oak- panelled vestibule of my house there in Yorkshire, I longed once more to throw myself into the arms of Nature. Not the Nature which you know, the Nature that waves in well-kept woods and smiles out in corn-fields., but Nature as she was in the age when creation was complete, undefiled as yet by any human sinks of sweltering humanity. I would go again where the wild game was, back to the land whereof none know the history, back to the savages, whom I love, although some of them are almost as merciless as Political Economy. There, perhaps, I shall be able to learn to think of poor Harry lying in the churchyard, without feeling as though my heart would break in two.
And now there is an end of this egotistical talk, and there shall be no more of it. But if you whose eyes may perchance one day fall upon my written thoughts have got so far as this, I ask you to persevere, since what I have to tell you is not with- out its interest, and it has never been told before, nor will again.
CHAPTER I. THE CONSUL'S YARN.
A WEEK had passed since the funeral of my poor boy Harry, and one evening I was in my room walking up and down and thinking, when there was a ring at the outer door. Going down the steps I opened it myself, and in came my old friends Sir Henry Curtis and Captain John Good, R.N, They entered
The Consul's Yarn. 15
the vestibule and sat themselves down before the wide hearth, where, I remember, a particularly good fire of logs was burning.
* It is very kind of you to come round,' I said by way of making a remark ; ' it must have been heavy walking in the snow.'
They said nothing, but Sir Henry slowly filled his pipe and lit it with a burning ember. As he leant forward to do so the fire got hold of a gassy bit of pine and flared up brightly, throwing the whole scene into strong relief, and I thought what a splendid- looking man he is. Calm, powerful face, clear-cut features, large grey eyes, yellow beard and hair — altogether a magnificent specimen of the higher type of humanity. Nor did his form belie his face. I have never seen wider shoulders or a deeper chest. Indeed, Sir Henry's girth is so great that, though he is six foot two high, he does not strike one as a tall man. As I looked at him I could not help thinking what a curious contrast my little dried-up self presented to his grand face and form. Imagine to yourself a small withered, yellow-faced man of sixty- three, with thin hands, large brown eyes, ahead of grizzled hair cut short and standing up like a half-worn scrubbing-brush — total weight in my clothes, nine stone six — and you will get a very fair idea of Allan Quatermain, commonly called Hunter Quatermain, or by the natives * Macumazahn ' — anglice, he who keeps a bright look-out at night, or, in vulgar English, a sharp fellow who is not to be taken in.
Then there was Good, who is not like either of us, being short, dark, stout — very stout — with twinkling black eyes, in one of which an eyeglass is everlastingly fixed. I say stout, but it is a mild term ; I regret to state that of late years Good has been running to stomach in a most disgraceful way. Sir Henry tells him that it comes from idleness and over-feeding, and Good does not like it at all, though he cannot deny it.
We sat for a while, and then I got a match and lit the lamp that stood ready on the table, for the half-light began to grow dreary, as it is apt to do when one has just one short week ago buried the hope of one's life. Next, I opened a cupboard in the wainscoting and got a bottle of whisky and some tumblers and water. I always like to do these things for myself : it is irritating to ine to have somebody continually at my elbow, as though I were an eighteen-month-old baby. All this while Curtis and Good had been silent, feeling, I suppose, that they had nothing to say that could do me any good, and content to
!(5 Allan Quatermain.
give me the comfort of their presence and silent sympathy ; for it was only their second visit since the funeral. And it is, by the way, from the fact of the presence of others that we really derive support in our dark hours of grief, and not from their talk, which often only serves to irritate us. Before a bad storm the game always herd together, but they cease their calling.
They sat and smoked and drank whisky and water, and I stood by the fire also smoking and looking at them.
At last I spoke. ' Old friends,' I said, ' how long is it since we got back from Kukuanaland ? '
' Three years,' said Good. ' Why do you ask ? '
* I ask because I think that I have had a long enough spell of civilisation. I am going back to the veldt.'
Sir Henry laid his head back in his arm-chair and laughed one of his deep laughs. ' How very odd,' he said, ' eh, Good ? '
Good beamed at me mysteriously through his eyeglass and murmured, ' Yes, odd — very odd.'
' I don't quite understand,' said I, looking from one to the other, for I dislike mysteries.
* Don't you, old fellow ? ' said Sir Henry ; ' then I will explain. As Good and I were walking up here we had a talk.'
* If Good was there you probably did,' I put in sarcastically, for Good is a great hand at talking. * And what may it have been about ? '
* What do you think ?' asked Sir Henry.
I shook my head. It was not likely that I should know what Good might be talking about. He talks about so many things.
' Well, it was about a little plan that I have formed — namely, that if you were agreeable we should pack up our traps and go off to Africa on another expedition.'
I fairly jumped at his words. ' You don't say so ! ' I said.
' Yes I do, though, and so does Good ; don't you, Good ? '
* Rather,' said that gentleman.
1 Listen, old fellow,' went on Sir Henry, with considerable animation of manner. « I'm tired of it, too, dead-tired of doing nothing except play the squire in a country that is sick of squires. For a year or more I have been getting as restless as an old ele- phant who scents danger. I am always dreaming of Kukuana- land and Gagool and King Solomon's Mines. I can assure you I have become the victim of an almost unaccountable craving. I am sick of shooting pheasants and partridges, and want to have a go at some large game again. There, you know the
The Consul's Yarn. 17
feeling — when one has once tasted brandy and water, milk be- comes insipid to the palate. That year we spent together up in Kukuanaland seems to me worth all the other years of my life put together. I dare say that I am a fool for my pains, but I can't help it ; I long to go, and, what is more, I mean to go.' He paused, and then went on again. 'And, after all, why should I not go ? I have no wife or parent, no chick or child to keep me. If anything happens to me the baronetcy will go to my brother George and his boy, as it would ultimately do in any case. I am of no importance to any one.'
* Ah ! ' I said, ' I thought you would come to that sooner or later. And now, Good, what is your reason for wanting to trek ; have you got one ? '
' I have,' said Good, solemnly. * I never do anything with- out a reason; and it isn't a lady — at least, if it is, it's several.'
I looked at him again. Good is so overpoweringly frivolous. 'What is it?' I said.
* Well, if you really want to know, though I'd rather not speak of a delicate and strictly personal matter, I'll tell you : I'm get- ting too fat.'
' Shut up, Good ! ' said Sir Henry. * And now, Quatermain, tell us, where do you propose going to ? '
I lit my pipe, which had gone out, before answering. ' Have you people ever heard of Mt. Kenia ? ' I asked. ' Don't know the place,' said Good.
* Did you ever hear of the Island of Lamu ? ' I asked again. ' No. Stop, though — isn't it a place about 300 miles north
of Zanzibar ? '
' Yes. Now listen. What I have to propose is this. That we go to Lamu and thence make our way about 250 miles in- land to Mt. Kenia ; from Mt. Kenia on inland to Mt. Lekaki- sera, another 200 miles, or thereabouts, beyond which no white man has to the best of my belief ever been ; and then, if we get so far, right on into the unknown interior. What do you say to that, my hearties ? '
' It's a big order,' said Sir Henry, reflectively.
' You are right,' I answered. ' It is ; but I take it that we are all three of us in search of a big order. We want a change of scene, and we. are likely to get one — a thorough change. All my life I have longed to visit those parts, and I mean to do it before I die. My poor boy's death has broken the last link be- tween me and civilisation, and I'm off to my native wilds,
1 8 Allan Quatermain.
And now I'll tell you another thing, and that is, that for years and years I have heard rumours of a great white race which is supposed to have its home somewhere up in this direction, and I have a mind to see if there is any truth in them. If you fel- lows like to come, well and good ; if not, I'll go alone.'
1 I'm your man, though I don't believe in your white race,' said Sir Henry Curtis, rising and placing his arm upon my houlder.
' Ditto,' remarked Good ; ' I'll go into training at once. By all means let's go to Mt. Kenia and the other place with an un- pronounceable name, and look for a white race that does not exist. It's all one to me.'
* When do you propose to start ? ' asked Sir Henry.
' This day month,' I answered, ' by the British India steam- boat ; and don't you be so certain that things don't exist because you do not happen to have heard of them. Remember King Solomon's Mines.'
Some fourteen weeks or so had passed since the date of this conversation, and this history goes on its way in very different surroundings,
After much deliberation and enquiry we came to the conclu- sion that our best starting-point for Mt. Kenia would be from the neighbourhood of the mouth of the Tana River, and not from Mombasa, a place over 100 miles nearer Zanzibar. This conclusion we arrived at from information given to us by a German trader whom we met upon the steamer at Aden. I think that he was the dirtiest German I ever knew ; but he was a good fellow, and gave us a great deal of valuable infomation. 1 Lamu,' said he, ' you goes to Lamu— oh, ze beautiful place 1 ' and he turned up his fat face and beamed with mild rapture. 1 One year and a half I live there and never change my shirt —never at all.'
And so it came to pass that on arriving at the island we dis- embarked with all our goods and chattels, and, not knowing where to go, marched boldly up to the house of Her Majesty's Consul, where we were most hospitably received.
Lamu is a very curious place, but the things which stand out most clearly in my memory in connection with it are its exceeding dirtiness and its smells. These last are simply awful. Just below the Consulate is the beach, or rather a mud bank that js called a beach. It is left quite bare at low tide, and
The Consul's Yarn. 19
serves as a repository for all the filth, offal, and refuse of the town. Here it is, too, that the women come to bury cocoanuts in the mud, leaving them there until the outer husk is quite rot- ten, when they dig them up again and use the fibres to make mats with, and for various other purposes. As this process has been going on for generations, the condition of the beach can be better imagined than described. I have smelt many evil odours in the course of my life, but the concentrated essence of stench which arose from that beach at Lamu as we sat in the moonlight night — not under, but on our friend the Consul's hospitable roof — and sniffed it, makes the remembrance of them very poor and faint. No wonder people get fever at Lamu. And yet the place was not without a certain quaintness and charm of its own, though possibly — indeed probably — it was one which would quickly pall.
' Well, where are you gentlemen steering for ? ' asked our friend the hospitable Consul, as we smoked our pipes after din- ner.
' We propose to go to Mt. Kenia and then on to Mt. Leka- kisera,' answered Sir Henry. ' Quatermain has got hold of some yarn about there being a white race up in the unknown territories beyond.'
The Consul looked interested, and answered that he had heard something of that, too.
* What have you heard ? ' I asked.
' Oh, not much. All I know about it is that about a year or so ago I got a letter from Mackenzie, the Scotch missionary, whose station, " The Highlands," is placed at the highest navi- gable point of the Tana river, in which he said something about it.'
* Have you the letter ? ' I asked.
' No, I destroyed it ; but I remember that he said that a man had arrived at his station who declared that two months' jour- ney beyond Mt. Lekakisera, which no white man has yet visited — at least, so far as I know — he found a lake called Laga, and that then he went off to the north-east, a month's journey, over desert and thorn veldt and great mountains, till he came to a country where the people are white and live in stone houses. Here he was hospitably entertained for a while, till at last the priests of the country set it about that he was a devil, and the people drove him away, and he journeyed for eight months and reached Mackenzie's place, as I heard, dying. That's all I know \ and
2o Allan Quatermain.
if you ask me, I believe that it is a lie ; but if you want to find out more about it, you had better go up the Tana to Macken- zie's place and ask him for information.'
Sir Henry and I looked at each other. Here was something tangible.
' 1 think that we will go to Mr. Mackenzie's,' I said.
' Well,' answered the Consul, ' that is your best way, but I warn you that you are likely to have a rough journey, for I hear that the Masai are about, and, as you know, they are not plea- sant customers. Your best plan will be to choose a few picked men for personal servants and hunters, and to hire bearers from village to village. It will give you an infinity of trouble, but perhaps on the whole it will prove a cheaper and more advan- tageous course than engaging a caravan, and you will be less liable to desertion.'*
Fortunately there were at Lamu at this time a party of Wak- wafi Askari (soldiers). The Wakwafi, who are a cross between the Masai and the Wataveta, are a fine manly race, possessing many of the good qualities of the Zulu, and a greater capacity for civilization. They are also great hunters. As it happened, these particular men had recently been a long trip with an Eng- lishman named Jutson, who had started from Mombasa, a port 150 miles below Lamu, and journeyed right round Kilimanjairo, one of the highest known mountains in Africa. Poor fellow, he had died of fever when on his return journey, and within a day's march of Mombasa. It does seem hard that he should have gone off thus when within a few hours of safety, and after having survived so many perils, but so it was. His hunters buried him, and then came on to Lamu in a dhow. Our friend the Consul suggested to us that we had better try and hire these men, and accordingly on the following morning we started to interview the party, accompanied by an interpreter.
In due course we found them in a mud hut on the outskirts of the town/ Three of the men were sitting outside the hut, and fine frank-looking fellows they were, having a more or less civilised appearance. To them we cautiously opened the object of our visit, at first with very scant success. They declared that they could not entertain any such idea, that they were worn and weary with long travelling, and that their hearts were sore at the loss of their master. They meant to go back to their homes and rest^ awhile. This did not sound very promising, so by way of effecting a diversion I asked where the remainder of them
The Consul's Yarn, 21
were. I was told there were six, and I saw but three. One of the men said that they slept in the hut, and were yet resting after their labours — 'sleep weighed down their eyelids, and sorrow made their hearts as lead : it was best to sleep, for with sleep came forgetfulness. But the men should be awakened.'
Presently they came out of the hut, yawning — the first two men being evidently of the same race and style as those already before us ; but the appearance of the third and last nearly made me jump out of my skin. He was a very tall, broad man, quite six foot three, I should say, but gaunt, with lean wiry-looking limbs. My first glance at him told me that he was no Wakwafi : he was a pure bred Zulu. He came out with his thin aristocra- tic-looking hand placed before his face to hide a yawn, so I could only see that he was a * Keshla,' or ringed man,* and that he had a great three-cornered hole in his forehead. In another second he removed his hand, revealing a powerful-looking Zulu face, with a humorous mouth, a short woolly beard, tinged with grey, and a pair of brown eyes keen as hawk's. I knew my man at once, although I had not seen him for twelve years. * How do you do, Umslopogaas ? ' I said quietly in Zulu.
The tall man (who among his own people was commonly known as the * Woodpecker,' and also as the ' Slaughterer ') started and almost let the long-handled battle-axe he held in his hand fall in his astonishment. Next second he had recognised me, and was saluting me in an outburst of sonorous language which made his companions the Wakwafi stare.
' Koos ' (chief), he began, ' Koos-y-Pagate ! Koos-y-umcool ! (Chief from of old — mighty chief) Koos ! Baba ! (father) Macu- mazahn, old hunter, slayer of elephants, eater up of lions, clever one ! watchful one ! brave one ! quick one ! whose shot never misses, who strikes straight home, who grasps a hand and holds it to the death (i.e. is a true friend) Koos ! Baba ! Wise is the voice of our people that says, " Mountain never meets with mountain, but at daybreak or at even man shall meet again with man." Behold ! a messenger came up from Natal, " Macu- mazahn is dead ! " cried he. " The land knows Macumazahn no more." That is years ago. And now, behold, now in this strange
* Among the Zulus a man assumes the ring, which is made of a species of black gum twisted in with hair, and polished a brilliant black, when he has reached a certain dignity and age, or is the husband of a sufficient number of wives. Till he is in a position to wear a ring he is looked on as a boy, though he may be thirty-five years of age, or even more. — A. Q. J
22
Allan Quatermain.
place of stinks I find Macumazahn, my friend. There is no room for doubt. The brush of the old jackal has gone a little grey ; but is not his eye as keen, and his teeth as sharp ? Ha ! ha ! Macumazahn, mindest thou how thou didst plant the ball
in the eye of the charging buffalo — mindest thou '
I had let him run on thus because I saw that his enthusiasm was producing a marked effect upon the minds of the five Wak- wafi, who appeared to understand something of his talk ; but now I thought it time to put a stop to it, for there is nothing that I hate so much as this Zulu system of extravagant praising — « bongering ' as they call it. * Silence I ' I said. ' Has all thy noisy talk been stopped up since last I saw thee that it breaks out thus, and sweeps us away ? What doest thou here with these men— thou whom I left a chief in Zululand ? How is it that thou art far fromthine ownplace, and gathered together with strangers ? '
Umslopogaas leant himself upon the head of his long battle- axe (which was nothing else but a pole-axe, with a beautiful handle of rhinoceros horn), and his grim face grew sad.
' My father,' he answered, ' I have a word to tell thee, but I cannot speak it before these low people (umfagozana),' and he glanced at the Wakwafi Askari ; ' It is for thine own ear. My Father, this will I say,' and here his face grew stern again, ' a woman betrayed me to the death, and covered my name with shame — ay, my own wife, a round-faced girl, betrayed me ; but I escaped from death; ay, I broke from the very hands of those who came to slay me. I struck but three blows with this mine axe Inkosikaas — surely my Father will remember it — one to the right, one to the left, and one in front, and yet I left three men dead. And then I fled, and, as my Father knows, even now that I am old, my feet are as the feet of the Sassaby,* and there • breathes not the man who, by running, can touch me again when once I have bounded from his side. On I sped, and after me came the messengers of death, and their voice was as the voice of dogs that hunt. From my own kraal I flew, and, as I passed, she who had betrayed me was drawing water from the spring. I fleeted by her like the shadow of death, and as I went I smote with mine axe, and lo ! her head fell : it fell into the water pan. Then I fled north. Day after day I journeyed on ; for three moons I journeyed, resting not, stopping not, but
* One of the fleetest of the African antelopes.
The Consul's Yarn. 23
running on towards forgetfulness, till I met the party of the white hunter, who is now dead, and am come hither with his servants. And nought have I brought with me. I, who was high- born, ay, of the blood of Chaka, the great king — a chief, and a captain of the regiment of the Nkomabakosi — am a wanderer in strange places, a man without a kraal. Nought have I brought save this mine axe ; of all my belongings this remains alone. They have divided my cattle ; they have taken my wives ; and my children know my face no more. Yet with this axe ' — and he swung the formidable weapon round his head, making the air hiss as he clove it — * will I cut another path to fortune. I have spoken.'
I shook my head at him. ' Umslopogaas,' I said, ' I know thee from of old. Ever ambitious, ever plotting to be great, I fear me that thou hast overreached thyself at last. Years ago, when thou wouldst have plotted against Cety wayo, son of Panda, I warned thee, and thou didst listen. But now, when I was not by thee to stay thy hand, thou hast dug a pit for thine own feet to fall in. Is it not so ? But what is done is done. Who can make the dead tree green, or gaze again upon last year's light ? Who can recall the spoken word, or bring back the spirit of the fallen ? That which Time swallows comes not up again. Let it be forgotten !
' And now behold, Umslopogaas, I know thee for a great warrior and a brave man, faithful to the death. Even in Zulu- land, where all the men are brave, they called thee the " Slaughterer," and at night told stories round the fire of thy strength and deeds. Hear me now. Thou seest this great man, my friend/ — and I pointed to Sir Henry ; ' he also is a warrior as great as thou, and strong as thou art he could throw thee over his shoulder. Incubu is his name. And thou seest this one also ; him with the round stomach, the shining eye, and the pleasant face. Bougwan (glass eye) is his name, and a good man is he and a true, being of a curious tribe who pass their life upon the water, and live in floating kraals.
' Now, we three whom thou seest would travel inland, past Dongo Egere, the great white mountain (Mt. Kenia), and far into the unknown beyond. We know not what we shall find there; we go to hunt and seek adventures, and new places, being tired of sitting still, with the same old things around us. Wilt thou come with us? To thee shall be given command of all our servants ; but what shall befall thee, that I know not.
24 Allan Quatermain.
Once before we three journeyed thus, and we took with us a man such as thou— one Umbopa ; and, behold, we left him the king of a great country, with twenty Impas (regiments), each of 3,000 plumed warriors, waiting on his word. How it shall go with thee I know not ; mayhap death awaits thee and us. Wilt thou throw thyself to Fortune and come, or fearest thou, Um- slopogaas?'
The great man smiled. 'Thou art not altogether right, Macumazahn,' he said ; ' I have plotted in my time, but it was not ambition that led me to my fall ; but, shame on me that I should have to say it, a fair woman's face. Let it pass. So we are going to see something like the old times again, Macuma- zahn, when we fought and hunted in Zululand ? Ay, I will come. Come life, come death, what care I, so that the blows fall fast and the blood runs red ? I grow old, I grow old, and I have not fought enough ! And yet am I a warrior among warriors ; see my scars ' — and he pointed to countless cicatrices, stabs and cuts, that marked the skin of his chest and legs and arms. ' See the hole in my head ; the brains gushed out there- from, yet did I slay him who smote, and live. Knowest thou how many men I have slain, in fair hand-to-hand combat, Ma- cumazahn ? See, here is the tale of them ' — and he pointed to long rows of notches cut in the rhinoceros-horn handle of his axe. ' Number them, Macumazahe — one hundred and three — and I have never counted but those whom I have ripped open,* nor have I reckoned those whom another man had struck.'
* Be silent,' I said, for I saw that he was getting the blood fever oh him; 'be silent; well art thou called the "Slaughterer." We would not hear of thy deeds of blood. Remember, if thou comest with us, we fight not save in self defence. Listen, we need servants. These men,' and I pointed to the Wakwafi, who had retired a little way during our ' indaba ' (talk), ' say they will not come.'
1 Will not come ? ' shouted Umslopogaas : ' where is the dog who says he will not come when my Father orders ? Here, thou ' — and with a single bound he sprang upon the Wakwafi with whom I had first spoken, and, seizing him by the arm, dragged him toward us. ' Thou dog ! ' he said, giving the ter-
* Alluding to the Zulu custom of opening the stomach of a dead foe. They have a superstition that, if this is not done, as the body of their enemy swells up so will the bodies of those who killed him swell up.
The Black Hand. 25
rifled man a shake, ' didst thou say that thou wouldst not go with my Father ? Say it once more and I will choke thee ' — - arid his long fingers closed round his throat as he said it — ' thee, and those with thee. Hast thou forgotten how I served thy brother?'
' Nay, we will come with the white man,' gasped the man.
' White man ! ' went on Umslopogaas, in simulated fury, which a very little provocation would have made real enough ; * of whom speakest thou, insolent dog ? '
' Nay, we will go with the great chief.'
* So,' said Umslopogaas, in a quiet voice, as he suddenly re- leased his hold, so that the man fell backward. * I thought you would/
' That man Umslopagaas seems to have a curious moral as- cendency over his companions,' Good afterwards remarked thoughtfully.
CHAPTER II.
THE BLACK HAND.
IN due course we left Lamu, and ten days afterwards we found ourselves at a spot called Charra, on the Tana River, having gone through many adventures which need not be recorded here. Amongst other thinge we visited a ruined city, of which there are many on this coast, and which must once, to judge from their extent and the numerous remains of mosques and stone houses, have been very populous places. These ruined cities are immeasurably ancient, having, I believe, been places of wealth and importance as far back as the Old Testament times, when they were centres of trade with India and else- where. But their glory has departed now — the slave trade has finished them — and where once wealthy merchants from all parts of the then civilized world stood and bargained in the crowded market-places, the lion holds his court at night, and instead of the chattering of slaves and the eager voices of the bidders, his awful note goes echoing down the mined corridors. At this particular place we discovered on a mound, covered up with rank growth and rubbish, two of the most beautiful stone B
26 Allan Quatermain.
doorways that it is possible to conceive. The carving on them was simply exquisite, and I only regret that we had no means of getting them away. No doubt they had once been the en- trances to a palace, of which, however, no traces were now to be seen, though probably its ruins lay under the rising mound. Gone ! quite gone ! the way that everything must go. Like the nobles and the ladies who lived within their gates, these cities have had their day, and now they are as Babylon and Nineveh, and as London and Paris will one day be. Nothing may endure. That is the inexorable law. Men and women, empires and cities, thrones, principalities and powers, moun- tains, rivers, and unfathomed seas, worlds, spaces, and universes, all have their day, and all must go. In this ruined and forgot- ten place the moralist may behold a symbol of the universal destiny. For this system of ours allows no room for standing still — nothing can loiter on the road and check the progress of things upwards towards Life, or the rush of things downwards towards Death. The stern policeman Fate moves us and them on, on, uphill and downhill and across the level ; there is no resting- place for the weary feet, till at last the abyss swallows us, and from the shores of the Transitory we are hurled into the sea of the Eternal.
At Charra we had a violent quarrel with the headman of the bearers we had hired to go as far as this, and who now wished to extort large extra payment from us. In the result, he threat- ened to set the Masai— about whom more anon — on to us. That night he, with all our hired bearers, bolted, stealing most of the goods which had been entrusted to them to carry. Luckily, however, they had ndt happened to steal our rifles, ammunition, and personal effects, not because of any delicacy of feeling on their part, but owing to the fact that they chanced to be in the charge of the five Wakwafis. After that, it was clear to us that we had had enough of caravans and of bearers. In- deed, we had not much left for a caravan to carry. And yet, how were we to get on ?
It was Good who solved the question. ' Here is water,' he said, pointing to the Tana River ; ' and yesterday I saw a party of natives hunting hippopotami in canoes. I understand that Mr. Mackenzie's mission station is on the Tana River. Why not get into canoes and paddle up to it ? '
This brilliant suggestion was, needless to say, received with acclamation ; and I instantly set to work to buy suitable canoes
The Black Hand. 27
from the surrounding natives. I succeeded after a delay of three days in obtaining two large ones, each hollowed out of a single log of some light wood, and capable of holding six people and baggage. For these two canoes we had to pay nearly all our remaining cloth, and also many other articles.
On the day following our purchase of the two canoes we effected a start. In the first canoe were Good, Sir Henry, and three of our Wakwafi followers ; in the second myself, Umslopo- gaas, and the other two Wakwafis. As our course lay up stream we had to keep four paddles at work in each canoe, which meant that the whole lot of us, except Good, had to row away like galley-slaves ; and very exhausting work it was. I say, except Good, for, of course, the moment that Good got in- to a boat his foot was on his native heath, and he took com- mand of the party. And certainly he worked us ! On shore Good is a gentle, mild-mannered man, and given to jocosity ; but, as we found to our cost, Good in a boat was a perfect demon. To begin with, he knew all about it and we didn't. On all nautical subjects, from the torpedo fittings of a man-of-war down to the best way of handling the paddle of an African canoe, he was a pefect mine of information, which, to say the least of it, we were not. Also his ideas of discipline were of the sternest, and, in short, he came the royal naval officer over us pretty considerably, and paid us out amply for all the chaff we were wont to treat him to on land ; but, on the other hand, I am bound to say that he managed the boats admirably.
After the first day Good succeeded, with the help of some cloth and a couple of poles, in rigging up a sail in each canoe, which lightened our labours not a little. But the current ran very strong against us, and at the best Ve were not able to make more than twenty miles a day. Our plan was to start at dawn, and paddle along till about half past ten, by which time the sun got too hot to allow of further exertion. Then we moored our canoes to the bank, and ate our frugal meal ; after which we slept or otherwise amused ourselves till about three o'clock, when we again started, and rowed till within an hour of sun- down, when we called a halt for the night. On landing in the evening Good would at once set to work, with the help of the Askari, to build a little ' scherm/ or small enclosure, fenced with thorn bus'hes, and to light a fire. I, with Sir Henry and Umslopogaas, would go out to shoot something for the pot. Generally this was an easy task, for all sorts of game abounded
2g Allan Quatermain.
on the banks of the Tana. One night Sir Henry shot a young cow giraffe, of which the marrow-bones were excellent; on an- other I got a couple of waterbuck right and left ; and once, to his own intense satisfaction, Umslopogaas (who, like mos Zulus was a vile shot with a rifle) managed to kill a fine fat eland' with a Martini I had lent him. Sometimes we varied our food by shooting some guinea-fowl, or bush-bustard (paau)— both of which were numerous— with a shot-gun, or by catching a sup- ply of beautiful yellow fish, with which the waters of the 1 ana swarmed, and which form, I believe, one of the chief food-sup- plies of the crocodiles.
Three days after our start an ominous incident occurred. We were just drawing in to the bank to make our camp as usual for the night, when we caught sight of a figure standing on a little knoll not forty yards away and intently watching our approach. One glance was sufficient— although I was person- ally unacquainted with the tribe — to tell me that he was a Masai Elmoran, or young warrior. Indeed, had I had any doubts, they would have quickly been dispelled by the terrified ejaculation of 'Masai/' that burst simultaneously from the lips of our Wakwafi followers, who are, as I think I have said, themselves bastard Masai.
And what a figure he presented as he stood there in his sav- age war-gear ! Accustomed as I have been to savages all my life, I do not think that I have ever before seen anything quite so ferocious or awe-inspiring. To begin with, the man was enormously tall, quite as tall as Umslopogaas, I should say, and beautifully, though somewhat slightly shaped, but with the face of a devil. In his right hand he held a spear about five and a half feet long, the blade being two and a half feet in length, by nearly three inches in width, and having an iron spike at the end of the handle that measured more than a foot. On his left arm was a large and well-made eliptical shield of buffalo hide, on which were painted strange heraldic-looking devices. On his shoulders was a huge cape of hawk's feathers, and round his neck was a ' naibere,' or strip of cotton about seventeen feet long, by one and a half broad, with a stripe of colour run- ning down the middle of it. The tanned goatskin robe, which formed his ordinary attire in times of peace, was tied lightly round his waist, so as to serve the purposes of a belt, and through it were stuck, on the right and left sides respectively, his short, pear-shaped sime, or sword, which is made of a single
The Black Hand. 29
piece of steel, and carried in a wooden sheath, and an enor- mous knobkerrie. But perhaps the most remarkable feature of his attire consisted of a head-dress of ostricu feathers, which was fixed on the chin and passed in front of the ears to the forehead, and, being shaped like an ellipse, completely framed the face so that the diabolical countenance appeared to project from a sort of feather fire-screen. Round the ankles he wore black fringes of hair, and projecting from the upper portion of the calves, to which they were attached, were long spurs like spikes, from which flowed down tufts of the beautiful black and waving hair of the Colobus monkey. Such was the elaborate array of the Masai Elmoran who stood watching the approach of our two canoes, but it is one which, to be appreciated must be seen ; only those who see it do not often live to describe it. Of course I could not make out all these details of his full dress on the occasion of this my first introduction, being indeed amply taken up with the consideration of the general effect, but I had plenty of subsequent opportunities of becoming acquaint- ed with the items that went to make it up.
Whilst we were hesitating what to do, the Masai warrior drew himself up in a dignified fashion, shook his huge spear at us, and, turning, vanished on the further side of the slope.
* Hulloa ! ' holloaed Sir Henry from the other boat ; ' our friend the caravan leader has been as good as his word, and set the Masai after us. Do you think it will be safe to go ashore?'
I did not think it would be at all safe ; but, on the other hand, we had no means of cooking in the canoes, and nothing that we could eat raw, so it was difficult to know what to do. At last Umslopogaas simplified matters by volunteering to go and reconnoitre, which he did, creeping off into the bush like a snake, whilst we hung off in the stream waiting for him. In half an hour he returned, and told us that there was not a Masai to be seen anywhere about, but that he had discovered a spot where they had recently been encamped, and that from various indications he judged that they must have moved on an hour or so before ; the man we saw having no doubt been left to to- port upon our movements.
Thereupon we landed ; and, having posted a sentry, pre- ceeded to cook' and eat our evening meal. This done, we took the situation into our serious consideration. Of course, it was possible that the apparition of the Masai warrior had nothing to do with us, that he was merely one of a band bent upon
30 Allan Quatermain.
some marauding and murdering expedition against another tribe. Our friend the Consul had told us that such expeditions were about. But when we recalled the threat of the caravan leader, and reflected upon the ominous way in which the warrior had shaken his spear at us, this did not appear very probable. On the contrary, what did seem probable was that the party was after us and awaiting a favourable opportunity to attack us. This being so, there were two things that we could do — one of which was to go on, and the other to go back. The latter idea was, however, rejected at once, it being obvious that we should encounter as many dangers in retreat as in advance ; and, be- sides, we had made up our minds to journey onwards at any price. Under these circumstances, however, we did not con- sider it safe to sleep ashore, so we got into our canoes, and, paddling out into the middle of the stream, which was not very wide here, managed to anchor them by means of big stones fastened to ropes made of cocoanut-fibre, of which there were several fathoms in each canoe.
Here the musquitoes nearly ate us up alive, and this, combined with anxiety as to our position, effectually prevented me from sleeping as the others were doing notwithstanding the attacks of the aforesaid Tana musquitoes. And so I lay awake, smoking and reflecting on many things, but, being of a practical turn of mind, chiefly on how we were to give those Masai villains the slip. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and, notwithstanding the musquitoes, and the great risk we were running from fever from sleeping in such a spot, and forgetting that I had the cramp very badly in my right leg from squatting in a constrained position in the canoe, and that the Wakwafi who was sleeping by me smelt horrible, I really began to enjoy myself. The moonbeams played upon the surface of the run- ning water that speeded unceasingly past us towards the sea, like men's lives towards the grave, till it glittered like a wide sheet of silver, that is in the open where the trees threw no shadows. Near the banks, however, it was very dark, and the night wind sighed sadly in the reeds. To our left, on the fur- ther side of the river, was a little sandy bay which was clear of trees, and here I could make out the forms of numerous ante- lopes advancing to the water, till suddenly there came an omin- ous roar, whereupon they all made off hurriedly. Then after a pause I caught sight of the massive form of His Majesty the Lion, coming down to drink his fill after meat. Presently he
The Black Hand. 31
moved on, then came a crashing of the reeds about fifty yards above us, and a few minutes later a huge black mass rose out of the water, about twenty yards from me, and snorted. It was the head of a hippopotamus. Down it went without a sound, only to rise again within five yards of where I sat. This was decidedly too near to be comfortable, more especially as the hippopotamus was evidently animated by intense curiosity to know what on earth our canoes were. He opened his great mouth, to yawn I suppose, and gave me an excellent view of his ivories ; and I could not help reflecting how easily he could crunch up our frail canoe with a single bite. Indeed, I had half a mind to give him a ball from my eight-bore, but on re- flection determined to let him alone unless he actually made for the boat. Presently he sank again as noiselessly as before, and I saw no more of him. Just then, on looking towards the bank on our right, I fancied that I caught sight of a dark figure flitting between the tree trunks. I have very keen sight, and I was almost sure that I saw something, but whether it was bird, beast, or man I could not say. At the moment, however, a dark cloud passed over the moon, and I saw no more of it. Just then, too, although all the other sounds of the forest had ceased, a species of horned owl with which I was well acquainted be- gan to hoot with great persistency. After that, save for the rustling of the trees and reeds when the wind caught them, there was complete silence.
But somehow, in the most unaccountable way, I had suddenly become nervous. There was no particular reason why I should be, beyond the ordinary reasons which surround the Central African traveller, and yet I undoubtedly was. If there is one thing more than another of which I have the most complete and entire scorn and disbelief, it is of presentiments, and yet here I was all of a sudden filled with and possessed by a most un- doubted presentiment of approaching evil. I would not give way to it, however, although I felt the cold perspiration stand out upon my forehead. I would not arouse the others. Worse and worse I grew, my pulse fluttered like a dying man's, my nerves thrilled with the horrible sense of impotent terror which anybody who is subject to nightmare will be familiar with, but still my will triumphed over my fears, and I lay quiet (for I was half sitting, half lying, in the bow of the canoe), only turning my face so as to command a view of Umslopogaas and the two Wakwafi who were sleeping alongside of and beyond me.
32 Allan Quatermain.
In the distance I heard a hippopotamus splash faintly, then the owl hooted again in a kind of unnatural screaming note, and the wind began to moan plaintively through the trees, making a heart-chilling music. Above was the black bosom of the cloud, and beneath me swept the black flood of the water, and I felt as though I and Death were utterly alone between them. It was very desolate.
Suddenly my blood seemed to freeze in my veins, and my heart to stand still. Was it fancy, or were we moving ? I turned my eyes to look for the other canoe which should be alongside of us. I could not see it, but instead I saw a lean and clutch- ing black hand lifting itself above the gunwale of the little boat. Surely it was a nightmare ! At the same instant a dim but devilish-looking face appeared to rise out of the water, and then came a lurch of the canoe, the quick flash of a knife, and an awful yell from the Wakwafi who was sleeping by my side (the same poor fellow whose odour had been annoying me), and something warm spurted into my face. In an instant the spell was broken ; I knew that it was no nightmare, but that we were attacked by swimming Masai. Snatching at the first weapon that came to hand, which happened to be Umslopogaas's battle- axe, I struck with all my force in the direction in which I had seen the flash the knife. The blow fell upon a man's arm, and, catching it against the thick wooden gunwale of the canoe, com- pletely severed it from the body just above the wrist. As for its owner, he uttered no sound or cry. Like a ghost he came, and like a ghost he went, leaving behind him a bloody hand still gripping a great knife, or rather a short sword, that was buried in the heart of our poor servant.
Instantly there arose a hubbub and confusion, and I fancied, rightly or wrongly, that I made out several dark heads gliding away towards the right-hand bank, whither we were rapidly drifting, for the rope by which we were moored had been sev- ered with a knife. As soon as I had realized this fact, I also realized that the scheme had been to cut the boat loose so that it should drift on to the right bank (as it would have done with the natural swing of the current), where no doubt a party of Masai were in waiting to dig their shovel-headed spears into us. Seizing one paddle myself, I told Umslopogaas to take another
* No doubt this owl was a wingless bird. I afterwards learnt that the hooting of an owl is a favourite signal among the Masai tribes.
The Mission Station. 33
(for the remaining Askari was too frightened and bewildered to be of any use), and together we rowed vigorously out towards the middle of the stream ; and not an instant too soon, for in another minute we should have been aground, and then there would have been an end of us.
As soon as we were well out, we set to work to paddle the canoe up stream again to where the other was moored ; and very hard and dangerous work it was in the dark, and with nothing but Good's stentorian shouts, which he kept firing off at inter- vals like a fog-horn, to guide us. But at last we fetched up, and were thankful to find that they had not been molested at all. No doubt the owner of the same hand that severed our rope should have severed theirs also, but was led away from his pur- pose by an irresistible inclination to murder when he got the chance, which, whilst it cost us a man and him his hand, un- doubtedly saved all the rest of us from massacre. Had it not been for that ghastly apparition over the side of the boat — an apparition that I shall never forget till my dying hour — the canoe would undoubtedly have drifted ashore before I realized what had happened, and this history would never have been written by me.
CHAPTER III.
THE MISSION STATION.
WE made the remains of our rope fast to the other canoe, and sat waiting for the dawn and congratulating ourselves upon our merciful escape, which really seemed to result more from the special favour of Providence than from our own care or prowess. At last it came, and I have not often been more grateful to see the light, though so far as my canoe was concerned it revealed a ghastly sight. There in the bottom of the little boat lay the unfortunate Askari, the sime, or sword, in his bosom, and the severed hand gripping the handle. I could not bear the sight, so hauling up the stone which had served as an anchor to the other canoe, we made it fast to the murdered man and dropped him overboard, and down he went to the bottom, leaving nothing but a train of bubbles behind him. Alas ! when our time comes,
34 Allan Quatermain.
most of us like him leave nothing but bubbles behind, to show that we have been, and the bubbles soon burst. The hand of his murderer we threw into the stream, where it slowly sank. The sword, of which the handle was ivory, inlaid with gold (evidently Arab work), I kept and used as a hunting-knife, and very useful it proved.
Then, a man having been transferred to my canoe, we once more started on in very low spirits and not feeling at all comfortable as to the future, but fondly hoping to arrive at the ' Highlands ' station by night. To make matters worse, within an hour of sunrise it came on to rain in torrents, wetting us to the skin, and even necessitating the occasional baling of the canoes, and as the rain beat down the wind we could not use our sails, and had to get along as best we could with our paddles.
At eleven o'clock we halted on an open piece of ground on the left bank of the river, and, the rain abating a little, managed to make a fire and catch and broil some fish. We did not dare to wander about to search for game. At two o'clock we got oft again, taking a supply of broiled fish with us, and shortly after- wards the rain came o"n harder than ever. Also the river began to get exceedingly difficult to navigate on account of the numer- ous rocks, reaches of shallow water, and the increased force of the current ; so that it soon became clear to us that we should not reach the Rev. Mackenzie's hospitable roof that night — a prospect that did not tend to enliven us. Toil as we would, we could^not make more than an average of a mile an hour, and at five o'clock in the afternoon (by which time we were all utterly worn out) we reckoned that we were still quite ten miles below the station. This being so, we set to work to make the best arrangements we could for the night. After our recent experi- ence, we simply did not dare to land, more especially as the banks of the Tana were here clothed with dense bush that would have given cover to five thousand Masai, and at first I thought that we were going to have another night of it in the canoes. Fortunately, however, we espied a little rocky islet, not more than fifteen yards or so square, situated nearly in the middle of the river. For this we paddled, and, making fast the canoes, landed and made ourselves as comfortable as circum- stances would permit, which was very uncomfortable indeed. As for the weather, it continued to be simply vile, the rain com- ing down in sheets till we were chilled to the marrow and
The Mission Station. 35
utterly preventing us from lighting a fire. There was, however, one consoling circumstance about this rain : our Askari declared that nothing would induce the Masai to make an attack in it, as they intensely disliked moving about in the wet, peihaps, as Good suggested, because they hate the idea of washing. We ate some insipid and sodden cold fish — that is, with the excep- tion of Umslopogaas, who, like most Zulus, cannot bear fish — and took a pull of brandy, of which we fortunately had a few bottles left, and then commenced what, with one exception — when we same three white men nearly perished of cold on the snow of Sheba's Breast in the course of our journey to Kuku- analand — was, I think, the most trying night I ever experienced. It seemed absolutely endless, and once or twice I feared that two of the Askari would have died of the wet, cold, and expo- sure. Indeed, had it not been for timely doses of brandy 1 am sure that they would have died, for no African people can stand much exposure, which first paralyses and then kills them. I could see that even that iron old warrior Umslopogaas felt it keenly ; though, in strange contrast to the Wakwafis, who groaned and bemoaned their fate unceasingly, he never uttered a single complaint. To make matters worse, about one in the morning we again heard the owl's ominous hooting, and had at once to prepare ourselves for another attack ; though, if it had been attempted, I do not think that we could have offered a very effective resistance. But either the owl was a real one this time, or else the Masai were themselves too miserable to think of offensive operations, which, indeed, they rarely, if ever, undertake in bush veldt. At any rate, we saw nothing of them.
At last the dawn came gliding across the water, wrapped in wreaths of ghostly mist, and, with, the daylight, the rain ceased ; and then, out came the glorious sun, sucking up the mists and warming the chill air. Benumbed, and utterly exhausted, we dragged ourselves to our feet, and went and stood in the bright rays, and were thankful for them. I can quite under- stand how it is that primitive people become sun worshippers, especially if their conditions of life render them liable to ex- posure.
In half an hour more we were once again making fair pro- gress with the help of a good wind. Our spirits had returned with the sunshine, and we were ready to laugh at difficulties
36 Allan Quatermain.
and dangers that had been almost crushing on the previous day.
And so we went on cheerily till about eleven o'clock. Just as we were thinking of halting as usual, to rest and try to shoot something to eat, a sudden bend in the river brought us in sight of a substantial-looking European house with a verandah round it, splendidly situated upon a hill, and surrounded by a high stone wall with a ditch on the outer side. Right against and overshadowing the house was an enormous pine, the top of which we had seen through a glass for the last two days, but of course without knowing that it marked the site of the mission station. I was the first to see the house, and could not restrain myself from giving a hearty cheer, in which the others, including the natives, joined lustily. There was no thought of halting now. On we laboured, for, unfortunately, though the house seemed quite near, it was still a long way off by river, until at last, by one o'clock, we found ourselves at the bottom of the slope on which the building stood. Running the canoes to the bank, we disembarked, and were just hauling them up on to the shore, when we perceived three figures, dressed in ordinary English-looking clothes, hurrying down through a grove of trees to meet us.
' A gentleman, a lady, and a little girl/ ejaculated Gopd, after surveying the trio through his eyeglass, * walking in a civilised fashion, through a civilised garden, to meet us in this place. Hang me, if this isn't the most curious thing we have seen yet!'
Good was right : it certainly did seem odd and out of place —more like a scene out of a dream or an Italian opera than a real tangible fact ; and the sense of unreality was not lessened when we heard ourselves addressed in good broad Scotch, which, however, I cannot reproduce.
1 How do you do, sirs,' said Mr. Mackenzie, a grey-haired, angular man, with a kindly face and red cheeks ; ' I hope I see you very well. My natives told me an hour ago they spied two canoes with white men in them coming up the river ; so we have just come down to meet you.'
' And it is very glad that we are to see a white face again, let me tell you,' put in the lady— a charming and refined-looking person.
We took off our hats in acknowledgment, and proceeded to introduce ourselves.
The Mission Station. 37
1 And now,' said Mr. Mackenzie, ' you must all be hungry and weary ; so come on, gentlemen, come on, and right glad we are to see you. The last white man who visited us was Alphonse — you will see Alphonse presently — and that was a year ago.
Meanwhile we had been walking up the slope of the hill, the lower portion of which was fenced off, sometimes with quince fences, and sometimes with rough stone walls, into Kaffir gardens, just now full of crops of mealies, pumpkins, potatoes, &c. In the corners of these gardens were groups of neat mush- room-shaped huts, occupied by Mr. Mackenzie's mission natives, whose women and children came pouring out to meet us as we walked. Through the centre of the gardens ran the roadway up which we were walking. It was bordered on each side by a line of orange trees, which, although they had only been planted ten years, had in the lovely climate of the uplands below Mt. Kenia, the base of which is about 5,000 feet above the coast line level, already grown to imposing proportions, and were positively laden with golden fruit. After a stiffish climb of a quarter of a mile or so — for the hill-side was steep — we came to a splendid quince fence, also covered with fruit, which enclosed, Mr. Mackenzie told us, a space of about four acres of ground that contained his private garden, house, church, and out-build- ings, and, indeed, the whole hill-top. And what a garden it was I I have always loved a good garden, and I could have thrown up my hands for joy when I saw Mr. Mackenzie's. First there were rows upon rows of standard European fruit-trees, all grafted ; for on the top of this hill the climate was so temperate that very nearly all the English vegetables, trees, and flowers flourished luxuriantly, even including several varieties of the apple, which, generally speaking, runs to wood in a warm climate and obstinately declines to fruit. Then there were strawberries and tomatoes (such tomatoes !), and melons and cucumbers, and, indeed, every sort of vegetable and fruit.
* Well, you have something like a garden !' I said, overpowered with admiration not untouched by envy.
' Yes,' answered the missionary, ' it is a very good garden and has well repaid my labour ; but it is the climate that I have to thank. If you stick a peach-stone into the ground it will bear fruit the fourth year, and a rose-cutting will bloom in a year. It is a lovely clime.'
38 Allan Quatermajn.
Just then we came to a ditch about ten feet wide, and full of water, on the other side of which was a loopholed stone wall eight feet high, and with sharp flints plentifully set in mortar on the coping.
' There/ said Mr. Mackenzie, pointing to the ditch and wall, ' this is my magnum opus ; at least, this and the church, which is the other side of the house. It took me and twenty natives two years to dig the ditch and build the wall, but I never felt safe « till it was done; and now I can defy all the savages in Africa, for the spring that fills the ditch is inside the wall, and bubbles out at the top of the hill winter and summer alike, and I always keep a store of four months' provisions in the house.'
Crossing over a plank and through a very narrow opening in the wall, we entered into what Mrs. Mackenzie called her domain — namely, the flower garden, the beauty of which it is really be- yond my power to describe. I do not think I ever saw such roses, gardenias, or camellias (all reared from seeds or cuttings sent from England) ; and there was also a patch given up to a collection of bulbous roots mostly collected by Miss Flossie, Mr. Mackenzie's little daughter, from the surrounding country, some of which .were surpassingly beautiful. In the middle of this garden, and exactly opposite the verandah, a beautiful foun- tain of clear water bubbled up from the ground, and fell into a stone-work basin which had been carefully built to receive it, whence the overflow found its way by means of a drain to the moat round the outer wall, this moat in its turn serving as a re- servoir, whence an unfailing supply of water was available to ir- rigate all the gardens below. The house itself, a massively built single-storied building, was roofed with slabs of stone, and had a handsome verandah in front. It was built on three sides of a square, the fourth side being taken up by the kitchens, which stood separate from the house — a very good plan in a hot country. In the centre of this square thus formed was, perhaps, the most remarkable object that we had yet seen in this charm- ing place, and that was a single tree of the conifer tribe, varieties of which freely grow on the highlands of this part of Africa. This splendid tree, which Mr. Mackenzie informed us was a land- mark for fifty miles round, and which we had ourselves seen for the last forty miles of our journey, must have been nearly three hun- dred feet in height, the trunk measuring about sixteen feet in diameter at a yard from the ground. For about seventy feet it rose a beautiful tapering brown pillar without a single branch,
The Mission Station. 39
but at that height splendid dark green boughs, which, looked at from below, had the appearance of gigantic fern-leaves, sprang out horizontally from the trunk, projecting right over the house and flower-garden, to both of which they furnished a grateful proportion of shade, without — being so high up — offering any impediment to the passage of light and airr
1 What a beautiful tree ! ' exclaimed Sir Henry.
' Yes, you are right ; it is a beautiful tree. There is not another like it in all the country round, that I know of/ answered Mr. Mackenzie. ' I call it my watch tower. As you see, I have a rope ladder fixed to the lowest bough ; and if I want to see anything that is going on within fifteen miles or so, all I have to do is to run up with a spyglass. But you must be hungry, and I am sure the dinner is cooked. Come in, my friends ; it is but a rough place, but well enough for these sav- age parts ; and I can tell you what, we have got — a French cook.' And he led the way on to the verandah.
As I was following him, and wondering what on earth he could mean by this, there suddenly appeared, through the door that opened on to the verandah from the house, a dapper little man, dressed in a neat blue cotton suit, and shoes made of tanned hide, and remarkable for a bustling air and most enormous black mustachios, shaped into an upward curve, and coming to a point for all the world like a pair of buffalo- horns.
' Madame bids me for to say that dinner is sarved. Mes- sieurs, my compliments ; ' then suddenly perceiving Umslopo- gaas, who was loitering along after us and playing with his bat- tle-axe, he threw up his hands in astonishment. 'Ah, mats quel homme I ' he ejaculated in French, * quel sauvage affreux f Take but note of his huge choppare and the great pit in his head/
' Ay/ said Mr. Mackenzie \ ' what are you talking about,. Alphonse ? '
' Talking about ! ' replied the little Frenchman, his eyes stilt fixed upon Umslopogaas, whose general appearance seemed to fascinate him ; ' why I talk of him ' — and he rudely pointed — ' of ce monsieur noir?
At this everybody began to laugh, and Umslopogaas, per- ceiving that he was the object of remark, frowned ferociously, for he had a most lordly dislike Q£ anything like a personal) liberty.
40 Allan Quatermain.
'Parbleuf said Alphonse, 'he is angered — he makes the grimace. I like not his air. I vanish.' And he did with con- siderable rapidity.
Mr. Mackenzie joined heartily in the shout of laughter which we indulged in. ' He is a queer character — Alphonse,' he said. « By-and-by I will tell you his history ; in the meanwhile let us try his cooking.'
' Might I ask,' said Sir Henry, after we had eaten a most ex- cellent dinner, ' how you came to have a French cook in these wilds?'
' Oh,' answered Mrs. Mackenzie, ' he arrived here of his own accord about a year ago, and asked to be taken into our ser- vice. He had got into some trouble in France, and fled to Zanzibar, where he found an application had been made by the French Government for his extradition. Whereupon he rushed off up-country, and fell in, when nearly starved, with our cara- van of men, who were bringing us our annual supply of goods, and was brought on here. You should get him to tell you the story.'
When dinner was over we lit our pipes, and Sir Henry pro- ceeded to give our host a description of our journey up here, over which he looked very grave.
' It is evident to me,' he said, ' that those rascally Masai are following you, and I am very thankful that you have reached this house in safety. I do not think that they will dare to attack you here. It is unfortunate, though, that nearly all my men have gone down to the coast with ivory and goods. There are two hundred of them in the caravan, and the consequence is that I have not more than twenty men available for defensive purposes in case they should attack us. But, still, I will just give a few orders ; ' and, calling a black man who was loitering about outside in the garden, he went to the window, and ad- dressed him in the Swahili dialect. The man listened, and then saluted and departed.
' I am sure I devoutly hope that we shall bring no such calamity upon you,' said I, anxiously, when he had taken his seat again. ' Rather than bring those bloodthirsty villains about your ears, we will move on and take our chance.'
* You will do nothing of the sort. If the Masai come they come, and there is an end on it ; and I think we can give them a pretty warm greeting. I would not show any man the door for all the Masai in the world.'
The Mission Station, 41
' That reminds me,' I said, ' the Consul at Lamu told me he had had a letter from you, in which you said that a man had arrived here who reported that he had come across a white peo- ple in the interior. Do you think that there was any truth in his story ? I ask, because I have once or twice in my life heard rumours from natives who have come down from the far north of the existence of such a race.
Mr. Mackenzie, by way of answer, went out of the room and returned, bringing with him a most curious sword. It was long, and all the blq^de, which was very thick and heavy, was to within a quarter af an inch of the cutting edge worked into an orna- mental pattern exactly as we work soft wood with a fret-saw, the steel, however, being invariably pierced in such a way as not to interfere with the strength of the sword. This in itself was sufficiently curious, but what was still more so was that all the edges of the hollow spaces cut through the substance of the blade were most beautifully inlaid with gold, which was in some way that I cannot understand welded on to the steel.*
* There,' said Mr. Mackenzie, ' did you ever see a sword like that?'
We all examined it and shook our heads.
' Well, I have got it to show you, because this is what the man who said he had seen the white people brought with him, and because it does more or less give an air of truth to what I should otherwise have set down as a lie. Look here ; I will tell you all I know about the matter, which is not much. One afternoon, just before sunset, I was sitting on the verandah, when a poor, miserable, starved-looking man came limping; up and squatted down before me. I asked him where he came from and what he wanted, and thereon he plunged into a long rambling narrative about how he belonged to a tribe far in the north, and how his tribe was destroyed by another tribe, and he with a few other survivors driven still further north past a lake called Laga. Thence, it appears, he made his way to another lake that lay up in the mountains, "a lake without a bottom" he called it, and here his wife and brother died of an infectious sickness — probably smallpox — whereon the people drove him
* Since I sa\v the.above I have examined hundreds of these swords, but have never been able to discover how the gold, plates were inlaid in the fretwork. The armourers who make them in Zu-veudis bind themselves by oath not to re- veal the secret. — A. Q,
42 Allan Quatermain.
out of their villages into the wilderness, where he wandered miserably over mountains for ten days, a^ter which he got into dense thorn forest, and was one day found there by some white men who were hunting, and who took him to a place where all the people were white, and lived in stone houses. Here he remained a week shut up in a house, till one night a man with a white beard, whom he understood to be a " medicine man," came and inspected him, after which he was led off and taken through the thorn forest to the confines of the wilderness, and given food and this sword (at least so he said), and turned loose.'
'Well,' said Sir Henry, who had been listening with breath- less interest, * and what did he do then ? *
* Oh ! he seems, according to his account, to have gone through sufferings and hardships innumerable, and to have lived for weeks on roots, and berries, and such things as he could catch and kill. But somehow he did live, and at last by slow degrees made his way south and reached this place. What the details of his journey were I never learnt, for I told him to re- turn on the morrow, bidding one of my headmen look after him for the night. The headman took him away, but the poor man had the itch so badly that the headman's wife would not have him in the hut for fear of catching it, so he was given a blanket and told to sleep outside. As it happened, we had a lion hanging about here just then, and most unhappily he winded this unfortunate wanderer, and, springing on him, bit his head almost off without the people in the hut knowing anything about it, and there was an end of him and his story about the white people ; and whether or no there is any truth in it is more than I can tell you. What do you think, Mr. Quatermain ? '
I shook my head, and answered, * I don't know. There are so many queer things hidden away in the heart of this great continent that I should be sorry to assert that there was no truth in it. Anyhow, we mean to try and find out. We intend to journey to Lekakisera, and thence, if we live to get so far, to this Lake Laga ; and, if there are any white people beyond, we will do our best to find them.'
4 You are very venturesome people,' said Mr. Mackenzie, with a smile, and the subject dropped
Alphonse and his Annette. 43
CHAPTER IV.
ALPHONSE AND HIS ANNETTE.
AFTER dinner we thoroughly inspected all the outbuildings and grounds of the station, which I consider the most successful as well as the most beautiful place of the sort that I have seen in Africa. We then returned to the verandah, where we found Umslopogaas taking advantage of this favourable opportunity to clean thoroughly all the rifles. This was the only work that he ever did or was asked to do, for as a Zulu chief it was be- neath his dignity to work with his hands ; but such as it was he did it very well. It was a curious sight to see the great Zulu sitting there upon the floor, his battle-axe resting against the wall behind him, whilst his long aristocratic-looking hands were busily employed, delicately and with the utmost care, cleaning the mechanism of the breechloaders. He had a name for each gun. One — a double four-bore belonging to Sir Henry — was the Thunderer ; another, my 500 Express, which had a peculi- arly sharp report, was 'the little one who spoke' like a whip; ' the Winchester repeaters were ' the women, who talked so fast that you could not tell one word from another ; ' the six Mar- tinis were * the common people ; ' and so on with them all. It was very curious to hear him addressing each gun as he cleaned it, as though it were an individual, and in a vein of the quaint- est humour. He did the same with his battle-axe, which he seemed to look upon as an intimate friend, and to which he would at times talk by the hour, going over all his old adven- tures with it — and dreadful enough some of them were. By a piece of grim humour, he had named this axe * Inkosi-kaas,' which is the Zulu word for chieftainess. For a long while I could not make out why he gave it such a name, and at last I asked him, when he informed me that the axe was evidently feminine, because of her womanly habit of prying very deep into things, and that she was clearly a chieftainess because all men fell down before her, struck dumb at the sight of her beauty and power. In the same way he would consult ' Inkosi-kaas ' if in any dilemma ; and when I asked him why he did so, he
44 Allan Quatermain.
informed me it was because she must needs be wise, having * looked into so many people's brains.'
I took up the axe and closely examined this formidable weapon. It was, as I have said, of the nature of a pole-axe. The haft, made out of an enormous rhinoceros horn, was three feet three inches long, about an inch and a quarter thick, and with a knob at the end as large as a Maltese orange, left there to prevent the hand from slipping. This horn haft, though so massive, was as flexible as cane, and practically unbreakable ; but, to make assurance doubly sure, it was whipped round at intervals of a few inches with copper-wire — all the parts where the hands grip being thus treated. Just above where the haft entered the head were scored a number of little nicks, each nick representing a man killed in battle with the weapon. The axe itself was made of the most beautiful steel, and apparently of European manufacture, though Umslopogaas did not know where it came from, having taken it from the hand of a chief he had killed in battle many years before. It was not very heavy, the head weighing two and a half pounds, as nearly as I could judge. The cutting part was slightly concave in shape — not convex, as is generally the case with savage battle-axes — and sharp as a razor, measuring five and three-quarter inches across the widest part. From the back of the axe sprang a stout spike four inches long, for the last two of which it was hollow, and shaped like a leather punch, with an opening for anything forced into the hollow at the punch end to be pushed out above — in fact, in this respect it exactly resembled a butcher's pole-axe. It was with this punch end, as we after- wards discovered, that Umslopogaas usually struck when fight- ing, driving a neat round hole in his adversary's skull, and only using the broad cutting edge for a circular sweep, or sometimes in a melee. I think he considered the punch a neater and more sportsmanlike tool, and it was from his habit of peck- ing at his enemy with it that he got his name of ' Woodpecker.' Certainly in his hands it was a terribly efficient one.
Such was Umslopogaas' axe, Inkosi-kaas, the most remark- able and fatal hand-to-hand weapon that I ever saw, and one which he cherished as much as his own life. It scarcely ever left his hand except when he was eating, and then he always sat with it under his leg.
Just as I returned his axe to Umslopogaas Miss Flossie came up and took me off to see her collection of aowers, African HI-
Alphonse and his Annette. 45
iums, and blooming shrubs, some of which are very beautiful, many of the varieties being quite unknown to me, and also, I believe, to botanical science. I asked her if she had ever seen or heard of the ' Goya ' lily, which central African explorers have told me they have occasionally met with, and whose won- derful loveliness has rilled them with astonishment. This lily, which the natives say blooms only once in ten years, flourishes in the most arid soil. Compared to the size of the bloom, the bulb is small, generally weighing about four pounds. As for the flower itself (which I afterwards first saw under circum- stances likely to impress its appearance fixedly in my mind). I know not how to describe its beauty and splendour, or the indescribable sweetness of its perfume. The flower — for it only has one bloom — rises from the crown of the bulb on a thick fleshy and flat-sided stem, and the. specimen that I saw meas- ured fourteen inches in diameter, and is somewhat trumpet- shaped like the bloom of an ordinary ' longiflorum ', set verti- cally. First there is the green sheath, which in its early stage is not unlike that of a water-lily, but which as the bloom opens splits into four portions and curls back gracefully towards the stem. Then comes the bloom itself, a single dazzling arch of white enclosing another cup of richest velvety crimson, from the heart of which rises a golden-coloured pistil. I have never seen anything to equal this bloom in beauty or fragrance, and as I believe it is but little known, I take the liberty to describe it at length. Looking at it for the first time I well remember that I realised how even in a flower there dwells something of the majesty of its Maker. To my great delight Miss Flossie told me that she knew the flower well and had tried to grow it in her garden but without success, adding, however, that as it should be in bloom at this time of year she thought that she could procure me a specimen.
After that I fell to asking her if she was not lonely up here among all these savage people and without any companions of her own age.
c Lonely ? ' she said. ' Oh, indeed no ! I am as happy as the day is long, and besides I have my own companions. Why, I should hate to be buried in a crowd of white girls all just like myself so that • nobody could tell the difference ! Here,' she said, giving her head a little toss, ' I am 7; and every native for miles round knows the " Waterlily," — for that is what they call me — and is ready to do what I want, but in the
46 Allan Quatermain.
books that I have read about little girls in England, it is not like that. Everybody thinks them a trouble, and they have to do what their schoolmistress likes. Oh ! it would break my heart to be put in a cage like that and not to be free — free as the air.'
' Would you not like to learn ? ' I asked.
' So I do learn. Father teaches me Latin and French and arithmetic.'
' And are you never afraid among all these wild men ? '
* Afraid ? Oh no ! they never interfere with me. I think they believe that I am " Ngai " (of the Divinity) because I am so white and have fair hair. And look here,' and diving her little hand into the bodice of her dress she produced a double-bar- relled nickel-plated Derringer, * I always carry that loaded, and if anybody tried to touch me I should shoot him. Once I shot a leopard that jumped upon my donkey as I was riding along. It frightened me very much, but I shot it in the ear, and it fell dead, and I have its skin upon my bed. Look there ! ' she went on in an altered voice, touching me on the arm and point- ing to some far-away object, ' I said just now that I had com- panions ; there is one of them.'
I looked, and for the first time there burst upon my sight the glory of Mount Kenia. Hitherto the mountain had always been hidden in mist, but now its radiant beauty was unveiled for many thousand feet, although the base was still wrapped in vapour so that the lofty peak or pillar, towering nearly twenty thousand feet into the sky, appeared to be a fairy vision, hang- ing between earth and heaven, and based upon the clouds. The solemn majesty and beauty of this white peak are together beyond the power of my poor pen to describe. There it rose straight and sheer — a glittering white glory, its crest piercing the very blue of heaven. As I gazed at it with that little girl I felt my whole heart lifted up with an indescribable emotion, and for a moment great and wonderful thoughts seemed to break upon my mind, even as the arrows of the setting sun were breaking on Kenia's snows. Mr. Mackenzie's natives call the mountain the * Finger of God,' and to me it did seem eloquent of immortal peace and of the pure high calm that surely lies above this fevered world. Somewhere I had heard a line of poetry,
A thing of beauty is a joy forever,
Alphonse and his Annette. 47
and now it came into my mind, and for the first time I thor- oughly understood what the poet meant. Base indeed would be the man who could look upon that mighty snow-wreathed pile — that white old tombstone of the years, and not feel his own utter insignificance, and by whatsoever name he calls Him, worship God in his heart. Such sights are like visions of the spirit ; they throw wide the windows of the chamber of our small selfishness and let in a breath of that air that rushes round the rolling sphere, and for a while illumine our dark- ness with a far-off gleam of the white light which beats upon the Throne.
Yes, such things of beauty are indeed a joy for ever, and I can well understand what little Flossie meant when she talked of Kenia as her companion. As Umslopogaas, savage old Zulu as he was, said when I pointed out to him the peak hanging in the glittering air : 'A man might look thereon for a thousand years and yet be hungry to see.' But he gave rather another colour to his poetical idea when he added in a sort of chant, and with a touch of that weird imagination for which the man was remarkable, that when he was dead he should like his spirit to sit upon that snow-clad peak for ever, and to rush down the steep white sides in the breath of the whirlwind, or on the flash of the lightning, and ' slay, and slay, and slay.'
' Slay what, you old bloodhound ? ' I asked.
This rather puzzled him, but at length he answered —
* The other shadows.'
' So thou wouldst continue thy murdering even after death ? ' I said.
' I murder not,' he answered hotly ; 'I kill in fair fight Man is born to kill. He who kills not when his blood is hot is a woman, and no man. .The people who kill not are slaves. I say I kill in fair fight ; and when I am " in the shadow," as you white E\en say, I hope to go on killing in fair fight. May my shadow be accursed and chilled to the bone for ever if it should fall to murdering like a bushman with his poisoned arrows ! ' And he stalked away with much dignity, and left me laughing.
Just then the spies whom our host had sent out in the morn- ing to find out if there were any traces of our Masai friends about, returned, and reported that the country had been scour- ed for fifteen miles around without a single Elmoran being seen,
48 Allan Quatermain.
and ihat they believed that those gentry had given up the pur- suit and returned whence they came. Mr. Mackenzie gave a sigh of relief when he heard this, and so indeed did we, for we had had quite enough of the Masai to last us for some time. Indeed, the general opinion was that, finding we had reached the mission station in safety, they had, knowing its strength, given up the pursuit of us as a bad job. How ill-judged that view was the sequel will show.
After the spies had gone, and Mrs. Mackenzie and Flossie had retired for the night, Alphonse, the little Frenchman, came out, and Sir Henry, who is a very good French scholar, got him to tell us how he came to visit Central Africa, which he did in a most extraordinary lingo, that for the most part I shall not attempt to reproduce.
4 My grandfather,' he began, ' was a soldier of the Guard, and served under Napoleon. He was in the retreat from Moscow, and lived for ten days on his own leggings and a pair he stole from a comrade. He used to get drunk — he died drunk, and I remember playing at drums on his coffin. My father '
Here we suggested that he might skip his ancestry and come to the point
* Bien, messieurs ! ' replied this comical little man, with a polite bow. * I did only wish to demonstrate that the military principle is not hereditary. My grandfather was a splendid man, six feet two high, broad in proportion, a swallower of fire and gaiters. Also he was remarkable for his moustache. To me there remains the moustache, and — nothing more.
' I am, messieurs, a cook, and I was born at Marseilles. In that dear towji I spent my happy youth. For years and years I washed the dishes at the Hotel Continental. Ah, those were golden days ! ' and he sighed. * I am a Frenchman. Need I say, messieurs, that I admire beauty ? Nay, I adore the fair. Messieurs, we admire all the roses in a garden, but we pluck one. / plucked one, and alas, messieurs, it pricked my finger. She was a chambermaid, her name Annette, her figure ravish- ing, her face an angel's, her heart — alas, messieurs, that I should have to own it ! — black and slippery as a patent leather boot. I loved to desperation, I adored her to despair. She trans- ported me — in every sense ; she inspired me. Never have I cooked as I cooked (for I had been promoted at the hotel) when Annette, my adored Annette, smiled on me. Never ' —
Alphonse and his Annette. 49
and here his manly voice broke into a sob — ' never shall I cook •so well again/ Here he melted into tears.
' Come, cheer up ! ' said Sir Henry, in French, smacking him smartly on the back. ' There's no knowing what may happen, you know. To judge from your dinner to-day, I should say you were in a fair way to recovery.'
Alphonse stopped weeping, and began to rub his back. ' Monsieur,' he said, * doubtless means to console, but his hand is heavy. To continue : we loved, and were happy in each other's love. The birds in their little nest could not be happier than Alphonse and his Annette. Then came the blow — sapristi ! — when I think of it. Messieurs will forgive me if I wipe away a tear. Mine was an evil number ; I was drawn for the conscription. Fortune would be avenged on me for having won the heart of Annette.
' The evil moment came ; I had to go. I tried to run away, but I was caught by brutal soldiers, and they banged me with the butt-end of muskets till my mustachios curled wjth pain. I had a cousin, a linendraper, well to do, but very ugly. He had drawn a good number, and sympathised when they thumped me. " To thee, my cousin," I said, " to thee, in whose veins flows the blood of our heroic grandparent, to thee I consign Annette. Watch over her whilst I hunt for glory in the bloody field." l
' " Make your mind easy," said he ; " I will." As the sequel shows, he did.
' I went. I lived in barracks on black soup. I am a refined man and a poet by nature, and I suffered torture from the coarse horror of my surroundings. There was a drill sergeant, and he had a cane. Ah, that cane, how it curled ! Alas, never can I forget it
' One morning came the news ; my battalion was ordered to Tonquin. The drill sergeant and the other coarse monsters re- joiced. I — I made inquiries about Tonquin. They were not satisfactory. In Tonquin are savage Chinese who rip you open. My artistic tastes — for I am also an artist — recoiled from the idea of being ripped open. The great man makes up his mind quickly. I made up my mind. I determined not to be ripped open. I deserted.
1 1 reached Marseilles disguised as an old man. I went to the house of my cousin — he in whom runs my grandfather's heroic blood — and there sat Annette. It was the season of
5o Allan Quatermain.
cherries. They took a double stalk. At each end was a cherry. My cousin put one into his mouth, Annette put the other in hers. Then they drew the stalks in till their lips met — and alas, alas that I should have to say it ! — they kissed. The game was a pretty one, but it filled me with fury. The heroic blood of my grandfather boiled up in me. I rushed into the kitchen. I struck my cousin with the old man's crutch. He fell, I had slain him. Alas 'I believe that I did slay him. Annette screamed. The gendarmes came. I fled. I reached the harbour. I hid aboard a vessel. The vessel put to sea. The captain found me and beat me. He took an opportunity. He posted a let- ter from a foreign port to the public. He did not put me ashore because I cooked so well. I cooked for him all the way to Zanzibar. When I asked for payment he kicked me. The blood of my heroic grandfather boiled within me, and I shook my fist in his face and vowed to have my revenge. He kicked me again. At Zanzibar there was a telegram. I cursed the man who invented telegraphs. Now I curse him again. I was to be arrested for desertion, for murder, and que sais-je. I escaped from the prison. I fled, I starved. I met the men of Monsieur le Cur6. They brought me here. I am here full of woe. But I return not to France. Better to risk my life in these horrible places than to know the Bagne.'
He paused, and we nearly choked with laughter, having to turn our faces away.
' Ah ! you weep, messieurs,' he said. * No wonder — it is a sad story.'
' Perhaps,' said Sir Henry, ' the heroic blood of your grand- parent will triumph after all ; perhaps you will still be great. At any rate we shall see. And now I vote we go to bed. I am dead tired, and we had not much sleep on that confounded rock last night.'
And so we did, and very strange the tidy rooms and clean white sheets seemed to us after our recent experiences.
Umslopogaas makes a Promise. 5 1
CHAPTER V.
UMSLOPOGAAS MAKES A PROMISE.
NEXT morning at breakfast I missed Flossie and asked where she was.
' Well,' said her mother, * when I got up this morning I found
a note put outside my door in which But, here it is, you
can read it for yourself,' and she gave me the slip of paper on which the following was written : —
* DEAREST M , — It is just dawn, and I am off to the hills
to get Mr. Q a bloom of the lily he wants, so don't expect
me till you see me. I have taken the white donkey ; and nurse and a couple of boys are coming with me — also something to eat, as I may be away all day, for I am determined to get the lily if I have to go twenty miles for it. — FLOSSIE/
' I hope she will be all right,' I said, a little anxiously ; ' I never meant her to trouble after the flower.'
* Ah, Flossie can look after herself,' said her mother ; ' she often goes off in this way like a true child of the wilderness.' But Mr. Mackenzie, who came in just then and saw the note for the first time, looked rather grave though he said nothing.
After breakfast was over I took him aside and asked him if it would not be possible to send after the girl and get her back, having in view the possibility of there still being some Masai hanging about, at whose hands she might come to harm.
' I fear it would be of no use,' he answered. * She may be fifteen miles off by now, and it is impossible to say what path she has taken. There are the hills ;' and he pointed to a long range of rising ground stretching almost parallel with the course followed by the river Tana, but gradually sloping down to a dense bush-clad plain about five miles short of the house.
Here I suggested that we might get up the great tree over the house and search the country round with a spyglass ; and this,
$3 Allan Quatermain.
after Mr. Mackenzie had given some orders to his people to try and follow Flossie's spoor, we did.
The ascent of the mighty tree was rather a jumpy performance, even with a sound rope ladder fixed at both ends to climb up, at least to a landsman ; but Good came up like a lamplighter.
On reaching the height at which the first fern-shaped boughs sprang from the bole, we stepped without any difficulty upon a plattorm made of boards, nailed from one bough to another, and large enough to accommodate a dozen people. As for the view, it way simply glorious. In every direction the bush rolled away in great billows for miles and miles, as far as the glass would show, only here and there broken by the brighter green of patches of cultivation, or by the glittering surfaces of lakes. To the north-west, Kenia reared his mighty head, and we could trace the Tana River curling like a silver snake almost from his feet, and far away beyond us towards the ocean. I It is a glorious country, and only wants the hand of civilised man to make it a most pro- ductive one.
But look as we would, we could see no signs of Flossie and her donkey, so at last had to come down disappointed. On reaching the verandah I found Umslopogaas sitting there, slowly and lightly sharpening his axe with a small whetstone he always carried with him.
* What doest thou, Umslopogaas ? ' I asked.
' I smell blood,' was the answer ; and I could get no more out of him.
After dinner we again went up the tree and searched the sur- rounding country with a spyglass but without result. When we came down Umslopogaas was still sharpening Inkosi-kass, al- though she already had an edge like a razor. Standing in front of him and regarding him with a mixture of fear and fascination, was Alphonse. And certainly he did seem an alarming object —sitting there Zulu fashion, on his haunches, a wild look upon his intensely savage and yet intellectual face, sharpening, shar- pening, sharpening at the murderous-looking axe.
* Oh, the monster, the horrible man ! ' said the litt!? French cook, lifting his hands in amazement. ' See but the hole in his head ; the skin beats on it up and down like a baby's ! Who would nurse such a baby ? ' and he burst out laughing at the idea.
For a moment Umslopogaas looked up from his sharpening, and a sort of evil light played in his dark eyes.
Umslopogaas makes a Promise. 5 3
' What does the little " buffalo-heifer " [so named by Umslo pogaas, on account of his mustachios and feminine characteris- tics] say ? Let him be careful, or I will cut his horns. Beware, little man monkey, beware ! '
Unfortunately Alphonse, who was getting over his fear of him, went on laughing at ' ce drole dun monsieur noir' I was about to warn him to desist, when suddenly the huge Zulu bounded off the verandah on to the open space where Alphonse was standing, his features alive with a sort of malicious enthusiasm, and began swinging the axe round and round over the French- man's head.
' Stand still,' I shouted ; ' do not move as you value your life — he will not hurt you ; ' but I doubt if Alphonse heard me, be- ing, fortunately for himself, almost petrified with horror.
Then followed the most extraordinary display of sword, or rather of axemanship, that I ever saw. First of all the axe went flying round and round over the top of Alphonse's head, with an angry whirl and such extraordinary swiftness that it looked like a continuous band of steel, ever getting nearer and yet nearer to that unhappy individual's skull, till at last it grazed it as it flew. Then suddenly the motion was changed, and it seemed to literally flow up and down his body and limbs, never more than an eighth of an inch from them, and yet never striking them. It was a wonderful sight to see the little man fixed there, having apparently realised that to move would be to run the risk of sudden death, while his black tormentor towered over him, and wrapped him round with the quick flashes of the axe. For a minute or more this went on, till suddenly I saw the moving brightness travel down the side of Alphonse's face, and then out- wards and stop. As it did so a tuft of something black fell to the ground ; it was the tip of one of the little Frenchman's cur- ling mustachios.
Umslopogaas leant upon the handle of Inkosi-kaas, and broke into a long, low laugh ; and Alphonse, overcome with fear, sank into a sitting posture on the ground, whilst we stood astonished at this exhibition of almost superhuman skill and mastery of a weapon. ' Inkosi-kaas is sharp enough,' he shout- ed ; ' the blow that clipped the " buffalo-heifer's " horn would have split a man from the crown to the chin. Few could have struck it but I ; none could have struck it and not taken off the shoulder too. Loot, thou little heifer ! Am I good man to laugh at, thinkest thou ? For a space hast thou stood within
54 Allan Quatermain.
a hair's breadth of death. Laugh not again, lest the hair's- breadth be wanting. I have spoken.'
' What meanest thou by such mad tricks ? ' I asked of Um- slopogaas, indignantly. ' Surely thou art mad. Twenty times didst thou go near to slaying the man.'
' And yet, Macumazahn, I slew not. Thrice as Inkosi-kaas flew the spirit entered into me to end him, and send her crash- ing through his skull ; but I did not. Nay, it was but a jest ; but tell the " heifer " that it is not well to mock at such as I. Now I go to make a shield, for I smell blood, Macumazahn — of a truth I smell blood. Before the battle hast thou not seen the vultures grow of a sudden in the sky ? They smell the blood, Macumazahn, and my scent is more keen than theirs. There is a dry ox-hide down yonder ; I go to make a shield.'
* That is an uncomfortable sort of retainer of yours,' said Mr. Mackenzie, who had witnessed this extraordinary scene. ' He has frightened Alphonse out of his wits ; look ! ' and he pointed to the Frenchman, who, with a scared white face and trembling limbs, was making his way into the house. ' I don't think that he will ever laugh at " le monsieur noir " again.'
* Yes,' answered I, 'it is ill jesting with such as he. When he is roused he is like a fiend, and yet he has a kind heart in his own fierce way. I remember years ago seeing him nurse a sick child for a week. He is a strange character, but true as steel, and a strong stick to rest on in danger.'
' He says he smells blood,' said Mr. Mackenzie. ' I only trust he is not right. I am getting very fearful about my little girl. She must have gone far, or she would be home by now. It is half-past three o'clock.'
I pointed out that she had taken food with her, and very likely would not in the ordinary course of events return till nightfall; but I myself felt very anxious, and fear that my anxiety betrayed itself.
Shortly after this, the people whom Mr. Mackenzie had sent out to search for Flossie returned, stating that they had follow- ed the spoor of the donkey for a couple of miles and had then lost it on some stony ground, nor could they discover it again. They had, however, scoured the country far and wide, but with- out success.
After this the afternoon wore drearily on, and towards even- ing, there being still no signs of Flossie, our anxiety grew very
Umslopogaas makes a Promise. 5 5
keen. As for the poor mother, she was quite prostrated by her fears, and no wonder, but the father kept his head wonderfully well. Everything that could be done was done : people were sent out in all directions, shots were fired, and a continuous outlook kept from the great tree, but without avail.
And then at last it grew dark, and still no sign of fair-haired little Flossie.
At eight o'clock we had supper. It was but a sorrowful meal, and Mrs. Mackenzie did not appear at it. We three also were very silent, for in addition to our natural anxiety as to the fate of the child, we were weighed down by the sense that we bad brought this trouble on the head of our kind host. When supper was nearly at an end I made an excuse to leave the table. I wanted to get outside and think the situation over. I went on to the verandah and, having lit my pipe, sat down on a seat about a dozen feet from the right-hand end of the struc- ture, which was, as the reader may remember, exactly opposite one of the narrow doors of the protecting wall that enclosed the house and flower garden. I had been sitting there perhaps six or seven minutes when I thought I heard the door move. I looked in that direction and listened, but being unable to make out anything, concluded that I must have been mistaken. It was a darkish night, the moon not having yet risen.
Another minute passed, when suddenly something round fell with a soft but heavy thud upon the stone flooring of the ver- andah, and came bounding and rolling along past me. For a moment I did not rise, but sat wondering what it could be. Finally I concluded it must have been an animal. Just then, however, another idea struck me, and I got up quick enough. The thing lay quite still a few feet beyond me. I put down my hand towards it and it did not move : clearly it was not an ani- mal. My hand touched it. It was soft and warm and heavy. Hurriedly I lifted it and held it up against the faint starlight.
// was a newly severed human head !
I am an old hand and not easily upset, but I own that that ghastly sight made me feel sick. How had the thing come there ? Whose was it ? I put it down and ran to the little doorway. I could see nothing, hear nobody. I was about to go out into the darkness beyond, but remembering that to do so was to expose myself to the risk of being stabbed, 1 drew back, shut the door, and bolted it. Then I retuned to the ver- andah, and in as careless a voice as I could command called
56 Allan Quatermain.
Curtis. I fear, however,*that my tones must have betrayed me, for not only Sir Henry but also Good and Mackenzie rose from the table and came hurrying out.
* What is it ? ' said the clergyman anxiously. Then I had to tell them.
Mr. Mackenzie turned pale as death under his red skin. We were standing opposite the hall door and there was a light in it so that I could see. He snatched the head up by the hair and held it in the light.
* It is the head of one of the men who accompanied Flossie,' he said with a gasp. * Thank God it is not hers ! '
We all stood and stared at each other aghast. What was to be done ?
Just then there was a knocking at the door that I had bolted, and a voice cried, ' Open, my father, open 1 '
The door was unlocked, and insped a terrified man. He was one of the spies who had been sent out.
' My father,' he cried, ' the Masai are on us ! A great body of them have passed round the hill and are moving towards the old stone kraal down by the little stream. My father, make strong thy heart ! In the midst of them I saw the white ass, and on it sat the Waterlily [Flossie]. An Elmoran [young warrior] led the ass, and by its side walked the nurse weeping. The men who went with her in the morning I saw not.'
' Was the child alive ? ' asked Mr. Mackenzie, hoarsely.
1 She was white as the snow, but well, my father. They pass- ed quite close to me, and looking up from where I lay hid I saw her face against the sky.'
* God help her and us ! ' groaned the clergyman. ' How many are there of them ? ' I asked.
* More than two hundred — two hundred and half a hun dred.'
Once more we looked one on the other. What was to be done ? Just then there arose a loud insistent cry outside the wall.
' Open the door, white man ; open the door ! A herald — a herald to speak with thee.' Thus cried the voice.
Umslopogaas ran to the wall, and, reaching with his long arms to the coping, lifted his head above it and gazed over.
* I see but one man,' he said. * He is armed and carries a basket in his hand.'
Umslopogaas makes a Promise. 57
1 Open the door,' I said. * Umslopogaas, take thine axe and stand thereby. Let one man pass. If another follows, slay.'
The door was unbarred. In the shadow of the wall stood Umslopogaas, his axe raised above his head to strike. Just then the moon came out. There was a moment's pause, and then in stalked a Masai Flmoran, clad in the lull war panoply that I have already described, but bearing a large basket in his hand. The moonlight shone bright upon his great spear as he walked. He was physically a splendid man, apparently about thirty-five years of age. Indeed, none of the Masai that I saw were under six leet high, though mostly quite young. When he got opposite to us he halted, put down the basket, and stuck the spike of his spear into the ground, so that it stood upright.
* Let us talk,' he said. * The first messenger we sent to you could not talk ; ' and he pointed to the head which lay upon the paving of the stoop — a ghastly sight in the moonlight ; 1 but I have words to speak if ye have ears to hear. Also I bring presents ; ' and he pointed to the basket and laughed, wilh an air of swaggering insolence that is perfectly indescriba- ble, and yet which one could not but admire, seeing that he was surrounded by enemies. ' Say on,' said Mr. Mackenzie.
' 1 am the " Lygonani " [war captain] of a part of the Masai of the Guasa Amboni. I and my men followed these three white men,' and he pointed to Sir Henry, Good, and myself, ' but they were too clever for us, and escaped hither. We have a quarrel with them, and are going to kill them.' 4 Are you, my friend ? ' said I to myself. 1 In following these men we this morning caught two black men, one black woman, a white donkey, and a white girl. One of the black men we killed — there is his head upon the pave- ment ; the other ran away. The black woman, the little white girl, and the white ass we took and brought with us. In proof thereof have I brought this basket that she carried. Is it not thy daughter's basket?'
Mr. Mackenzie nodded, and the warrior went on. ' Good ! With thee and thy daughter we have no quarrel, nor do we wish to harm thee, save as to thy cattle, which wo
58 Allan Quatermain.
have already gathered, two hundred and forty head— a beast for every man's father.'*
Here Mr. Mackenzie gave a groan, as he greatly valued this herd of cattle, which he bred with much care and trouble.
' So, save for the cattle, thou mayst go free ; more especially, he added frankly, glancing at the wall, ' as this place would be a difficult one to take. But as to these men it is otherwise ; we have followed them for eight days, and must kill them. Were we to return to our kraal without having done so, all the girls would make a mock of us. So, however troublesome it may be, they must die.
4 Now I have a proposition for thine ear. We would not harm the little girl ; she is too fair to harm, and has besides a brave spirit. Give us one of these three men — a life for a life —and we will let her go, and throw in the black woman with her also. This is a fair offer, white man. We ask but for one, not for the three ; we must take another opportunity to kill the other two. I do not even pick my man, though I should pre- fer the big one,' pointing to Sir Henry ; 'he looks strong, and would die more slowly.'
'And if I say I will not yield the man?' said Mr. Mac- kenzie.
' Nay, say not so, white man/ answered the Masai, ' for then thy daughter dies at dawn, and the woman with her says thou hast no other child. Were she older I would take her for a servant ; but as she is so young I will slay her with my own hand— aye, with this very spear. Thou canst come and see, an' thou wilt. I give thee a safe conduct ; ' and the fiend laughed aloud at his brutal jest.
Meanwhile I had been thinking rapidly, as one does in emergencies, and had come to the conclusion that I would ex- change myself against Flossie. I scarcely like to mention the matter for fear it should be misunderstood. Pray do not let anyone be misled into thinking that there was anything heroic about this, or any such nonsense. It was merely a matter of common sense and common justice. My life was an old and worthless one, hers was young and valuable. Her death would pretty well kill her father and mother also, whilst nobody would be much the worse for mine ; indeed, several charitable insti-
* The Masai Elmoran or young warrior can own no property, so all the booty they may win in battle belongs to their fathers alone. — A. Q.
Umslopogaas makes a Promise. 59
tutions would have cause to rejoice thereat. It was indirectly through me that the dear little girl was in her present position. Lastly, a man was better fitted to meet death in such a peculiarly awful form than a sweet young girl. Not, however, that I meant to let these gentry torture me to death — I am far too much of a coward to allow that, being naturally a timid man ; my plan was to see the girl safely exchanged and then to shoot myself, trusting that the Almighty would take the peculiar circum- stances of the case into consideration and pardon the act. All this and more went through my mind in very few seconds.
* All right, Mackenzie/ I said, ' you can tell the man that I will exchange myself against Flossie, only I stipulate that she shall be safely in this house before they kill me.'
' Eh ? ' said Sir Henry and Good simultaneously. * That you don't/
* No, no,' said Mr. Mackenzie, ' I will have no man's blood upon my hands. If it please God that my daughter die this awful death, His will be done. You are a brave man (which I am not by any means) and a noble man, Quatermain, but you shall not go.'
' If nothing else turns up I shall go,' I said decidedly.
'This is an important matter,' said Mackenzie, addressing the Lygonani, ' and we must think it over. You shall have our answer at dawn.'
' Very well, white man,' answered the savage indifferently ; c only remember if thy answer is late thy little white bud will ' never grow into a flower, that is all, for I shall cut it with this,' and he touched the spear. ' I should have thought that thou wouldst play a trick and attack us at night, but I know from the woman with the girl that your men are down at the coast, and that thou hast but twenty men here. It is not wise, white man,' he added with a laugh, * to keep so small a garrison for your "boma" [kraal]. Well, good night, and good night to you also, other white men, whose eyelids I shall soon close once and for all. At dawn thou wilt bring me word. If riot, remember it shall be as I have said.' Then turning to Um- slopogaas, who had all the while been standing behind him and shepherding him as it were, ' Open the door for me, fellow, quick now.'
This was too much for the old chief's patience. For the last ten minutes his lips had been, figuratively speaking, positively watering over the Masai Lygonani, and this he could not stand.
60 Allan Quatermain.
Placing his long hand on the Elmoran's shoulder, he gripped it and gave him such a twist as brought him face to face with himself, Then, thrusting his fierce countenance to within a few inches of the Masai's evil feather-framed features, he said in a low growling voice : —
* Seest thou me ? '
* Ay, lellow, I see thee.'
* And seest thou this ? ' and he held Inkosi-kaas before his eyes. I
' Ay, fellow, I see the toy ; what of it ? '
' Thou Masai dog, thou boasting windbag, thou capturer of little girls, with this " toy " will I hew thee limb from limb. Well for thee that thou art a herald, or even now would I strew thy members about the grass.'
The Masai shook his great spear and laughed long and loud as he answered, * I would that thou stoodst against me man to man, and we would see,' and again he turned to go, still laughing.
* Thou shalt stand against me man to man, be not afraid,' replied Umslopogaas, in the same ominous voice. ' Thou shalt stand face to face with Umslopogaas, of the blood of Chaka, of the people of Amazulu, a captain in the regiment of the Nko- mabakosi, as many have done before, and bow thyself to Inko- si-kaas, as many have done before. Ay, laugh on, laugh on ! to-morrow night shall the jackals laugh as they crunch thy ribs.
When the Lygonani had gone, one of us thought of opening the basket he had brought as a proof that Flossie was really their prisoner. On lifting the lid it was found to contain a most lovely specimen of both bulb and flower of the Goya lily, which I have already described, in full bloom and quite un- injured, and what was more a note in Flossie's childish hand written in pencil upon a greasy piece of paper that had been used to wrap up some food in : —
'DEAREST FATHER AND MOTHER,' ran the note, — 'The Masai caught us when we were coming home with the lily. I tried to escape, but could not. They killed Tom : the other man ran away. They have not hurt nurse and me, but say that they mean to exchange us against one of Mr. Quatermain's party. / will have nothing of the sort. Do not let anybody give his life for me. Try and attack them at night ; they are going to feast on three bullocks they have stolen and killed. 1
Umslopogaas makes a Promise. 61
have my pistol, and if no help comes by dawn I will shoot my self. They shall not kill me. If so, remember me always, dearest father and mother. I am very frightened, but I trust in God. I dare not write any more, as they are beginning to notice. Good-bye. — FLOSSIE.'
Scrawled across the outside of this was ' Love to Mr. Quater- main. They are going to take up the basket, so he will get the lily.'
When I read those words, written by that brave little girl in an hour of danger sufficiently near and horrible to have turned the brain of a strong man, I own I wept, and once more in my heart 1 vowed that she should nof die while my life could be j given to save her.
Then eagerly, quickly, almost fiercely, we fell to discussing the situation. Again I said that I would go, and again Mac- kenzie negatived it, and Curtis and Good, like the true men that they are, vowed that, if I did, they would go with me, and die back to back with me.
' It is,' I said at last, * absolutely necessary that an effort of some sort should be made before the morning.'
' Then let us attack them with what force we can muster, and take our chance,' said Sir Henry.
' Ay, ay,' growled Umslopogaas, in Zulu ; * spoken like a man, Incubu. What is there to be afraid of? Two hundred and fifty Masai, forsooth ! How many are we ? The chief there [Mr. Mackenzie] has twenty men, and thou, Macumazahn, hast five men, and there are also five white men — that is, thirty men in all — enough, enough. Listen now, Macumazahn, thou who art very clever and old in war. What says the maid ? These men eat and make merry • let it be their funeral feast. What said the dog whom I hope to hew down at daybreak ? That he feared no attack because we were so few. Knowest thou the old kraal where the men have camped ? I saw it this morning ; it is thus : ' and he drew an oval on the floor ; * here is the big entrance, filled up with thorn bushes, and opening on to a steep rise. Why, Incubu, thou and I with axes will hold it against an hun- dred men striving to break out ! Look, now ; thus shall the battle go. Just as the light begins to glint upon the oxen's horns — not before, or it will be two dark, and not later, or they will be awakening and perceive us — let Bougwan creep round with ten men to the top end of the kraal, where the narrow entrance is.
62 Allan Quatermain.
Let them silently slay the sentry there so that he makes no soi^id and stand ready. Then, Incubu, let thee and me and one of the Askari— the one with the broad chest— he is a brave man_creep to the wide entrance that is filled with thorn bushes, and there also slay the sentry, and armed with battle-axes take our stand also one on each side of the pathway, and one a few - paces beyond to deal with such as pass the twain at the gate. It is there that the rush will come. That will leave sixteen men. Let these men be divided into two parties, with one of which shalt thou go, Macumazahn, and with one the " praying man " [Mr. Mackenzie], and, all armed with rifles, let them make their way one to the right of the kraal and one to the left ; and when thou, Macumazahn, lowest like an ox, all shall open fire with the guns upon the sleeping men, being very careful not to hit the little maid. Then shall Bougwan at the far end and his ten men raise their war-cry, and, springing over the wall, put the Masai there to the swprd. And it shall happen that, being yet heavy with food and sleep, and bewildered by the firing of the guns, the falling of men, and the spears of Bougwan, the soldiers shall rise and rush like wild game towards the thorn-stopped entrance, and there the bullets from either side shall plough through them, and there shall Incubu and the Askari and I wait for those who break through. Such is my plan, Macumazahn ; if thou hast a better name it.'
When he had done, I explained to the others such portions of this scheme as they had failed to understand, and they all joined with me in expressing the greatest admiration of the acute and skilful programme devised by the old Zulu, who was indeed, in his own savage fashion, the finest general I ever knew. After some discussion we determined to accept the scheme, as it stood, it being the only one possible under the circumstances, and giving the best chance of success that such a forlorn hope would admit of — which, however, considering the enormous odds and the character of our foe, was not very great.
'Ah, old lion !' I said to Umslopogaas, 'thou kno west how to lie in wait as well as how to bite, where to seize as well as where to hang on.'
'Aye, aye, Macumazahn,' he answered. 'For thirty years have I been a warrior, and have seen many things. It will be a good fight. I smell blood— I tell thee, I smell blood.'
Night Wears on. 63
CHAPTER VI.
THE NIGHT WEARS ON.
As may be imagined, at the very first sign of a Masai the entire population of the Mission Station had sought refuge inside the stout stone wall, and were now to be seen, men — women, and countless children — huddled up together in little groups, and all talking at once in awed tones of the awfulness of Masai manners and customs, and of the fate that they had to expect if those bloodthirsty savages succeded in getting over the stone wall.
Immediately after we had settled upon the outline of our plan of action as suggested by Urnslopogaas, Mr. Mackenzie sent for four sharp boys of from twelve to fifteen years of age, and despatched them to various points from whence they could keep an outlook upon the Masai camp, with orders to report from time to time what was going on. Other lads and even women were stationed at intervals along the wall in order to guard against the possibility ot surprise.
After this the twenty men who formed his whole available fighting force were summoned by our host into the square formed by the house, and there, standing by the bole of the great conifer, he earnestly addressed them and our four Askari. Indeed, it formed a very impressive scene — one not likely to be forgotten by anybody who witnessed it. Immediately by the tree stood the angular form of Mr. Mackenzie, one arm out- stretched as he talked, and the other resting against the giant bole, his hat off, and his plain but kindly face clearly betraying the anguish of his mind. Next to him was his poor wife, who, seated on a chair, had her face hidden in her hand. On the other side of her was Alphonse, looking exceedingly uncom- fortable, and behind him stood the three of us, with Urnslopo- gaas' grim and towering form in the background, resting, as usual, on his axe. In front stood and squatted the group of armed men — some with rifles in their hands, and others with spears and shields — following with eager attention every word that fell from the speaker's lips. The white light of the moon peering in beneath the lofty boughs threw a strange wild glamour
64 Allan Quatermain.
over the scene, whilst the melancholy soughing of the night wind passing through the millions of pine needles overhead added a sadness of its own to what was already a sufficiently tragic oc- casion.
1 Men,' said Mr. Mackenzie, after he had put all the circum- stances of the case fully and clearly before them, and explained to them the proposed plan of our forlorn hope — ' men, for years i have been a good friend to you, protecting you, teach- ing you, guarding you and yours from harm, and ye have pros- pered with me. Ye have seen my child — the Waterlily, as ye call her— grow year by year, from tenderest infancy to tender childhood, and from childhood on towards maidenhood. She has been your children's playmate, she has helped to tend you when sick, and ye have loved her.'
* We have,' said a deep voice, ' and we will die to save her.'
' I thank you from my heart — I thank you. Sure am I that now, in this hour of darkest trouble ; now that her young life is like to be cut off by cruel and savage men — who of a truth " know not what they do "— ye will strive your best to save her, and to save me and her mother from broken hearts. Think, too, of your own wives and children. If she dies, her death will be followed by an attack upon us here, and at the best, even if we hold our own, your houses and gardens will be de- stroyed, and your goods and cattle swept away. 1 am, as ye well know, a man of peace. Never in all these years have I lifted my hand to spill man's blood ; but now I say strike, strike, in the name of God, who bade us protect our lives and homes. Swear to me,' he went on with added fervour — ' swear to me that whilst a man of you remains alive ye will strive your utter- most with me and these brave white men to save the child from a bloody and cruel death.'
' Say no more, my father,' said the same deep voice, that be- longed to a stalwart elder of the Mission ; * we swear it. May we and ours die the death of dogs, and our bones be thrown to the jackals and the kites, if we break the oath ! It is a fearful thing to do, my father, so few to strike at so many, yet will we do it or die in the doing. We swear ! '
* Ay, thus say we all,' chimed in the others.
* Thus say we all,' said I.
'It is well,' went on Mr. Mackenzie. ' Ye are true men and not broken reeds to lean on. And now, friends — white and black together — let us kneel and offer up our humble supplica-
The Night Wears on. 65
tion to the Throne of Power, praying that He in the hollow of Whose hand lie all our lives, Who giveth life and giveth death, may be pleased to make strong our arm s that we may prevail in what awaits us at the morning's light.'
And he knelt down, an example that we all followed except Umslopogaas, who still stood in the background, grimly leaning on Inkosi-kaas. The fierce old Zoilu had no gods, and wor- shipped nought, unless it were his battle-axe.
* Oh God of gods ! ' began the clergyman, his deep voice, tremulous with emotion, echoing up in the silence even to the leafy roof ; * Protector of the oppressed, Refuge of those in dan- ger, Guardian of the helpless, hear Thou our prayer ! Almighty Father, to Thee we come in supplication. Hear Thou our prayer ! Behold, one child hast thou given us — an innocent child, nurtured in Thy knowledge — and now she lies beneath the shadow of the sword, in da> ger of a fearful death at the hands of cruel men. Be with her now, oh God, and comfort her ! Save her, oh Heavenly Father \ Oh God of battle, Who teacheth our hai ds to war and our fingers to fight, in Whose strength are hid the destinies of men, be Thou with us in the hour of strife. When we go forth into the shadow of death, make Thou us strong to conquer. Breathe Thou upon our foes and scatter them ; turn Thou their strength to water, and bring their high-blown pride to nought ; compass us about with Thy protection; throw over us the shield of Thy power ; for- get us not now in the hour of our sore distress ; help us now that the cruel man would dash our little ones against the stones ! Hear Thou our prayer ! And for those of us who, kneeling now on earth in health before Thee, shall at the sunrise adore Thy Presence on the Throne, hear our prayer ! Make them clean, oh God ; wash away their offences in the blood of the Lamb ; and when their spirits pass, oh, receive Thou them into the haven of the just. Go forth, oh Father, go forth with us into the battle, as with the Israelites of old. Oh God of battles, hear Thou our prayer ! '
He ceased, and after a moment's silence we all rose, and then began our preparations in good earnest. As Umslopogaas said, it was time to stop ' talking ' and get to business. The men who were to form each little party were carefully selected, and still more carefully and minutely instructed as to what was to be done. After much consideration it was agreed that the ten men led by Good, whose duty it was to stampede the camp,
66 Allan Quatermain.
were not to carry fire-arms ; that is, with the exception of Good himself, who had a revolver as well as a short sword — the Masai 'sime' which I had taken from the body of our poor servant who was murdered in the canoe. We feared that if they had fire-arms the result of three cross-fires carried on at once would be that some of our own people would be shot ; besides, it ap- peared to all of us that the work they had to do would best be carried out with cold steel — especially to Umslopogaas, who was, indeed, a great advocate of cold steel. We had with us four Winchester repeating rifles, besides half-a-dozen Martinis. I armed myself with one of the repeaters — my own ; an ex- cellent weapon for this kind of work, where great rapidity of fire is desirable, and fitted with ordinary flap-sights instead of the usual cumbersome sliding mechanism which they gen- erally have. Mr. Mackenzie took another, and the two re- maining ones were given to two of his men who understood the use of them and were noted shots. The Martinis and some rifles of Mr. Mackenzie's were served out, together with a plen- tiful supply of ammunition, to the other natives who were to form the two parties whose duty it was to open fire from separate sides of the kraal on the sleeping Masai, and who were fortunately all more or less accustomed to the use of a gun.
As for Umslopogaas, we know how he was armed — with an axe. It may be remembered that he, Sir Henry, and the strongest of the Askari were to hold the thorn-stopped entrance to the kraal against the anticipated rush of men striving to es- cape. Of course, for such a purpose as this guns were useless. Therefore Sir Henry and the Askari proceeded to arm them- selves in like fashion. It so happened that Mr. Mackenzie had in his little store a selection of the very best steel English-made hammer-backed axe-heads. Sir Henry selected one of these weighing about two and a half pounds and very broad in the blade, and the Askari took another a size smaller. After Um- slopogaas had put an extra edge on these two axe-heads, we fixed them to three feet six helves, of which Mr. Mackenzie fortunately had some in stock, made of a light but exceedingly tough native wood, something like English ash, only more springy. When two suitable helves had been selected with great care and the ends of the haft notched to prevent the hand from slipping, the axe-heads were fixed on them as firmly as possible, and the weapons immersed in a bucket of water for
The Night Wears on. 67
half an hour. The result of this was to swell the wood in the socket in such a fashion that nothing short of burning would get it out again. When this important matter had been at- tended to by Umslopogaas, I went into my room and proceeded to open a little tin-lined deal case, which had not been undone since we left England, and which contained— what do you think ? — nothing more nor less than four mail shirts.
It had happened to us three on a previous journey that we had made in another part of Africa to owe our lives to iron shirts of native make, and remembering this, I had suggested before we started on our present hazardous expedition that we should have some made to fit us. There was a little difficulty about this, as armour-making is pretty well an extinct art, but they can do most things in the way of steel work in Birming- ham if they are put to it and you will pay the price, and the end of it was that they turned us out the loveliest steel shirts it is possible to see. The workmanship was exceedingly fine, the web being composed of thousands upon thousands of stout but tiny rings of the best steel made. These shirts, or rather steel-sleeved and high-necked jerseys, were lined with ventila- ted wash leather, were not bright, but browned like the barrel of a gun ; and mine weighed exactly seven pounds and fitted me so well that I found I could wear it for days next my skin without being chafed. Sir Henry had two, one of the ordinary make, viz., a jersey with little dependent flaps meant to afford some protection to the upper part of the thighs, and another of his own design fashioned on the pattern of the garments ad- vertised as ' combinations ' and weighing twelve pounds. This combination shirt, of which the seat was made of wash-leather, protected the whole body down to the knees, but was rather more cumbersome, inasmuch as it had to be laced up the back and, of course, involved some extra weight. With these shirts were what looked like four brown cloth travelling caps with ear pieces. Each of these caps was however quilted with steel links so as to afford a most valuable protection for the head.
It seems almost laughable to talk of steel shirts in these days of bullets, against which they are of course quite useless ; but where one has to do with savages, armed with cutting weapons such as assegais or battle-axes, they afford the most valuable protection, being, if well made, quite invulnerable to them. I have often thought that if only the English Government had in our savage wars, and more especially in the Zulu war, thought
68 Allan Quatermain.
fit to serve out light steel shirts, there would be many a man alive to-day who, as it is, is dead and forgotten.
To return : on the present occasion we blessed our foresight in bringing these shirts, and also our good luck, in that they had not been stolen by our rascally bearers when they ran away with our goods. As Curtis had two, and, after considerable deliberation, had made up his mind t6 wear his combination one himself — the extra three or four pounds' weight being a matter of no account to so strong a man, and the protection afforded to the thighs being a very important matter to an in- dividual not armed with a shield of any 'kind — I suggested that he should lend the other to Umslopogaas, who was to share the danger and the glory of his post. He readily consented, and called the Zulu, who came bearing Sir Henry's axe, which he had now fixed up to his satisfaction, with him. When we showed him the steel shirt, and explained to him that we wanted him to wear it, he at first declined, saying that he had fought in his own skin lor thirty years, and that he was not going to begin now to fight in an iron one. Thereupon I took a heavy spear, and, spreading the shirt upon the floor, drove the spear down upon it with all my strength, the weapon rebounding without leaving a mark upon the tempered steel. This exhibition half converted him ; and when I pointed out to him how necessary it was that he should not let any old-fashioned prejudices he might possess stand in the way of a precaution which might preserve a valuable life at a time when men were scarce, and also that if he wore this shirt he might dispense with a shield, and so have both hands free, he yielded at once, and proceed- ed to invest his great frame with the ' iron skin.' And indeed, although made for Sir Henry, it fitted the great Zulu like a skin. The two men were almost of a height ; and, though Curtis looked the bigger man, I am inclined to think that the difference was more imaginary than real, the fact being that, although he was plumper and rounder, he was not really bigger, except in the arm. Umslopogaas had, comparatively speaking, thin arms, but they were as strong as wire ropes. At any rate, when they both stood, axe in hand, invested in the brown mail, which clung to their mighty forms like a web garment, showing the swell of every muscle and the curve of every line, they formed a pair than any ten men might shrink from meeting.
The Night Wears on. 69
It was now nearly one o'clock in the morning, and the spies reported that, after having drunk the blood of the oxen and eaten enormous quantities of meat, the Masai were going to sleep round their watchfires ; but that sentries had been posted at each opening of the kraal. Flossie, they added, was sitting not far from the wall in the centre of the western side of the kraal, and by her were the nurse and white donkey, which was tethered to a peg. Her feet were bound with a rope, and warriors were lying about all round her.
As there was absolutely nothing further that could be done then we all took some supper, and went to lie down for a couple of hours. I could not help admiring the way in which old Umslopogaas flung himself down upon the floor, and, unmind- ful of what was hanging over him, instantly sank into a deep sleep. I don't know how it was with the others, but I could not do as much. Indeed, as is usual with me on these occa- sions, I am sorry to say that I felt rather frightened ; and, now that some of the enthusiasm had gone out of me, and I began to calmly contemplate what we had undertaken to do, truth compels me to add that I did not like it. We were but thirty men all told, a good many of whom were no doubt quite un- used to fighting, and we were going to engage two hundred and fifty of the fiercest, bravest, and most formidable savages in Africa, who, to make matters worse, were protected by a stone wall. It was, indeed, a mad undertaking, and what made it even madder was the exceeding improbability of our being able to take up our positions without attracting the notice of the sentries. Of course if we once did that— and any slight acci- dent, such as the chance discharge of a gun, might do it — we were done for, for the whole camp would be up in a second, and our only hope lay in a surprise.
The bed whereon I lay, indulging in these uncomfortable re- flections, was near an open window that looked on to the veran- dah, through which came an extraordinary sound of groaning and weeping. For a time I could not make out what it was, but at last I got up and, putting my head out of the window, stared about. Presently I saw a dim figure kneeling on the end of the verandah and beating his breast — in which I recog- nised Alphonse. Not being able to understand his French talk or what on earth he was at, I called to him and asked him what he was doing.
70 Allan Quatermain.
' Ah, monsieur,' he sighed, ' I do make prayer for the souls of those whom I shall slay to-night.'
'Indeed,' I said, 'then I wish that you would do it a little more quietly.'
Alphonse retreated, and I heard no more of his groans. And so the time passed, till at length Mr. Mackenzie called me in a whisper through the window, for of course everything had now to be done in the utmost silence. ' Three o'clock,' he said, ' we must begin to move at half-past.'
I told him to come in, and presently he entereo^ and I am bound to say that if it had not been that just then I had not got a laugh anywhere about me, I should have exploded at the sight he presented armed for battle. To begin with, he had on a clergyman's black swallow-tail and a kind of broad-rimmed black felt hat, both of which he had donned on account, he said, of their dark colour. In his hand was the Winchester re- peating rifle we had lent him ; and stuck in an elastic cricket- ing belt, like those worn by English boys, were, first, a huge buckhorn-handled carving knife with a guard to it, and next a long-barrelled Colt's revolver.
' Ah, my friend,' he said, seeing me staring at his belt, ' you are looking at my " carver." I thought it might come in handy if we came to close quarters ; it is excellent steel, and many is the pig I have killed with it.'
By this time everybody was up and dressing. I put on a light Norfolk jacket over my mail shirt in order to have a pocket handy to hold my cartridges, and buckled on my revolver. Good did the same, but Sir Henry put on nothing except his mail-shirt, steel-lined cap, and a pair of ' veldt schoons ' or soft hide shoes, his legs being bare from the knees down. His re- volver he strapped on round his middle outside the armoured shirt.
Meanwhile Umslopogaas was mustering the men in the square under the big tree and going the rounds to see that each was properly armed, etc. At the last moment we made one change. Finding that two of the men who were to have gone with the firing parties knew little or nothing of guns, but were good spearsmen, we took away their rifles, supplied them with shields and long spears of the Masai pattern, and told them off to join Curtis, Umslopogaas, and the Askari in holding the wide open- ing ; it having become clear to us that three men, however brave and strong, were too few for the work.
A Slaughter Grim and Great. 71
CHAPTER VII.
A SLAUGHTER GRIM AND GREAT,
THEN came a pause, and we stood there in the chilly silent darkness waiting till the moment came to start. It was, per- haps, the most trying time of all — that slow, slow quarter of an hour. The minutes seemed to drag along with leaden feet, and the quiet, the solemn hush, that brooded over all — big, as it were, with a coming fate, was most oppressive to the spirits. I once remember having to get up before dawn to see a man hanged, and I then went through a very similar set of sensations, only in the present instance my feelings were animated by that more vivid and personal element which naturally appertains rather to the person to be operated on than to the most sympathetic spectator. The solemn faces of the men, well aware that the short passage of an hour would mean for some, and perhaps all of them, the last great passage to the unknown or oblivion ; the bated whispers in which they spoke ; even Sir Henry's contin- uous and thoughtful examination of his woodcutter's axe and the fidgety way in which Good kept polishing his eye-glass, all told the same tale of nerves stretched pretty nigh to breaking point. Only Umslopogaas, leaning as usual upon Inkosi-kaas and taking an occasional pinch of snuff, was to all appearance perfectly and completely unmoved. Nothing could touch his iron nerves.
The moon went down, for a long while she had been getting nearer and nearer to the horizon, now she finally sank and left the world in darkness save for a faint grey tinge in the eastern sky that palely heralded the coming dawn.
Mr. Mackenzie stood, watch in hand, his wife clinging to his arm, and striving to stifle her sobs.
' Twenty minutes to four,' he said, 'it ought to be light enough to attack at twenty minutes past four. Captain Good had better be moving, he will want three or four minutes' start.'
Good gave one final polish to his eye-glass, nodded to us in a jocular sort of way — which I could not help feeling it must have cost him something to muster up — and, ever polite, took
72 Allan Quatermain.
off his steel-lined cap to Mrs. Mackenzie and started for his po- sition at the head of the kraal, to reach which he had to make a detour by some paths known to the natives.
Just then one of the boys came in and reported that every- body in the Masai camp, with the exception of the two sentries who were walking up and down in front of the respective en- trances, appeared to be fast asleep. Then the rest of us took the road. ^ First came the guide, then Sir Henry, Umslopo- gaas, the Wakwafi Askari, and Mr. Mackenzie's two mission natives armed with long spears and shields. I followed im- mediately after with Alphonse and five natives all armed with guns, and Mr. Mackenzie brought up the rear with the six re- maining natives.
The cattle kraal where the Masai were camped lay at the foot of the hill on which the house stood, or, roughly speaking, about eight hundred yards from the Mission buildings. The first five hundred yards of this distance we traversed quietly indeed, but at a good pace ; after that we crept forward as silently as a leopard on his prey, gliding like ghosts from bush to bush and stone to stone. When I had gone a little way I chanced to look behind me, and saw the redoubtable Alphonse staggering along with white face and trembling knees, and his rifle, which was at full cock, pointed directly at the small of my back. Having halted and carefully put the rifle at * safety,' we started again, and all went well till we were within one hundred yards or so of the kraal, when his teeth began to chatter in a most aggressive way.
1 If you don't stop that I will kill you,' I whispered savagely ; for the idea of having all our lives sacrificed to a tooth-chatter- ing cook was too much for me. I began to fear that he would betray us, and heartily wished we had left him behind.
' But, monsieur, I cannot help it,' he answered, * it is the cold.'
Here was a dilemma, but fortunately I devised a plan. In the pocket of the coat I had on was a small piece of dirty rag ; that I had used some time before to clean a gun with. ' Put this in your mouth,' I whispered again, giving him the rag ; * and if I hear another sound you are a dead man.' I knew that that would stifle the clatter of his teeth. I must have looked as if I meant what I said, for he instantly obeyed me and continued his journey in silence.
Then we crept on again.
A Slaughter Grim and Great. 73
At last we were within fifty yards of the kraal. Between us and it was an open space of sloping grass with only one mi- mosa bush and a couple of tussocks of a sort of thistle for cover. We were still hidden in fairly thick bush. It was be- ginning to grow light. The stars had paled and a sickly gleam played about the east and was reflected on the earth. We could see the outline of the kraal clearly enough, and could also make out the faint glimmer of the dying embers of the Masai camp fires. We halted and watched, for the sentry we knew was posted at the opening. Presently he appeared, a fine tall fellow, walking idly up and down within five paces of the thorn-stopped entrance. We had hoped to catch him nap- ping, but it was not to be. He seemed particularly wide awake. If we could not kill that man, and kill him silently, we were lost. There we crouched and watched him. Presently Um- slopogaas, who was a few paces ahead of me, turned and made a sign, and next second I saw him go down on his stomach like a snake, and taking an opportunity when the sentry's head was turned, begin to work his way through the grass without a sound.
The unconscious sentry commenced to hum a little tune, and Umslopogaas crept on. He reached the shelter of the mimosa bush unperceived and there waited. Still the sentry walked up and down. Presently he turned and looked over the wall into the camp. Instantly the human snake who was stalk- ing him glided on ten yards and got behind one of the tussocks of the thistle-like plant, reaching it as the Elmoran turned again. As he turned his eye fell upon this patch of thistles and it seemed to strike him that it did not look quite right. He ad- i vanced a pace towards it — halted, yawned, stooped down, picked up a little pebble and threw it at it. It hit Umslopogaas upon the head, luckily not upon the armour shirt. Had it done so the clink would have betrayed us. Luckily, too, the shirt was browned and not bright steel which would certainly have been detected. Apparently satisfied that there was nothing wrong, he then gave over his investigations and contented himself with leaning on his spear and standing gazing idly at the tuft. For at least three minutes did he stand thus, plunged apparently in a gentle reverie, and there we lay in the last extremity of anx- iety, expecting every moment that we should be discovered or that some untoward accident would happen. I could hear Alphonse's teeth going like anything on the oiled rag, and E
74 Allan Quatermain.
turning my head round made an awful face at him. But I am bound to state that my own heart was at much the same game as the Frenchman's castanets, while the perspiration was pour- ing from my body, causing the washleather-lined shirt to stick to me unpleasantly, and altogether I was in the pitiable state known by schoolboys as a * blue funk.'
At last the ordeal came to end. The sentry glanced at the east, and appeared to note with satisfaction that his period of duty was coming to an end — as indeed it was, once and for all —for he rubbed his hands and began to walk again briskly to warm himself.
The moment his back was turned the long black snake glided on again, and reached the other thistle tuft, which was within a couple of paces of his return beat.
Back came the sentry and strolled right past the tuft, utterly- unconscious of the presence that was crouching behind it. Had he looked down he could scarcely have failed to see, but he did not do so.
He passed, and then his hidden enemy erected himself, and with outstretched hand followed in his tracks.
A moment more, and, just as the Elmoran was about to turn, the great Zulu made a spring, and in the growing light we could see the long lean hands close round the Masai's throat. Then followed a convulsive twining of the two dark bodies, and in' another second I saw the Masai's head bent back, and heard a sharp crack, something like that of a dry twig snapping, and he fell down upon the ground, his limbs moving spasmodically.
Umslopogaas had put out all his strength and broken the warrior's neck.
For a moment he knelt upon his victim, still gripping his throat till he was sure that there was nothing more to fear from him, and then he rose and beckoned to us to advance, which we did on all fours, like a colony of huge apes. On reaching the kraal we saw that the Masai had still further choked this en- trance, which was about ten feet wide — no doubt in order to guard against attack — by dragging four or five tops of mimosa trees up to it. So much the better for us, I reflected ; the more obstruction there was the slower would they be able to come through. Here we separated ; Mackenzie and his party creep- ing up under that shadow of the wall to the left, while Sir Henry and Umslopogaas took their stations one on each side of the thorn fence, the two spearmen and the Askari lying down- in
A Slaughter Grim and Great. 75
front of it. I and my men crept on up the right side of the kraal, which was about fifty paces long.
When I was two-thirds up I halted, and placed my men at distances of four paces from one another, keeping Alphonse close to me, however. Then I peeped for the first time over the wall. It was getting fairly light now, and the first thing I saw was the white donkey, exactly opposite to me, and close by it I could make out little Flossie's pale face, sitting as the lad had described, some ten paces from the wall. Round her lay many warriors, sleeping. At distances all over the surface of the kraal were the remains of fires, round each of which slept some five-and-twenty Masai, for the most part gorged with food. Now and then a man would raise himself, yawn, and look at the east, which had now turned primrose ; but none got up. I determined to wait another five minutes, both to allow the light to increase, so that we could make better shooting, and to give Good and his party — of whom I could see or hear no- thing— every opportunity to make ready.
The quiet dawn commenced to throw her ever-widening mantle over plain and forest and river — mighty Kenia, wrapped in the silence of eternal snows, looked out across the earth — till presently a beam from the unrisen sun lit upon his heaven- kissing crest and purpled it with blood ; the sky above grew blue, and tender as a mother's smile ; a bird began to pipe his morn- ing song, and a little breeze passing through the bush shook down the dewdrops in millions to refresh the waking world. Everywhere was peace and the happiness of arising strength, everywhere save in the heart of cruel man !
Suddenly, just as I was nerving myself for the signal, having already selected my man on whom I meant to open fire— a great fellow sprawling on the ground within three feet of little Flossie — Alphonse's teeth began to chatter again like the hoofs of a galloping giraffe, making a great noise in the silence. His rag had dropped out in the agitation of his mind. Instantly a Masai within three paces of us woke, and, sitting up, gazed about him, looking for the cause of the sound. Moved beyond myself, I brought the butt-end of my rifle down on the pit of the Frenchman's stomach. This stopped his chattering ; but, as he doubled up, he managed to let off his gun in such a manner that "the bullet passed within an inch of my head.
There was no need for a signal now. From both sides of the kraal broke out a waving line of fire, in which I myself
76 Allan Quatermain.
joined, managing with a snap shot to knock over my Masai by Flossie, just as he was jumping up. Then from the top end of the kraal there ran an awful yell, in which I rejoiced to recog- nise Good's piercing note rising clear and shrill above the din, and in another second followed such a scene as I have never seen before nor shall again. With an universal howl of terror and fury the brawny crowd of savages within the kraal sprang to their feet, many of them to fall again beneath our well-directed hail of lead before they had moved a yard. For a moment they stood undecided, and then hearing the cries and curses that rose unceasingly from the top end of the kraal, and bewildered by the storm of bullets, they as by one impulse rushed down towards the thorn-stopped entrance. As they went we kept pouring our fire with terrible effect into the thickening mob as fast as we could load. I had emptied my repeater of the ten shots it contained, and was just beginning to slip in some more when I bethought me of little Flossie. Looking up I saw that the white donkey was lying kicking, having been knocked over either by one of our bullets or a Masai spear-thrust. There were no living Masai near, but the black nurse was on her feet and with a spear cutting the rope that bound Flossie's feet. Next second she ran to the wall of the kraal and began to climb over it, an example which the little girl followed. But Flossie was evidently very stiff and cramped, and could only go slowly, and as she went two Masai flying down the kraal caught sight of her and rushed towards her to kill her. The first fellow came up just as the poor little girl, after a desperate effort to climb the wall, fell back into the kraal. Up flashed the great spear, and as it did so a bullet from my rifle found its home in the holder's ribs, and over he went like a shot rabbit. But behind him was the other man, and, alas, I had only that one cartridge in the magazine ! Flossie had scrambled to her feet and was facing the second man, who was advancing with raised spear. I turned my head aside and felt sick as death. I could not bear to see him stab her. Glancing up again, to my surprise I say the Masai's spear lying on the ground, while the man himself was staggering about with both hands to his head. Suddenly I saw a puff of smoke, proceeding apparently from Flossie, and the man fell down headlong. Then I remembered the Derringer pistol she car- ried, and saw that she had fired both barrels of it at him, there- by saving her life. In another instant she had made an effort, and, assisted by the nurse, who was lying on the top, had
A Slaughter Grim and Great. 77
scrambled over the wall, and I knew that she was, compara- tively speaking, safe.
All this takes some time to tell, but I do not suppose that it took more than fifteen seconds to enact. I soon got the maga- zine of the repeater filled again with cartridges, and once more opened fire, not on the seething black mass which was gathering at the end of the kraal, but on fugitives who bethought them to climb the wall. I picked off several of these men, moving down towards the end of the kraal as I did so, and arriving at the cor- ner, or rather at the bend of the oval, in time to see, and by means of my rifle to assist in, the mighty struggle that took place there.
By this time some two hundred Masai — allowing that we had up to the present accounted for fifty — had gathered together in front of the thorn-stopped entrance, driven thither by the spears of Good's men, whom they doubtless supposed were a large force instead of being but ten strong. For some reason it never occurred to them to try and rush the wall, which they could have scrambled over with comparative ease ; they all made for the fence, which was really a strongly interwoven fortification. With a bound the first warrior went at it, and even before he touched the ground on the other side I saw Sir Henry's great axe swing up and fall with awful force upon his feather head-piece, and he sank into the middle of the thorns. Then with a yell and a crash they began to break through somehow, and ever as they came the great axe swung and Inkosi-kaas flashed and they fell dead one by one, each man thus helping to build up a barrier against his fellows. Those who escaped the axes of the pair fell at the hands of the Askari and the two Mission Kafirs, and those who passed scathless from them were brought low by my own and Mackenzie's fire.
Faster and more furious grew the fighting. Single Masai would spring upon the dead bodies of their comrades, and en- ; gage one or other of the axemen with their long spears ; but, \ thanks chiefly to the mail shirts, the result was always the same. I Presently there was a great swing of the axe, a sound of crash- ing bones, and another dead Masai. That is, if the man was en- gaged with Sir Henry. If it was Umslopogaas that he fought with the result indeed would be the same, but it would be dif- ferently attained. It was but rarely the Zulu used the1 crushing double-handed stroke ; on the contrary, he did little more than tap continually at his adversary's head, pecking at it with the
78 Allan Quatermain.
pole-axe end of the axe as a woodpecker* pecks at rotten wood. Presently a peck would go home, and his enemy would drop down with a neat little circular hole in his forehead or skull, ex- actly similar to that which a cheese-scoop makes in a cheese. He never used the broad blade of the axe except when hard pressed, or when striking at a shield. He told me afterwards that he did not consider it sportsmanlike.
Good and his men were quite close by now, and our people had to cease firing into the mass for fear of killing some of them (as it was, one of them had been slain in this way). Mad and desperate with fear, the Masai by a frantic effort burst through the thorn fence and piled-up dead, and, sweeping Curtis, Umslo- pogaas, and the other three before them, broke into the open. And now it was that we began to lose men fast. Down went our poor Askari who was armed with the axe, a great spear standing out a foot behind his back ; and before long the two spearsmen who had stood with him went down too, dying fight- ing like tigers ; and others of our party shared their fate. For a moment I feared the fight was lost — certainly it trembled in the balance. I shouted to my men to cast down their rifles, and to take spears and throw themselves into the melee. They obeyed, their blood being now thoroughly up, and Mr. Mackenzie's peo- ple followed their example.
This move had a momentary good result, but still the fight hung in the balance.
Our people fought magnificently, hurling themselves upon the dark mass of Elmoran, hewing, thrusting, slaying, and being slain. And ever above the din rose Good's awful yell of en- couragement as he plunged, eyeglass and all, to wherever the fight was thickest ; and ever, with an almost machine-like regu- larity, the two axes rose and fell, carrying death and disablement at every stroke. But I could see that the strain was beginning to tell upon Sir Henry, who was bleeding from several flesh wounds : his breath was coming in gasps, and the veins stood out on his forehead like blue and knotted cords. Even Umslo- pogaas, man of iron that he was, was hard pressed. I noticed that he had given up ' woodpecking,' and was now using the broad blade of Inkosi-kaas, ' browning ' his enemy wherever he
*As I think I have already said, one of Umslopogaas's Zulu names was the | Woodpecker.' I could never make out why he was called so until I saw him »n action with Inkosi-kaas, when I at once recognised the resemblance. — A. Q.
A Slaughter Grim and Great. 79
could hit him, instead of drilling scientific holes in his head. I myself did not go into the melee , but hovered outside like the swift ( back ' in a football scrimmage, putting a bullet through a Masai whenever I got a chance. I was more use so. I fired forty-nine cartridges that morning, and I did not miss many shots.
Presently do as we would, the beam of the balance began to rise against us. We had not more than fifteen or sixteen effec- tives left now, and the Masai had at least fifty. Of course, if they had kept their heads, and shaken themselves together, they could soon have made an end of the matter ; but that is just what they did not do, not having yet recovered from their start, and some of them having actually fled from their sleeping-places without their weapons. Still by now many individuals were fighting with their normal courage and discretion, and this alone was sufficient to defeat us. To make matters worse just then, when Mackenzie's rifle was empty, a brawny savage armed with a ' sime ' or sword, made a rush for him. The clergyman flung down his gun, and drawing his huge carver from his elastic belt (his revolver had dropped out in the fight), they closed in des- perate struggle. Presently, locked in a close embrace, missionary and Masai rolled on to the ground behind the wall, and for some time I, being amply occupied with my own affairs, and in keeping my skin from being pricked, remained in ignorance of his fate or how the duel had ended.
To and fro surged the fight, slowly turning round like the vortex of a human whirlpool, and things began to look very bad for us. Just then, however, a fortunate thing happened. Umslopogaas, either by accident or design, broke out of the ring and engaged a warrior at some paces from it. As he did so, another man ran up and struck him with all his force be- tween the shoulders with his great spear, which, falling on the tough steel shirt, failed to pierce it and rebounded. For a mo- ment the man stared aghast — protective armour being unknown among these tribes — and then he yelled out at the top of his voice —
' They are devils — bewitched, bewitched!' And seized by a sudden panic, he threw down his spear, and began to fly. I cut short his career with a bullet, and Umslopogaas brained his man, and then the panic spread to the others.
' Bewitched^ bewitched / ' thev cried, and tried to escape in
go Allan Quatermain.
every direction, utterly demoralized and broken-spirited, for the most part even throwing down their shields and spears.
On the last scene of that dreadful fight I need not dwell. It was a slaughter great and grim, in which no quarter was asked or given. One incident, however, is worth detailing. Just as I was hoping that it was all done with, suddenly from under a heap of slain where he had been hiding, an unwounded warrior sprang up, and, clearing the piles of dying and dead like an antelope, sped like the wind up the kraal towards the spot where I was standing at the moment. But he was not alone, for Umslopogaas came gliding on his tracks with the peculiar swallow-like motion for which he was noted, and as they neared me, I recognized in the Masai the herald of the previous night. Finding that, run as he would, his pursuer was gaining on him, the man halted and turned round to give battle. Umslopogaas also pulled up.
' Ah, ah,' he cried, in mockery, to the Elmoran, ' it is thou whom I talked with last night — the Lygonani, the Herald, the capturer of little girls — he who would kill a Httle girl. And thou didst hope to stand man to man and face to face with an Induna of the tribe of Maquilisini, of the people of the Ama- zulu ? Behold, thy prayer is granted ! And I did swear to hew thee limb from limb, thou insolent dog. Behold, I will do it even now ! '
The Masai ground his teeth with fury, and charged at the Zulu with his spear. As he came, Umslopogaas deftly stepped aside, and swinging Inkosi-kaas high above his head with both hands, brought the broad blade down with such fearful force from behind upon the Masai's shoulder just where the neck is set into the frame, that its rasor edge shore right through bone and flesh and muscle, almost severing the head and one arm from the body.
1 Ou / ' ejaculated Umslopogaas, contemplating the corpse Of his roe ; * I have kept my word *t was a good stroke.1
Alphonse Explains. 8 1
CHAPTER VIII,
ALPHONSE EXPLAINS.
AND so the fight was ended. On turning from this shocking scene it suddenly struck me that I had seen nothing of Al- phonse since the moment, some twenty minutes before — for though this fight has taken a long while to describe, it did not take long in reality — when I had been forced to hit him in the wind with the result of nearly getting myself shot. Fearing that the poor little man had perished in the battle I began to hunt about among the dead for his body, but, not being able either to see or hear anything of it, I concluded that he must have survived, and walked down the side of the kraal where we had first taken our stand, calling him by name. Now some fifteen paces back from the kraal wall stood a very ancient tree of the banyan species. So ancient was it, that all the inside had in the course of ages decayed away, leaving nothing but a shell of bark.
* Alphonse,' I called, as I walked down the wall, ' Al- phonse ! '
' Oui, monsieur,' answered a voice. ' Here am I.'
I looked round but could see nobody. * Where ? ' I cried.
* Here am I, monsieur, in the tree.'
I looked, and there, peering out of a hole in the trunk of the banyan about five feet from the ground, I saw a pale face and a pair of large mustachios, one clipped short and the other as lamentably out of curl as the tail of a newly whipped pug. Then, for the first time, I realised what I had suspected before — namely, that Alphonse was an arrant coward. I walked up to him. * Come out of that hole,' I said.
' Is it finished, monsieur ? ' he asked anxiously ; * quite fin- ished ? Ah, the horrors I have undergone, and the prayers I have uttered ! '
* Come out, you little wretch,1 1 said, for I did not feel ami- able ; ' it is all over.'
1 So, monsieur, then my prayers have prevailed ? I emerge,' and he did.
82 Allan Quatermain.
As we were walking down together to join the others, who were gathered in a group by the wide entrance to the kraal, which now resembled a veritable charnel-house, a Masai, who had escaped so far and been hiding under a bush, suddenly sprang up and charged furiously at us. Off went Alphonse with a howl of terror, and after him flew the Masai, bent upon doing some execution before he died. He soon overtook the poor little Frenchman, and would have finished him then and there had I not, just as Alphonse made a last agonised double in the vain hope of avoiding the yard of steel that was flashing in his immediate rear, managed to plant a bullet between the Elmoran's broad shoulders, which brought matters to a satis- factory conclusion so far as the Frenchman was concerned. But just then he tripped and fell flat, and the body of the Masai fell right on the top of him, moving convulsively in the death struggle. Thereupon there arose such a series of pierc- ing howls that I concluded that before he died the savage must have managed to skewer poor Alphonse. I ran up in a hurry and pulled the Masai off, and there beneath him lay Alphonse covered with blood and jerking himself about like a galvanized frog. Poor fellow ! thought I, he is done for, and kneeling down by him I began to search for his wound as well as his struggles would allow.
' Oh, the hole in my back ! ' he yelled. * I am murdered. I am dead. Oh, Annette ! '
I searched again, but could see no wound. Then the truth - dawned on me — the man was frightened, not hurt.
' Get up,' I shouted, ' get up. Aren't you ashamed of your- self? You are not touched.'
Thereupon he rose, not a penny the worse. ' But, monsieur, I thought I was,' he said apologetically ; ' I did not know that I had conquered.' Then, giving the body of the Masai a kick, he ejaculated triumphantly, ' Ah, dog of a black savage, thou art dead ; what victory ! '
Thoroughly disgusted, I left Alphonse to look after himself, which he did by following me like a shadow, and proceeded to join the others by the large entrance. The first thing that I saw was Mackenzie, seated on a stone with a handkerchief twisted round his thigh, from which he was bleeding freely, having, indeed, received a spear-thrust that passed right through it, and still holding in his hand his favourite carving-knife now covered with blood and bent nearly double, from which I gath-
Alphonse Explains. 83
ered that he had been successful m his rough and tumble with the Elmoran.
' Ah, Quatermain ! ' he sang out in a trembling, excited voice, ' so we have conquered ; but it is a sorry sight, a sorry sight ; ' and then breaking into broad Scotch and glancing at the bent knife in his hand, * Itgrievesme sair to hae bent my best carver on the breast-bane of a savage,' and he laughed hysterically. Poor fellow, what between his wound and the killing excitement he had undergone his nerves were much shaken, and no wonder ! It is hard upon a man of peace and kindly heart to be called upon to join in such a gruesome business. But there, fate puts us sometimes into very ironical positions !
At the kraal entrance the scene was a strange one. The slaughter was over by now, and the wounded men had been put out of their pain, for no quarter had been given. The bush- closed entrance was trampled flat, and in place of bushes it was filled with the bodies of dead men. Dead men, every- where dead men — they lay about in knots, they were flung by ones and twos in every position upon the open spaces, for all the world like the people on the grass in one of the London parks on a particularly hot Sunday in August. In front of this entrance, on a space which had been cleared of dead and of the shields and spears which were scattered in all directions as they had fallen or been thrown from the hands of their owners, stood and lay the survivors of the awful struggle, and at their feet were four wounded men. We had gone into the fight thirty strong, and of the thirty but fifteen remained alive, and five of them (including Mr. Mackenzie) were wounded, two mor tally. Of those who held the entrance, Curtis and the Zulu alone remained. Good had lost five men killed, I had lost two killed, and Mackenzie no less than five out of the six with him. As for the survivors, they were, with the exception of myself, who had never come to close quarters, red from head to foot — Sir Henry's armour might have been painted that colour — and utterly exhausted, except Umslopogaas, who, as he stood on a little mound above a heap of dead, leaning as usual upon his axe, did not seem particularly distressed, although the skin over the hole in his head palpitated violently.
' Ah, Macumazahn ! ' he said to me as I limped up, feeling very sick, ' I told thee that it would be a good fight, and it has. Never have I seen a better, or one more bravely fought. As fQi
84 Allan Quatermain.
this iron shirt, surely it is " tagati " [bewitched] ; nothing could pierce it. Had it not been for the garment I should have been there? and he nodded towards the great pile of dead men be- neath him.
' I give it thee ; thou art a gallant man,' said Sir Henry, briefly.
' Koos ! ' answered the Zulu, deeply pleased both at the gift and the compliment. ' Thou, too, Incubu, didst bear thyself as a man, but I must give thee some lessons with the axe ; thou dost waste thy strength.'
Just then Mackenzie asked about Flossie, and we were all greatly relieved when one of the men said he had seen her fly- ing towards the house with the nurse. Then bearing such of the wounded as could be moved at the moment with us, we slowly made our way towards the Mission-house, spent with toil and bloodshed, but with the glorious sense of victory against overwhelming odds glowing in our hearts. We had saved the life of the little maid, and taught the Masai of those parts a lesson that they will not forget for ten years — but at what a cost !
Painfully we made our way up the hill which, but a little more than an hour before, we had descended under such differ- ent circumstances. At the gate of the wall stood Mrs. Macken- zie waiting for us. When her eyes fell upon us, however, she shrieked out, and covered her face with her hands, crying, * Horrible, horrible ! ' Nor were her fears allayed when she dis- covered her worthy husband being borne upon an improvised stretcher ; but her doubts as to the nature of his injury were soon set at rest. Then when in a few brief words I had told her the upshot of the struggle (of which Flossie, who had arrived in safety, had been able to explain something) she came up to me and solemnly kissed me on the forehead.
1 God bless you all, Mr. Quatermain ; you have saved my child's life,' she said simply.
Then we went in and got our clothes off and doctored our wounds ; I am glad to say I had none, and Sir Henry's and Good's were, thanks to those invaluable chain shirts, of a com- paratively harmless nature, and to be dealt with by means of a few stitches and sticking-plaster. Mackenzie's, however, was serious, though fortunately the spear had not severed any large artery. After that we had a bath, and oh, what a luxury it was ! having clad ourselves in ordinary clothes, proceeded to the
Alphonse Explains, 85
dining-room, where breakfast was set as usual. It was curious sitting down there, drinking tea and eating toast in an ordinary nineteenth-century sort of a way just as though we had not em- ployed the early hours in a regular primitive hand-to-hand mid- dle-ages kind of struggle. As Good said, the whole thing seem- ed more as though one had had a bad nightmare just before being called, than as a deed done. When we were finishing our breakfast the door opened, and in came little Flossie, very pale and tottery, but quite unhurt. She kissed us all and thanked us. I congratulated her on the presence of mind she had shown in shooting the Masai with her Derringer pistol, and thereby saving her own life.
'Oh, don't talk of it ! ' she said, beginning to cry hysterically; * I shall never forget his face as he went turning round and round, never — I can see it now.'
I advised her to go to bed and get some sleep, which she did, and awoke in the evening quite recovered, so far as her strength was concerned. It struck me as an odd thing that a girl who could find the nerve to shoot a huge black ruffian rush- ing to kill her with a spear should have been so affected at the thought of it afterwards ; but it is, after all, characteristic of the sex. Poor Flossie ! I fear that her nerves will hot get over that night in the Masai camp for many a long year. She told me afterwards that it was the suspense that was so awful, hav- ing to sit there hour after hour through the livelong night ut- terly ignorant as to whether or no any attempt was to be made to rescue her. She said that on the whole she did not expect it, knowing how few there were of us, and how many of the Masai — who, by the way, came continually to stare at her, most of them never having seen a white person before, and handled her arms and hair with their filthy paws. She said also that she had made up her mind that if she saw no signs of suc- cour by the time the first rays of the rising sun reached the kraal she would kill herself with the pistol, for the nurse had heard the Lygonani say that they were to be tortured to death as soon as the sun was up if one of the white men did not come in their place. It was an awful resolution to have to take, but she meant to act on it, and I have little doubt but what she would have done so. Although she was at an age when in Eng- land girls are in the schoolroom and come down to dessert, this 'daughter of the wilderness ' had more courage, discretion, and power of mind than many a woman of mature age nurtured
86 Allan Quatermain.
in idleness and luxury, with minds carefully drilled and educated out of any originality or self-resource that nature may have en- dowed them with.
When breakfast was over we all turned in and had a good sleep, only getting up in time for dinner ; after which meal we once more adjourned, together with all the available population — men, women, youths, and girls — to the scene of the morn- ing's slaughter, our object being to bury our own dead and get rid of the Masai by flinging them into the Tana River, which ran within fifty yards of the kraal. On reaching the spot we disturbed thousands upon thousands of vultures and a sort of brown bush eagle, which had been flocking to the feast from miles and miles away. Often have I watched these great and repulsive birds, and marvelled at the extraordinary speed with which they arrive on a scene of slaughter. A buck falls to your rifle, and within a minute high in the blue ether appears a speck that gradually grows into a vulture, then another, and another. I have heard many theories advanced to account for the won- derful power of perception nature has given these birds. My own, founded on a good deal of observation, is that the vultures, gifted as they are with powers of sight greater than those given by the most powerful glass, quarter out the heavens among themselves, and hanging in mid-air at a vast height — probably from two to three miles above the earth — keep watch, each of them, over an enormous stretch of country. Presently one of them spies food, and instantly begins to sink towards it. There- on his next neighbour in the airy heights sailing leisurely through the blue gulf, at a distance perhaps of some miles, follows his example, knowing that food has been sighted. Down he goes, and all the vultures within sight of him follow after, and so do all those in sight of them. In this way the vultures for twenty miles round can be summoned to the feast in a few minutes.
We buried our dead in solemn silence, Good being selected to read the Burial Service over them (in the absence of Mr. Mackenzie, confined to bed), as he was generally allowed to possess the best voice and most impressive manner. It was melancholy in the extreme, but, as Good said, it might have been worse, for we might have had ' to bury ourselves.' I pointed out that this would have been a difficult feat, but I knew what he meant.
Next we set to work to load an ox-waggon which had been brought round from the Mission with the dead bodies of the
Alphonse Explains. 87
Masai, having first collected the spears, shields, and other arms. We loaded the waggon five times, about fifty bodies to the load, and emptied it into the Tana. From this it was evident that very few of the Masai could have escaped. The crocodiles must have been well fed that night. One of the last bodies we picked up was that of the sentry at the upper end. I asked Good how he managed to kill him, and he told me that he had crept up much as Umslopogaas had done, and stabbed him with his sword. He groaned a good deal, but fortunately nobody heard him. As Good said, it was a horrible thing to have to do, and most unpleasantly like cold-blooded murder.
And so with the last body that floated away down the current of the Tana ended the incident of our attack on the Masai camp. The spears and shields and other arms we took up to the Mission, where they filled an outhouse. One incident, how- ever, I must not forget to mention. As we were returning from performing the obsequies of our Masai friends we passed the hollow tree where Alphonse had secreted himself in the morn- ing. It so happened that the little man himself was with us assisting in our unpleasant task with a far better will than he had shown where live Masai were concerned. Indeed, for each body that he handled he found an appropriate sarcasm. Alphonse throwing dead Masai into the Tana was a very different crea- ture from Alphonse flying for dear life from the spear of a live Masai. He was quite merry and gay, was this volatile child of France ; he clapped his hands and warbled snatches of French songs as the grim dead warriors went ' splash ' into the running waters to carry a message of death and defiance to their kin- dred a hundred miles below. In short, thinking that he wanted taking down a peg, I suggested holding a court-martial on him for his conduct in the morning.
Accordingly we brought him to the tree where he had hid- den, and proceeded to sit in judgment on him, Sir Henry ex- plaining to him in the very best French the unheard-of cowardice and enormity of his conduct, more especially in letting the oiled rag out of his mouth, whereby he nearly aroused the Masai camp with teeth-chattering and brought about the failure of our plans : ending up with a request for an explanation. 4
But if we expected to find Alphonse at a loss and put him to open shame we were destined to be disappointed. He bowed and scraped and smiled, and acknowledged that his conduct might at first blush appear strange, but really it was not, inasmuch as
88 Allan Quatermain.
his teeth were chattering not from fear — oh, dear no ! oh, cer- tainly not ! he marvelled how the ' messieurs ' could think of such a thing — but from the chill air of the morning. As for the rag, if monsieur could have but tasted its evil flavour, being compounded indeed of a mixture of stale parafi ne oil, grease, and gunpowder, monsieur himself would have spat it out. But he did nothing of the sort ; he determined to keep it there till, alas ! his stomach ' revolted,' and the rag was ejected in an ac- cess of involuntary sickness.
'And what have you to say about getting into the hollow tree ? ' asked Sir Henry, keeping his countenance with diffi- culty.
' But, monsieur, the explanation is easy ; oh, most easy ! It was thus : I stood there by the kraal wall, and the little grey monsieur hit me in the stomach so that my rifle exploded, and the battle began. I watched whilst recovering myself from monsieur's cruel blow ; then messieurs, I felt the heroic blood of my grandfather boil up in my veins. The sight made me mad. I ground my teeth 1 Fire .flashed from my eyes ; I shouted " En avant ! " and longed to slay. Before my eyes there rose a vision of my heroic grandfather ! In short, I was mad ! I was a warrior indeed ! But then in my heart I heard a small voice : " Alphonse," said the voice, " restrain thyself, Alphonse ! Give not way to this evil passion ! These men, though black, are brothers ! And thou wouldst slay them ? Cruel Alphonse ! " The voice was right. I knew it ; I was about to perpetrate the most horrible cruelties : to wound I to massacre ! to tear limb from limb ! And how restrain myself? I looked around ; I saw the tree, I perceived the hole. " Entomb thyself," said the voice, " and hold on tight ! Thou wilt thus overcome tempta- tion by main force ! " It was bitter, just when the blood of my heroic grandfather boiled most fiercely ; but I obeyed ! I drag- ged my unwilling feet along ; I entombed myself ! Through the hole I watched the battle ! I shouted curses and defiance on the foe 1 I noted them fall with satisfaction ! Why not ? I had not robbed them of their lives. Their gore was not upon
my head. The blood of my heroic '
i* Oh, get along with you, you little cur ! ' broke out Sir Henry, with a shout of laughter, and giving Alphonse a good kick which sent him flying off with a rueful face.
In the evening I had an interview with Mr. Mackenzie, who was suffering a good deal from his wounds, which Good, who was
Alphonse Explains. 89
a skilful though unqualified doctor, was treating him for. He told me that this occurrence had taught him a lesson, and that, if he recovered safely, he meant to hand over the Mission to a younger man, who was already on his road to join him in his work, and return to England.
' You see, Quatermain,' he said, ' I made up my mind to this, this very morning, when we were creeping down upon those benighted savages. If we live through this and rescue Flossie alive,' I said to myself, * I will go home to England ; I have had enough of savages. Weil, I did not think that we should live through it at the time ; but thanks be to God and you four, , we have lived through it, and I mean to stick to my resolution, lest a worse thing befall us. Another such time would kill my poor wife. And besides, Quatermain, between you and me, I am well off ; it is thirty thousand pounds I am worth to-day, and every farthing of it made by honest trade and savings in the bank at Zanzibar, for living here costs me next to no- thing. So, though it will be hard to leave this place, which I have made to blossom like a rose in the wilderness, and harder still to leave the people I have taught, I shall go.'
' I congratulate you on your decision,' answered I, * for two reasons. The first is, that you owe a duty to your wife and daughter, and more especially to the latter, who should