The Settler and the Savage, R. M. Ballantyne [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

Booko, who were still a day’s journey distant. To these the Governor said:—

“Go, tell the Great Chief that I request an interview with himself, because I desire that peace should be between us, and that justice should be done. I will not cease to advance until such interview is obtained, and it will depend on his own conduct whether Hintza is treated by the British Government as a friend or a foe.”

But the Great Chief was doggedly bent on meeting his fate. He returned no answer to the message, and the troops moved on. Arriving at the mission station of Butterworth, they found it destroyed, and here they were met by a large body of Fingoes—native slaves—who eagerly offered their services to fight against their cruel masters the Kafirs. These Fingoes—destined in after years to make a deep impression on the colony—were the remains of eight powerful nations, who, broken up and scattered by the ferocious Chaka and his Zulu hordes, had taken refuge with Hintza, by whom they were enslaved and treated in the most brutal manner. He gave them generally the name of Fingo, which means dog. Their eager offer to serve under the British Chief was therefore most natural, but Sir Benjamin declined their services at the time, as war had not yet been declared.

Soon after, a detachment of thirty men was sent back to the colony with despatches, in charge of an ensign named Armstrong, who was waylaid and murdered by some of Hintza’s Kafirs. The Governor, finding that his overtures were treated with studied neglect, and that hostilities were thus begun, called to him a Kafir councillor and warrior, and said—

“Your master has treated all my messages with contempt. He is in secret alliance with the chiefs who have invaded our colony. He has received and concealed cattle stolen from the white men. A British trader has been deliberately murdered in his territory, near his own residence, and under his protection, and no steps have been taken to punish the murderers. Violence and outrage have been committed by him on British traders, and missionaries living under his safeguard have been forced to flee to the Tambookie chief to save their lives. I will no longer treat with him. Since Hintza is resolved on war, he shall have it. I will now take the Fingoes under my special protection, make them subjects of the king of England, and severely punish any who commit violence upon them. I will also carry off all the cattle I can find.—Go, tell your master his blood shall be on his own head.”

This message, which was followed up by prompt action, the capture of considerable numbers of cattle, and a successful attack on one of his principal kraals, brought the great chief to his senses—apparently, but not really, as the sequel will show. He sent in four messengers with proposals, but the Governor refused to treat with any one except Hintza himself. Terrified at last into submission, he entered the camp with a retinue of fifty followers, and was courteously received by the commander-in-chief.

During the course of these proceedings detached parties were frequently sent hither and thither to surprise a kraal or to capture cattle, and the two parties under Groot Willem and Hans Marais, having arrived at Fort Wilshire at the same time, were allowed to act pretty much in concert.

One night they found themselves encamped in a dark mountain gorge during a thunderstorm.

“Well, well,” said Jerry Goldboy to Junkie, who with Scholtz had taken refuge under the very imperfect shelter of a bush, “it’s ’orrible ’ard work this campaigning; specially in bad weather, with the point of one’s nose a’most cut off.”

Jerry referred to a wound which an assagai aimed at his heart had that day inflicted on his nose. The wound was not severe, but it was painful, and the sticking-plaster which held the point of his unfortunate member in its place gave his countenance an unusually comical appearance.

“Is it very zore, boy?” asked Scholtz.

“Zore! I wish you ’ad it, an’ you wouldn’t ’ave to ask,” returned Jerry.

“How did you come by it?” asked Junkie, looking grave with difficulty.

“Well, it ain’t easy to say exactly. You see it was getting dark at the time, and I was doin’ my best to drive a thief of a hox down a place in the kloof where it had to stand upright, a’most, on its front-legs, with its tail whirlin’ in the hair. An’ I ’adn’t much time to waste neither, for I knew there was Kafirs all about, an’ the troops was gettin’ a’ead of me, an’ my ’oss was tied to a yellow-wood tree at the foot o’ the kloof, an’ I began to feel sort o’ skeery with the gloomy thickets all around, an’ rugged precipices lookin’ as if they’d tumble on me, an’ the great mountains goin’ up to ’eaven—oh! I can tell you it was—it was—”

“In short, the most horrible sight you ever saw,” said Junkie, drawing his blanket tighter round his shoulders, and crouching nearer to the bulky form of Scholtz for protection from the wind which was rising.

“Yes, Junkie, it was—the most ’orrible sight I ever saw, for wild savageness, so I drew my sword and gave the hox a prog that sent ’im ’ead over ’eels down the kloof w’ere ’e broke ’is back. Just at that werry moment—would you mind takin’ your toe out o’ my neck, Junkie? it ain’t comfortable: thank you.—Well, as I was sayin’, at that very moment I spied a black fellow stealin’ away in the direction of my ’oss. He saw me too, but thought I didn’t see ’im. Up I jumps, an’ run for the ’oss. Up ’e jumps an’ run likewise. But I was nearer than ’im, an’ a deal faster—though I don’t mean to boast—”

“An’ a deal frighteneder,” suggested Junkie.

“P’raps, ’owever I got to the ’oss first. I didn’t take time to mount, but went leap-frog over ’is tail slap into the saddle, which gave the hold ’oss such a skeer that ’e bolted! The Kafir ’e gave a yell an’ sent ’is assagai after me, an’ by bad luck I looks round just as it went past an’ all but took off the point of my nose. Wasn’t it unlucky?”

“Unlucky! you ungrateful man,” growled Scholtz. “You should be ver’ glad de assagai did not stick you in de neck like von zow.—Is zat rain vich I feels in ze back of mine head?”

“Like enough. There’s plenty of it, anyhow,” said Junkie, trying to peer through the gloom in the direction of the tents occupied by a small body of regular troops which accompanied them.

As he did so a sudden squall struck the tents, levelling two with the ground, and entirely whisking off one, which, after making a wild circle in the air, was launched over a precipice into thick darkness, and never more seen!

Lying under another bush, not far distant, Considine and Hans lay crouched together for the purpose at once of keeping each other warm and presenting the smallest possible amount of surface to the weather. They did not sleep at first, and being within earshot of the bush under which the brothers Skyd had sheltered themselves, found sufficient entertainment in listening to their conversation.

“We scarce counted on this sort of thing,” said John Skyd, “when, fifteen years ago, we left the shores of old England for ‘Afric’s southern wilds.’”

“That’s true, Jack,” was Bob Skyd’s reply, “and I sometimes think it would have been better if we had remained at home.”

“Craven heart! what do you mean?” demanded James.

“Ay, what do you mean?” repeated Dobson; “will nothing convince you? It is true we made a poor job of the farming, owing to our ignorance, but since we took to merchandise have we not made a good thing of it—ain’t it improving every day, and won’t we rise to the very pinnacle of prosperity when this miserable war is over.”

“Supposing that we are not killed in the mean-time,” said Stephen Orpin, who formed one of the group.

“That is a mere truism, and quite irrelevant,” retorted Dobson.

“Talking of irrelevant matters, does any one know why Sandy Black and McTavish did not come with Groot Willem?” asked Orpin.

To this John Skyd replied that he had heard some one say a party of the Glen Lynden men had gone off to root out a nest of freebooters under that scoundrel Ruyter, who, taking advantage of the times, had become more ferocious and daring than ever.

“Yet some say,” observed Dobson, “that the Hottentot robber is becoming religious or craven-hearted, I don’t know which.”

“Perhaps broken-hearted,” suggested Orpin.

“Perhaps. Anyhow it is said his followers are dissatisfied with him for some reason or other. He does not lead them so well as he was wont to.”

While the white men were thus variously engaged in jesting over their discomforts, or holding more serious converse, their sable enemies were preparing for them a warm reception in the neighbouring pass. But both parties were checked and startled by the storm which presently burst over them. At first the thunder-claps were distant, but by degrees they came nearer, and burst with deafening crash, seemingly close overhead, while lightning ran along the earth like momentary rivulets of fire. At the same time the windows of heaven were opened, and rain fell in waterspouts, drenching every one to the skin.

The storm passed as suddenly as it came, and at daybreak was entirely gone, leaving a calm clear sky.

Sleepy, wet, covered with mud, and utterly miserable, the party turned out of their comfortless bivouac, and, after a hasty meal of cold provisions, resumed their march up the kloof.

At the narrowest part of it, some of the troops were sent in advance as skirmishers, and the ambush was discovered. Even then they were in an awkward position, and there can be no question that if the natives had been possessed of fire-arms they would have been cut off to a man. As it was, the savages came at them with dauntless courage, throwing their assagais when near enough, and hurling stones down from the almost perpendicular cliffs on either side. But nothing could resist the steady fire of men who were, most of them, expert shots. Few of the white men were wounded, but heaps of the Kafirs lay dead on each other ere they gave way and retreated before a dashing charge with the bayonet.

Oh! it was a sad sight,—sad to see men in the vigorous health of early youth and the strong powers of manhood’s prime cast lifeless on the ground and left to rot there for the mistaken idea on the Kafirs’ part that white men were their natural enemies, when, in truth, they brought to their land the comforts of civilised life; sad to think that they had died for the mistaken notion that their country was being taken from them, when in truth they had much more country than they knew what to do with—more than was sufficient to support themselves and all the white men who have ever gone there, and all that are likely to go for many years to come; sad to think of the stern necessity that compelled the white men to lay them low; sadder still to think of the wives and mothers, sisters and little ones, who were left to wail unavailingly for fathers and brothers lost to them for ever; and saddest of all to remember that it is not merely the naked savage in his untutored ignorance, but the civilised white man in his learned wisdom, who indulges in this silly, costly, murderous, brutal, and accursed game of war!

Returning from the fight next day with a large herd of captured cattle, the contingent found that Hintza had agreed unconditionally to all the proposals made to him by the Governor; among others that he should restore to the colonists 50,000 head of cattle and 1000 horses,—one half to be given up at once, the remainder in the