CHAPTER V
THE END OF THE LAAGER
I gasped with wonder and rage. What did that scoundrel Indaba-zimbi
mean? Why had I been drawn out of the laager and seized, and why,
being seized, was I not instantly killed? They called me the "White
Spirit." Could it be that they were keeping me to make me into
medicine? I had heard of such things being done by Zulus and kindred
tribes, and my blood ran cold at the thought. What an end! To be
pounded up, made medicine of, and eaten!
However, I had little time for further reflection, for now the whole
Impi was pouring back from the donga and river-banks where it had
hidden while their ruse was carried out, and once more formed up on
the side of the slope. I was taken to the crest of the slope and
placed in the centre of the reserve line in the especial charge of a
huge Zulu named Bombyane, the same man who had come forward as a
herald. This brute seemed to regard me with an affectionate curiosity.
Now and again he poked me in the ribs with the handle of his assegai,
as though to assure himself that I was solid, and several times he
asked me to be so good as to prophesy how many Zulus would be killed
before the "Amaboona," as they called the Boers, were "eaten up."
At first I took no notice of him beyond scowling, but presently,
goaded into anger, I prophesied that he would be dead in an hour!
He only laughed aloud. "Oh! White Spirit," he said, "is it so? Well,
I've walked a long way from Zululand, and shall be glad of a rest."
And he got it shortly, as will be seen.
Now the Zulus began to sing again--
"We have caught the White Spirit, my brother! my brother!
Iron-Tongue whispered of him, he smelt him out, my brother.
Now the Maboona are ours--they are already dead, my brother."
So that treacherous villain Indaba-zimbi had betrayed me. Suddenly the
chief of the Impi, a grey-haired man named Sususa, held up his
assegai, and instantly there was silence. Then he spoke to some
indunas who stood near him. Instantly they ran to the right and left
down the first line, saying a word to the captain of each company as
they passed him. Presently they were at the respective ends of the
line, and simultaneously held up their spears. As they did so, with an
awful roar of "Bulala Amaboona"--"Slay the Boers," the entire line,
numbering nearly a thousand men, bounded forward like a buck startled
from its form, and rushed down upon the little laager. It was a
splendid sight to see them, their assegais glittering in the sunlight
as they rose and fell above their black shields, their war-plumes
bending back upon the wind, and their fierce faces set intently on the
foe, while the solid earth shook beneath the thunder of their rushing
feet. I thought of my poor friends the Dutchmen, and trembled. What
chance had they against so many?
Now the Zulus, running in the shape of a bow so as to wrap the laager
round on three sides, were within seventy yards, and now from every
waggon broke tongues of fire. Over rolled a number of the Umtetwa, but
the rest cared little. Forward they sped straight to the laager,
striving to force a way in. But the Boers plied them with volley after
volley, and, packed as the Zulus were, the elephant guns loaded with
slugs and small shot did frightful execution. Only one man even got on
to a waggon, and as he did so I saw a Boer woman strike him on the
head with an axe. He fell down, and slowly, amid howls of derision
from the two lines on the hill-side, the Zulus drew back.
"Let us go, father!" shouted the soldiers on the slope, among whom I
was, to their chief, who had come up. "You have sent out the little
girls to fight, and they are frightened. Let us show them the way."
"No, no!" the chief Sususa answered, laughing. "Wait a minute and the
little girls will grow to women, and women are good enough to fight
against Boers!"
The attacking Zulus heard the mockery of their fellows, and rushed
forward again with a roar. But the Boers in the laager had found time
to load, and they met with a warm reception. Reserving their fire till
the Zulus were packed like sheep in a kraal, they loosed into them
with the roers, and the warriors fell in little heaps. But I saw that
the blood of the Umtetwas was up; they did not mean to be beaten back
this time, and the end was near. See! six men had leapt on to a
waggon, slain the man behind it, and sprung into the laager. They were
killed there, but others followed, and then I turned my head. But I
could not shut my ears to the cries of rage and death, and the
terrible /S'gee! S'gee!/ of the savages as they did their work of
murder. Once only I looked up and saw poor Hans Botha standing on a
waggon smiting down men with the butt of his rifle. The assegais shot
up towards him like tongues of steel, and when I looked again he was
gone.
I turned sick with fear and rage. But alas! what could I do? They were
all dead now, and probably my own turn was coming, only my death with
not be so swift.
The fight was ended, and the two lines on the slope broke their order,
and moved down to the laager. Presently we were there, and a dreadful
sight it was. Many of the attacking Zulus were dead--quite fifty I
should say, and at least a hundred and fifty were wounded, some of
them mortally. The chief Sususa gave an order, the dead men were
picked up and piled in a heap, while those who were slightly hurt
walked off to find some one to tie up their wounds. But the more
serious cases met with a different treatment. The chief or one of his
indunas considered each case, and if it was in any way bad, the man
was taken up and thrown into the river which ran near. None of them
offered any objection, though one poor fellow swam to shore again. He
did not stop there long, however, for they pushed him back and drowned
him by force.
The strangest case of all was that of the chief's own brother. He had
been captain of the line, and his ankle was smashed by a bullet.
Sususa came up to him, and, having examined the wound, rated him
soundly for failing in the first onslaught.
The poor fellow made the excuse that it was not his fault, as the
Boers had hit him in the first rush. His brother admitted the truth of
this, and talked to him amicably.
"Well," he said at length, offering him a pinch of snuff, "you cannot
walk again."
"No, chief," said the wounded man, looking at his ankle.
"And to-morrow we must walk far," went on Sususa.
"Yes, chief."
"Say, then, will you sit here on the veldt, or----" and he nodded
towards the river.
The man dropped his head on his breast for a minute as though in
thought. Presently he lifted it and looked Sususa straight in the
face.
"My ankle pains me, my brother," he said; "I think I will go back to
Zululand, for there is the only kraal I wish to see again, even if I
creep about it like a snake."[*]
[*] The Zulus believe that after death their spirits enter into the
bodies of large green snakes, which glide about the kraals. To
kill these snakes is sacrilege.
"It is well, my brother," said the chief. "Rest softly," and having
shaken hands with him, he gave an order to one of the indunas, and
turned away.
Then men came, and, supporting the wounded man, led him down to the
banks of the stream. Here, at his request, they tied a heavy stone
round his neck, and then threw him into a deep pool. I saw the whole
sad scene, and the victim never even winced. It was impossible not to
admire the extraordinary courage of the man, or to avoid being struck
with the cold-blooded cruelty of his brother the chief. And yet the
act was necessary from his point of view. The man must either die
swiftly, or be left to perish of starvation, for no Zulu force will
encumber itself with wounded men. Years of merciless warfare had so
hardened these people that they looked on death as nothing, and were,
to do them justice, as willing to meet it themselves as to inflict it
on others. When this very Impi had been sent out by the Zulu King
Dingaan, it consisted of some nine thousand men. Now it numbered less
than three; all the rest were dead. They, too, would probably soon be
dead. What did it matter? They lived by war to die in blood. It was
their natural end. "Kill till you are killed." That is the motto of
the Zulu soldier. It has the merit of simplicity.
Meanwhile the warriors were looting the waggons, including my own,
having first thrown all the dead Boers into a heap. I looked at the
heap; all of them were there, including the two stout fraus, poor
things. But I missed one body, that of Hans Botha's daughter, little
Tota. A wild hope came into my heart that she might have escaped; but
no, it was not possible. I could only pray that she was already at
rest.
Just then the great Zulu, Bombyane, who had left my side to indulge in
the congenial occupation of looting, came out of a waggon crying that
he had got the "little white one." I looked; he was carrying the child
Tota, gripping her frock in one of his huge black hands. He stalked up
to where we were, and held the child before the chief. "Is it dead,
father?" he said, with a laugh.
Now, as I could well see, the child was not dead, but had been hidden
away, and fainted with fear.
The chief glanced at it carelessly, and said--
"Find out with your kerrie."
Acting on this hint the black devil held up the child, and was about
to kill it with his knobstick. This was more than I could bear. I
sprang at him and struck him with all my force in the face, little
caring if I was speared or not. He dropped Tota on the ground.
"Ou!" he said, putting his hand to his nose, "the White Spirit has a
hard fist. Come, Spirit, I will fight you for the child."
The soldiers cheered and laughed. "Yes! yes!" they said, "let Bombyane
fight the White Spirit for the child. Let them fight with assegais."
For a moment I hesitated. What chance had I against this black giant?
But I had promised poor Hans to save the child if I could, and what
did it matter? As well die now as later. However, I had wit enough
left to make a favour of it, and intimated to the chief through
Indaba-zimbi that I was quite willing to condescend to kill Bombyane,
on condition that if I did so the child's life should be given to me.
Indaba-zimbi interpreted my words, but I noticed that he would not
look on me as he spoke, but covered his face with his hands and spoke
of me as "the ghost" or the "son of the spirit." For some reason that
I have never quite understood, the chief consented to the duel. I
fancy it was because he believed me to be more than mortal, and was
anxious to see the last of Bombyane.
"Let them fight," he said. "Give them assegais and no shields; the
child shall be to him who conquers."
"Yes! yes!" cried the soldiers. "Let them fight. Don't be afraid,
Bombyane; if he is a spirit, he's a very small one."
"I never was frightened of man or beast, and I am not going to run
away from a White Ghost," answered the redoubtable Bombyane, as he
examined the blade of his great bangwan or stabbing assegai.
Then they made a ring round us, gave me a similar assegai, and set us
some ten paces apart. I kept my face as calm as I could, and tried to
show no signs of fear, though in my heart I was terribly afraid.
Humanly speaking, my doom was on me. The giant warrior before me had
used the assegai from a child--I had no experience of the weapon.
Moreover, though I was quick and active, he must have been at least
twice as strong as I am. However, there was no help for it, so,
setting my teeth, I grasped the great spear, breathed a prayer, and
waited.
The giant stood awhile looking at me, and, as he stood, Indaba-zimbi
walked across the ring behind me, muttering as he passed, "Keep cool,
Macumazahn, and wait for him. I will make it all right."
As I had not the slightest intention of commencing the fray, I thought
this good advice, though how Indaba-zimbi could "make it all right" I
failed to see.
Heavens! how long that half-minute seemed! It happened many years ago,
but the whole scene rises up before my eyes as I write. There behind
us was the blood-stained laager, and near it lay the piles of dead;
round us was rank upon rank of plumed savages, standing in silence to
wait the issue of the duel, and in the centre stood the grey-haired
chief and general, Sususa, in all his war finery, a cloak of leopard
skin upon his shoulders. At his feet lay the senseless form of little
Tota, to my left squatted Indaba-zimbi, nodding his white lock and
muttering something--probably spells; while in front was my giant
antagonist, his spear aloft and his plumes wavering in the gentle
wind. Then over all, over grassy slope, river, and koppie, over the
waggons of the laager, the piles of dead, the dense masses of the
living, the swooning child, over all shone the bright impartial sun,
looking down like the indifferent eye of Heaven upon the loveliness of
nature and the cruelty of man. Down by the river grew thorn-trees, and
from them floated the sweet scent of the mimosa flower, and came the
sound of cooing turtle-doves. I never smell the one or hear the other
without the scene flashing into my mind again, complete in its every
detail.
Suddenly, without a sound, Bombyane shook his assegai and rushed
straight at me. I saw his huge form come; like a man in a dream, I saw
the broad spear flash on high; now he was on me! Then, prompted to it
by some providential impulse--or had the spells of Indaba-zimbi
anything to do with the matter?--I dropped to my knee, and quick as
light stretched out my spear. He drove at me: the blade passed over my
head. I felt a weight on my assegai; it was wrenched from my hand; his
great limbs knocked against me. I glanced round. Bombyane was
staggering along with head thrown back and outstretched arms from
which his spear had fallen. His spear had fallen, but the blade of
mine stood out between his shoulders--I had transfixed him. He
stopped, swung slowly round as though to look at me: then with a sigh
the giant sank down--/dead/.
For a moment there was silence; then a great cry rose--a cry of
"Bombyane is dead. The White Spirit has slain Bombyane. Kill the
wizard, kill the ghost who has slain Bombyane by witchcraft."
Instantly I was surrounded by fierce faces, and spears flashed before
my eyes. I folded my arms and stood calmly waiting the end. In a
moment it would have come, for the warriors were mad at seeing their
champion overthrown thus easily. But presently through the tumult I
heard the high, cracked voice of Indaba-zimbi.
"Stand back, you fools!" it cried; "can a spirit then be killed?"
"Spear him! spear him!" they roared in fury. "Let us see if he is a
spirit. How did a spirit slay Bombyane with an assegai? Spear him,
rain-maker, and we shall see."
"Stand back," cried Indaba-zimbi again, "and I will show you if he can
be killed. I will kill him myself, and call him back to life again
before your eyes."
"Macumazahn, trust me," he whispered in my ear in the Sisutu tongue,
which the Zulus did not understand. "Trust me; kneel on the grass
before me, and when I strike at you with the spear, roll over like one
dead; then, when you hear my voice again, get up. Trust me--it is your
only hope."
Having no choice I nodded my head in assent, though I had not the
faintest idea of what he was about to do. The tumult lessened
somewhat, and once more the warriors drew back.
"Great White Spirit--Spirit of victory," said Indaba-zimbi, addressing
me aloud, and covering his eyes with his hand, "hear me and forgive
me. These children are blind with folly, and think thee mortal because
thou hast dealt death upon a mortal who dared to stand against thee.
Deign to kneel down before me and let me pierce thy heart with this
spear, then when I call upon thee, arise unhurt."
I knelt down, not because I wished to, but because I must. I had not
overmuch faith in Indaba-zimbi, and thought it probable that he was in
truth about to make an end of me. But really I was so worn out with
fears, and the horrors of the night and day had so shaken my nerves,
that I did not greatly care what befell me. When I had been kneeling
thus for about half a minute Indaba-zimbi spoke.
"People of the Umtetwa, children of T'Chaka," he said, "draw back a
little way, lest an evil fall on you, for now the air is thick with
ghosts."
They drew back a space, leaving us in a circle about twelve yards in
diameter.
"Look on him who kneels before you," went on Indaba-zimbi, "and listen
to my words, to the words of the witch-finder, the words of the rain-
maker, Indaba-zimbi, whose fame is known to you. He seems to be a
young man, does he not? I tell you, children of the Umtetwa, he is no
man. He is the Spirit who gives victory to the white men, he it is who
gave them assegais that thunder and taught them how to slay. Why were
the Impis of Dingaan rolled back at the Blood River? Because /he/ was
there. Why did the Amaboona slay the people of Mosilikatze by the
thousand? Because /he/ was there. And so I say to you that, had I not
drawn him from the laager by my magic but three hours ago, you would
have been conquered--yes, you would have been blown away like the dust
before the wind; you would have been burnt up like the dry grass in
the winter when the fire is awake among it. Ay, because he had but
been there many of your bravest were slain in overcoming a few--a
pinch of men who could be counted on the fingers. But because I loved
you, because your chief Sususa is my half-brother--for had we not one
father?--I came to you, I warned you. Then you prayed me and I drew
the Spirit forth. But you were not satisfied when the victory was
yours, when the Spirit, of all you had taken asked but one little
thing--a white child to take away and sacrifice to himself, to make
the medicine of his magic of----"
Here I could hardly restrain myself from interrupting, but thought
better of it.
"You said him nay; you said, 'Let him fight with our bravest man, let
him fight with Bombyane the giant for the child.' And he deigned to
slay Bombyane as you have seen, and now you say, 'Slay him; he is no
spirit.' Now I will show you if he is a spirit, for I will slay him
before your eyes, and call him to life again. But you have brought
this upon yourselves. Had you believed, had you offered no insult to
the Spirit, he would have stayed with you, and you should have become
unconquerable. Now he will arise and leave you, and woe be on you if
you try to stay him.
"Now all men," he went on, "look for a space upon this assegai that I
hold up," and he lifted the bangwan of the deceased Bombyane high
above his head so that all the multitude could see it. Every eye was
fixed upon the broad bright spear. For a while he held it still, then
he moved it round and round in a circle, muttering as he did so, and
still their gaze followed it. For my part, I watched his movements
with the greatest anxiety. That assegai had already been nearer my
person than I found at all pleasant, and I had no desire to make a
further acquaintance with it. Nor, indeed, was I sure that Indaba-
zimbi was not really going to kill me. I could not understand his
proceedings at all, and at the best I did not relish playing the
/corpus vile/ to his magical experiments.
"/Look! look! look!/" he screamed.
Then suddenly the great spear flashed down towards my breast. I felt
nothing, but, to my sight, it seemed as though it had passed through
me.
"See!" roared the Zulus. "Indaba-zimbi has speared him; the red
assegai stands out behind his back."
"Roll over, Macumazahn," Indaba-zimbi hissed in my ear, "roll over and
pretend to die--quick! quick!"
I lost no time in following these strange instructions, but falling on
to my side, threw my arms wide, kicked my legs about, and died as
artistically as I could. Presently I gave a stage shiver and lay
still.
"See!" said the Zulus, "he is dead, the Spirit is dead. Look at the
blood upon the assegai!"
"Stand back! stand back!" cried Indaba-zimbi, "or the ghost will haunt
you. Yes, he is dead, and now I will call him back to life again.
Look!" and putting down his hand, he plucked the spear from wherever
it was fixed, and held it aloft. "The spear is red, is it not? Watch,
men, watch! /it grows white!/"
"Yes, it grows white," they said. "Ou! it grows white."
"It grows white because the blood returns to whence it came," said
Indaba-zimbi. "Now, great Spirit, hear me. Thou art dead, the breath
has gone out of thy mouth. Yet hear me and arise. Awake, White Spirit,
awake and show thy power. Awake! arise unhurt!"
I began to respond cheerfully to this imposing invocation.
"Not so fast, Macumazahn," whispered Indaba-zimbi.
I took the hint, and first held up my arm, then lifted my head and let
it fall again.
"He lives! by the head of T'Chaka he lives!" roared the soldiers,
stricken with mortal fear.
Then slowly and with the greatest dignity I gradually arose, stretched
my arms, yawned like one awaking from heavy sleep, turned and looked
upon them unconcernedly. While I did so, I noticed that old Indaba-
zimbi was almost fainting from exhaustion. Beads of perspiration stood
upon his brow, his limbs trembled, and his breast heaved.
As for the Zulus, they waited for no more. With a howl of terror the
whole regiment turned and fled across the rise, so that presently we
were left alone with the dead, and the swooning child.
"How on earth did you do that, Indaba-zimbi?" I asked in amaze.
"Do not ask me, Macumazahn," he gasped. "You white men are very
clever, but you don't quite know everything. There are men in the
world who can make people believe they see things which they do not
see. Let us be going while we may, for when those Umtetwas have got
over their fright, they will come back to loot the waggons, and then
perhaps /they/ will begin asking questions that I can't answer."
And here I may as well state that I never got any further information
on this matter from old Indaba-zimbi. But I have my theory, and here
it is for whatever it may be worth. I believe that Indaba-zimbi
/mesmerized/ the whole crowd of onlookers, myself included, making
them believe that they saw the assegai in my heart, and the blood upon
the blade. The reader may smile and say, "Impossible;" but I would ask
him how the Indian jugglers do their tricks unless it is by mesmerism.
The spectators /seem/ to see the boy go under the basket and there
pierced with daggers, they /seem/ to see women in a trance supported
in mid-air upon the point of a single sword. In themselves these
things are not possible, they violate the laws of nature, as those
laws are known to us, and therefore must surely be illusion. And so
through the glamour thrown upon them by Indaba-zimbi's will, that Zulu
Impi seemed to see me transfixed with an assegai which never touched
me. At least, that is my theory; if any one has a better, let him
adopt it. The explanation lies between illusion and magic of a most
imposing character, and I prefer to accept the first alternative.
