CHAPTER VI
THE CASTING OF THE LOTS
They reached the crest of the last rise, and there, facing them on theslope of the opposite wave of land, stood the waggon, surrounded by thethorn fence, within which the cattle and horses were still enclosed,doubtless for fear of the Zulus. Nothing could be more peaceful than theaspect of that camp. To look at it no one would have believed that withina few hundred yards a hideous massacre had just taken place. Presently,however, voices began to shout, and heads to bob up over the fence. Thenit occurred to Rachel that they must think she was a prisoner in thecharge of a Zulu, and she told Noie to lower the shield which she stillheld in front of her. The next instant some thorns were torn out, and herfather, a gun in his hand, appeared striding towards them.
"Thank God that you are safe," he said as they met. "I have suffered greatanxiety, although I hoped that the white man Israel--no, Ishmael--hadrescued you. He came here to warn us," he added in explanation, "veryearly this morning, then galloped off to find you. Indeed his after-rider,whose horse he took, is still here. Where on earth have you been, Rachel,and"--suddenly becoming aware of Noie, who, arrayed only in a towel, ashield, and a stabbing spear, presented a curious if an impressivespectacle--"who is this young person?"
"She is a native girl I saved from the massacre," replied Rachel,answering the last question first. "It is a long story, but I shot the manwho was going to kill her, and we hid in a pool. Are you all safe, andwhere is mother?"
"Shot the man! Shed human blood! Hid in a pool!" ejaculated Mr. Dove,overcome. "Really, Rachel, you are a most trying daughter. Why should yougo out before daybreak and do such things?"
"I don't know, I am sure, father; predestination, I suppose--to save herlife, you know."
Again he contemplated the beautiful Noie, then, murmuring something abouta blanket, ran back to the camp. By this time Mrs. Dove had climbed out ofthe waggon, and arrived with the Kaffirs.
"I knew you would be safe, Rachel," she said in her gentle voice, "becausenothing can hurt you. Still you do upset your poor father dreadfully,and--what are you going to do with that naked young woman?"
"Give her something to eat, dear," answered Rachel. "Don't ask me any morequestions now. We have been sitting up to our necks in water for hours,and are starved and frozen, to say nothing of worse things."
At this moment Mr. Dove arrived with a blanket, which he offered to Noie,who took it from him and threw it round her body. Then they went into thecamp, where Rachel changed her damp clothes, whilst Noie sat by her in acorner of the tent. Presently, too, food was brought, and Rachel atehungrily, forcing Noie to do the same. Then she went out, leaving the girlto rest in the tent, and with certain omissions, such as the conduct ofNoie when she found her dead father, told all the story which, wild aswere the times and strange as were the things that happened in them, theyfound wonderful enough.
When she had done Mr. Dove knelt down and offered up thanks for hisdaughter's preservation through great danger, and with them prayers thatshe might be forgiven for having shot the Zulu, a deed that, except forthe physical horror of it, did not weigh upon Rachel's mind.
"You know, father, you would have done the same yourself," she explained,"and so would mother there, if she could hold a gun, so what is the goodof pretending that it is a sin? Also no one saw it except that white manand the crocodiles which buried the body, so the less we say about thematter the better it will be for all of us."
"I admit," answered Mr. Dove, "that the circumstances justified the deed,though I fear that the truth will out, since blood calls for blood. Butwhat are we to do with the girl? They will come to seek her and kill usall."
"They will not seek, father, because they think that she is dead, and willnever know otherwise unless that white man tells them, which he willscarcely do, as the Zulus would think that he shot the soldier, not I. Shehas been sent to us, and it is our duty to keep her."
"I suppose so," said her father doubtfully. "Poor thing! Truly she hascause for gratitude to Providence: all her relations killed by thosebloodthirsty savages, and she saved!"
"If all of you were killed and I were saved, I do not know that I shouldfeel particularly grateful," answered Rachel. "But it is no use arguingabout such things, so let us be thankful that we are not killed too. Now Iam tired out, and going to lie down, for of course we can't leave thisplace at present, unless we trek back to Durban."
Such was the finding of Noie.
* * * * *
When Rachel awoke from the sleep into which she had fallen, sunset wasnear at hand. She left the tent where Noie still lay slumbering or lost instupor, to find that only her mother and Ishmael's after-rider remained inthe camp, her father having gone out with the Kaffirs, in order to bury asmany of the dead as possible before night came, and with it the jackalsand hyenas. Rachel made up the fire and set to work with her mother's helpto cook their evening meal. Whilst they were thus engaged her quick earscaught the sound of horses' hoofs, and she looked up to perceive the whiteman, Ishmael, still leading the spare horse on which she had ridden thatmorning. He had halted on the crest of ground where she had first seen himupon the previous day, and was peering at the camp, with the objectapparently of ascertaining whether its occupants were still alive.
"I will go and ask him in," said Rachel, who, for reasons of her own,wished to have a word or two with the man.
Presently she came up to him, and saw at once that he seemed to be verymuch ashamed of himself.
"Well," she said cheerfully, "you see here I am, safe enough, and I amglad that you are the same."
"You are a wonderful woman," he replied, letting his eyes sink before herclear gaze, "as wonderful as you are beautiful."
"No compliments, please," said Rachel, "they are out of place in thissavage land."
"I beg your pardon, I could not help speaking the truth. Did they kill thegirl and let you go?"
"No, I managed to hide up with her; she is here now."
"That is very dangerous, Miss Dove. I know all about it; it is she whomDingaan was after. When he hears that you have sheltered her he will sendand kill you all. Take my advice and turn her out at once. I say it ismost dangerous."
"Perhaps," answered Rachel calmly, "but all the same I shall do nothing ofthe sort unless she wishes to go, nor do I think that my father willeither. Now please listen a minute. If this story comes to the ears of theZulus--and I do not see why it should, as the crocodiles have eaten thatsoldier--who will they think shot him, I or the white man who was with me?Do you understand?"
"I understand and shall hold my tongue, for your sake."
"No, for your own. Well, by way of making the bargain fair, for my part Ishall say as little as possible of how we separated this morning. Not thatI blame you for riding off and leaving an obstinate young woman whom youdid not know to take her chance. Still, other people might thinkdifferently."
"Yes," he answered, "they might, and I admit that I am ashamed of myself.But you don't know the Zulus as I do, and I thought that they would be allon us in a moment; also I was mad with you and lost my nerve. Really I amvery sorry."
"Please don't apologise. It was quite natural, and what is more, all forthe best. If we had gone on we should have ridden right into them, andperhaps never ridden out again. Now here comes my father; we have agreedthat you will not say too much about this girl, have we not?"
He nodded and advanced with her, leading the horses, for he haddismounted, to meet Mr. Dove at the opening in the fence.
"Good evening," said the clergyman, who seemed depressed after his sadtask, as he motioned to one of the Kaffirs to put down his mattock andtake the horses. "I don't quite know what happened this morning, but Ihave to thank you for trying to save my daughter from those cruel men. Ihave been burying their victims in a little cleft that we found, or rathersome of them. The vultures you know----" and he paused.
"I didn't save her, sir," answered the stranger humbly. "It seemedho
peless, as she would not leave the Kaffir girl."
Mr. Dove looked at him searchingly, and there was a suspicion of contemptin his voice as he replied:
"You would not have had her abandon the poor thing, would you? For therest, God saved them both, so it does not much matter exactly how, aseverything has turned out for the best. Won't you come in and have somesupper, Mr.--Ishmael--I am afraid I do not know the rest of your name."
"There is no more to know, Mr. Dove," he replied doggedly, then added:"Look here, sir, as I daresay you have found out, this is a rough country,and people come to it, some of them, whose luck has been rough elsewhere.Now, perhaps I am as well born as you are, and perhaps _my_ luck was roughin other lands, so that I chose to come and live in a place where thereare no laws or civilisation. Perhaps, too, I took the name of another manwho was driven into the wilderness--you will remember all about him--alsothat it does not seem to have been his fault. Any way, if we should bethrown up together I'll ask you to take me as I am, that is, a hunter anda trader 'in the Zulu,' and not to bother about what I have been. WhateverI was christened, my name is Ishmael now, or among the Kaffirs Ibubesi,and if you want another, let us call it Smith."
"Quite so, Mr. Ishmael. It is no affair of mine," replied Mr. Dove with asmile, for he had met people of this sort before in Africa.
But within himself already he determined that this white and perchancefallen wanderer was one whom, perhaps, it would be his duty to lead backinto the paths of Christian propriety and peace.
These matters settled, they went into the little camp, and a sentry havingbeen set, for now the night was falling fast, Ishmael was introduced toMrs. Dove, who looked him up and down and said little, after which theybegan their supper. When their simple meal was finished, Ishmael lit hispipe and sat himself upon the disselboom of the waggon, looking extremelyhandsome and picturesque in the flare of the firelight which fell upon hisdark face, long black hair and curious garments, for although he hadreplaced his lion-skin by an old coat, his zebra-hide trousers andwaistcoat made of an otter's pelt still remained. Contemplating him,Rachel felt sure that whatever his present and past might be, he hadspoken the truth when he hinted that he was well-born. Indeed, this mightbe gathered from his voice and method of expressing himself when he grewmore at ease, although it was true that sometimes he substituted a Zulufor an English word, and employed its idioms in his sentences, doubtlessbecause for years he had been accustomed to speak and even to think inthat language.
Now he was explaining to Mr. Dove the political and social position amongthat people, whose cruel laws and customs led to constant fights on thepart of tribes or families, who knew that they were doomed, and theirconsequent massacre if caught, as had happened that day. Of course, theclergyman, who had lived for some years at Durban, knew that this wastrue, although, never having actually witnessed one of these dreadfulevents till now, he did not realise all their horror.
"I fear that my task will be even harder than I thought," he said with asigh.
"What task?" asked Ishmael.
"That of converting the Zulus. I am trekking to the king's kraal now, andpropose to settle there."
Ishmael knocked out his pipe and filled it again before he answered.Apparently he could find no words in which to express his thoughts, butwhen at length these came they were vigorous enough.
"Why not trek to hell and settle _there_ at once?" he asked, "I begpardon, I meant heaven, for you and your likes. Man," he went onexcitedly, "have you any heart? Do you care about your wife and daughter?"
"I have always imagined that I did, Mr. Ishmael," replied the missionaryin a cold voice.
"Then do you wish to see their throats cut before your eyes, or," and helooked at Rachel, "worse?"
"How can you ask such questions?" said Mr. Dove, indignantly. "Of course Iknow that there are risks among all wild peoples, but I trust toProvidence to protect us."
Mr. Ishmael puffed at his pipe and swore to himself in Zulu.
"Yes," he said, when he had recovered a little, "so I suppose did Seyapiand his people, but you have been burying them this afternoon--haven'tyou?--all except the girl, Noie, whom you have sheltered, for which deedDingaan will bury you all if you go into Zululand, or rather throw you tothe vultures. Don't think that your being an _umfundusi_, I mean ateacher, will save you. The Almighty Himself can't save you there. Youwill be dead and forgotten in a month. What's more, you will have to driveyour own waggon in, for your Kaffirs won't, they know better. A Biblewon't turn the blade of an assegai."
"Please, Mr. Ishmael, please do not speak so--so irreligiously," said Mr.Dove in an irritated but nervous voice. "You do not seem to understandthat I have a mission to perform, and if that should involvemartyrdom----"
"Oh! bother martyrdom, which is what you are after, no doubt, 'castingdown your golden crown upon a crystal sea,' and the rest of it--I rememberthe stuff. The question is, do you wish to murder your wife and daughter,for that's the plain English of it?"
"Of course not. How can you suggest such a thing?"
"Then you had better not cross the Tugela. Go back to Durban, or stopwhere you are at least, for, unless he finds out anything, Dingaan is notlikely to interfere with a white man on this side of the river."
"That would involve abandoning my most cherished ambition, and impulsesthat--but I will not speak to you of things which perhaps you might notunderstand."
"I dare say I shouldn't, but I do understand what it feels like to haveyour neck twisted out of joint. Look here, sir, if you want to go intoZululand, you should go alone; it is no place for white ladies."
"That is for them to judge, sir," answered Mr. Dove. "I believe that theirfaith will be equal to this trial," and he looked at his wife almostimploringly.
For once, however, she failed him.
"My dear John," she said, "if you want my opinion, I think that thisgentleman is quite right. For myself I don't care much, but it can neverhave been intended that we should absolutely throw away our lives. I havealways given way to you, and followed you to many strange places withoutgrumbling, although, as you know, we might be quite comfortable at home,or at any rate in some civilised town. Now I say that I think you oughtnot to go to Zululand, especially as there is Rachel to think of."
"Oh! don't trouble about me," interrupted that young lady, with a shrug ofher shoulders. "I can take my chance as I have often done before--to-day,for instance."
"But I do trouble about you, my dear, although it is true I don't believethat you will be killed; you know I have always said so. Still I dotrouble, and John--John," she added in a kind of pitiful cry, "can't yousee that you have worn me out? Can't you understand that I am getting oldand weak? Is there nobody to whom you have a duty as well as to theheathen? Are there not enough heathen here?" she went on with gatheringpassion. "If you must mix with them, do what this gentleman says, and stophere, that is, if you won't go back. Build a house and let us have alittle peace before we die, for death will come soon enough, and terriblyenough, I am sure," and she burst into a fit of weeping.
"My dear," said Mr. Dove, "you are upset; the unhappy occurrences ofto-day, which--did we but know it--are doubtless all for the best, andyour anxiety for Rachel have been too much for you. I think that you hadbetter go to bed, and you too, Rachel. I will talk the matter over furtherwith Mr. Ishmael, who, perhaps, has been sent to guide me. I am notunreasonable, as you think, and if he can convince me that there is anyrisk to your lives--for my own I care nothing--I will consider thesuggestion of building a mission-station outside Zululand, at any rate fora few years. It may be that it is not intended that we should enter thatcountry at present."
So Mrs. Dove and her daughter went, but for two hours or more Rachel heardher father and the hunter talking earnestly, and wondered in a sleepyfashion to what conclusion he had come. Personally she did not mind muchon which side of the Tugela they were to live, if they must bide at all inthe region of that river. Still, for her mother's sake she determined thatif s
he could bring it about, they should stay where they were. Indeedthere was no choice between this and returning to England, as her fatherhad quarrelled too bitterly with the white men at Durban to allow of histaking up his residence among them again.
When Rachel woke on the following morning the first thing she saw in thegrowing light was the orphaned native Noie, seated on the further side ofthe little tent, her head resting upon her hand, and gazing at hervacantly. Rachel watched her a while, pretending to be still asleep, andfor the first time understood how beautiful this girl was in her ownfashion. Although small, that is in comparison with most Kaffir women, shewas perfectly shaped and developed. Her soft skin in that light lookedalmost white, although it had about it nothing of the muddy colour of thehalf-breed; her hair was long, black and curly, and worn naturally, notforced into artificial shapes as is common among the Kaffirs. Her featureswere finely cut and intellectual, and her eyes, shaded by long lashes,somewhat oblong in shape, of a brown colour, and soft as those of a buck.Certainly for a native she was lovely, and what is more, quite unlike anyBantu that Rachel had ever seen, except indeed that dead man whom she saidwas her father, and who, although he was so small, had managed to kill twogreat Zulu warriors before, mysteriously enough, he died himself.
"Noie," said Rachel, when she had completed her observations, whereon witha quick and agile movement the girl rose, sank again on her knees besideher, took the hand that hung from the bed between her own, and pressed itto her lips, saying in the soft Zulu tongue,
"Inkosazana, I am here."
"Is that white man still asleep, Noie?"
"Nay, he has gone. He and his servant rode away before the light, fearinglest there might still be Zulus between him and his kraal."
"Do you know anything about him, Noie?"
"Yes, Lady, I have seen him in Zululand. He is a bad man. They call himthere 'Lion,' not because he is brave, but because he hunts and springs bynight."
"Just what I should have thought of him," answered Rachel, "and we knowthat he is not brave," she added with a smile. "But never mind this jackalin a lion's hide; tell me your story, Noie, if you will, only speak low,for this tent is thin."
"Lady," said the girl, "you who were born white in body and in spirit,hear me. I am but half a Zulu. My father who died yesterday in the flesh,departing back to the world of ghosts, was of another people who live farto the north, a small people but a strong. They live among the trees, theyworship trees; they die when their tree dies; they are dealers in dreams;they are the companions of ghosts, little men before whom the tribestremble; who hate the sun, and dwell in the deep of the forest. Myself Ido not know them; I have never seen them, but my father told me thesethings, and others that I may not repeat. When he was a young man myfather fled from his people."
"Why?" asked Rachel, for the girl paused.
"Lady, I do not know; I think it was because he would have been theirpriest, or one of their priests, and he feared I think that he had seen awoman, a slave to them, whom therefore he might not marry. I think thatwoman was my mother. So he fled from them--with her, and came to liveamong the Zulus. He was a great doctor there in Chaka's time, not one ofthe _Abangomas_, not one of the 'Smellers-out-of-witches,' not a'Bringer-down-to-death,' for like all his race he hated bloodshed. No,none of these things, but a doctor of medicines, a master of magic, aninterpreter of dreams, a lord of wisdom; yes, it was his wisdom that madeChaka great, and when he withdrew it from him because of his cruelties,then Chaka died.
"Lady, Dingaan rules in Chaka's place, Dingaan who slew him, but althoughhe had been Chaka's doctor, my father was spared because they feared him.I was the only child of my mother, but he took other wives after the Zulufashion, not because he loved them, I think, but that he might not seemdifferent to other men. So he grew great and rich, and lived in peacebecause they feared him. Lady, my father loved me, and to me alone hetaught his language and his wisdom. I helped him with his medicines; Iinterpreted the dreams which he could not interpret, his blanket fell uponme. Often I was sought in marriage, but I did not wish to marry, Wisdom ismy husband.
"There came an evil day; we knew that it must come, my father and I, and Iwished to fly the land, but he could not do so because of his other wivesand children. The maidens of my district were marshalled for the king tosee. His eye fell upon me, and he thought me fair because I am differentfrom Zulu women, and--you can guess. Yet I was saved, for the otherdoctors and the head wives of the king said that it was not wise that Ishould be taken into his house, I who knew too many secrets and couldbewitch him if I willed, or prison him with drugs that leave no trace. SoI escaped a while and was thankful. Now it came about that because hemight not take me Dingaan began to think much of me, and to dream of me atnights. At last he asked me of my father, as a gift, not as a right, forso he thought that no ill would come with me. But I prayed my father tokeep me from Dingaan, for I hated Dingaan, and told him that if I weresent to the king, I would poison him. My father listened to me because heloved me and could not bear to part with me, and said Dingaan nay. NowDingaan grew very angry and asked counsel of his other doctors, but theywould give him none because they feared my father. Then he asked counselof that white man, Hishmel, who is called the Lion, and who is much at thekraal of Umgungundhlovu."
"Ah!" said Rachel, "now I understand why he wished you to be killed."
"The white man, Hishmel, the jackal in a lion's skin, as you named him,laughed at Dingaan's fears. He said to him, 'It is of the father, Seyapi,you should be afraid. He has the magic, not the girl. Kill the father, andhis house, and take the daughter whom your heart desires, and be happy.'
"So spoke Hishmel, and Dingaan thought his counsel good, and paid him forit with the teeth of elephants, and certain women for whom he asked. Nowmy father foreboded ill, and I also, for both of us had dreamed a dream.Still we did not fly until the slayers were almost at the gates, becauseof his other wives and his children. Nor, save for them would he have fledthen, or I either, but would have died after the fashion of his people, ashe did at last."
"The White Death?" queried Rachel.
"Yes, Lady, the White Death. Still in the end we fled, thinking to gainthe protection of the white men down yonder. I went first to escape theking's men who had orders to take me alive and bring me to him, that iswhy we were not together at the end. Lady, you know the rest. Hishmeldoubtless had seen you, and thinking that the Impi would kill you, came towarn you. Then we met just as I was about to die, though perhaps not bythat soldier's spear, as you thought. I have spoken."
"What message came to you when you knelt down before your dead father?"asked Rachel for the second time, since on this point she was intenselycurious.
Again that inscrutable look gathered on the girl's face, and she answered.
"Did I not tell you it was for my ear alone, O Inkosazana-y-Zoola? I darenot say it, be satisfied. But this I may say. Your fate and mine areintertwined; yours and mine and another's, for our spirits are sisterswhich have dwelt together in past days."
"Indeed," said Rachel smiling, for she who had mixed with them from herchildhood knew something of the mysticism of the natives, also that it wasoften nonsense. "Well, Noie, I love you, I know not why. Perhaps, for allyou have suffered. Yet I say to you that if you wish to remain my sisterin the spirit, you had better separate from me in the flesh. That jackalman knows your secret, girl, and soon or late will loose the assegai onyou."
"Doubtless," she answered, "doubtless many things will come about. Butthey are doomed to come about. Whether I go or whether I stay they willhappen. Say you therefore, Lady, and I will obey. Shall I go or shall Istay, or shall I die before your eyes?"
"It is on your own head," answered Rachel shrugging her shoulders.
"Nay, nay, Lady, you forget, it is on yours also, seeing that if I stay Imay bring peril on you and your house. Have you then no order for me?"
"Noie, I have answered--one. Judge you."
"I will not judge. Let Heaven-above judge
. Lady, give me a hair from yourhead."
Rachel plucked out the hair and handed it, a shining thread of gold, toNoie who drew one from her own dark tresses, and laid them side by side.
"See," she said, "they are of the same length. Now, without the wind blowsgently; come then to the door of the tent, and I will throw these twohairs into the wind. If that which is black floats first to the ground,then I stay, if that which is golden, then I go to seek my hair. Is itagreed?"
"It is agreed."
So the two girls went to the entrance of the tent, and Noie with a swiftmotion tossed up the hairs. As it happened one of those little eddies ofwind which are common in South Africa, caught them, causing them to risealmost perpendicularly into the air. At a certain height, about fortyfeet, the supporting wind seemed to fail, that is so far as the hair fromNoie's head was concerned, for there it floated high above them like ablack thread in the sunlight, and gently by slow degrees came to the earthjust at their feet. But the hair from Rachel's head, being caught by thefringe of the whirlwind, was borne upwards and onwards very swiftly, untilat length it vanished from their sight.
"It seems that I stay," said Noie.
"Yes," answered Rachel. "I am very glad; also if any evil comes of it weare not to blame, the wind is to blame."
"Yes, Lady, but what makes the wind to blow?"
Again Rachel shrugged her shoulders, and asked a question in her turn.
"Whither has that hair of mine been borne, Noie?"
"I do not know, Lady. Perhaps my father's spirit took it for his own ends.I think so. I think it went northwards. At any rate when mine fell, it wassnatched away, was it not? And yet they both floated up together. I thinkthat one day you will follow that hair of yours, Lady, follow it to theland where great trees whisper secrets to the night."