John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  TRAPPED.

  His mind aglow with the recollection of that farewell, his one thoughthow soon he should be able to return, John Ames strode forth upon hisquest, and as he did so it is probable that the whole world could nothave produced another human being filled with such a rapturousexaltation as this refugee from a fiendish massacre, hiding for his lifein the grim fastnesses of the Matopo Hills.

  That last look he had discerned in Nidia's eyes, that last pressure ofher hands, could mean but one thing, and that the one thing to obtainwhich he would have laid down his life again and again. She wasbeginning to care for him. Other little spontaneous acts of cordialityduring their enforced exile, had more than once stirred within him thiswild hope, yet he had not encouraged himself to entertain it. Such hehad of course deemed to be the outcome of their position. Now, however,the scales seemed to fall from his eyes, and he could read into them avery different meaning.

  These last few days! Why, they seemed a lifetime. And when they shouldbe over--what then? Was not his resolution a quixotic one; now, indeed,an impossible one? He almost made up his mind to abandon it, and on hisreturn to ascertain once and for all how matters stood. As againstthat, what if he were mistaken, or partially so? There was such a thingas being too precipitate. Would it not be better to wait until he hadbrought Nidia safely and triumphantly through the multifold perils whichstill overhung their way?

  How casual had been their meeting in the first instance, how marvellousand providential in the second. If anything seemed to point asignificant augury, this did. But what of the more practical side?What would Nidia's own people have to say in the matter? From thingslet drop he had gleaned incidentally that they were people of veryconsiderable wealth, whereas he himself had little beyond the by nomeans princely salary wherewith the Chartered Company saw fit toremunerate his valuable services. Well, he would not think of that justthen. Time enough to do so when they were safely back in prosaiccivilisation once more. Let him revel in his happiness while it washis.

  And it was happiness. Here he was--enjoying advantages such as rarelyfall to the lot of the ardent lover. The daily intercourse, for allpresent purposes, each representing all the world to the other, beyondthe reach of officious or intrusive outsider; she dependent upon him foreverything--protection, companionship, even the very means ofsubsistence--what a labour of love was all this.

  A slight rattle, as of stones, above his head, brought his mind back tothe object of his quest; and lo! there stood the aforesaid means ofsubsistence personified, in the shape of a klip-springer, which from itsboulder pedestal was regarding him with round-eyed amazement anddistrust. Dare he use his rifle? There was no other way of securingthe little buck. It was out of throwing-range, and in any case would benimble enough to dodge a kerrie. He thought he would risk it. Game wasalarmingly scarce.

  But the question was decided for him. The animal suddenly sprang fromthe boulder, and in a couple of bounds had disappeared among the rocks.What--who--had scared it? The answer came--and a startling one it was.A score of Matabele warriors rose from among the long grass, and,uttering their fierce vibrating war-shout, flung themselves upon him.So intent had he been upon his thoughts, and on watching theklip-springer, that, crawling like snakes in the grass, they had beenable to surround him unperceived. So sudden was the onslaught, that nota moment was given him for defence. His rifle was knocked from hisgrasp by a blow with a kerrie which he thought had shattered his wrist.Assegais flashed in front of his eyes, battle-axes were flourished inhis face, his ears were deafened with the hubbub of voices. Then arosea great shout.

  "_Au_! U'Jonemi!"

  They had recognised him. Did that account for the fact that he wasstill alive? He had expected instant death, and even in that briefflash of time had crossed his mind a vision of Nidia left alone, of heragony of fear, of her utter helplessness. Oh, fool that he was, to havebeen lulled into this false security!

  As though satisfied with having disarmed him, they had so far refrainedfrom offering him further violence. No, he dared not hope. Others cameswarming up, crowding around to look at him, many of them recognisinghim with jeers.

  "_Au_! Jonemi! Thou art a long way from home!" they would cry. "Whereare thy people--the other Amakiwa--and thy horses?"

  "No people have I, nor horses, _amadoda_. I am alone. Have I notalways wished well and acted well towards you? Return me, therefore, myrifle, and let me go my way in peace."

  It was putting a bold face on things; but, in his miserable extremity,as he thought of Nidia it seemed to John Ames that he was capable of anyexpedient, however insane. The proposal was greeted with shouts ofderisive laughter by some. Others scowled.

  "Wished well and acted well towards us?" echoed one of these. "_Au_!And our cattle--whose hand was it that destroyed them daily?"

  This was applying the match with a vengeance.

  "Yea--whose?" they shouted. "That of Jonemi."

  Their mood was rapidly growing more ugly, their demeanour threatening.Those who had been inclined to good humour before, now looked black.Several, darting out from the rest, began to go through the performanceof "gwaza," throwing themselves into every conceivable contortion ofattack or defence, then, rushing at their prisoner, would make alightning-like stab at him, just arresting the assegai blade within afoot of his body, or the same sort of performance would be gone throughwith a battle-axe. It was horribly trying to the nerves, dangerous,too, and John Ames was very sick of it.

  "Keep the gun, then, if you will," he said. "But now I must go on myway again. _Hlalani-gahle 'madoda_." And he made as if he woulddepart. But they barred his way.

  "Now, nay, Jonemi. Now, nay," they cried, "Madula, our father, wouldfain see _his_ father again, and he is at hand. Come now with us,Jonemi, for it will be good for him to look upon thy face again."

  The words were spoken jeeringly, and he knew it. But he pretended notto. Boldness alone would serve his course. Yet his heart was likewater within him at the thought of Nidia, how she would be waiting hiscoming, hour after hour--but no--he must not think of it, if he wantedto keep his mind. Madula, too, owed him a bitter grudge as the actualinstrument for carrying out the cattle destroying edict, and was sure toorder him to be put to death. Such an opportunity of revenge was notlikely to be foregone by a savage, who, moreover, was alreadyresponsible for more than one wholesale and treacherous murder.

  "Yes," he answered, "Madula was my friend. I would fain see him again--also Samvu."

  "_Hau_! Samvu? There is no Samvu," said one, with a constrained air."The whites have shot him."

  "In battle?" said John Ames, quickly.

  "Not so. They found him and another man sitting still at home. Theydeclared that he had helped kill `Ingerfiel,' and they shot them both."

  "I am sorry," John Ames said. "Samvu was also my friend. I will neverbelieve he did this."

  A hum, which might have been expressive of anything, rose from thelisteners. But this news had filled John Ames with the gravestforebodings. If the chief's brother had been slain in battle, it wouldhave been bad enough; but the fact that he had been shot down in coldblood out of sheer revenge by a band of whites, with or without thefigment of a trial, would probably exasperate Madula and his clan to amost perilous extent, and seemed to aggravate the situation as regardedhimself, well-nigh to the point of hopelessness.

  They had been travelling all this while, and John Ames noticed they weretaking very much the direction by which he had come. If only it wouldgrow dark he might manage to give them the slip. But it was some waybefore sundown yet.

  Turning into a lateral valley, numerous smokes were rising up above therocks and trees. Fires? Yes, and men came crowding around thenewcomers. Why, the place was swarming with rebels; and again bitterlydid John Ames curse his fancied and foolish security.

  He glanced at the eager, chattering faces which crowded up to stare athim, and recognised several
. Might not there be among these some whowould befriend him, even as Pukele had done before? He looked forPukele, but looked in vain.

  He strode up to Madula's camp to all outward appearance as unconcernedlyas when he used to visit the chief's kraal before the outbreak. Hisline was to seem to ignore the fact of there being an outbreak, or atany rate that these here present had anything to do with it.

  He found Madula seated against a rock smoking a pipe, and tricked out inwar-gear. With him sat Zazwe, and another induna named Mayisela. Andthen, as if his position were not already critical enough, a new ideacame to John Ames. These men had been seen by him under arms, in overtrebellion. Was it likely they would suffer him to depart, in orderhereafter to bear testimony against them? Indeed, their method ofreturning his greeting augured the worst Madula was gruff even torudeness, Mayisela sneeringly polite, while Zazwe condescended not toreply at all. Of this behaviour, however, he took no notice, andsitting down opposite them, began to talk. Why were they all under armsin this way? He was glad to have found Madula. He had wanted to findMadula to induce him to return to his former location. The policeofficer and his wife had been murdered, but that had been done bypolicemen. It was impossible that Madula could have countenanced that.Why then had he fled? Why not return?

  A scornful murmur from the three chiefs greeted these remarks. Madulawith great deliberation knocked his pipe empty on a stone, and stretchedout his hand for tobacco, which John Ames promptly gave him. Then hereplied that they had not "fled." He knew nothing of Inglefield, anddid not care. If his _Amapolise_ were tired of him they were quiteright to get rid of him. They had not fled. The time had come for themto take their own land again. There were no whites left by this time,except a few who were shut up in Bulawayo, and even for these a road wasleft open out of the country. If they failed to take it they would soonbe starved out.

  This was news. Bulawayo, at any rate, had not been surprised. It wasprobably strongly laagered. But they would give no detail. All thewhites in the country had been killed, save only these few, theydeclared. Yet he did not believe this statement in its entirety.

  John Ames, as he sat there, talking, to all outward appearance as thoughno rebellion had taken place, knew that his life hung upon a hair.There was a shifty sullenness about the manner of the indunas that wasnot lost upon him. And groups of their followers would continuallysaunter up to observe him, some swaggering and talking loud, though indeference to the chiefs, not coming very near, others quiet, but allscowling and hostile. Nothing escaped him. He read the generaldemeanour of the savages like an open book. Short of a miracle he wasdestined not to leave this place alive.

  The day was wearing on, and now the sun was already behind the cragswhich rose above the camp. It would soon be dusk. Every faculty on thealert, always bearing in view the precious life which depended upon his,he was calculating to a minute how soon he could carry into effect thelast and desperate plan, the while he was conversing in the most even oftones, striving to impress upon his hearers the futility, in the longrun, of thinking to drive the white man out. They had done nothingovert as yet. Let them return, and all would be well.

  What of their cattle which had all been killed? they asked. It wasevident Makiwa was anxious to destroy the people, since cattle were thelife of the people. So John Ames was obliged to go all over the sameground again; but, after all, it was a safe topic. He knew, as well asthey did, that the murder of the Hollingworths, of the Inglefields, andevery other massacre which had surprised and startled the scatteredwhite population, was instigated and approved by these very men, butthis was not the time to say so. Wherefore he temporised.

  The first shadow of dusk was deepening over the halting-place. Alreadyfires were beginning to gleam out redly.

  "Fare ye well, _Izinduma_" he said, rising. "I must now go on my way.May it be soon that we meet again as we met before. Fare ye well!"

  They grunted out a gruff acknowledgment, and he walked away. Now wasthe critical moment. The warriors, standing in groups, or squattedaround the fires, eyed him as he passed through. Some gave himgreeting, others uttered a jeering half laugh, but a sudden stillnesshad fallen upon the hitherto buzzing and restless crowd. It was amoment to remain in a man's mind for life--the dark forms and savage,hostile faces, the great tufted shields and shining assegai blades, andgun-barrels, and this one man pacing through their midst, unarmed now,and absolutely at the mercy of any one of them.

  He had passed the last of them, uttering a pleasant farewell greeting.In a moment more the friendly gloom would shut him from their view. Hisheart swelled with an intense and earnest thankfulness, when--What wasthat long stealthy movement, away on his right? One glance wassufficient. A line of armed savages was stealing up to cut him off.

  On that side the boulders rose, broken and tumbled, with many a networkof gnarled bough or knotty root. On the other, brushwood, then a wide_dwala_, or flat, bare, rock surface sloping away well-nighprecipitously to another gorge below. One more glance and his planswere laid. He started to run.

  With a wild yell the warriors dashed in pursuit, bounding, leaping, likedemon figures in the dusk. Down the slope fled the fugitive, crashingthrough long grass and thorns. Now the _dwala_ is gained, and he racesacross it. The pursuers pause to fire a volley at the fleeing figure inthe open, but without effect, then on again; but they have lost ground.

  They soon regain it, however. In this terrible race for life--for twolives--John Ames becomes conscious that he is no match for these humanbloodhounds. Thorns stretch forth hooked claws, and lacerate and delayhim, but _they_ spring through unscathed, unchecked. They are almostupon him. The hissed forth "I--jji! I--jji!" is vibrating almost inhis ears, and assegais hurtle by in the gathering gloom. His heart isbursting, and a starry mist is before his eyes. The cover ends. Hereall is open again. They are upon him--in the open. Yet stay--what isthis? Blank! Void! Space! In the flash of a moment he takes in thefull horror of the plunge before him, for he cannot stop if he would,then a sickening whirr through empty air, and a starry crash. Blank--void--unconsciousness!

  And a score of Matabele warriors, left upon the brink of the height, arefiring off excited comments and ejaculations, while striving to peerinto the dark and silent depths beneath.

  "_Au_! He has again escaped us," ejaculated Nanzicele. "He is_tagati_."