CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
FROM DEATH AND--TO DEATH.
She realised it at length--realised that this was no visitant from thespirit-world conjured up in answer to her impassioned prayer, but herlover himself, alive and unharmed. She had thrown herself upon hisbreast, and clung to him with all her strength, sobbing passionately--clung to him as if even then afraid that he might vanish as suddenly ashe had appeared.
"My love, my love," he murmured in that low magnetic tone which she knewso well, and which thrilled her to the heart's core. "Calm those poornerves, my darling, and rest on the sweetness of our meeting. We met--our hearts met first on this very spot. Now they meet once more, neveragain to part."
Still her feeling was too strong for words; she could only cling to himin silence, while he covered her face and soft hair with kisses. Amoment ago she was mourning him as dead, was burying her heart in hisunknown and far-away grave, and lo, as by magic, he stood before her,and she was safe in his embrace. A moment ago life was one long vistaof blank, agonising grief; now the joys of heaven itself might palebefore the unutterable bliss of this meeting.
Unlawful or not as their love might be, there was something solemn,almost sacred, in its intense reality. The myriad eyes of heaven lookeddown from the dark vault above, and the sullen redness of the war-firesflashing from the distant heights shed a dull, threatening glow uponthose two, standing there locked in each other's embrace. Then oncemore the wild, weird war-cry of the savage hosts swelled forth upon thenight. It was an awesome and fearful background to this picture ofrenewed life and bliss.
Such a reunion can best be left to the imagination, for it will bear nodetailment.
"Why did you draw my very heart out of me like this, Eustace, my life?"she said at last, raising her head. "When they told me you were dead Iknew it would not be long before I joined you. I could not have enduredthis living death much longer."
There were those who pronounced Eanswyth Carhayes to be the mostbeautiful woman they had ever beheld--who had started with amazement atsuch an apparition on an out-of-the-way Kaffrarian farm. A grandcreature, they declared, but a trifle too cold. They would havemarvelled that they had ever passed such a verdict could they but haveseen her now, her splendid eyes burning into those of her lover in thestarlight as she went on:
"You are longing to ask what I am doing here in this place all alone andat such a time. This. I came here as to a sanctuary: a sacred spotwhich enshrined all the dearest memories of you. Here in silence and insolitude I could conjure up visions of you--could see you walking besideme as on that last day we spent together. Here I could kneel and kissthe floor, the very earth which your feet had trod; and--O Eustace, myvery life, it was a riven and a shattered heart I offered up daily--hourly--at the shrine of your dear memory."
Her tones thrilled upon his ear. Never had life held such a delirious,intoxicating moment. To the cool, philosophical, strong-nerved man itseemed as if his very senses were slipping away from him under thethrilling love-tones of this stately, beautiful creature nestling withinhis arms. Again their lips met--met as they had met that first time--met as if they were never again to part.
"Inkose!"
The sudden sonorous interruption caused Eanswyth to start as if she hadbeen shot, and well it might. Her lover, however, had passed throughtoo many strange and stirring experiences of late to be otherwise thanslightly and momentarily disconcerted.
A dark figure stood at the lowest step of the _stoep_, one hand raisedin the air, after the dignified and graceful manner of nativesalutation.
"Greeting, Josane," he replied.
"Now do mine eyes behold a goodly sight," went on the old Kafir withanimation, speaking in the pleasing figurative hyperbole of his race."My father and friend is safe home once more. We have mourned him asdead and he is alive again. He has returned to gladden our hearts anddelight our eyes. It is good--it is good."
"How did you know I had returned, Josane?"
Had there been light enough they would have detected the most whimsicalsmile come over the old Kafir's face as he replied:
"Am I not the _Inkosikazi's_ watch-dog? What sort of a watch-dog is itthat permits a footstep to approach from outside without his knowledge?"
"You are, indeed, a man, Josane--a man among men, and trust to those whotrust you," replied Eustace, in that tone of thorough friendship andregard which had enabled him to win so effectually the confidence of thenatives.
The old cattle-herd's face beamed with gratification, which, however,was quickly dashed with anxiety.
"Look yonder," he said. "There is trouble in the Gaika locationto-night. Take the _Inkosikazi_ and leave--this very night. I knowwhat I say." Then, marking the other's hesitation, "I know what I say,"he repeated impressively. "Am I not the _Inkosikazi's_ watch-dog? Am Inot her eyes and ears? Even now there is one approaching from Nteya'skraal."
He had struck a listening attitude. Eustace, his recent experiencesfresh in his mind, felt depressed and anxious, gazing expectantly intothe darkness, his hand upon the butt of his revolver.
"Halt! Who comes there?" he cried in the Xosa tongue.
"A friend, Ixeshane!" came the prompt reply, as a dark form stepped intoview.
Now that life was worth living again, Eanswyth felt all her oldapprehensions return; but she had every confidence in her lover'sjudgment and the fidelity of her trusted old retainer.
"_Hau_, Ixeshane! You are here; it is good," said the new arrival inthe most matter-of-fact way, as though he were not wondering todistraction how it was that the man who had been reported slain in theBomvana country by the hostile Gcalekas, should be standing there aliveand well before him. "I am here to warn the _Inkosikazi_. She mustleave, and at once. The fire-tongues of the Amaxosa are speaking toeach other; the war-cry of the Ama Ngqika is cleaving the night."
"We have seen and heard that before, Ncanduku," answered Eustace,recognising the new arrival at once. "Yet your people would not harmus. Are we not friends?"
The Kafir shook his head.
"Who can be called friends in war-time?" he said. "There are strangersin our midst--strangers from another land. Who can answer for them? Iam Ncanduku, the brother of Nteya. The chief will not have his friendsharmed at the hands of strangers. But they must go. Look yonder, andlose no time. Get your horses and take the _Inkosikazi_, and leave atonce, for the Ama Ngqika have responded to the call of their brethrenand the Paramount Chief, and have risen to arms. _The land is dead_."
There was no need to follow the direction of the Kafir's indication. Adull, red glare, some distance off, shone forth upon the night; thenanother and another. Signal fires? No. These shone from no prominentheight, but from the plain itself. Then Eustace took in the situationin a moment. The savages were beginning to fire the deserted homesteadsof the settlers.
"Inspan the buggy quickly, Josane," he said. "And, Ncanduku, comeinside for a moment. I will find _basela_ [Best rendered by thefamiliar term `backshish'] for you and Nteya." But the voice which hadconveyed such timely warning responded not. The messenger haddisappeared.
The whole condition of affairs was patent to Eustace's mind. Nteya,though a chief whose status was not far inferior to that of Sandilihimself, was not all-powerful. Those of his tribesmen who came from adistance, and were not of his own clan, would be slow to give implicitobedience to his "word," their instincts for slaughter and pillage oncefairly let loose, and so he had sent to warn Eanswyth. Besides, it wasprobable that there were Gcalekas among them. Ncanduku's words,"strangers from another land," seemed to point that way. He put it toJosane while harnessing the horses. The old man emitted a dry laugh.
"There are about six hundred of the Gcaleka fighting men in Nteya'slocation to-night," he replied. "Every farmhouse in the land will beburned before the morning. _Whau_, Ixeshane! Is there any time to losenow?"
Eustace realised that assuredly there was not. But inspanning a pair ofhorses was, to h
is experienced hand, the work of a very few minutesindeed.
"Who is their chief?" he asked, tugging at the last strap. "Sigcau?"
"No. Ukiva."
An involuntary exclamation of concern escaped Eustace. For the chiefnamed had evinced a marked hostility towards himself during his recentcaptivity; indeed, this man's influence had more than once almost turnedthe scale in favour of his death. No wonder he felt anxious.
Eanswyth had gone into the house to put a few things together, having,with an effort, overcome her reluctance to let him out of her sightduring the few minutes required for inspanning. Now she reappeared. "Iam ready, Eustace," she said.
He helped her to her seat and was beside her in a moment.
"Let go, Josane!" he cried. And the Kafir, standing away from thehorses' heads, uttered a sonorous farewell.
"What will become of him, dear?" said Eanswyth, as they started off at abrisk pace.
"He is going to stay here and try and save the house. I'm afraid hewon't be able to, though. They are bound to burn it along with theothers. And now take the reins a moment, dearest. I left my horsehitched up somewhere here, because I wanted to come upon you unawares.I'll just take off the saddle and tie it on behind."
"But what about the horse? Why not take him with us?"
"Josane will look after him. I won't take him along now, because--well,it's just on the cards we might have to make a push for it, and a ledhorse is a nuisance. Ah--there he is," as a low whinnying was heard ontheir left front and duly responded to by the pair in harness.
In less than two minutes he had the saddle secured at the back of thebuggy and was beside her again. It is to be feared Eustace drove verybadly that night. Had the inquiry been made, candour would havecompelled him to admit that he had never driven so badly in his life.
Eanswyth, for her part, was quite overcome with the thrilling,intoxicating happiness of the hour. But what an hour! They werefleeing through the night--fleeing for their lives--their way lighted bythe terrible signal beacons of the savage foe--by the glare of flaminghomesteads fired by his ravaging and vengeful hand. But then, he whowas dead is alive again, and is beside her--they two fleeing togetherthrough the night.
"Darling," she whispered at last, nestling up closer to him. "Why didthey try to kill me by telling me you were dead?"
"They had every reason to suppose so. Now, what do you think stoodbetween me and certain death?"
"What?"
"Your love--not once, but twice. The silver box. See. Here it is,where it has ever been--over my heart. Twice it turned the point of theassegai."
"Eustace!"
"It is as I say. Your love preserved me for yourself."
"Oh, my darling, surely then it cannot be so wicked--so unlawful!" sheexclaimed with a quiver in her voice.
"I never believed it could," he replied.
Up till then, poor Tom's name had not been mentioned. Both seemed toavoid allusion to it. Now, however, that Eustace had to narrate hisadventures and escape, it could not well be avoided. But in describingthe strange impromptu duel between the Gcaleka warrior and hisunfortunate cousin, he purposely omitted any reference to the latter'sprobable hideous fate, leaving Eanswyth to suppose he had been slainthen and there. It was impossible that she should have been otherwisethan deeply moved.
"He died fighting bravely, at any rate," she said at last.
"Yes. Want of courage was never one of poor Tom's failings. All thetime we were out he was keener on a fight than all the rest of thecommand put together."
There was silence after this. Then at last:
"How did you escape, Eustace, my darling? You have not told me."
"Through paying ransom to that same Hlangani and paying pretty stifflytoo. Four hundred and fifty head of good cattle was the figure. Such ahaggle as it was, too. It would have been impolitic to agree tooquickly. Then, I had to square this witch-doctress, and I daresay oldKreli himself will come in for some of the pickings. From motives ofpolicy we had to carry out the escape as if it was a genuine escape andnot a put-up job--but they managed it all right--took me across theriver on some pretext or other and then gave me the opportunity ofleg-bail. As soon as the war is over Hlangani will come down on me forthe cattle."
"How did you know I was back at Anta's Kloof, dearest? Did the Hostestell you?" said Eanswyth at last.
"No. I met that one-eyed fellow Tomkins just outside Komgha. I onlywaited while he called up two or three more to back his statement andthen started off here as hard as ever I could send my nag over theground."
The journey was about half accomplished. The buggy bowled merrilyalong--and its occupants--alone together in the warm balmy southernnight--began to wish the settlement was even further off. They wereascending a long rise.
"Hallo, what's up?" exclaimed Eustace suddenly, whipping up his horses,which he had been allowing to walk up the hill.
The brow of the hill was of some altitude and commanded a considerableview of the surrounding country. But the whole of the latter was lit upby a dull and lurid glow. At intervals apart burned what looked likeseveral huge and distant bonfires.
"They mean business this time," said Eustace, reining in a moment tobreathe his horses on the brow of the rise. "Look. There goes Hoste'splace. That's Bradfield's over there--and beyond that must beOesthuisen's. Look at them all blazing merrily; and--by jingo--theregoes Draaibosch!"
Far and wide for many a mile the country was aglow with blazinghomesteads. Evidently it was the result of preconcerted action on thepart of the savages. The wild yelling chorus of the barbarousincendiaries, executing their fierce war-dances around their work ofdestruction, was borne distinctly upon the night.
"The sooner we get into Komgha the better now," he went on, sending thebuggy spinning down the long declivity which lay in front. At thebottom of this the road was intersected by a dry water course, fringedwith bush; otherwise the _veldt_ was for the most part open, dotted withstraggling clumps of mimosa.
Down went the buggy into the dry sandy drift. Suddenly the horses shiedviolently, then stopped short with a jerk which nearly upset thevehicle. A dark firm, springing panther-like, apparently from theground, had seized the reins.
Instinctively Eustace recognised that this was no time for parleying.Quick as thought he drew his revolver and fired. The assailant relaxedhis hold, staggered, spun round, then fell heavily to the earth. Thehorses, thus released, tore wildly onward, mad with terror.
A roar and a red, sheeting flash split the darkness behind. Themissiles hummed overhead, one of them tearing a hole in the wide brim ofEanswyth's hat. This aroused all the demon in the blood of hercompanion. Standing up in his seat, regardless of prudence, he pointedhis revolver at the black onrushing mass discernible in the starlight,and fired three shots in rapid succession. A horrible, shrill, piercingscream, showed that they had told with widespread and deadly effect.
"Ha! _Bulala abelungu_!" [Death to the whites] howled the exasperatedbarbarians. And dropping flat on the ground they poured another volleyinto the retiring vehicle.
But the latter had gained some distance now. The horses, panic-strickenand well-nigh unmanageable, were tearing up the hill on the other sideof the drift, and it was all their driver could do in the darkness tokeep them in the track. The buggy swayed fearfully, and twice catchinga wheel in an ant-heap was within an ace of turning over.
Suddenly one of the horses stumbled heavily, then fell. All hisdriver's efforts to raise him were useless. The poor beast had beenstruck by a bullet, and lay, feebly struggling, the blood pouring from ajagged wound in his flank.
The black bolt of despair shot through Eustace's heart. There was afeeble chance of escape for Eanswyth, but a very feeble one. Of himselfhe did not think. Quickly he set to work to cut loose the other horse.
But the traditional sagacity of that quadruped, as is almost invariablythe case, failed in an emergency. He plunged and kicked in such wise
asto hinder seriously, if not defeat, every effort to disengage him fromthe harness. Eustace, his listening powers at their utmost tension,caught the light pit-pat of the pursuers' footsteps racing up the hillin the darkness. They would be upon him before--
Ha! The horse was loose.
"Quick, Eanswyth. Mount! It is your only chance!" he said, shorteningthe reins into a bridle and holding them for her.
"I will not."
"Quick, quick! Every moment lost is a life!"
"I will not. We will die together. I will not live without you," andthe heroic flash in the grand eyes was visible in the starlight.
The stealthy footsteps were now plainly audible. They could not havebeen two hundred yards distant. Suddenly the horse, catching a renewedaccess of panic, plucked the reins from Eustace's hand, and careeredwildly away into the _veldt_. The last chance of escape was cut off.They must die together now. Facing round, crouching low behind thebroken-down vehicle, they listened for the approach of the pursuers.
All the bitterness of the moment was upon those two--upon himespecially--crouching there in the dark and lonely _veldt_. Theirreunion was only to be a reunion in death.
The last dread act was drawing on. The stealthy steps of theapproaching foe were now more distinctly audible. With a deadly andvengeful fire at his heart, Eustace prepared to sell their lives asdearly as ever life was sold.
"We need not fear, my sweet one," whispered the heroine at his side."We are dying together."
Nearer--nearer, came those cat-like footfalls. Then they ceased. Thepulses of the two anxious listeners beat with an intense and surgingthrob of expectation in the dead silence.
But instead of those stealthy feet, swift to shed blood, there was borneupon the night the sound of horses' hoofs. Then a crash of fire-arms,and a ringing cheer. No savage war-cry that, but a genuine Britishshout.
"That you, Milne?" cried a familiar voice. "All right: keep cool, oldman. We shan't hit you by mistake. How many are there?"
"I don't know. Better not tackle them in the dark, Hoste. Who is withyou?"
"Some Police. But where are the niggers?"
Where indeed? Savages have no stomach for facing unknown odds. Theirlate assailants had prudently made themselves scarce.
"We seem to be only just in time, anyway?" said Hoste, with a longwhistle of consternation as he realised the critical position ofaffairs. "Is Mrs Carhayes all right?" he added anxiously.
"Quite, thanks, Mr Hoste," replied Eanswyth. "But you are, as you say,only just in time."
Two of the Police horses were inspanned to the buggy, the men mountingbehind comrades, and the party set forth. It would not do to linger.The enemy might return in force at any moment.
Their escape had indeed been a narrow one. It was only late in theafternoon that Hoste had, by chance, learned from a trustworthy sourcethat the Gaikas meant to rise that night. Horror-stricken, he hadrushed off to the officer in command of the Mounted Police to beg forsome troopers as a protective escort in order to bring Eanswyth awayfrom her lonely and perilous situation. An experienced sergeant andtwenty-five men had been immediately ordered out--arriving in the verynick of time, as we have seen.
"Well, we are all burnt out now, anyway," said Hoste as they journeyedalong as rapidly as possible. "Look at my old place, what a flare-upit's making. And the hotel at Draaibosch! It's making a bigger blazethan all."
"That's McDonald's `Cape Smoke,'" [An inferior quality of Cape brandy isthus popularly termed] laughed the police sergeant.
It was a weird and awesome sight. The whole country was literally in ablaze--the murk of the reddened smoke of burning homesteads obliteratingthe stars. And ever and anon the fierce, tumultuous thunder of adistant war-dance was borne upon the air, with the vengeful shouts ofexcited savages, beginning their orgy of torch and assegai.