The Fire Trumpet Part 55

"Lilian, dear!" exclaimed the good-hearted little woman, as soon as the children had gone out, "I'm so glad about this. Directly I heard of it I came straight here. I couldn't let you remain drudging in here another moment, to-day. You must go out, and at once, or a certain person will be getting so impatient that he'll be wanting to quarrel with George, which would be a pity, as they have always been such good friends."

And then Lilian, somewhat unnerved by the recent juvenile disclosure, cried a little, and there was a good deal of kissing.

"By the way," exclaimed Mrs Payne, ruefully, "of course, I shall lose you very soon, now; and I don't know how I shall get on without you at all, dear."

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FIVE.

SANDILI.

Never was war or outbreak more entirely without reason or provocation than the Kafir rising of 1877-8.

It is a well-known rule that savage races go under before the encroachments of white civilisation. The case of the native tribes in Southern Africa is a notable exception. Far from diminishing, every year sees their population actually increased. And the reason need not be sought for long. It lies in the security to life and property afforded these people by British rule, the quelling of intertribal wars, the breaking of the power of the chiefs, the abolition of sanguinary laws relating to witchcraft, the opening up of a vast field for native labour, and the resources of civilisation brought more and more within the reach of the tribes, who, for their part, are not slow to avail themselves of the same. True that, as well as ploughs, and waggons, and smithies, and schools, British rule has also conferred upon them grog.

That would have come anyhow; but even as things are, in this respect the natives are no worse than our own countrymen.

This outbreak was devoid of a shadow of excuse. The different locations occupied by these tribes were fair and fertile tracts of country. They had no encroachments to complain of on the part of the colonists, for their territory was jealously secured to them--good pasturage, fertile lands, and well watered withal. For their surplus population there wae abundance of work to be obtained in the colony, and whatever property they might acc.u.mulate it was beyond the power of any hostile tribe or tyrannical potentate to wrest from them. Yet they were not content.

And the reason thereof does not require much seeking.

They were thorough savages. They had great martial traditions. For more than twenty years their warrior energies had found no outlet. Such a state of things could not be suffered to continue.

Not all, however, were of this mind. Broadly speaking, public opinion was divided into two factors. The first consisted of old and elderly men, who owned property and had something to lose, and, moreover, having actually fought, knew that war was not all beer and skittles. The second consisted of young men, who, owning nothing, had the same to lose; who had only _heard_ of fighting, and consequently imagined that war _was_ all beer and skittles. And the voice of the latter faction carried the day.

As was right and proper the first to take the initiative were the Gcalekas in the Transkei, the tribe ruled by Kreli, Chief Paramount of all the Amaxosa divisions. These proceeded to organise a series of raids against the Fingoes, whose emanc.i.p.ation from serfdom to themselves had long been a sore point. Matters became serious. The Fingoes were British subjects and must be protected accordingly.

The High Commissioner, then newly appointed, proceeded to the border.

Settlers' meetings were held to discuss the important matter of defence, and deputations waited upon the Governor to a considerable extent. His Excellency was hopeful and rea.s.suring in his replies, and, winning golden opinions by his courtesy and decisiveness, he pa.s.sed on into the Transkei with the object of conferring with the Paramount Chief in person. That astute savage, however, plumed himself on being too old a bird to be caught upon so obviously limed a twig. While at large, he was safe. At large, therefore, he would remain. So he returned all manner of evasive replies, even the timeworn native excuse of illness.

It became a case of Mohammed and the mountain, with the difference that in this case, whereas Kreli would not go to the High Commissioner, it was morally impossible that His Excellency should go to Kreli. He accordingly returned to the colony, and preparations were at once made for the inevitable campaign.

Even then it was hoped that hostilities would be confined to the Transkei--hoped, but not believed. The Gcalekas were a warlike tribe, who could put many thousands of fighting men into the field. It would be a troublesome matter to subdue them, for they had long been prepared, and were well supplied with food. But if the tribes within the colonial border--the Gaikas, Hlambis, Emigrant Tembus, but especially the first named--should join them, then the war would become a formidable affair, and, in all probability, a matter of years. Whether this state of things came about or not will appear in the course of this narrative, which it closely concerns.

To-day, however, all seems peaceful enough as the sun beats down upon the rolling plains and silent kloofs of British Kaffraria, with unwonted force for a spring day. His rays also fall upon two equestrians, who are leisurely traversing the mimosa-dotted dales, as led by the capricious windings of a somewhat tortuous track. Two equestrians, who are riding very close beside each other, and whose attention seems somewhat unequally divided between the surrounding scenery and each other's eyes, to the advantage of which mattereth not. Indeed, so engrossed are they in each other's conversation, that the tread of hoofs behind entirely escapes them; but an expression comes over their faces, of anger on one, and of--well--not best pleased on the other; and they look over their shoulder as a rough voice exclaims: "Ahem!--er--how d'ye do?" The last time we saw those two persons, they were together in a garden, some time about the hour of sunrise; and they were absurdly happy. They look equally happy now, as side by side they ride leisurely along, this grand afternoon. To them, at this moment, all the surroundings are as the sights and sounds of Paradise; for they are together and alone. More than a week has pa.s.sed since the sun rose upon that knitting together of two severed hearts, that transformation of two sorrowing lives into, as it were, one of joy; more than a week of long, happy days, so perfect in their unbroken, blissful peace, that to the wanderer it seemed as if he had "cast" his old self and taken a fresh personality--that the old loveless existence and restless longing for excitement could never have belonged to him at all, but to some other being, so all-satisfying was this new atmosphere of peace. And on Lilian the outward change wrought was marvellous. As by magic the sad expression had given place to one of sunny contentment, and there was a sweet, tender curve in her lips, and the colour of perfect health returned to her cheek, as no longer grave she moved about the house and garden, trilling out little s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, with a soft love-light in her eyes which rendered her more irresistibly charming than ever she had been in the old time. And now the two were returning from one of those long rides which they had been in the habit of taking together during those halcyon days of love deferred but now requited to the full, when that horribly grating voice burst upon them:

"Ahem! Er--how d'ye do?" And red-bearded Joe Marshall, overtaking them, doffed his slouch hat to Lilian, and shook hands with her escort, as he reined in his raw-boned nag by the side of the latter.

"Hallo, Marshall! Where have you dropped from?"

"Oh, I've just been making a round. I'm going home now. Won't you come round by my place, and rest a bit? 'Tisn't far. No? Ah, well, it's hardly worth your while, perhaps, so near home." For honest Joe could see pretty plainly that the two would prefer his room to his company, though they had conscientiously, at least, suffered no indication of such preference to escape them. "How are the Paynes?"

"Flourishing. Any news?"

"N-no. Kreli won't meet the Governor. Says he's sick. But that's all an excuse, you know."

"Yes; we heard that. Anything fresh?"

"N-no," said Marshall again, with a dubious glance towards Lilian.

"Nothing certain, at least. Some more fellows round me gone into laager, that's all."

"H'm. I'm inclined to think with Payne, that the scare's all bosh,"

said Claverton. "Look at the one four years ago. That all ended in smoke. Why shouldn't this?"

Lilian, too, remembered that time; nor was she ever likely to forget it.

A soft light came into her eyes, and she wished mightily that Marshall was not with them.

"Well, I dunno," rejoined that worthy. "It may, and it mayn't. We shall see, and very soon. Why, who's this?"

They looked up. The track they had been following merged into a waggon-road, and about a hundred yards in front of them stood a low thatched building. It was a native trading-store. Not this, however, but the sight of a characteristic group, drew forth the remark. Seated on the ground, with his back against the wall, was a Kafir, an old man, with a full white beard, and a face which might have been at one time pleasing and intelligent. A blanket was thrown over his shoulders, and his lower limbs were encased in a pair of ancient trousers, from whose tattered extremities projected his bare, dusty feet, one of which was deformed. He was surrounded by a group of his compatriots; some in European attire, others in blankets only, and red with ochre; some sitting, some standing, some running in and out, but all jabbering.

"Why, I declare?" exclaimed Marshall, in surprise. "If it isn't Sandili! What on earth can the old blackguard be doing here?"

"Sandili?" cried Lilian. "The chief? Oh, do let's go and talk to him."

"We will," agreed Claverton. "Prepare for an interview with royalty."

The Kafirs stopped jabbering for a minute to stare in astonishment at the party as it rode into their midst, then went on harder than ever.

It was as Marshall had said. This old savage, with nothing remarkable-looking about him, unless it were that his countenance wore an air of semi-drunken stupidity--for he had been imbibing freely, according to his wont--was none other than Sandili, the chief of the powerful and warlike Gaika tribe, who, of all the Amaxosa race, had, in former wars, ever been the most formidable of the colonists' foes.

"He says he's glad to see us," explained Claverton, as having conferred for a little with the old chief, he turned, in response to his companion's inquiring glance. "In a minute he'll be even more glad.

Look," and he emptied half the contents of his tobacco-pouch into the chief's hands, who immediately instructed one of his followers to fill his pipe, and looked quite benevolently at the donor.

"Why, how delighted he is with it!" said Lilian, watching the interesting individual before her, with a curious glance.

"Yes, but unless I mistake, he'll want farther delighting directly,"

answered Claverton. "The principle of extending the proverbial inch to the ditto ell, is thoroughly well understood in Kafirland."

And sure enough the old fellow began making signs and pointing to his month, after a few words in his own language.

"What does he say?" asked Lilian.

"Just what I told you. He's thirsty, and wants sixpence to get a drink."

"Old blackguard," said Marshall. "He's got quite as much grog on board already as is good for him."

Lilian laughed. "Only think of a great chief like him, asking for sixpence like a crossing-sweeper," she said.

The Kafirs standing around had stopped their conversation, and were gazing admiringly at Lilian, with many a half-smothered exclamation of astonishment. They had seen many white women on the farms, and when they had visited King Williamstown; but never had they seen any more bewitchingly lovely than this one, who sat there looking down on their chief.

Claverton produced a sixpence and handed it to one of the attendants, who disappeared into the store, which was also a canteen, shortly returning with a measure of the ordinary bad brandy sold to the natives.

This Sandili drained without a pause, and looked up again at the group, remarking that it was good.

"Oh, what can be the matter?" exclaimed Lilian, in a frightened tone, as a hubbub of angry voices arose within the store; and before she could receive an answer, a brawny red Kafir suddenly shot out of the door, reeling forward with a quick yet uneven gait suggestive of artificial propulsion, and half-a-dozen others, with excited "whouws!" also emerged and stood around the door, as if expecting something.

They had not long to expect, for the evicted savage, having staggered a dozen yards, polled himself together and stood shaking his kerries at some one inside, as with flashing eyes he hurled a torrent of abuse at the unseen antagonist. But a bottle, which came whizzing through the open door, hit him on the shoulder, cutting his eloquence suddenly short, and, deeming discretion the better part of valour, he sneaked round the angle of the wall, muttering and growling, while the others stood looking on in dead silence.

"Don't be frightened, Lilian," said Claverton, rea.s.suringly, noting that she was growing rather pale. "It's only a fellow been kicked out by the storekeeper, probably for making himself a nuisance. It's a thing that happens every day."

"But he looks as if he'd kill him. I never saw a man look so ferocious," she faltered.

"Oh no, he won't," answered Claverton, with a laugh. "In half an hour he'll sneak round, and ask for a drink to make it square again. That's what they do."