CHAPTER SIX.
THE GRAt.i.tUDE OF A SAVAGE.
The crescent moon had just sunk, but the stars shone brightly down through the limpid lens of the African night. Nomandewu sat on a flat stone, moaning and talking to herself. She was a tall, gaunt Kaffir woman of about thirty years of age. Three weeks previously, little Nolala, her only child, had accidentally met her death. Ever since, Nomandewu had been distraught with grief.
The spot where the bereaved mother sat was surrounded by a low, broken wall of sods, which formed a circle of about fifteen feet in diameter.
This was all remaining of the hut in which she and her husband had lived. At his death, some two years previously, the hut, in accordance with Native custom, had been burnt to the ground.
Just after the death of her husband Nomandewu obtained employment as cook in the household of John Westbrook, a cattle-farmer whose herds grazed in one of those deep valleys which cleave the base of the Great Winterberg Mountain. Mrs Westbrook had a little daughter of the same age as Nolala, and the two children used to play together, day by day.
A low rustic seat, formed of a portion of a tree-trunk sunk into the ground in an upright position, stood outside the verandah of the homestead, under a spreading oak... In this little Lucy would sit, Nolala squatting before her on the ground like a small Buddhist idol cut in ebony. Thus the children would play, for hours at a time, some game of their own invention. In it handclaps, names of people and shrieks of laughter seemed to be the princ.i.p.al features.
This was the manner of Nolala"s death: one morning Mrs Westbrook went into the dairy to attend to the cream. The children followed, as was usual, in expectation of getting thick milk. The cream had to be put into a large earthenware jar which was kept upon a high shelf. Mrs Westbrook was in the act of lifting the vessel from its place when a large tarantula, which sprawled on the stopper, ran down her arm. She had a special dread of these creatures, with which the house was infested. In her terror she let the jar slip through her paralysed hands, and it crashed down upon the upturned face of little Nolala, who was standing next to her. The child fell to the floor with her neck broken.
Nomandewu became frantic with grief. Taking the body in her arms she rushed into the forest. It was several days before she reappeared, and then she could not be induced to reveal how the body had been disposed of. She did not resume her service, but went to live with her brother in the location formed by the farm-servants" huts, on the other side of the valley.
Mrs Westbrook was sorely distressed at the catastrophe. She tried hard to interview the bereaved mother, but Nomandewu stalked off with a terrible expression upon her face, whenever her mistress approached.
One of the farm servants was a herd named Dumani, a nephew of Nomandewu.
Dumani had once been accused of stealing a fowl from his master"s hen-roost, but little Lucy established his innocence. She had happened to see one of the other servants prowling near the scene of the theft, very early in the morning. This man"s hut was searched and the feathers of the stolen fowl were found concealed under the ashes of his fireplace.
Kaffirs are supposed by the superficial to be utterly devoid of grat.i.tude. As a matter of fact they are just as grateful for good offices as are any other race, but their grat.i.tude is seldom expressed in words, or, if expressed at all, is unintelligible to those who do not understand the Kaffir nature. Now, Dumani was so grateful to little Lucy that he would have died for her, upon due occasion, without the slightest hesitation. Being, however, a mere savage Kaffir, he displayed not the slightest manifestation of his feelings, which were, therefore, quite unsuspected by anyone.
It was this unsuspected quality of grat.i.tude which prompted this taciturn Kaffir lad of sixteen to follow Nomandewu night after night upon her rambles, to crawl like a snake up to the low wall behind which it was her habit to sit beneath the silent stars, and to lie there for hours with ear strained to catch the least syllable of her incoherent mutterings. During these long vigils, when all the others on the farm were fast asleep, it would seem to Dumani as though he and the weird woman were the only two beings left in the wide world. Here lay the only reality for him; all else had dissolved into wavering shadows.
Immediately after Nolala"s death, Dumani, by no process which he could have explained, divined that Lucy was in danger, and the idea grew until it absorbed his whole mind. Yet, with the secretiveness of his race he never hinted of his suspicions to a living soul. As a matter of fact, outside his own instincts he had absolutely no evidence to go upon.
Nevertheless he felt no doubts; his suspicions, vague at first, had gradually crystallised into certainty. He watched, waited, and held his peace.
The intense, silent and unsleeping scrutiny of the Kaffir lad was not un.o.bserved by Nomandewu, who, accordingly, felt uneasy in his presence and continually endeavoured to avoid him. But although she could not help noticing that he had her under observation by day, she had no idea that he followed her at night.
Dumani, in his master"s estimation had fallen from grace. Until lately he had been a model cattle-herd; now he was often found asleep under a bush whilst his cattle trespa.s.sed among the crops or strayed away over the infinite expanse of the hills. For such misdemeanours he had been beaten several times; his dismissal, even, had been threatened. Then he grew thin and haggard, and avoided his friends. The members of his family became uneasy and held anxious consultations over his unsatisfactory state. Eventually they came to the conclusion that he was undergoing the preliminary mental and moral disturbances incidental to the "twasa," or spiritual change which comes over those who possess the vocation for witch-doctorship. This caused Dumani to be treated with considerable respect, as one to whom a great future was possible.
One morning Dumani noticed Nomandewu stealing away to the forest with an axe in her hand. After driving his cattle to their usual pasture he followed. The forest filled the upper section of the valley, which was bounded by a sheer wall of perpendicular cliff, shaped like a horse-shoe, over which a stream foamed down. The lad stole softly up the watercourse, pausing every now and then to listen. At length his keen ear caught a rhythmic beat of distant chopping, and he crept carefully in the direction of the source of the sound. Steadily and regularly, without pause or intermission, the strokes went on.
He came within sight of the chopper. It was Nomandewu. Stripped to the waist, to give her arms free play, the woman relentlessly plied her task. As she swung the heavy axe with her thin, sinewy arms, the sweat poured from her in streams. She was engaged in felling a young ironwood tree, the stem of which was about fifteen inches in diameter.
Dumani, concealed in a patch of bracken, lay and watched her at his ease. As she stood her back was towards him, but in the delivery of each stroke she made a half-turn from the axis of her hips, and he was thus enabled to catch glimpses of her face. It was dull and haggard; her sunken eyes had the cold glitter one sees in the glance of an angry snake.
The wood was intensely hard, but the woman had been some considerable time at her task, so before very long the tree fell crashing to the ground. Then for a few seconds she stood panting and regarded the result of her work. After this she secreted the axe, picked up her blanket, and went off in the direction of her home. She pa.s.sed so close to Dumani that he might have touched her by stretching forth his hand.
As soon as he had lost the sound of her footsteps Dumani hastened away to collect his scattered cattle.
Next morning Nomandewu again returned to the forest, and once more the Kaffir lad followed her. As he drew near the spot where the tree had been felled the sound of the steady, rhythmic falling of the axe smote anew upon his ear. Stealing into his hiding-place of the previous day, Dumani resumed his observations. He found that the branches had all been chopped off just above where they spread out from the top of the clean bole, and that the bole itself was being cut through about three feet below the axis from which the branches spread. After she had severed the trunk Nomandewu lifted the upper portion into a perpendicular position, propped it to prevent it falling, and regarded it intently. Dumani was at once struck by the resemblance it bore to the rustic seat at the homestead. Mindful of a thrashing he had received on the previous day, on account of his cattle having strayed, he hurried away, leaving Nomandewu absorbed in the contemplation of her handiwork.
A few days subsequently Nomandewu surprised everybody by appearing at the homestead and asking to be re-employed. Mrs Westbrook, much relieved, reinstated her at once as cook. Nomandewu had always been taciturn: now she developed an unsuspected vein of friendliness. She had always been an excellent servant: now she performed her duties with increased skill and diligence. Her mistress, although still bitterly grieved at what had taken place, congratulated herself upon the unfortunate incident being, as she imagined, finally closed. She treated Nomandewu with great consideration and, this among other tokens of favour, presented her with a black dress. Nomandewu, who had lived at a Mission Station, understood the significance of this gift and appeared to be appropriately grateful.
Dumani continually puzzled his brain over the scenes he had witnessed in the forest, and still kept up his scrutiny. He knew that Nomandewu had not again gone to the spot where she had felled the tree, so for some time he did not think it worth his while to revisit it either. She seemed to be uneasy in his presence. Often when he appeared in the kitchen she would drive him forth with scoldings; on other occasions she would treat him with friendliness and share with him choice portions of her food. But Dumani"s alert instincts detected a certain spuriousness in these demonstrations.
About ten days after Nomandewu returned to her service, Dumani, impelled by the cravings of his absorbing curiosity, went again to the scene of his espionage in the forest. He found, to his further mystification, that the portion of the tree which resembled a rustic seat had been removed. After diligent search he managed to discover a trail leading up towards the horse-shoe cliff, which was nearly half a mile away from the spot. Weighted by the heavy log the woman"s footsteps had here and there sunk deeply into the soil. He followed the trail until he reached a moraine which was piled against the base of the precipice. In the interstices of this stunted trees grew, and just where it touched the cliff the latter was pierced by a small cavern. Dumani, no longer attempting to trace the footsteps, climbed over the rugged jumble of rocks and made straight for the cavern. In it he found the missing log.
A hole had been sunk in the clay floor, and in this the shaft had been firmly fixed. A rustic seat, bearing a most remarkable resemblance to the one at the homestead, had thus been formed.
After one glance over the interior of the cave, Dumani hurried away.
The significance of his discovery flashed upon him: the chair could only be meant for Lucy; to this lonely spot the weird woman meant to bring her, and, as Dumani was firmly convinced, to bring her alive. This, then, was to be the scene of Nomandewu"s revenge; to this dark corner of the silent forest was little Lucy to be brought, here to expiate in some dreadful fashion the mischance of her playmate"s death.
The discovery came as a great relief to the overwrought mind of the Kaffir lad. He now had something definite to go upon; it was no longer a case of mere blind groping for hidden motives. The issue was clear: he and Nomandewu had to grip together in a life-and-death struggle, Lucy"s preservation being the reward of his victory, her destruction the penalty of his defeat. Nevertheless, in his unaccountable, savage way, Dumani kept his own counsel--never bethinking him that a word he could so easily speak would remove the terrible danger hanging over the head-- to save a single hair of which he would unhesitatingly have died.
Everyone outside the sphere of his strategy became unreal to the absorbed mind of the Kaffir lad, whose faculties, in his intense abstraction, became preternaturally keen. He felt that up to a certain point he could interpret the workings of Nomandewu"s mind as clearly as though she spake aloud her every thought in his hearing. He now knew, with absolute certainty, that she was only waiting for the first favourable opportunity to carry out her design, whatever it might be, against little Lucy, and that such an opportunity could only be occasioned by his absence.
The opportunity soon came. One evening Dumani received an order to start next morning, with some cattle which had been sold, for a farm situated a long day"s journey away. He left before daylight; at breakfast-time both Lucy and Nomandewu were found to be missing.
Early rising was the habit of all at the farm. Lucy had last been seen, shortly after sunrise, in the orchard. This extended from near the house to within a few yards of the narrow strip of bush fringing the stream at the bottom of the valley, and which wound continuously with the course of the stream and connected the various patches of forest with which the valley was so richly furnished.
No rain had fallen for some time past, so at first no spoor could be found. Every soul on the farm turned out and joined in the search. In the course of the day help came from the surrounding farms. Old Gezwindt, a Hottentot celebrated all over the countryside for his skill as a spoor-tracker, was sent for. It was not long before he discovered a fresh barefoot trail leading _down_ the stream, and consequently in a direction opposite to that of the forest at the foot of the horse-shoe cliff. The trail led straight towards another forest, known to be very rough and impenetrable, which lay about two miles from the homestead.
The footprints ceased at a ridge of rocks about half a mile from where the first trace had been found. Nevertheless, the indication was sufficient to turn the attention of the searchers wholly to the lower forest.
The day wore on without any fresh discovery being made. By nightfall every nook and corner of the lower forest had been explored, and then the searchers sadly withdrew to wait for the light of another day. The parents of the lost child were almost frantic with anxiety and grief.
Dumani lost no time on his journey. The day was cool, so he was able to drive the cattle swiftly. He arrived at his destination just before sundown, delivered the cattle, and, without resting at all, started on his return journey. His course lay across a broken, undulating country.
Downhill he used the long, swinging trot by means of which the Kaffir can cover distances which fill the European with astonishment; uphill he slowly crept, husbanding his failing strength.
The feeling of expectant dread which filled Dumani"s mind buoyed him up and spurred his lagging paces. He had most unwillingly obeyed his master"s orders to leave the farm, and thus give Nomandewu the opportunity he knew she was waiting for. The night was moonless, but the Kaffir boy could have found his course blindfold. The whispering trees seemed full of messages calling him to hurry on and help. Without stopping, he munched from time to time a handful of the boiled maize which he carried in his skin bag. He rested for a few seconds at each of the many streams he crossed, and took a deep draught of water.
The short summer night was just about to merge into dawn when Dumani, weary almost unto death, reached the top of the last ridge. From here the homestead was visible; lights shone from the windows; when he drew nearer he could see the doors standing open and a number of people grouped outside, anxiously scanning the east. Dumani dropped in his tracks behind a stone and crouched, thinking, for a few seconds. He required no further corroboration of his fears; he knew that the thing he had so long dreaded and expected had happened.
Under the influence of that exaltation which is sometimes the result of severe mental strain, the mind of man is capable of strange feats.
Dumani"s tense savage soul divined the catastrophe in a flash; his faculties rushed to the correct conclusion as inevitably as steel-filings rush to a magnet brought close to them. The cave--to get there as soon as possible--to find Lucy there, alive or dead. Divesting himself of every vestige of clothing, Dumani the savage grasped his stick and crawled along the ground, as though he were a criminal escaping from the scene of his crime, until he was out of sight of the house. Then he sprang up, ran to the edge of the forest, and plunged in among the trees.
Every trace of his fatigue had vanished, but the thicket was dense and th.o.r.n.y, so his progress was slow and painful. Dawn was shimmering in the east, but night still lurked unsmitten beneath the boskage. More than once he fell headlong, tripped up by the treacherous "monkey-ropes"
of which the forest was full. The cruel thorns scarred him until he was covered with blood.
As daylight grew his progress became somewhat easier; now he could avoid bruising himself against the tree-trunks and the lichen-covered rocks.
Soon the woods became vocal with the morning songs of the birds; the guttural calls of the questing monkeys seemed to sound from every tree-top. At length he struck the footpath he had been seeking, and which wound up the slope towards the horse-shoe cliff. Then he reached the tumbled pile of boulders bounding the moraine; his goal was now close at hand.
A great dread clutched at his throbbing heart--what sight of horror might not the cavern contain? For a minute he surrendered himself to an apprehension of the direst contingency, and a wild throb of almost delight thrilled him as he antic.i.p.ated the vengeance he would wreak upon the murderer; he would track her through the world until his hungry hands could tear her limb from limb.
As he ascended the moraine the trees grew spa.r.s.er and spa.r.s.er, until at length he caught a glimpse of the crest of the cliff, rosy in the first sunbeam. The glow filled his heart with hope and he hurried forward with renewed strength.
He stopped short and dropped into concealment behind a boulder. There, among the trees, immediately before the cave, stood the erect, rigid figure of Nomandewu--the head bent forward and the open hands pendent.
But how still she was; she did not seem even to breathe. Dumani stared; he felt no fear, yet he recognised that it would be only a measure of common prudence to wait until he had recovered his wind before advancing to the attack. A rustle of leaves whispered around him; the upper boughs of the trees began gently to sway; the figure turned slowly until it faced him. Then Dumani sprang to his feet and rushed forward, for he saw that Nomandewu was dead. She was hanging from a bough by a rope made out of the shreds of a torn blanket.
Dumani climbed to the mouth of the cave. As he surmounted the level of the floor he closed his eyes and bent his head for an instant, dreading that which he might next see. Then he lifted his head and looked.
Little Lucy, fast asleep and apparently quite unhurt, was before him, tied securely within the spreading arms of the white-ironwood log.
Dumani lay upon the ground for a s.p.a.ce, his pulses faint from reaction, his breath coming in husky sobs. He arose, climbed out of the cave, untied the swaying horror from the tree and flung it out of sight into a deep cleft. Then he returned and released the child. She was dazed with fright, but she soon recovered and clung, sobbing, to her rescuer.
Just in front of the log was a small mound of earth. This, it was afterwards found, was the grave of Nolala.
Dumani carried Lucy homewards through the forest and restored her to her distracted parents. Soon a gun-shot--the signal that the child had been found--rang through the valley, and the searchers hurried back to the homestead.