Читать книгу Hendricks the Hunter; Or, The Border Farm: A Tale of Zululand - William Henry Giles Kingston - Страница 8

The trader having selected three of his men to keep watch, lay down, wrapped in a mantle of skin, under his waggon, having given up his usual sleeping-place to his guests.

No one was seen however, nor were any sounds heard to indicate that any persons were approaching the camp, and dawn at length broke.

Rising from his bed under the waggon, the trader walked a few paces beyond the camp, to take a look over the country around, for the purpose of ascertaining as far as his eye could help him, whether any of the Zulus were still in the neighbourhood. The air was deliciously fresh and balmy, the atmosphere was bright and clear, so that the outlines of the distant hills were clearly defined against the sky. There were a few soft, white, fleecy clouds of mist floating here and there, which the breeze, as the sun rose, quickly dispersed; while below, winding through the valley, could be seen the sheen of the river between the clumps of the trees bordering its banks.

It was difficult to believe that a terrible tragedy had been enacted a few short hours before in the midst of so lovely a scene. He proceeded on along the hill to a place whence he could see the spot where the kraal had existed. Looking through his telescope, he could clearly distinguish a large black circle of ashes marking the spot where the habitations of the slaughtered people had lately stood. He could see no human beings moving about in the neighbourhood, though he turned his glass in every direction. He feared the worst.

“Perhaps some of the poor people may have escaped death from the assegais of their enemies, and may be lying hid in the bushes or plantations around,” he said to himself; “though I fear those savages do their work too surely to give much hope of that.”

He hastened back to the camp, and having taken a hurried breakfast, and advised his guests to remain quiet in their places of concealment, he set out, accompanied by Umgolo, towards the kraal.

The stream was easily forded. As the morning was fresh, he and his companion walked briskly on. They were thus not long in reaching the neighbourhood of the kraal. A dreadful sight met their eyes. Everywhere the ground was strewed with the dead bodies of its late inhabitants. As he had supposed, the assegais of the avengers had been used too well to allow any of them to escape with life. Some lay outside, others within the two circles of ashes where the huts had stood. Still it was possible that some might have crept to a distance. He and his companion searched, however, all round, and although every bush was examined, no one was discovered, nor did they perceive any traces of blood which might have indicated that some wounded person had got thus far from the scene of slaughter.

They were about to return to the camp, when, looking towards the kraal, the trader fancied that he saw some object move in the centre among several dead oxen, which had probably been wounded by the assegais of the attacking party, and had returned there to die. He accordingly made his way towards the spot, followed by Umgolo, over the still warm ashes. He preferred the risk of burning his boots to going round through the entrance, where the bodies of the slaughtered people lay so thickly that he could scarcely pass without treading upon them.

“Who can this be?” he exclaimed as he got near where the dead oxen lay. “If my eyes do not deceive me, here’s a young white boy. Who are you? What brought you here, my child?” he asked in a kind tone.

But the boy did not reply. He had been lying between two of the cattle, partly under one of them, and having apparently been asleep, and just awakened, was endeavouring to get up. Round his waist was a robe of monkey skins, and a cloak of wild cat skins hung over his shoulders. Both were stained with blood, but whether it came from a wound he had received, or was that of the animals whose bodies had sheltered him, it was difficult to say. When the trader lifted him up, he evinced no fear, though he still did not speak.

“Are you English or Dutch?” asked the trader. “A Zulu you cannot be, though dressed like one.”

There was no reply. The boy, who seemed to be about eight or nine years old, looked round with an astonished gaze at the circle of ashes to which the kraal had been reduced.

“Why, the poor child is wounded, I fear,” said the trader, examining his arm. “Terror probably has deprived him of his wits.”

As he said this, taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he bound it round the injured limb, so as to staunch the flow of blood.

“The sooner we get him to the camp the better: he wants both food and water. Although he cannot say anything about himself, I have no doubt that Mangaleesu will be able to give an account of him.”

Saying this, the trader, giving his gun to Umgolo to carry, lifted the boy up in his arms, and hurried with him down the hill towards the camp. Had the boy been a Zulu, Umgolo would probably have recommended that he should be left to shift for himself, but observing his white skin he did not venture to interfere.

The child, evidently satisfied that he had found a friend, lay quietly in the strong arms of the trader, who walked on with rapid steps, carrying him as if he had been an infant.

The camp was soon reached, and the trader, placing the boy on some skins in the shade of the waggon, ordered one of his Kaffirs who acted as cook to get some broth ready, while he sent off another to obtain fresh water from the spring.

This done, he examined the wound in the boy’s arm, more carefully than he had before been able to do. He first got out of the waggon a salve and some lint, with some linen bandages; for he was too experienced a hunter to travel without articles which might occasionally be of the greatest necessity.

Having taken off the handkerchief and carefully washed the wound in warm water, he dressed it with the skill of a surgeon. The boy looked up gratefully in his new friend’s face, but still did not speak. The trader having in vain endeavoured to obtain an answer when addressing him in English or Dutch, he at last spoke to him in Kaffir.

The boy at once said, “I thank you, white stranger, for what you have done for me. I thought at first that you belonged to those who had killed our people, and that you were going to kill me. Now I know that you are my friend.”

“You are right, my boy; I wish to be so,” said the trader. “But tell me, how comes it that you who are white, cannot speak your native tongue?”

“I have been so long with the Zulus that I have forgotten it,” answered the boy. “I once could speak it, and I well remember the white people I lived amongst. For a long time I remembered my native language; but as I always, since I could speak, knew some Kaffir, I soon understood what was said to me. I had a black nurse, but she was assegaid, and I was torn from her arms by the Zulus who carried me off. More than that I cannot tell.”

The kind-hearted trader was obliged to be content with this information. He was unwilling indeed, till the poor boy had regained his strength, further to question him, and he hoped to learn more of his history from Mangaleesu and Kalinda, who he had no doubt would be able to afford it.

Having given the boy some of the broth which was now ready, and placed a blanket under his head to serve as a pillow, he left Umgolo to watch over him. He then went and sat down by the side of Mangaleesu, who still lay in the hammock under the waggon, not yet recovered from the exertions he had made on the previous night, and the loss of blood from his wounds.

“I have recovered one of your people, and have brought him to the camp,” said the trader.

“Who is he?” asked Mangaleesu eagerly. “I thought that all had been killed.”

“Although he has a white skin, he seems by his dress and language to be a Zulu,” answered the trader.

“Then he must be little Unozingli,” said the chief. “I am glad he has escaped, for he was a favourite with us, and will some day, if he lives, become a great warrior.”

“By what chance did he happen to be living among you? Although he is dressed like a Zulu, and speaks the Kaffir tongue alone, he is evidently the child of white parents.”

“He was brought to my kraal by a tribe from a distant part of the country, who afterwards joined my people,” answered the chief. “They had taken him, they said, from a black woman who had been killed; but the child being white, they had been unwilling to destroy him, and had carried him off with them. He was at once adopted into the tribe, and has lived with us ever since, learning our customs and language, and we gave him the name of Unozingli.”

From this answer it was evident that no further satisfactory information could be obtained from Mangaleesu respecting the boy. This was a disappointment to the trader. He had hoped, after rescuing the little fellow, to have had the satisfaction of discovering his parents or friends, and restoring him to them. He was satisfied that the child was either English or Dutch, and from his features he was inclined to think he was the former.

“I don’t fancy calling him by his Kaffir name,” he said to himself. “I must get one more suited to him.” As he looked at the thick auburn hair which hung in curls over the boy’s head, his freckled, though otherwise fair countenance, his large blue eyes, and broad, open countenance, he exclaimed, “I have it! I’ll call him Lionel; for a young lion he looks, and will, I hope, some day bring down many of the brutes of the forest.”

Unwilling to leave the camp himself, lest their enemies might come in search of the young chief and his bride, towards evening the trader sent out Umgolo and another man in search of game to supply his followers with meat, for in that climate what is killed one day is scarcely eatable the next.

He also despatched two others in different directions to ascertain if any of the Zulus were in the neighbourhood, apparently searching for Mangaleesu, as he intended in that case to keep the chief and his bride more carefully concealed until he had carried them safely across the border.

The hunters were the first to return, loaded with the flesh of a couple of antelopes. Soon afterwards, while they were busily employed in cutting up the animals and preparing them for supper, the scouts came in, bringing the information that they had seen a large party who seemed to them coming from the south-west, but who were too far off to enable them to ascertain who they were. As—the intermediate ground being uneven—it would have taken them a long time to get nearer, they deemed it wise to return at once with their report.

“Whether friends or foes, we are ready for them,” said the trader. “In case they should be foes, we must keep our guests concealed; but from the direction they come, I think it more likely that they are friends, and we will have some food ready for them.”

The cooks therefore spitted according to camp fashion an additional supply of meat to roast, while the trader walked on a short distance in the direction he expected the strangers to appear. He was not mistaken in his surmise. After some time he saw through his glass a waggon very similar to his own, accompanied by two persons on horseback and several on foot. On this, returning to the camp, he ordered his horse to be saddled, and went out to meet them. As he was seen approaching, the two mounted strangers rode forward.

“What, Hendricks the Hunter!” exclaimed the elder, a tall, gaunt man, with a weather-beaten countenance, whose grey twinkling eyes, the form of his features, and his rich brogue showed him to be an Irishman. “Mighty glad to fall in with you, old friend!” and the gentlemen shook hands warmly.

“I’m equally well pleased to meet you, Maloney,” answered Mr. Hendricks. “You can give me news of the civilised world, of which I have heard nothing for many a long month.”

“Faith! as to that, it wags much as usual. Skins are fetching fair prices, which is good news for you; but the Kathlamba bushmen are again becoming troublesome, and have lately carried off several head of cattle and horses from the settlers in that direction, which is a bad matter for them, while the new arrivals are grumbling and complaining as usual because they do not find the colony the Eldorado they expected, before they have had time to dig a spade into the ground or run a plough over it. For my part, I’m mighty glad to get out of their company and find myself in the wilderness.”

“So am I generally, after I have been a short time at home, I confess, though I have many friends in Maritzburg, with whom I am glad now and again to spend a few days,” replied Hendricks. “Had you, however, waited a little longer, I intended to propose that we should join forces and travel together. I thought it possible indeed that I might fall in with you, although as I did not expect to do so for several days to come I was in hopes that you would be induced to wait for me till I was ready to make a fresh start.”

“I would willingly have delayed my journey or waited for you, had we met closer to the Natal border,” answered Mr. Maloney; “but as you know, it would not be prudent to remain longer than possible in this part of the country, and even now, as I shall spend some time trading and hunting to the south of the Drakensberg, you will probably overtake me before I get over the mountains.”

“It will be from no fault of mine if I do not,” said Hendricks. “I shall not be long in transacting my business at Maritzburg. However, we’ll talk of that presently; and now come along to my camp, for supper will be ready by the time we get there. By the bye, who is the lad with you? He looks somewhat tired from his journey.”

“He is my son Denis, a chip of the old block,” answered Mr. Maloney. “To say the truth, however, he is just now somewhat sick, and I’d rather see him safe at Maritzburg than travelling with me into the wilderness. I have a favour to ask—it is that you will take charge of him and let him accompany you back to the town. I shall be mighty thankful to you if you will.”

“I will do as you wish,” said Hendricks, “though the lad, I suspect, would rather be hunting with you than kicking his heels in town with nothing to do.”

“He has been too well-trained to dispute my authority,” observed Mr. Maloney. “I took him from the office of his uncle, my worthy brother-in-law, and he must go back for a few months until I return and am ready to make my next trip. By that time he’ll have more muscle and stamina, and be better able to stand the fatigue and hard life we hunters have to endure.”

“I’ll carry out your wishes with all my heart, and will look after the lad while I remain in the colony,” said Hendricks.

This conversation took place while the two leaders were riding on towards the camp, the lad following a short distance behind them.

Mr. Hendricks briefly related to his companion the attack on the kraal, and the way in which the Zulu chief, his bride and the little boy had been rescued. “I intend to take the child with me, to leave him in charge of my good sister, Susannah Jansen,” he added. “We may some day discover to whom he belongs, but I will, in the meantime, act the part of a guardian to him.”

“It is a kind act of yours, but faith! I suppose I should be after doing the same sort of thing myself, though I find one son as much as I can manage. To be sure, all boys are not like Denis here, who boasts that he shot a springboc before he was ten years old, and that he has since killed a lion and a wild boar, his great ambition being now to bring an elephant to the ground.”

As his father was speaking, Denis, who had hitherto kept in the rear, hearing his name mentioned rode up.

“I have asked Mr. Hendricks to take you back with him to Maritzburg, where you must wait with all the patience you can muster till my next trip,” said Mr. Maloney. “You are not strong enough for the work before us; and if you knock up, the object of my expedition will be defeated, for I shall have to nurse you instead of being able to hunt or carry on trade.”

“I am much obliged to Mr. Hendricks, but I don’t intend to knock up,” said Denis, not looking very well pleased at his father’s proposal. “I’m a little sick now, but I shall be all to rights in a day or two, and will be able to continue the journey.”

His looks, however, belied his assertion, though he was evidently doing his utmost to appear at his ease.

“Well, well, we’ll see about it, my boy; but for your own sake, as well as mine, I wish you to go back. I took you somewhat against my better judgment, in the hopes that the journey would strengthen you, instead of which you look worse than when we started.”

Denis still begged to be allowed to go on, until his father, losing patience, told him to say no more about the matter; that he should decide what was best to be done, and should act accordingly.

Hearing his father say this, Denis, not venturing to make any further appeal, again dropped behind.

“You see the boy has a will of his own,” observed Mr. Maloney. “Though so tall and full of spirit, he is scarcely twelve years of age, and has in truth outgrown his strength. Since he lost his mother he has only had his uncle, Tom Lumly, to look after him when I have been away, and my good brother-in-law being much taken up with business has had little time to attend to him, so that he has been allowed to run rather wild. However, as he is now well able to make himself useful, Tom will give him work to do, and that will help to keep him out of harm’s way.”

“You are right, my friend; there’s nothing like plenty of work to help keep a person out of mischief; but, after all, he must have steadiness and good principles. They alone are to be depended on, and I hope your son has got those as ballast.”

The two gentlemen, followed by Denis, soon arrived at the camp. They found the promised repast spread out under the shade cast by the waggon as the sun sank towards the western hills.

The two ciders did ample justice to the venison steaks and other African luxuries placed before them; but though Denis managed to eat a little, he had to acknowledge that he was somewhat off his feed.

Umgolo, who ranked as a chief amongst his followers, and shared his master’s board, ate considerably more than the two white men together. Mangaleesu and Kalinda, who had been invited, at first hung back, but overcoming their bashfulness at length came and joined the party, and did ample justice to the food offered them. At last, little Unozingli, the white boy, or Lionel, as his protector determined to call him, crept out from the corner of the waggon, and, tempted by the smell of the viands, came and placed himself by the side of the Zulu chief, of whom he showed no fear.

“The child has been well treated, or he would keep away from our dark-skinned friend there,” observed Mr. Maloney. “It’s mighty curious that he’s unable to utter a word of English; but he’ll find his tongue soon, when he has stowed away a little food.”

The little fellow, unlike the Zulus, ate moderately, and after taking a draught of cold water declared that he was satisfied. His wounded arm, which Hendricks had placed in a sling, did not appear to cause him much pain; at all events, he did not complain as most boys more delicately nurtured than he had been would have done.

The Zulu chief now addressed him in a kind tone. He at once answered, and was soon chattering away either with him or Kalinda, with whom he appeared to be a favourite. After this, as he had recovered his spirits, Hendricks called him to come and sit by his side, and speaking in the Zulu language, questioned him as to his early recollections, when his answers fully confirmed the account given by Mangaleesu.

“Do you wish to return to your white friends?” asked Hendricks.

The boy’s countenance brightened. “I am fond of the chief and Kalinda, but I should greatly like to see the white lady who often used to talk to me, and whom I called mother, and a man with hair like mine, who sometimes carried me on his back or in his arms, and let me ride on his knee. Then there was the black woman, but I shall never see her, for I remember well how the Zulus pierced her with their assegais. She fell into the river and was swept away, while one of the warriors carried me off.”

“We will try and find your parents if they are still alive, and until they are found I will be a father to you,” said Hendricks. “Will you trust me?”

“Indeed I will, for I like your face,” answered the boy frankly.

“I suspect the little fellow is the child of some Dutch boers, slaughtered by the Zulus, while travelling in search of a location,” observed Hendricks to his guest. “So many of the unfortunate settlers have thus lost their lives, that it is very improbable I shall ever discover to whom he belongs. If not, I will adopt him as my son, as he seems to have been committed to my charge by Providence.”

Meantime Mr. Maloney’s waggon had arrived, and had been drawn up close to that of his friend, in such a position that in case of necessity it might serve to afford additional strength to the camp. Their respective Kaffir and Hottentot servants had assembled round a large fire a little distance off, the necessary guards only remaining to watch the cattle.

As the night was drawing on, and young Denis looked very sleepy, his father ordered him off to his berth in the waggon, which, though pretty well loaded with goods for traffic, had space enough for a couple of sleeping-places.

The lad got up, and wishing his father and Hendricks “good-night,” sauntered away to the waggon, while the hunters remained seated near the fire, discussing their plans for the future. The Irishman intended to push forward through Zululand to a region some distance to the northward, where elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippopotami abounded, so that he might obtain a supply of ivory as well as of skins and any other valuable products of the country which he might discover.

Hendricks proposed, after remaining at Maritzburg two or three months, again to set out northward with the same object in view. He however relied less on trading than his own skill as a hunter to load up his waggon.

“If you find my boy well enough, and think fit to bring him along with you, do so; though don’t tell him of your intention until the time for starting has arrived, or he will not settle down to his work in the town,” said Maloney.

His friend promised to carry out his wishes, and at last, their various plans being arranged, they gave the word to their followers to go to sleep, while they themselves retired to their respective waggons.

A resting-place had been constructed for the young chief and his wife under the waggon, and little Lionel, who did not occupy much space, crept into his corner on the top of the cargo beneath the tilt.

Before lying down Hendricks took a turn round the camp to ascertain that the guards were properly posted and on the watch. This precaution his friend did not appear to have considered necessary, a single Hottentot alone being left to watch the cattle. The night was calm and clear, enabling him to see a considerable distance both up and down the valley.

No sounds broke the silence, and if there were lions or other wild animals in the neighbourhood, they did not make themselves audible. Satisfied that all was right, he at length got into his usual berth, and was soon fast asleep.