CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
A STRANGE DUEL.
In the midst of the savage throng was another white man, also aprisoner, who had been forced to assist at the barbarous scene justdetailed. His lot, however, had been cast in far worse lines than thatof Eustace, for his hands were tightly fastened behind his back and a_reim_ connected his ankles in such wise that he could only take shortsteps--which painful fact he would every now and then forget, with theresult of just so many ignominious "croppers." Whereat his duskytormentors would shout with gleeful laughter.
In addition to his bonds the unfortunate man appeared to have undergoneconsiderable maltreatment. His hair and beard were matted with dust andblood, and his head was rudely bandaged with rags of the filthiestdescription. He was clad in a greasy and tattered shirt, and trousersto match--his own clothes having been impounded by his captors.Moreover there were livid wales upon his face and hands, and such partsof his person as were visible through his ragged apparel, which showedthat he had been unmercifully beaten. Well might Eustace start inamazement, absolute and unfeigned. In this pitiable object herecognised Tom Carhayes.
He gazed at him speechless--as at one who has risen from the dead. Ifever he could have sworn to any man's death it would have been to thatof the man before him. He had seen the assegais flash in the air anddescend--had heard the dull, sickening blows of the kerries which hadbeaten the life out of his unfortunate cousin. Yet, here stood thelatter--not exactly unhurt, but yet full of life.
"_Hau_, Umlilwane!" said Hlangani, who was standing beside the latter--grinning hideously into his victim's face. "You are not near enough tosee well. The black ants bite--harder than the shot from your gun," hewent on, with grim meaning, beckoning to those who stood by to drag theprisoner nearer to the body of the unfortunate Vudana, which lay, rawand bloody, the veins exposed in many places by the bites of the myriadswarming insects. Carhayes gazed upon the horrid sight with a shudderof disgust. Then raising his eyes he encountered those of Eustace. Ashout of astonishment escaped him.
"How did you get here?" he cried. "Thought you were rubbed out if everany fellow was. Suppose you thought the same of me. Well, well. It'llcome to that soon. These damned black devils have bested me, just as Ireckoned I was besting them. They've been giving me hell already. ButI say, Eustace, you seem to be in clover," noticing the other's freedomfrom bonds or ill-treatment. Then he added bitterly, "I forgot; youalways did stand in well with them."
"That isn't going to help me much now, I'm afraid," answered Eustace."I've just made a fool of the witch-doctress and she won't let thingsrest there, depend upon it. My case isn't much more hopeful than yours.Have you tried the bribery trick?"
"No. How do you mean?"
"Offer some big-wig, like our particular friend there--I won't mentionnames--a deuce of a lot of cattle to let you escape. Try and work it--only you must be thundering careful."
The Kafirs, who had been attentively listening to the conversationbetween the two white men, here deemed that enough had been said.Dialogue in an unknown tongue must represent just so much plotting,argued their suspicious natures. So they interposed.
"See there," said Hlangani, with a meaning glance at the fearfullycontorted features of the miserable victim of the witch-doctress. "Seethere, Umlilwane, and remember my `word' to you the day you shot mywhite hunting dog and wounded me in the shoulder. _You had better firsthave cut off your right hand, for it is better to lose a hand than one'smind. Hau_! You laughed then. Who laughs now?"
To Eustace those words now stood out in deadly significance. Thewretched Vudana had died raving mad. This, then, was the promisedvengeance. Whatever his own fate might be, that of his cousin wassealed. Nothing short of a miracle could save him. Carhayes, notingthe deadly and implacable expression upon the dark countenance of hisenemy, realised something of this, and fearless as he habitually was, itwas all he could do to keep from betraying some misgiving.
At this juncture a mandate arrived from Kreli that the warriors shouldonce more assemble within the temporary kraal, and that the whiteprisoners should again be brought before him. Singing, chatting,laughing, administering many a sly kick or cuff to poor Carhayes, thesavages swarmed back to the open space, dragging that unfortunate alongin rough, unceremonious fashion. Soon the glade was empty, save for thebody of the miserable victim of their blindly superstitious ferocity.It lay there, stark, mangled, and hideous.
The Paramount Chief and his councillors still sat in a group apart.They had borne no part in, betrayed no interest in, the barbaroustragedy which had just taken place. Such a matter as the punishment ofa wizard was entirely beneath their notice--in theory at any rate. Theystill sat in grave and dignified impassiveness.
Eustace, noting the difference between his own treatment and that of hiscousin--the one bound with unnecessary rigour, hustled and kicked, theother, though disarmed, treated with a certain amount of consideration--began to entertain strong hopes on his own account. But tendingmaterially to dash them was the fact that Ngcenika, standing before thechief and the _amapakati_, was favouring that august assemblage with avery fierce and denunciatory harangue.
There were two white men, she said--two prisoners. One of these was aman of some power, who had been able to oppose her magic with his own;only for a time, however--the hag took care to add. This man it mightbe well to keep for a little while longer at any rate; there wereseveral experiments which she herself intended to try upon him. But theother--he had always been a bitter enemy of their race. Many had fallenat his hands. Had he not cut a notch upon his gun-stock for everyfighting man of the race of Xosa whom he had slain? There was thegun-stock and there were the notches. There were many of them, let theGreat Chief--let the _amapakati_ count.
At the production of this damning "_piece de conviction_," a shout offury rose from the ranks of the warriors.
"To the fire!" they cried. "To the fire with him!"
The situation was appalling, yet Carhayes never quailed. The desperatepluck of the man bore him up even then. He scowled contemptuously uponthe lines of dark and threatening faces, then turned erect and fearlesstowards the chief.
For a few moments they confronted each other thus in silence. TheEnglishman, somewhat weak and unsteady from exhaustion andill-treatment, could still look the arbiter of his fate straight in theeyes without blenching. They might do their worst and be damned, hesaid to himself. He, Tom Carhayes, was not going to whine for mercy toany nigger--even if that "nigger" was the Chief Paramount of all theAmaxosa tribes.
The latter, for his part, was not without respect for the white man'sintrepidity, but he had no intention of sparing him for all that. Hehad been debating with his chiefs and councillors, and they had decidedthat Carhayes ought to be sacrificed as an uncompromising and determinedenemy of their race. The other it might be expedient to keep a littlelonger and see how events would turn.
"What have you to say, _umlungu_?" said Kreli at length.
"Nothing. Not a damn thing," broke in Carhayes, in a loud, harsh tone.
"Tom, for God's sake don't be such a fool," whispered Eustace, who wasnear enough to be heard. "Can't you be civil for once?"
"No, I can't; not to any infernal black scoundrel," roared the othersavagely. "It's different with you, Eustace," changing his tone to abitter sneer. "Damn it, man, you're about half a Kafir already. Whydon't you ask old Kreli for a couple of his daughters and set up a kraalhere among them, eh?"
A sounding whack across the ear with the haft of an assegai choked thewords in his throat. He stood, literally foaming with fury.
"Attend, thou white dog," cried a great deep-toned voice. "Attend whenthe Great Chief is talking to thee. _Au_!"
An infuriated mastiff straining at his chain is a pretty goodexemplification of impotent wrath, but even he is nothing to the aspectand demeanour of Carhayes as he turned to the perpetrator of thisindignity. The veins rolled in his forehead as if they would burst.
The muscles stood out upon his neck like cords as he strove by asuperhuman effort to burst his bonds. But Hlangani only sneered.
"Listen when the Great Chief is talking to thee, thou jackal, or I willstrike thee again," he said.
"God damn the Great Chief!" roared poor Tom, his voice rising to ahurricane shriek of fury under this shameful indignity, which he waspowerless to resent. "And you, Hlangani, you dog, if I stood unbound Iwould kill you at this moment--kill you all unarmed as I am. Coward!Dare you try it!"
"What is this _indaba_?" interrupted Kreli sternly. "This white man hasa very long tongue. Perhaps it may be shortened with advantage." A humof applause greeted this remark, and the chief went on. "You are askeda question, _umlungu_, and instead of answering you rave and bellow andthrow yourself about like a cow that has lost her calf. And now whathave you to say? You have invaded our country and shot our people withyour own hand. If a man thrusts his head into a hornet's nest, whomshall he blame but himself if he gets stung--if he treads upon aserpent, how shall he complain if made to feel the reptile's fangs?"
"Well, you see, it's war-time," answered Carhayes bluntly, beginning tothink he might just as well say something to save his life, if wordscould save it, that is. "I have met your people in fair fight, and Ichallenge any man, black or white, to deny that I have acted fair,square, and above board. And when we do take prisoners we don't treatthem as I have been treated since I was brought here. They are takencare of by the doctors if wounded, as I am; not tied up and starved andkicked, as I have been."
"Their doctors are the Fingo dogs," interrupted the chief darkly, "theirmedicine a sharp assegai. Freeborn men of the House of Gcaleka to dieat the hand of a Fingo slave! _Hau_!"
A roar of execration went up at this hit. "To the fire with him!"howled the savage crowd. "Give him to us, Great Chief, that we may makehim die a hundred deaths!"
"That is the sort of healing my children get when they fall into thehands of Amanglezi. And you, _umlungu_, you have offered an insult tothe House of Gcaleka in the person of Hlangani, my herald, a man of theHouse of Hintza, my father. Was it war-time when you shed his blood?Did you meet in fair fight when you shot him suddenly and atclose-quarters, he having no gun?"
"Was it war-time when Hlangani entered the Gaika location to stir upstrife? Was it right that he should bring his dogs on to my farm tohunt my bucks?" answered Carhayes fearlessly. "Again, was it fair playfor four men, armed with assegais, to attack one, who had but two shots?Or was it self-defence? Listen to my words, Kreli, and you chiefs and_amapakati_ of the House of Gcaleka," he went on, raising his voice tillit was audible to the whole assemblage. "In the presence of you all Iproclaim Hlangani a coward. He has struck and insulted me because I ambound. He dare not meet me free. I challenge him to do so. Loosenthese bonds. I am weak and wounded. I cannot escape--you need notfear--and let him meet me if he dares, with any weapon he chooses. Ichallenge him. If he refuses he is nothing but a cowardly dog, andworse than the meanest Fingo. If you, Kreli, refuse my request, it isbecause you _know_ this bragging herald of yours to be a coward."
The fierce rapidity of this harangue, the audacity of the requestembodied within it, took away the auditors' breath. Yet the ideaappealed to them--appealed powerfully to their ardently martialsympathies. The very novelty of such a duel as that proposed investedit with a rare attractiveness.
"What does Hlangani say?" observed Kreli, with a partly amused glance athis subordinate.
"This, O Great Chief of my father's house," replied the warrior, thelight of battle springing into his eyes. "Of what man living wasHlangani ever afraid? What man ever had to call him twice? Yet, OGreat Chief, the head of my father's house, I would ask a boon. When Ihave whipped this miserable white dog, I would claim possession of hiswretched carcase absolutely, alive or dead."
"It is granted, Hlangani," said the chief.
"And I?" cried Carhayes. "What shall be given to me when I have sentthis cur, who strikes helpless men, howling to his hut? My liberty, ofcourse?"
"No," replied Kreli, shortly.
"No?" echoed the prisoner. "My life then?"
"No," answered the chief again. "Be content, _umlungu_. If you conqueryou shall have a swift and merciful death. If you fail, Hlangani claimsyou."
Carhayes stared at the chief for a moment, then, as he realised that hehad nothing to hope for, whether he won in the combat or not--anexpression of such deadly ferocity, such fell and murderous purposeswept across his face, that many of those who witnessed it realised thattheir countryman was going to snatch no easy victory.
The stout rawhide _reims_ which bound his hands behind him wereloosened--and that which secured his feet was removed. He stoodswinging his arms and stamping to hasten the circulation--then he askedfor some water, which was brought him.
"_Ha, umlungu_!" jeered Ngcenika, addressing Eustace, as the two whitemen stood talking together. "Give this valiant fighter some white magicto strengthen him. He will need it."
"Well, Eustace, I'm going to kill that dog," said Carhayes. "I'm goingto die fighting anyway, so that's all right. Now--I'm ready. What arewe going to fight with?"
"This," said one of the bystanders, handing him a pair of hard-woodkerries.
Hlangani now made his appearance similarly armed. The crescentformation of warriors had narrowed their ranks, the chiefs andcouncillors and Eustace and his guards composing the upper arc of thecircle. The prisoner could not have broken through that dense array ofarmed men which hemmed him in on every side, had he entertained theidea.
Both the principals in that strange impromptu duel were men of splendidphysique. The Kafir, nearly naked, looked like a bronze giant, toweringabove his adversary in his magnificent height and straight and perfectproportions. The Englishman, thick-set, deep-chested, concentrated avast amount of muscular power within his five-foot-eight. He had thrownoff his ragged shirt, and the muscles of his chest and arms stood outlike ropes. He looked a terribly awkward antagonist, and moreover onhis side the conflict would be fought with all the ferocity of despair.He was a man bent on selling his life dearly.
Hlangani, for his part, was confident and smiling. He was going tofight with his natural weapons, a pair of good, trusty kerries. Thisblundering white man, though he had the strength and ferocity of anenraged bull, had more than that quadruped's stupidity. He would knockhim out of shape in no time.
When blood is up, the spirit of Donnybrook is very strong among Kafirs.The next best thing to taking part in a fight is to witness one--andnow, accordingly, every head was bent forward with the most eagerinterest as the two combatants advanced towards each other in the openspace. There was no "ring" proper, nor were there any recognised rules;no "time" either. Each man's business was to kill or disable theother--as effectually as possible, and by any means in his power.
Now a smart Kafir, armed with two good kerries whose use he thoroughlyunderstands, is about as tough a customer to tackle as is a professionalpugilist to the average Briton who knows how to use his hands butindifferently. Of this Carhayes was perfectly aware. Consequently hisplan was to meet his antagonist with extreme wariness; in fact, to standrather on the defensive, at any rate at first. He was a fair singlestick player, which tended not a little to equalise the chances.
As they drew near each other and reached striking distance, they lookedstraight into each other's eyes like a pair of skilful fencers. Thesavage, with one kerrie raised in the air, the other held horizontallybefore his breast, but both with a nervous, supple grasp, ready to turnany way with lightning rapidity--his glance upon that of his foe--hisactive, muscular frame poised lightly on one foot, then on another, withfeline readiness, would have furnished a perfect subject for aninstantaneous photograph representing strength and address combined.The Englishman, his bearded lips compressed, his blue eyes sparkling andalert, shining with suppressed eagerness to come to close-quarters withhis crafty and formidable foe, was none the less a fine specime
n ofcourage and undaunted resolution.
Hlangani, a sneering laugh upon his thick lips, opened the ball bymaking a judicious feint. But his adversary never moved. He followedit up by another, then a series of them, whirling his striking kerrieround the Englishman's head in the most startling proximity, now on thisside, now on that, holding his parrying one ready for any attack theother might make upon him. Still Carhayes stood strictly on thedefensive. He knew the Kafir was trying to "draw him"--knew that hisenemy's quick eye was prepared for any opportunity. He was not going towaste energy gratuitously.
Suddenly, and with lightning-like celerity, Hlangani made a sweep at thelower part of his adversary's leg. It would have been the ruin of aless experienced combatant, but Carhayes' kerrie, lowered just twoinches, met that of his opponent with a sounding crash just in time tosave his skull somewhere in the region of the ear. It was a cleverfeint, and a dexterous follow-up, but it had failed. Hlangani began torealise that he had met a foeman worthy of his steel--or, rather, of hiswood. Still he knew the other's impetuous temper, and by wearing outhis patience reckoned on obtaining a sure and tolerably easy victory.
And it seemed as if he would gain the result of his reasoning evensooner than he expected. Bristling with rage, literally smarting withthe indignity recently put upon him, Carhayes abandoned the defensive.With a sudden rush, he charged his antagonist, and for a few momentsnothing was heard but the clash of hard-wood in strike and parry.Hlangani was touched on the shoulder, while Carhayes got a rap on theknuckles, which in cold blood would have turned him almost sick withpain. But his blood was at boiling point now, and he was fighting withthe despairing ferocity of one who has no hope left in life. He pressedhis gigantic adversary with such vigour and determination that the otherhad no alternative but to give way.
The fun was waxing fast and furious now. The warriors crowding innearer and nearer, pressed forward in breathless attention, encouragingtheir champion with many a deep-toned hum of applause when he scored orseemed likely to score a point. The few women then in the kraal stoodon tiptoe, trying to peer over the heads and shoulders of the armed men.Even the chiefs and councillors condescended to show considerableinterest in this impromptu tournament, while Eustace Milne, animated byvarious motives, watched its progress narrowly.
For a few moments it really seemed that the white man would prove thevictor. Before the impetuosity of his furious attacks Hlangani wasconstrained to give way more and more. A Beserk ferocity seemed to havetaken possession of Carhayes. His eyes glared through the blood anddust which clung to his unwashen visage. Every hair of his beard seemedto bristle and stand upright, like the mane of a wild boar. His chestheaved, and the dexterity with which he whirled his kerrie around hisadversary's ears--always quick to ward the latter's blows from himself--was wonderful to behold.
Crash--scroosh! The blow told. A sound as of the crunching of bone.Hlangani staggered back half a dozen paces, the blood pouring from awound in his skull. It was a blow that would probably have shatteredthe skull of a white man.
But before Carhayes could follow it up, the wily savage adopted adifferent plan. By a series of astonishing leaps and bounds, nowbackward, now from side to side, he endeavoured to bewilder his enemy,and very nearly succeeded. Mad with rage, desperation, and aconsciousness of failing strength, Carhayes was fast losing control overhimself. He roared like a wild animal. He began to strike out wildly,leaving his guard open. This the cunning barbarian saw and encouraged.Those looking on had no doubt now as to who held the winning cards; evenEustace could see it, but his cousin was too far off now to hear a wordof warning or advice, which, however, was just as well for himself.
Again the combatants closed. The splinters began to fly in alldirections as the hard-wood sticks whirled and crashed. Then suddenly acrushing blow on the wrist sent Carhayes' kerrie flying from his graspand almost simultaneously with it came a sickening "scrunch." The whiteman dropped like an ox at the shambles, the blood pouring from his head.
Echoing the mighty roar of exultation that went up from the spectators,Hlangani stood with his foot on the chest of his prostrate adversary,his kerrie raised to strike again. But there was no necessity. PoorTom lay like a corpse, stunned and motionless. The ferocious triumphdepicted on the countenance of the savage was horrible to behold.
"He is mine," he cried, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing, "mineabsolutely. The Great Chief has said it. Bring _reims_."
In a trice a few stout rawhide thongs were procured, and Carhayes wasonce more bound hand and foot. Then acting under the directions of hisfierce conqueror--three or four stalwart Kafirs raised the insensibleform of the unfortunate settler and bore it away.
"He has only begun to taste the fury of Hlangani's revenge," said avoice at Eustace's side. Turning he beheld the witch-doctress,Ngcenika. The hag pointed to the retreating group with a mocking leer.
"He will wake," she went on. "But he will never be seen again,Ixeshane--never. _Hau_!"
"Where will he wake, Ngcenika?" asked Eustace, in a voice which hestrove to render unconcerned.
"_Kwa, Zinyoka_," [At the Home of the Serpents] replied the hag with abrutal laugh.
"And where is that?"
"Where is it? Ha, ha!" mocked the witch-doctress. "Thou art amagician, too, Ixeshane. Wouldst thou indeed like to know?"
"Perhaps."
"Invoke thy magic then, and see if it will tell thee. But better not.For they who look upon the Home of the Serpents are seen no more inlife. Thou hast seen the last of yon white man, Ixeshane; thou andthese standing around here. Ha, ha! Better for him that he had neverbeen born." And with a Satanic laugh she turned away and left him.
Strong-nerved as he was, Eustace felt his flesh creep. The hag'sparting words hinted at some mysterious and darkly horrible fate instore for his unfortunate cousin. His own precarious position brought asense of this doubly home to him. He remembered how jubilant poor Tomhad been over the outbreak of the war. This, then, was to be the end ofit. Instead of paying off old scores with his hated and despised foes,he had himself walked blindfold into the trap, and was to be sacrificedin some frightful manner to their vengeance.
'Tween Snow and Fire: A Tale of the Last Kafir War Page 32