CHAPTER VIII ALPHONSE EXPLAINS
And so the fight was ended. On returning from the shocking scene itsuddenly struck me that I had seen nothing of Alphonse since the moment,some twenty minutes before--for though this fight has taken a long whileto describe, it did not take long in reality--when I had been forcedto hit him in the wind with the result of nearly getting myself shot.Fearing that the poor little man had perished in the battle, I began tohunt among the dead for his body, but, not being able either to see orhear anything of it, I concluded that he must have survived, and walkeddown the side of the kraal where we had first taken our stand, callinghim by name. Now some fifteen paces back from the kraal wall stood avery ancient tree of the banyan species. So ancient was it that all theinside had in the course of ages decayed away, leaving nothing but ashell of bark.
'Alphonse,' I called, as I walked down the wall. 'Alphonse!'
'Oui, monsieur,' answered a voice. 'Here am I.'
I looked round but could see nobody. 'Where?' I cried.
'Here am I, monsieur, in the tree.'
I looked, and there, peering out of a hole in the trunk of the banyanabout five feet from the ground, I saw a pale face and a pair of largemustachios, one clipped short and the other as lamentably out of curlas the tail of a newly whipped pug. Then, for the first time, I realizedwhat I had suspected before--namely, that Alphonse was an arrant coward.I walked up to him. 'Come out of that hole,' I said.
'Is it finished, monsieur?' he asked anxiously; 'quite finished? Ah, thehorrors I have undergone, and the prayers I have uttered!'
'Come out, you little wretch,' I said, for I did not feel amiable; 'itis all over.'
'So, monsieur, then my prayers have prevailed? I emerge,' and he did.
As we were walking down together to join the others, who were gatheredin a group by the wide entrance to the kraal, which now resembled averitable charnel-house, a Masai, who had escaped so far and been hidingunder a bush, suddenly sprang up and charged furiously at us. Off wentAlphonse with a howl of terror, and after him flew the Masai, bent upondoing some execution before he died. He soon overtook the poor littleFrenchman, and would have finished him then and there had I not, justas Alphonse made a last agonized double in the vain hope of avoiding theyard of steel that was flashing in his immediate rear, managed to planta bullet between the Elmoran's broad shoulders, which brought mattersto a satisfactory conclusion so far as the Frenchman was concerned. Butjust then he tripped and fell flat, and the body of the Masai fell righton the top of him, moving convulsively in the death struggle. Thereuponthere arose such a series of piercing howls that I concluded that beforehe died the savage must have managed to stab poor Alphonse. I ran upin a hurry and pulled the Masai off, and there beneath him lay Alphonsecovered with blood and jerking himself about like a galvanized frog.Poor fellow! thought I, he is done for, and kneeling down by him I beganto search for his wound as well as his struggles would allow.
'Oh, the hole in my back!' he yelled. 'I am murdered. I am dead. Oh,Annette!'
I searched again, but could see no wound. Then the truth dawned onme--the man was frightened, not hurt.
'Get up!' I shouted, 'Get up. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You arenot touched.'
Thereupon he rose, not a penny the worse. 'But, monsieur, I thought Iwas,' he said apologetically; 'I did not know that I had conquered.'Then, giving the body of the Masai a kick, he ejaculated triumphantly,'Ah, dog of a black savage, thou art dead; what victory!'
Thoroughly disgusted, I left Alphonse to look after himself, which hedid by following me like a shadow, and proceeded to join the others bythe large entrance. The first thing that I saw was Mackenzie, seated ona stone with a handkerchief twisted round his thigh, from which he wasbleeding freely, having, indeed, received a spear-thrust that passedright through it, and still holding in his hand his favourite carvingknife now bent nearly double, from which I gathered that he had beensuccessful in his rough and tumble with the Elmoran.
'Ah, Quatermain!' he sang out in a trembling, excited voice, 'so we haveconquered; but it is a sorry sight, a sorry sight;' and then breakinginto broad Scotch and glancing at the bent knife in his hand, 'It fashesme sair to have bent my best carver on the breastbone of a savage,' andhe laughed hysterically. Poor fellow, what between his wound and thekilling excitement he had undergone his nerves were much shaken, andno wonder! It is hard upon a man of peace and kindly heart to be calledupon to join in such a gruesome business. But there, fate puts ussometimes into very comical positions!
At the kraal entrance the scene was a strange one. The slaughter wasover by now, and the wounded men had been put out of their pain, for noquarter had been given. The bush-closed entrance was trampled flat, andin place of bushes it was filled with the bodies of dead men. Dead men,everywhere dead men--they lay about in knots, they were flung by onesand twos in every position upon the open spaces, for all the world likethe people on the grass in one of the London parks on a particularly hotSunday in August. In front of this entrance, on a space which had beencleared of dead and of the shields and spears which were scattered inall directions as they had fallen or been thrown from the hands of theirowners, stood and lay the survivors of the awful struggle, and at theirfeet were four wounded men. We had gone into the fight thirty strong,and of the thirty but fifteen remained alive, and five of them(including Mr Mackenzie) were wounded, two mortally. Of those who heldthe entrance, Curtis and the Zulu alone remained. Good had lost five menkilled, I had lost two killed, and Mackenzie no less than five out ofthe six with him. As for the survivors they were, with the exception ofmyself who had never come to close quarters, red from head to foot--SirHenry's armour might have been painted that colour--and utterlyexhausted, except Umslopogaas, who, as he grimly stood on a littlemound above a heap of dead, leaning as usual upon his axe, did not seemparticularly distressed, although the skin over the hole in his headpalpitated violently.
'Ah, Macumazahn!' he said to me as I limped up, feeling very sick, 'Itold thee that it would be a good fight, and it has. Never have I seen abetter, or one more bravely fought. As for this iron shirt, surely it is"tagati" [bewitched]; nothing could pierce it. Had it not been for thegarment I should have been _there_,' and he nodded towards the greatpile of dead men beneath him.
'I give it thee; thou art a brave man,' said Sir Henry, briefly.
'Koos!' answered the Zulu, deeply pleased both at the gift and thecompliment. 'Thou, too, Incubu, didst bear thyself as a man, but I mustgive thee some lessons with the axe; thou dost waste thy strength.'
Just then Mackenzie asked about Flossie, and we were all greatlyrelieved when one of the men said he had seen her flying towards thehouse with the nurse. Then bearing such of the wounded as could be movedat the moment with us, we slowly made our way towards the Mission-house,spent with toil and bloodshed, but with the glorious sense of victoryagainst overwhelming odds glowing in our hearts. We had saved the lifeof the little maid, and taught the Masai of those parts a lesson thatthey will not forget for ten years--but at what a cost!
Painfully we made our way up the hill which, just a little more than anhour before, we had descended under such different circumstances. At thegate of the wall stood Mrs Mackenzie waiting for us. When her eyes fellupon us, however, she shrieked out, and covered her face with herhands, crying, 'Horrible, horrible!' Nor were her fears allayed when shediscovered her worthy husband being borne upon an improvized stretcher;but her doubts as to the nature of his injury were soon set at rest.Then when in a few brief words I had told her the upshot of the struggle(of which Flossie, who had arrived in safety, had been able to explainsomething) she came up to me and solemnly kissed me on the forehead.
'God bless you all, Mr Quatermain; you have saved my child's life,' shesaid simply.
Then we went in and got our clothes off and doctored our wounds; I amglad to say I had none, and Sir Henry's and Good's were, thanks to thoseinvaluable chain shirts, of a comparatively harmless nature, and to bedealt with by means of a
few stitches and sticking-plaster. Mackenzie's,however, were serious, though fortunately the spear had not severed anylarge artery. After that we had a bath, and what a luxury it was! Andhaving clad ourselves in ordinary clothes, proceeded to the dining-room,where breakfast was set as usual. It was curious sitting down there,drinking tea and eating toast in an ordinary nineteenth-century sortof way just as though we had not employed the early hours in a regularprimitive hand-to-hand Middle-Ages kind of struggle. As Good said,the whole thing seemed more as though one had had a bad nightmare justbefore being called, than as a deed done. When we were finishing ourbreakfast the door opened, and in came little Flossie, very paleand tottery, but quite unhurt. She kissed us all and thanked us. Icongratulated her on the presence of mind she had shown in shooting theMasai with her Derringer pistol, and thereby saving her own life.
'Oh, don't talk of it!' she said, beginning to cry hysterically; 'Ishall never forget his face as he went turning round and round, never--Ican see it now.'
I advised her to go to bed and get some sleep, which she did, and awokein the evening quite recovered, so far as her strength was concerned. Itstruck me as an odd thing that a girl who could find the nerve to shoota huge black ruffian rushing to kill her with a spear should have beenso affected at the thought of it afterwards; but it is, after all,characteristic of the sex. Poor Flossie! I fear that her nerves will notget over that night in the Masai camp for many a long year. She toldme afterwards that it was the suspense that was so awful, having to sitthere hour after hour through the livelong night utterly ignorant as towhether or not any attempt was to be made to rescue her. She said thaton the whole she did not expect it, knowing how few of us, and how manyof the Masai--who, by the way, came continually to stare at her, most ofthem never having seen a white person before, and handled her arms andhair with their filthy paws. She said also that she had made up her mindthat if she saw no signs of succour by the time the first rays of therising sun reached the kraal she would kill herself with the pistol, forthe nurse had heard the Lygonani say that they were to be tortured todeath as soon as the sun was up if one of the white men did not come intheir place. It was an awful resolution to have to take, but she meantto act on it, and I have little doubt but what she would have done so.Although she was at an age when in England girls are in the schoolroomand come down to dessert, this 'child of the wilderness' had morecourage, discretion, and power of mind than many a woman of matureage nurtured in idleness and luxury, with minds carefully drilled andeducated out of any originality or self-resource that nature may haveendowed them with.
When breakfast was over we all turned in and had a good sleep, onlygetting up in time for dinner; after which meal we once more adjourned,together with all the available population--men, women, youths, andgirls--to the scene of the morning's slaughter, our object being to buryour own dead and get rid of the Masai by flinging them into the TanaRiver, which ran within fifty yards of the kraal. On reaching the spotwe disturbed thousands upon thousands of vultures and a sort of brownbush eagle, which had been flocking to the feast from miles andmiles away. Often have I watched these great and repulsive birds, andmarvelled at the extraordinary speed with which they arrive on a sceneof slaughter. A buck falls to your rifle, and within a minute high inthe blue ether appears a speck that gradually grows into a vulture, thenanother, and another. I have heard many theories advanced to account forthe wonderful power of perception nature has given these birds. My own,founded on a good deal of observation, is that the vultures, giftedas they are with powers of sight greater than those given by the mostpowerful glass, quarter out the heavens among themselves, and hangingin mid-air at a vast height--probably from two to three miles above theearth--keep watch, each of them, over an enormous stretch of country.Presently one of them spies food, and instantly begins to sink towardsit. Thereon his next neighbour in the airy heights sailing leisurelythrough the blue gulf, at a distance perhaps of some miles, follows hisexample, knowing that food has been sighted. Down he goes, and all thevultures within sight of him follow after, and so do all those in sightof them. In this way the vultures for twenty miles round can be summonedto the feast in a few minutes.
We buried our dead in solemn silence, Good being selected to read theBurial Service over them (in the absence of Mr Mackenzie, confined tobed), as he was generally allowed to possess the best voice and mostimpressive manner. It was melancholy in the extreme, but, as Good said,it might have been worse, for we might have had 'to bury ourselves'. Ipointed out that this would have been a difficult feat, but I knew whathe meant.
Next we set to work to load an ox-wagon which had been brought roundfrom the Mission with the dead bodies of the Masai, having firstcollected the spears, shields, and other arms. We loaded the wagon fivetimes, about fifty bodies to the load, and emptied it into the Tana.From this it was evident that very few of the Masai could have escaped.The crocodiles must have been well fed that night. One of the lastbodies we picked up was that of the sentry at the upper end. I askedGood how he managed to kill him, and he told me that he had crept upmuch as Umslopogaas had done, and stabbed him with his sword. He groaneda good deal, but fortunately nobody heard him. As Good said, it was ahorrible thing to have to do, and most unpleasantly like cold-bloodedmurder.
And so with the last body that floated away down the current of theTana ended the incident of our attack on the Masai camp. The spears andshields and other arms we took up to the Mission, where they filled anouthouse. One incident, however, I must not forget to mention. As wewere returning from performing the obsequies of our Masai friendswe passed the hollow tree where Alphonse had secreted himself inthe morning. It so happened that the little man himself was with usassisting in our unpleasant task with a far better will than he hadshown where live Masai were concerned. Indeed, for each body that hehandled he found an appropriate sarcasm. Alphonse throwing Masai intothe Tana was a very different creature from Alphonse flying for dearlife from the spear of a live Masai. He was quite merry and gay, heclapped his hands and warbled snatches of French songs as the grim deadwarriors went 'splash' into the running waters to carry a message ofdeath and defiance to their kindred a hundred miles below. In short,thinking that he wanted taking down a peg, I suggested holding acourt-martial on him for his conduct in the morning.
Accordingly we brought him to the tree where he had hidden, andproceeded to sit in judgment on him, Sir Henry explaining to him in thevery best French the unheard-of cowardice and enormity of his conduct,more especially in letting the oiled rag out of his mouth, whereby henearly aroused the Masai camp with teeth-chattering and brought aboutthe failure of our plans: ending up with a request for an explanation.
But if we expected to find Alphonse at a loss and put him to open shamewe were destined to be disappointed. He bowed and scraped and smiled,and acknowledged that his conduct might at first blush appear strange,but really it was not, inasmuch as his teeth were not chattering fromfear--oh, dear no! oh, certainly not! he marvelled how the 'messieurs'could think of such a thing--but from the chill air of the morning. Asfor the rag, if monsieur could have but tasted its evil flavour, beingcompounded indeed of a mixture of stale paraffin oil, grease, andgunpowder, monsieur himself would have spat it out. But he did nothingof the sort; he determined to keep it there till, alas! his stomach'revolted', and the rag was ejected in an access of involuntarysickness.
'And what have you to say about getting into the hollow tree?' asked SirHenry, keeping his countenance with difficulty.
'But, monsieur, the explanation is easy; oh, most easy! it was thus: Istood there by the kraal wall, and the little grey monsieur hit me inthe stomach so that my rifle exploded, and the battle began. I watchedwhilst recovering myself from monsieur's cruel blow; then, messieurs, Ifelt the heroic blood of my grandfather boil up in my veins. The sightmade me mad. I ground my teeth! Fire flashed from my eyes! I shouted"En avant!" and longed to slay. Before my eyes there rose a vision ofmy heroic grandfather! In short, I was mad! I was a warrior indeed!But the
n in my heart I heard a small voice: "Alphonse," said the voice,"restrain thyself, Alphonse! Give not way to this evil passion! Thesemen, though black, are brothers! And thou wouldst slay them? CruelAlphonse!" The voice was right. I knew it; I was about to perpetrate themost horrible cruelties: to wound! to massacre! to tear limb from limb!And how restrain myself? I looked round; I saw the tree, I perceived thehole. "Entomb thyself," said the voice, "and hold on tight! Thou wiltthus overcome temptation by main force!" It was bitter, just when theblood of my heroic grandfather boiled most fiercely; but I obeyed! Idragged my unwilling feet along; I entombed myself! Through the hole Iwatched the battle! I shouted curses and defiance on the foe! I notedthem fall with satisfaction! Why not? I had not robbed them of theirlives. Their gore was not upon my head. The blood of my heroic--'
'Oh, get along with you, you little cur!' broke out Sir Henry, with ashout of laughter, and giving Alphonse a good kick which sent him flyingoff with a rueful face.
In the evening I had an interview with Mr Mackenzie, who was sufferinga good deal from his wounds, which Good, who was a skilful thoughunqualified doctor, was treating him for. He told me that thisoccurrence had taught him a lesson, and that, if he recovered safely, hemeant to hand over the Mission to a younger man, who was already on hisroad to join him in his work, and return to England.
'You see, Quatermain,' he said, 'I made up my mind to it, this verymorning, when we were creeping down those benighted savages. "If we livethrough this and rescue Flossie alive," I said to myself, "I will gohome to England; I have had enough of savages." Well, I did not thinkthat we should live through it at the time; but thanks be to God and youfour, we have lived through it, and I mean to stick to my resolution,lest a worse thing befall us. Another such time would kill my poor wife.And besides, Quatermain, between you and me, I am well off; it is thirtythousand pounds I am worth today, and every farthing of it made byhonest trade and savings in the bank at Zanzibar, for living here costsme next to nothing. So though it will be hard to leave this place, whichI have made to blossom like a rose in the wilderness, and harder stillto leave the people I have taught, I shall go.'
'I congratulate you on your decision,' answered I, 'for two reasons.The first is, that you owe a duty to your wife and daughter, and moreespecially to the latter, who should receive some education and mix withgirls of her own race, otherwise she will grow up wild, shunning herkind. The other is, that as sure as I am standing here, sooner or laterthe Masai will try to avenge the slaughter inflicted on them today. Twoor three men are sure to have escaped the confusion who will carrythe story back to their people, and the result will be that a greatexpedition will one day be sent against you. It might be delayed fora year, but sooner or later it will come. Therefore, if only for thatreason, I should go. When once they have learnt that you are no longerhere they may perhaps leave the place alone.' {Endnote 8}
'You are quite right,' answered the clergyman. 'I will turn my back uponthis place in a month. But it will be a wrench, it will be a wrench.'
CHAPTER IX INTO THE UNKNOWN
Allan Quatermain Page 9