Blue Horizon

by Wilbur Smith

  Suddenly he was startled to reality by the sound of a loose pebble rattling down the hillside behind him. He reached instinctively for the pistol on his belt. But he could not risk a shot. Bakkat had chided him none too gently about the musket shot that had brought down the eland and had led Xhia to them.

  “Xhia would never have unravelled my spoor if you had not led him on, Somoya. That shot you fired confounded us.”

  “Forgive me, Bakkat,” Jim had apologized ironically. “And I know how you hate the taste of eland chagga. It would have been far better for us to starve.”

  Now he dropped his hand from the pistol, and reached for the handle of his knife. The blade was long and sharp, and he held it poised for a defensive stroke, but at that moment Louisa whispered softly outside the back wall of the hide, “Jim?”

  The alarm he had felt at her approach was replaced with a lift of pleasure at the sound of her voice.

  “Come in quickly, Hedgehog. Don’t show yourself.” She crawled in through the low entrance. There was barely room inside the lookout for both of them. They sat side by side, only inches between them. The silence was heavy and awkward. He broke it at last. “Is everything well with the others?”

  “They are sleeping.” She did not look at him, but it was impossible for her not to be intensely aware of him. He was so close, and he smelt of sweat, leather and horses. He was so powerful and masculine that she felt confused and flustered. Dark memories mixed with new conflicting emotions, and she drew as far away from him as the space allowed. Immediately he did the same.

  “Crowded in here,” he said. “Bakkat built it to fit himself.”

  “I didn’t mean—” she started.

  “I understand, Hedgehog,” he said. “You explained to me once.” She shot him a glance from the corner of her eye, but saw with relief that his smile was unfeigned. She had learned over the past days that the name “Hedgehog” was not a rebuke or an insult, but friendly teasing.

  “You said you once wanted one as a pet.” She followed her thoughts.

  “What?” He looked puzzled.

  “A hedgehog. Why didn’t you find yourself one?”

  “Not easy. There aren’t any in Africa.” He grinned. “I’ve seen them in books. You are the first in the flesh. You don’t mind when I call you that?”

  She thought about it, and realized that now he was not even teasing her, but using it as an endearment. “I did at first, but now I am accustomed to it,” she said, and added softly, “Let me tell you that hedgehogs are sweet little creatures. No, I don’t mind too much.”

  They were silent again, but it was no longer tense and awkward. After a while she made a peephole for herself in the grass of the front wall. He handed her the telescope and showed her how to focus it.

  “You told me you are an orphan. Tell me about your parents,” he said. The question shocked her, and her temper flared. He had no right to ask that. She concentrated on her view through the telescope, but saw nothing. Then the anger subsided. She recognized a deep need to speak of her loss. She had never been able to before, not even to Elise while she still trusted the old woman.

  “My father was a teacher, gentle and kind. He loved books and learning.” Her voice was almost inaudible but became stronger and surer as she remembered all the wonderful things about her mother and father, the love and kindness.

  He sat beside her quietly, asking a question as her words faltered, leading her on. It was as though he had lanced an abscess in her soul, and let all the poison and the pain escape. She felt a growing trust in him, as though she could tell him everything and he would somehow understand. She seemed to lose track of time, until she was jerked into the present by a soft scratching sound at the back wall of the hide. Bakkat’s voice whispered a question. Jim replied and Bakkat went again as silently as he had come.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “He came to take over the watch, but I sent him away.”

  “I have been talking too much. What time is it?”

  “Out here, time matters little. Go on with what you were saying. I like to listen to you.”

  When she had told him everything she could remember of her parents, they went on to discuss other things, anything that came into her head, or wherever his questions led her. It was such a joy for her to talk freely to someone again.

  Now that she was at her ease, and her defences were lowered, Jim found, to his delight, that she had a dry, quirky sense of humour: she could be funny and self-deprecating, sometimes sharply observant or wickedly ironic. Her English was excellent, far surpassing the quality of his Dutch, but her accent made things sound fresh, and her occasional lapses and solecisms were enchanting.

  The education she had received from her father had armed her with wide knowledge and understanding of a surprising range of subjects, and she had travelled to places that fascinated him. England was his ancestral and spiritual home, but he had never been there, and she described scenes and places he had heard of from his parents but seen only in books.

  The hours sped away, and it was only when the long mountain shadows fell over the little hut that he saw the day was almost gone. Guiltily he realized that he had neglected his watch, had not so much as glanced out of his peephole for several hours.

  He leaned forward and peered down the mountainside. Louisa jumped with surprise as his hand fell on her shoulder. “They are here!” His voice was sharp and urgent, but for a moment she did not understand. “Keyser and his men.”

  Her pulse raced and the fine pale hair on her forearms rose. She peered out with trepidation, and saw movement in the valley far below. A column of horsemen was crossing the stream, but at this range it was not possible to identify the individual riders. Jim snatched the telescope out of her lap. He checked the angle of the sun with a glance, but the hut was already in shadow so there was no danger of a reflection from the lens. He refocused it swiftly.

  “Xhia the Bushman is leading them. I know that little swine of old. He is as cunning as a baboon and as dangerous as a wounded leopard. He and Bakkat are mortal enemies. Bakkat swears he killed his wife with wizard craft. He says Xhia charmed a mamba to sting her.”

  He traversed the telescope, and went on to describe what he was seeing: “Keyser is close behind Xhia. He is riding his grey. That’s another good horse. Keyser is a wealthy man, from the bribes he has taken and with what he has stolen from the VOC. He has one of the finest stables in Africa. He is not as soft as his big belly would suggest. They have arrived a full day sooner than Bakkat expected them.”

  Louise shrank a little closer to him. She felt the cold reptiles of fear slither down her back. She knew what would happen to her if she fell into Keyser’s hands.

  Jim moved the glass on. “That’s Captain Herminius Koots following Keyser. Sweet Mother Mary, there’s a naughty fellow for you! There are stories about Koots that would make you blush or faint. That’s Sergeant Oudeman, behind him. He is Koots’ boon companion, and they share the same tastes. What interests them mostly is gold and blood and what’s under a skirt.”

  “Jim Courtney, I’ll thank you not to talk like that. Remember, I am a woman.”

  “Then I’ll not have to explain it to you, will I, Hedgehog?” He grinned, and she tried to look severe, but he ignored her disapproval and reeled off the names of the other troopers following Keyser.

  “Corporals Richter and Le Riche are in the rear, bringing up the spare horses.” He counted ten in the little herd that followed the troop. “No wonder they’ve made such good time. With all those spares, they’ll be able to push us hard.”

  Then he snapped the telescope shut. “I’m going to explain what we have to do now. We have to lead Keyser away from the Gariep river where my father will be waiting for us with wagons and supplies. I’m sorry, but it’s going to mean running away like this for days and even weeks more. It will mean much more hard living, no tents or time to build a shelter, short rations once the eland meat runs out—unless we ca
n kill more, but at this season most of the game herds are down on the plains. With Keyser close behind us we won’t be able to hunt. It’s not going to be easy.”

  She hid her fears behind a smile, and a cheerful tone: “After the gundeck of the Meeuw it will seem like Paradise.” She rubbed the chain galls on her ankles. These injuries were healing: the scabs were peeling away, leaving fresh pink skin underneath. Bakkat had concocted a balm of eland fat and wild herbs for her that was proving almost miraculously efficacious.

  “I thought about sending you off to the Gariep with Zama to protect you and take you to the rendezvous with my father, while Bakkat and I led Keyser away, but when I discussed it with Bakkat we decided we could not take the risk. Keyser’s Bushman tracker is a magician. You and Zama could never elude him, even with Bakkat playing all the tricks he knows. Xhia would pick up your spoor at the place where we parted and Keyser wants you almost as much as he wants me.” His face darkened as he thought of her left without protection to the mercy of Keyser and Koots and Oudeman. “No, we will stay together.”

  She was surprised at how relieved she felt that he would not leave her.

  They watched as Keyser’s men searched the deserted hut, then remounted and set off up the valley following the cold trail they had left. They disappeared into the mountains.

  “They will return soon enough,” Jim predicted.

  It took Xhia three days to lead Keyser round the wide circuit of the spoor and return to the hills above Majuba. Jim had used this respite to graze and rest the horses and mules. While they waited Bakkat recovered his strength. His backside grew full and fat again while they watched the trail. At a little after noon on the third day, Keyser’s column appeared again, doggedly following the old spoor. As soon as Bakkat had them in sight, Jim and his party began to retreat further and further into the mountain fastness. He adjusted their pace to that of the pursuit: they kept far enough ahead of Keyser to keep him under observation and be alert to any sudden dash he might make, or to any other stratagem he and Xhia might conceive to take them unawares.

  Their order of march was to send Zama and Louisa ahead with the mules and the baggage. Zama set the best pace that the animals could sustain. They had to be allowed to graze and rest or they would soon weaken and break down. Fortunately the same restrictions on the rapidity of march applied to Keyser’s animals, although he had spare horses. Even so, Zama and Louisa were able to keep well out in front.

  Bakkat and Jim stayed under Keyser’s nose, shadowing him, keeping loose contact, but trying to make certain of his exact whereabouts at all times. Whenever the trail led over a ridge or crossed a watershed they waited on the high ground until Keyser’s troop came in sight. Before they moved on Jim counted horses and men through the telescope and made certain that none had detached.

  When night fell Bakkat would creep back to watch Keyser’s camp from the shadows in case he was planning mischief. He could not take Jim with him. Xhia was a constant danger and, skilled in bush lore as Jim might be, he was no match for Xhia in the darkness. With Louisa and Zama far ahead, Jim would eat alone at his own campfire, then leave it burning to mislead any watcher and slip away into the night, following the other two, guarding their back trail against a surprise attack.

  Before it was light Bakkat would break off his vigil over the enemy camp and hurry back to Jim. Then, all that day, they would resume the same order of retreat.

  Next morning Xhia was able to read all their movements when he studied the sign they had left. On the third night Keyser ordered a surprise attack. He set up camp at nightfall. His troopers secured the horses, ate their dinners and posted sentries, then the others rolled into their blankets and let the fires die down. They knew from Xhia’s observations that Bakkat must be spying on them. As soon as it was dark, Xhia led Koots and Oudeman silently and secretly out of camp. They circled out to try to slip past Bakkat, and surprise Jim at his campfire. But the two white men, even though they had removed their spurs and wrapped rags around their boots to deaden the sound, were no match for Bakkat. He heard every blundering step they took in the darkness. When Xhia and the two white men reached Jim’s campfire it was long deserted and the flames had burned down to embers.

  Two nights later Koots and Oudeman lay in wait for Bakkat well outside the perimeter of their camp. Bakkat had an animal instinct for survival. He smelt Koots from twenty paces: a white man’s sweat and stale cigar smoke have a distinctive aroma. Bakkat rolled a small boulder down the hillside on top of him. Both Koots and Oudeman blazed away with their muskets at the sound. The camp erupted with shouting and gunfire, and neither Keyser nor any of his men got much sleep for the rest of the night.

  The next day Jim and Bakkat were watching when the enemy mounted up and came after them again. “When will Keyser give up, and turn back to the colony?” Jim wondered.

  Running beside him, hanging on to a stirrup leather, Bakkat chuckled. “You should not have stolen his horse, Somoya. I think you have angered him, and made it a matter of pride. We will either have to kill him or give him the slip. But he will not give up before that.”

  “No killing, you bloodthirsty little devil. Abduction of a VOC convict and horse theft are bad enough. But even Governor van de Witten could not overlook the murder of his military commander. He would take it out on my family. My father—” Jim broke off. The consequences were too terrible to think about.

  “Keyser is no dumbhead,” Bakkat went on. “He knows by now that we are going to a meeting with your father. If he does not know where, all he has to do is follow us. If you are not going to kill him, you will need help from the Kulu Kulu himself to throw Xhia off our spoor. I could not be certain of doing it even if I were travelling alone. But now we are three men, a girl who has never been in the wilderness before, two horses and six loaded mules. What hope do we have against the eyes, nose and magic of Xhia?”

  They reached another ridgeline where they stopped to rest Drumfire and let the pursuit come in sight once again.

  “Where are we, Bakkat?” Jim rose in the stirrups and gazed around at the awe-inspiring chaos of mountain and valley that surrounded them.

  “This place has no name, for ordinary men do not come here, unless they are lost or mad.”

  “Then which way are the sea and the colony?” He found it difficult to keep a sense of direction in the maze of the mountains.

  Bakkat pointed without hesitation, and Jim squinted at the sun to check his bearings, but he did not question Bakkat’s infallibility. “How far?”

  “Not far if you ride on an eagle’s back.” Bakkat shrugged. “Perhaps eight days if you know the road, and travel fast.”

  “Keyser must be running out of supplies by now. Even we are down to the last bag of chagga, and twenty pounds of maize meal.”

  “He will eat his spare horses before he gives up and lets you go to the meeting with your father,” Bakkat predicted.

  Late that afternoon they watched, from a safe distance, as Sergeant Oudeman selected one of the horses from the remount herd and led it into a ravine near where Keyser’s troop were camped. While Oudeman held its head, and Richter and Le Riche stropped their knives on a rock, Koots checked the flint and priming in his pistol. Then he walked up to the animal and placed the muzzle against the white blaze on its forehead. The shot was muted but the horse dropped instantly and kicked convulsively.

  “Horse steaks for dinner,” Jim murmured. “And Keyser has food for another week at the least.” He lowered his telescope. “Bakkat, we cannot go on like this much longer. My father will not wait for ever at the Gariep.”

  “How many horses do they have left?” Bakkat asked as he picked his nose thoughtfully, and examined what he had excavated.

  Jim lifted the glass again and ran it over the distant herd. “…sixteen, seventeen, eighteen,” he counted. “Eighteen, including Keyser’s grey.” He studied Bakkat’s face, but it was innocent. “The horses? Yes, of course!” he exclaimed. Bakkat’s studied expression
broke and his face creased into an impish grin. “Yes. Their horses are the only way for us to attack them.”

  The pursuit drove them on relentlessly into wild country where not even Bakkat had ventured before. Twice they saw game—once a herd of four eland crossing the skyline, then fifty beautiful bluebuck in a single herd together. But if they had turned aside to pursue the animals they would have lost ground and the gunfire would have brought Keyser and his troopers on at full tilt—he would be with them before they could butcher their kill. If they shot one of the mules, the same thing would happen. They rode on with the last of their provisions almost gone. Jim hoarded the last handful of coffee beans.

  Gradually the pace Zama could maintain with Louisa and the mules fell off. The gap between the two parties dwindled until Jim and Bakkat caught up with them. Still Keyser’s troopers came on apace, so that Jim’s little band had more and more difficulty holding them off. Fresh horse steaks grilled over the fire seemed to have restored the strength and determination of Keyser’s troopers. Louisa was flagging. She had been emaciated before the chase began, and now, with little food and rest, she was nearing the limit of her endurance.

  To add to Jim’s worries other hunters had joined the chase. Sleeping fitfully in the darkness, cold and hungry, unable to afford time during daylight even to collect firewood, expecting at any moment that Keyser’s men might creep up on them, they were startled awake by a terrible sound. Louisa screamed before she could stop herself.

  “What is that?”

  Jim leaped out of his fur kaross and went to her. He put an arm round her shoulders. She was so terrified that she did not pull away. The sound came again: a series of deep grunts, each louder than the last, crescendoing into a thunder that echoed and rolled off the dark mountains.