by James Whyle
When the Captain had recovered he looked at the chieftain.
I have been led to this interview, he said, because I want to stop any further shedding of blood.
Johnny Fingo conveyed the sentiment and the chieftain spoke in turn.
He also doesn’t want blood.
The Captain looked into the chieftain’s eyes and his gaze did not waver while he spoke.
The last engagements between my people and yours have been more like the slaughtering of cattle than honest struggle. You have no ammunition. You have few guns left. It is madness to believe that a chewed root that has been blessed by a prophet will drive us into the sea. It is your duty, and worthy of the respect in which you are held, to order your followers to stop sacrificing themselves.
Johnny Fingo looked at the Captain and shook his head.
Tell him, said the Captain.
The chieftain looked at Johnny Fingo and Johnny Fingo spoke and the chieftain’s face remained impassive as he listened and then he spoke quietly in turn.
He says, said Johnny Fingo, that it was not him who began the war. He says that many years ago his father defended his home against Umlungus twelve days west of here. He says there have been many wars and they fought only to defend their homes. They have been driven from one place to another and there is nothing left but mountains. He says that they are not mountain people. They are people of the lowlands where there is grass for cattle that is not sour in winter. He says that the good land is given to Umlungus and to Fingos. He says that if the chieftain of the Gaika is willing he will go with him to General Cathcart and explain. He says that General Cathcart is not like the last general. General Cathcart is a real chieftain and that he trusts that General Cathcart will give him a place to live. He wants land here in the valleys where he first learnt to hunt. He says that this is where he formed his own tribe when his brother’s crippled timid child became chieftain of the Gaika.
The Captain looked at the chieftain and he nodded.
Tell him, said the Captain, that I will pass on his message to General Cathcart.
Johnny Fingo obeyed and the chieftain spoke once more.
He says he is leaving two teachers.
Teachers?
He says they came to help him but he does not want them.
Where are they?
Up there.
Johnny Fingo pointed up into the forest.
The chieftain held out his hand to the princess and she stepped forward and stood beside him and then he and his retinue left by the way that the irregulars had come and only when they had passed out of rifle range did the Hottentot snipers put down their arms and follow.
When they were gone the Captain and Lieutenant Bruce went up the path into the forest and came after a short steep climb to a curious and well-concealed retreat. They passed between the cliff face and a great oblong of rock and found themselves in a great cavern of overhanging rock. There were cooking places in stone circles and the floor was covered in the most sheltered places with beds of dry grass. There was a further chamber which had been used to sleep in and in this chamber the officers found the God-struck Lieutenant and the disordered missionary lying bound hand and foot.
The day continued clear but the little plateau and its fringe of forest lost the sun early and the irregulars spent the afternoon in making a comfortable camp. The shadow of Mount Misery stretched out like a blade over the narrow ridge and over the Southern Twin valley and as darkness fell the men were bringing in wood and piling it next to a circle of stones at the edge of the forest.
The Captain and Lieutenant Bruce had arranged a private hearth under a tree and were putting up their patrol tents when Herrid called and took the Captain to a tree near the irregulars’ fire.
Here you go, Skipper, he said.
The Captain looked where Herrid had indicated. The light was dim and at first he could not make out the nature of the dark mound which lay embraced by the roots of the tree.
They got twelve, said Herrid.
The Captain saw that it was a pile of heads. There were a variety of shapes and sizes in varying stages of decay and some were children’s and one had belonged to a woman. Her face stared up at the Captain with a startled expression as though she had been immodestly surprised in a state of nakedness. The Captain held her gaze for some time.
Doctor Anderson only wanted a single skull, he said.
There’s others who’d like one, Skipper. I know Colonel Ire will want one.
I understand. But they’ll not want them in this condition. They’ll just want the skulls.
Herrid stared down at the heads.
I’ll see what we can do, he said.
He turned to go and then he stopped and looked back.
Skipper?
Yes?
Can we use your vat?
The joiner set up his spit above a fire and Providence slaughtered the fatter of the two remaining oxen and Herrid had the barrel of Cape Smoke rolled out and breached and the men commenced to drink.
The Captain and Lieutenant Bruce sat at their fire with a bottle of brandy.
Will you pass on Jinqi’s message, asked the Lieutenant.
Yes. But I doubt the General will consider it any more than he did Branders’ message.
And the prisoners?
The Captain saw the kid passing and called him.
I don’t know what they’ll do with the missionary, he said to Bruce. But Lieutenant Rousseau is guilty of treason.
He’ll have to hang.
Yes, said the Captain. He’ll have to hang.
He turned to the kid.
Go up to the cave and take the prisoners some water. And tell Waine to make sure they get some food.
Right Skipper, said the kid.
The kid left to get water and the Captain watched him go.
Where did you find him, asked Lieutenant Bruce.
In the gutters of Cape Town, said the Captain. Along with the rest of them.
The kid fetched two water bottles from the mules and he walked up to the cave and looked about. A small fire had been made at the northern side of the cavern and the two prisoners lay against the wall beyond it. The kid went to the fire and squatted and he pushed the logs closer together and added another from the pile and blew until the flames danced up.
Someone’s coming with food, he said.
He rose and opened a water bottle and he held it so that the God-struck Lieutenant could drink. The Lieutenant drank and thanked the kid and then the kid did the same for the disordered missionary.
I remember you, he said. From Gatestown. I’d know your hide in a tanyard.
The disordered missionary hissed and he gestured behind with his chin.
Look, he said. Look there.
The kid lifted up a brand and saw in its flickering light that there were paintings on the wall. There were antelope and a great beast with a horn upon its nose like a unicorn and odd stick figures. There was one who seemed to hover above the animals and men, a floating figure all pierced with lances.
That’s Christ.
The kid pointed.
That thing?
The wounded warrior. Nailed upon the stone. They knew him ten thousand years before he came.
The kid looked at the painting and then he spat. He turned to the Lieutenant.
They’re going to hang you, he said.
Yes, said the Lieutenant. I know.
We must not long for martyrdom, said the missionary. It is a sin.
The kid looked at him.
Come. Come here. I want to tell you something.
The kid approached and squatted.
Look at me.
The kid did as instructed.
What you see, write in a book.
I can’t write, said the kid.
The missionary growled in his throat.
Or read.
Write ye a book of woe.
A what?
A book of woe. Send it to the seven churches. Send it to Sume
r and to Ur. Send it to Sana’a and to Harar and to Timbuktoo.
I don’t know what you talking about, said the kid. I never heard of those places.
Write to the brethren that they might know.
The kid began to stand but the disordered missionary hissed again and pulled him back with his eyes. He spoke soft and low and he did it like a man who knows his position and his destination exact.
Tell them that the stars are the souls of warriors who have earned in blood the right to shine and only when we are unified in sacrifice of blood can the world own us. Tell them that they must rejoice burning. Tell them that the bravest and the best rejoice burning.
The kid shook his head.
You said we’d die if we went onto the Kromme.
Hell’s not half full yet, said the missionary. They don’t worship their ancestors.
Who?
They venerate them. They worship the same God as you.
He stared up at the kid and his eyes were full of rage. The kid shook his head. He turned from the lunatic and he spoke with the Lieutenant.
Everyone’s drunk, he said.
He pointed down to the camp.
They all drunk.
Drunk or mad, said the Lieutenant.
You can walk away, said the kid. The guards will go to sleep and you can walk away.
The Lieutenant looked at the kid and his eyes narrowed.
When they come with the food, keep your hands hidden. You’ll find a way out. Don’t go that way.
He pointed north.
There’s a cliff.
He unsheathed his dirk.
Sit forward.
The Lieutenant obeyed and the kid started to cut through his bonds. He made a small sound of negation and the kid stopped cutting and looked behind him.
Waine stood in the dim moonlight on the far side of the cave. He held his rifle ready at his hip and pointing at the kid.
You’ll hang with him, he said.
XXIX
A future in Africa – The kid descends – Dumplings.
DOWN BELOW THE CAVE the irregulars sat around the Captain’s vat which balanced on rocks in the fire and they drank Cape Smoke from their water bottles and chewed on beef which was tough but succulent and nicely roasted on the joiner’s rotisserie.
Higgs and Basson put their names down, said Evans. They told them they’d get farms as soon as the war was over.
Where?
On the Big Fat. Up on the edge of the mountains where there’s water. And good wood to build with.
The joiner looked at Higgs.
This true?
They put us on the list, said Higgs. There’s going to be English villages all over the place.
And schools, said Basson. And heathens to do the digging.
You better get women, said the joiner. Because heathen men don’t dig.
What do they do?
Admire their cattle. And fight. Like Dutchmen.
The men sat there in a circle and stared at the flames which danced about the sooty copper surface of the vat.
I’m going to apply, said Evans. Albert Evans. Esquire. Land owner.
The joiner spat.
Take me a little Dutch girl for a wife.
She’ll be in trouble, said Higgs.
He pointed at Evans.
He’s hornier than a two-headed goat.
Just ask the Tottie girls in Fort Cox, said Clayton. And he rubbed with his stump at his eye where some ash had landed.
Evans is nearly as bad as Providence the Fingo, said Basson. Have you seen the tackle on that thing?
Who hasn’t, said Higgs. It’s not like he hides it.
It’s uglier than Clayton’s arm there.
Pity the poor woman he tries to fit that into.
The kid came down out of the trees and picked his way in the dimness across the grass and walked into the light of the fire.
Where’s Waine?
I don’t know.
The kid gestured behind him.
I think he’s taking food.
Evans lifted a water bottle and held it out.
Drink, he said.
The kid took the bottle and drank.
Steady there, said Evans. The barrel is half empty.
Half full, said the joiner.
The kid drank on and he lifted the bottle so that the last few drops fell into his mouth. He threw the bottle back to Evans and Evans caught it and looked at it for a moment and then he put it aside and picked up another.
Next time, he said, fill your own up.
The kid stepped forward to the fire and held his hands down toward the flames and looked into the vat.
How the apple dumplings, said Higgs.
The what?
The apple dumplings.
He pointed.
In there.
The kid looked down again and the scum on the vat’s surface bubbled and foamed and a grey shredding face appeared there and stared out gravely and turned away and sank to be replaced by another as though those who roiled within were eager for a glimpse into this world of ours and took their turns when they could.
How they doing, said Evans.
I don’t know, said the kid. How do you know when they done?
They done when it’s all peeled off, said Higgs. When there’s just bone.
The kid looked again and a dark shape came up and a face stared vacantly at him for a moment and then it turned away and sank again beneath the foam.
XXX
Jewels – Disappearances considered – Gift from a Dutchman – Shadows on the plain.
WHEN THE SUN ROSE on the day following the irregulars lay about and groaned as the bugle roused them. Evans coughed for a long time and then he retched. He kicked the kid and the kid rolled away and curled like a foetus and held his head cradled in his hands.
Herrid called and beckoned and the kid and the joiner and Evans rose and helped him tip the vat over. They stood grimy and hurting and shattered and they watched the thin grey gruel run out and drain away. The twelve skulls lay wet and white and pristine upon the wet black coals. The marauders stood in the dawn light and stared. The skulls shone and gleamed like alabaster treasures poured out onto a velvet cloth. Strange grinning masks, they seemed to have gained from their sojourn in the waters some satisfying knowledge with which they returned to mock the men who had boiled them.
You’d never know who they belonged to, said the joiner.
His voice was strangely low. He pointed.
That could be anyone. Could be General Cathcart for all we know.
They heard a cry from above and then Basson came down from the cave and told Herrid that the prisoners were gone.
The Captain went up with the Sergeant Major and Lieutenant Bruce and they found the cave deserted and the fire dead. They examined the ground and noted the marks of a scuffle.
Who was on guard, said the Captain.
Waine, said Herrid. He was meant to bring them food and stay on till midnight.
Who was to relieve him?
Basson. He says no one woke him.
Where is Waine?
Herrid went down to the encampment and gave the order to fall in and he held a roll call and all were present except Waine.
The irregulars stood about and waited and Herrid questioned the kid.
You didn’t see him?
Waine?
Yes. Waine.
No. Told him to get food. Then I took the water up.
And then.
Then I came down.
He rubbed the back of his hand against his nose and then he turned aside and spat.
Everyone was drunk.
Herrid took the information to the Captain and Lieutenant Bruce where the two men were saddling their horses.
They must have freed their hands, said Lieutenant Bruce. And overcome him.
The swine threw him over the cliff, Skipper, said Herrid.
Yes, said the Captain. Thank you, Herrid. Carry on.
Her
rid turned and went back down to clear the camp.
He’s no loss, said Lieutenant Bruce.
Waine is no loss. But Lieutenant Rousseau was meant to hang.
What do we do?
The Captain went and stood before the paintings on the wall and examined them.
I suppose that what the army doesn’t know, he said, its heart won’t grieve over.
Waine stood on a nail. He got lockjaw.
I think so. We won’t mention the others.
The little force moved out and came down onto the forest pass and turned north and went out across the highlands and they came to Post Retief in the late afternoon. The Captain and Lieutenant Bruce caroused with the officers there and the irregulars shared the last of the Cape Smoke with acquaintances from their last occupation.
They assembled on the day following and the six Dutchmen took their leave. The Captain asked them if there was anything they’d like to take and the youngest of them pointed to a belt he had seen with the Captain’s equipment.
Hij is niet getrouwd, said the elder Dutchman. He hope it will … hij hoop om indruk te maken. Met een meisje.
Dorothea Becker, said another. He hope it make her happy.
The young Dutchman blushed beneath his grime and he looked like a freshly turned beetroot with a hat on it.
The elder Dutchman turned to the Captain.
Ons wil nou vertrekken, he said.
Het was een eer om met jy te vechten, said the Captain.
The Dutchman pointed to the kid’s rifle.
Jy sal geen kogels daarvoor vindt, he said. Wanneer jy alleen gaat.
He took a great flintlock from its sheath on his saddle and gave it to the kid.
Met deze kun jy lood kopen en jou eie maaken.
The kid held the piece in his hands and felt the extraordinary weight of it and then he looked up at the Dutchman.
Dank u, he said.
The Dutchmen mounted their horses and lifted their hats in the air and replaced them on their heads.
Why they give the gun to him, said Higgs.
You never know, said the joiner, with a Dutchman.
The riders spurred their horses and rode away to the north. The kid held the great weapon in his hands and he watched as they cantered across the plain and grew smaller and after a time they became like unsubstantial things, beings imagined perhaps by the desolation endemic to those highlands and proving at the last to be no more than illusions conjured by specks of cloud and the shifting wind.