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CHAPTER VII - THE RUSH OF THE SLAVES
Well, we did all that we could in the way of making ready. After we
had strengthened the thorn fence of our /boma/ as much as possible and
lit several large fires outside of it to give us light, I allotted his
place to each of the hunters and saw that their rifles were in order
and that they had plenty of ammunition. Then I made Stephen lie down
to sleep, telling him that I would wake him to watch later on. This,
however, I had no intention of doing as I wanted him to rise fresh and
with a steady nerve on the occasion of his first fight.
As soon as I saw that his eyes were shut I sat down on a box to think.
To tell the truth, I was not altogether happy in my mind. To begin
with I did not know how the twenty bearers would behave under fire.
They might be seized with panic and rush about, in which case I
determined to let them out of the /boma/ to take their chance, for
panic is a catching thing.
A worse matter was our rather awkward position. There were a good many
trees round the camp among which an attacking force could take cover.
But what I feared much more than this, or even than the reedy banks of
the stream along which they could creep out of reach of our bullets,
was a sloping stretch of land behind us, covered with thick grass and
scrub and rising to a crest about two hundred yards away. Now if the
Arabs got round to this crest they would fire straight into our /boma/
and make it untenable. Also if the wind were in their favour, they
might burn us out or attack under the clouds of smoke. As a matter of
fact, by the special mercy of Providence, none of these things
happened, for a reason which I will explain presently.
In the case of a night, or rather a dawn attack, I have always found
that hour before the sky begins to lighten very trying indeed. As a
rule everything that can be done is done, so that one must sit idle.
Also it is then that both the physical and the moral qualities are at
their lowest ebb, as is the mercury in the thermometer. The night is
dying, the day is not yet born. All nature feels the influence of that
hour. Then bad dreams come, then infants wake and call, then memories
of those who are lost to us arise, then the hesitating soul often
takes its plunge into the depths of the Unknown. It is not wonderful,
therefore, that on this occasion the wheels of Time drave heavily for
me. I knew that the morning was at hand by many signs. The sleeping
bearers turned and muttered in their sleep, a distant lion ceased its
roaring and departed to its own place, an alert-minded cock crew
somewhere, and our donkeys rose and began to pull at their tether-
ropes. As yet, however, it was quite dark. Hans crept up to me; I saw
his wrinkled, yellow face in the light of the watch-fire.
"I smell the dawn," he said and vanished again.
Mavovo appeared, his massive frame silhouetted against the blackness.
"Watcher-by-Night, the night is done," he said. "If they come at all,
the enemy should soon be here."
Saluting, he too passed away into the dark, and presently I heard the
sounds of spear-blades striking together and of rifles being cocked.
I went to Stephen and woke him. He sat up yawning, muttered something
about greenhouses; then remembering, said:
"Are those Arabs coming? We are in for a fight at last. Jolly, old
fellow, isn't it?"
"You are a jolly old fool!" I answered inconsequently; and marched off
in a rage.
My mind was uneasy about this inexperienced young man. If anything
should happen to him, what should I say to his father? Well, in that
event, it was probable that something would happen to me too. Very
possibly we should both be dead in an hour. Certainly I had no
intention of allowing myself to be taken alive by those slaving
devils. Hassan's remarks about fires and ant-heaps and the sun were
too vividly impressed upon my memory.
In another five minutes everybody was up, though it required kicks to
rouse most of the bearers from their slumbers. They, poor men, were
accustomed to the presence of Death and did not suffer him to disturb
their sleep. Still I noted that they muttered together and seemed
alarmed.
"If they show signs of treachery, you must kill them," I said to
Mavovo, who nodded in his grave, silent fashion.
Only we left the rescued slave-woman and her child plunged in the
stupor of exhaustion in a corner of the camp. What was the use of
disturbing her?
Sammy, who seemed far from comfortable, brought two pannikins of
coffee to Stephen and myself.
"This is a momentous occasion, Messrs. Quatermain and Somers," he said
as he gave us the coffee, and I noted that his hand shook and his
teeth chattered. "The cold is extreme," he went on in his copybook
English by way of explaining these physical symptoms which he saw I
had observed. "Mr. Quatermain, it is all very well for you to paw the
ground and smell the battle from afar, as is written in the Book of
Job. But I was not brought up to the trade and take it otherwise.
Indeed I wish I was back at the Cape, yes, even within the whitewashed
walls of the Place of Detention."
"So do I," I muttered, keeping my right foot on the ground with
difficulty.
But Stephen laughed outright and asked:
"What will you do, Sammy, when the fighting begins?"
"Mr. Somers," he answered, "I have employed some wakeful hours in
making a hole behind that tree-trunk, through which I hope bullets
will not pass. There, being a man of peace, I shall pray for our
success."
"And if the Arabs get in, Sammy?"
"Then, sir, under Heaven, I shall trust to the fleetness of my legs."
I could stand it no longer, my right foot flew up and caught Sammy in
the place at which I had aimed. He vanished, casting a reproachful
look behind him.
Just then a terrible clamour arose in the slavers' camp which hitherto
had been very silent, and just then also the first light of dawn
glinted on the barrels of our guns.
"Look out!" I cried, as I gulped down the last of my coffee, "there's
something going on there."
The clamour grew louder and louder till it seemed to fill the skies
with a concentrated noise of curses and shrieking. Distinct from it,
as it were, I heard shouts of alarm and rage, and then came the sounds
of gunshots, yells of agony and the thud of many running feet. By now
the light was growing fast, as it does when once it comes in these
latitudes. Three more minutes, and through the grey mist of the dawn
we saw dozens of black figures struggling up the slope towards us.
Some seemed to have logs of wood tied behind them, others crawled
along on all fours, others dragged children by the hand, and all
yelled at the top of their voices.
"The slaves are attacking us," said Stephen, lifting his rifle.
"Don't shoot," I cried. "I think they have broken loose and are taking
refuge with us."
I was right. These unfortunates had used the two knives which our men
smuggled to them to good purpose. Having cut their bonds during the
night they were running to seek the protection of the Englishmen and
their flag. On they surged, a hideous mob, the slave-sticks still fast
to the necks of many of them, for they had not found time or
opportunity to loose them all, while behind came the Arabs firing. The
position was clearly very serious, for if they burst into our camp, we
should be overwhelmed by their rush and fall victims to the bullets of
their captors.
"Hans," I cried, "take the men who were with you last night and try to
lead those slaves round behind us. Quick! Quick now before we are
stamped flat."
Hans darted away, and presently I saw him and the two other men
running towards the approaching crowd, Hans waving a shirt or some
other white object to attract their attention. At the time the
foremost of them had halted and were screaming, "Mercy, English! Save
us, English!" having caught sight of the muzzles of our guns.
This was a fortunate occurrence indeed, for otherwise Hans and his
companions could never have stopped them. The next thing I saw was the
white shirt bearing away to the left on a line which led past the
fence of our /boma/ into the scrub and high grass behind the camp.
After it struggled and scrambled the crowd of slaves like a flock of
sheep after the bell-wether. To them Hans's shirt was a kind of "white
helmet of Navarre."
So that danger passed by. Some of the slaves had been struck by the
Arab bullets or trodden down in the rush or collapsed from weakness,
and at those of them who still lived the pursuers were firing. One
woman, who had fallen under the weight of the great slave-stick which
was fastened about her throat, was crawling forward on her hands and
knees. An Arab fired at her and the bullet struck the ground under her
stomach but without hurting her, for she wriggled forward more
quickly. I was sure that he would shoot again, and watched. Presently,
for by now the light was good, I saw him, a tall fellow in a white
robe, step from behind the shelter of a banana-tree about a hundred
and fifty yards away, and take a careful aim at the woman. But I too
took aim and--well, I am not bad at this kind of snap-shooting when I
try. That Arab's gun never went off. Only he went up two feet or more
into the air and fell backwards, shot through the head which was the
part of his person that I had covered.
The hunters uttered a low "/Ow!/" of approval, while Stephen, in a
sort of ecstasy, exclaimed:
"Oh! what a heavenly shot!"
"Not bad, but I shouldn't have fired it," I answered, "for they
haven't attacked us yet. It is a kind of declaration of war, and," I
added, as Stephen's sun-helmet leapt from his head, "there's the
answer. Down, all of you, and fire through the loopholes."
Then the fight began. Except for its grand finale it wasn't really
much of a fight when compared with one or two we had afterwards on
this expedition. But, on the other hand, its character was extremely
awkward for us. The Arabs made one rush at the beginning, shouting on
Allah as they came. But though they were plucky villains they did not
repeat that experiment. Either by good luck or good management Stephen
knocked over two of them with his double-barrelled rifle, and I also
emptied my large-bore breech-loader--the first I ever owned--among
them, not without results, while the hunters made a hit or two.
After this the Arabs took cover, getting behind trees and, as I had
feared, hiding in the reeds on the banks of the stream. Thence they
harassed us a great deal, for amongst them were some very decent
shots. Indeed, had we not taken the precaution of lining the thorn
fence with a thick bank of earth and sods, we should have fared badly.
As it was, one of the hunters was killed, the bullet passing through
the loophole and striking him in the throat as he was about to fire,
while the unfortunate bearers who were on rather higher ground,
suffered a good deal, two of them being dispatched outright and four
wounded. After this I made the rest of them lie flat on the ground
close against the fence, in such a fashion that we could fire over
their bodies.
Soon it became evident that there were more of these Arabs than we had
thought, for quite fifty of them were firing from different places.
Moreover, by slow degrees they were advancing with the evident object
of outflanking us and gaining the high ground behind. Some of them, of
course, we stopped as they rushed from cover to cover, but this kind
of shooting was as difficult as that at bolting rabbits across a
woodland ride, and to be honest, I must say that I alone was much good
at the game, for here my quick eye and long practice told.
Within an hour the position had grown very serious indeed, so much so
that we found it necessary to consider what should be done. I pointed
out that with our small number a charge against the scattered
riflemen, who were gradually surrounding us, would be worse than
useless, while it was almost hopeless to expect to hold the /boma/
till nightfall. Once the Arabs got behind us, they could rake us from
the higher ground. Indeed, for the last half-hour we had directed all
our efforts to preventing them from passing this /boma/, which,
fortunately, the stream on the one side and a stretch of quite open
land on the other made it very difficult for them to do without more
loss than they cared to face.
"I fear there is only one thing for it," I said at length, during a
pause in the attack while the Arabs were either taking counsel or
waiting for more ammunition, "to abandon the camp and everything and
bolt up the hill. As those fellows must be tired and we are all good
runners, we may save our lives in that way."
"How about the wounded," asked Stephen, "and the slave-woman and
child?"
"I don't know," I answered, looking down.
Of course I did know very well, but here, in an acute form, arose the
ancient question: Were we to perish for the sake of certain
individuals in whom we had no great interest and whom we could not
save by remaining with them? If we stayed where we were our end seemed
fairly certain, whereas if we ran for it, we had a good chance of
escape. But this involved the desertion of several injured bearers and
a woman and child whom we had picked up starving, all of whom would
certainly be massacred, save perhaps the woman and child.
As these reflections flitted through my brain I remembered that a
drunken Frenchman named Leblanc, whom I had known in my youth and who
had been a friend of Napoleon, or so he said, told me that the great
emperor when he was besieging Acre in the Holy Land, was forced to
retreat. Being unable to carry off his wounded men, he left them in a
monastery on Mount Carmel, each with a dose of poison by his side.
Apparently they did not take the poison, for according to Leblanc, who
said he was present there (not as a wounded man), the Turks came and
butchered them. So Napoleon chose to save his own life and that of his
army at the expense of his wounded. But, after all, I reflected, he
was no shining example to Christian men and I hadn't time to find any
poison. In a few words I explained the situation to Mavovo, leaving
out the story of Napoleon, and asked his advice.
"We must run," he answered. "Although I do not like running, life is
more than stores, and he who lives may one day pay his debts."
"But the wounded, Mavovo; we cannot carry them."
"I will see to them, Macumazana; it is the fortune of war. Or if they
prefer it, we can leave them--to be nursed by the Arabs," which of
course was just Napoleon and his poison over again.
I confess that I was about to assent, not wishing that I and Stephen,
especially Stephen, should be potted in an obscure engagement with
some miserable slave-traders, when something happened.
It will be remembered that shortly after dawn Hans, using a shirt for
a flag, had led the fugitive slaves past the camp up to the hill
behind. There he and they had vanished, and from that moment to this
we had seen nothing of him or them. Now of a sudden he reappeared
still waving the shirt. After him rushed a great mob of naked men, two
hundred of them perhaps, brandishing slave-sticks, stones and the
boughs of trees. When they had almost reached the /boma/ whence we
watched them amazed, they split into two bodies, half of them passing
to our left, apparently under the command of the Mazitu who had
accompanied Hans to the slave-camp, and the other half to the right
following the old Hottentot himself. I stared at Mavovo, for I was too
thunderstruck to speak.
"Ah!" said Mavovo, "that Spotted Snake of yours" (he referred to
Hans), "is great in his own way, for he has even been able to put
courage into the hearts of slaves. Do you not understand, my father,
that they are about to attack those Arabs, yes, and to pull them down,
as wild dogs do a buffalo calf?"
It was true: this was the Hottentot's superb design. Moreover, it
succeeded. Up on the hillside he had watched the progress of the fight
and seen how it must end. Then, through the interpreter who was with
him, he harangued those slaves, pointing out to them that we, their
white friends, were about to be overwhelmed, and that they must either
strike for themselves, or return to the yoke. Among them were some who
had been warriors in their own tribes, and through these he stirred
the others. They seized the slave-sticks from which they had been
freed, pieces of rock, anything that came to their hands, and at a
given signal charged, leaving only the women and children behind them.
Seeing them come the scattered Arabs began to fire at them, killing
some, but thereby revealing their own hiding-places. At these the
slaves rushed. They hurled themselves upon the Arabs; they tore them,
they dashed out their brains in such fashion that within another five
minutes quite two-thirds of them were dead; and the rest, of whom we
took some toll with our rifles as they bolted from cover, were in full
flight.
It was a terrible vengeance. Never did I witness a more savage scene
than that of these outraged men wreaking their wrongs upon their
tormentors. I remember that when most of the Arabs had been killed and
a few were escaped, the slaves found one, I think it was the captain
of the gang, who had hidden himself in a little patch of dead reeds
washed up by the stream. Somehow they managed to fire these; I expect
that Hans, who had remained discreetly in the background after the
fighting began, emerged when it was over and gave them a match. In due
course out came the wretched Arab. Then they flung themselves on him
as marching ants do upon a caterpillar, and despite his cries for
mercy, tore him to fragments, literally to fragments. Being what they
were, it was hard to blame them. If we had seen our parents shot, our
infants pitilessly butchered, our homes destroyed and our women and
children marched off in the slave-sticks to be sold into bondage,
should we not have done the same? I think so, although we are not
ignorant savages.
Thus our lives were saved by those whom we had tried to save, and for
once justice was done even in those dark parts of Africa, for in that
time they were dark indeed. Had it not been for Hans and the courage
which he managed to inspire into the hearts of these crushed blacks, I
have little doubt but that before nightfall we should have been dead,
for I do not think that any attempt at retreat would have proved
successful. And if it had, what would have happened to us in that wild
country surrounded by enemies and with only the few rounds of
ammunition that we could have carried in our flight?
"Ah! Baas," said the Hottentot a little while later, squinting at me
with his bead-like eyes, "after all you did well to listen to my
prayer and bring me with you. Old Hans is a drunkard, yes, or at least
he used to be, and old Hans gambles, yes, and perhaps old Hans will go
to hell. But meanwhile old Hans can think, as he thought one day
before the attack on Maraisfontein, as he thought one day on the Hill
of Slaughter by Dingaan's kraal, and as he thought this morning up
there among the bushes. Oh! he knew how it must end. He saw that those
dogs of Arabs were cutting down a tree to make a bridge across that
deep stream and get round to the high ground at the back of you,
whence they would have shot you all in five minutes. And now, Baas, my
stomach feels very queer. There was no breakfast on the hillside and
the sun was very hot. I think that just one tot of brandy--oh! I know,
I promised not to drink, but if /you/ give it me the sin is yours, not
mine."
Well, I gave him the tot, a stiff one, which he drank quite neat,
although it was against my principles, and locked up the bottle
afterwards. Also I shook the old fellow's hand and thanked him, which
seemed to please him very much, for he muttered something to the
effect that it was nothing, since if I had died he would have died
too, and therefore he was thinking of himself, not of me. Also two big
tears trickled down his snub nose, but these may have been produced by
the brandy.
Well, we were the victors and elated as may be imagined, for we knew
that the few slavers who had escaped would not attack us again. Our
first thought was for food, for it was now past midday and we were
starving. But dinner presupposed a cook, which reminded us of Sammy.
Stephen, who was in such a state of jubilation that he danced rather
than walked, the helmet with a bullet-hole through it stuck
ludicrously upon the back of his head, started to look for him, and
presently called to me in an alarmed voice. I went to the back of the
camp and, staring into a hole like a small grave, that had been
hollowed behind a solitary thorn tree, at the bottom of which lay a
huddled heap, I found him. It was Sammy to all appearance. We got hold
of him, and up he came, limp, senseless, but still holding in his hand
a large, thick Bible, bound in boards. Moreover, in the exact centre
of this Bible was a bullet-hole, or rather a bullet which had passed
through the stout cover and buried itself in the paper behind. I
remember that the point of it reached to the First Book of Samuel.
As for Sammy himself, he seemed to be quite uninjured, and indeed
after we had poured some water on him--he was never fond of water--he
revived quickly enough. Then we found out what had happened.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I was seated in my place of refuge, being as I
have told you a man of peace, enjoying the consolation of religion"--
he was very pious in times of trouble. "At length the firing
slackened, and I ventured to peep out, thinking that perhaps the foe
had fled, holding the Book in front of my face in case of accidents.
After that I remember no more."
"No," said Stephen, "for the bullet hit the Bible and the Bible hit
your head and knocked you silly."
"Ah!" said Sammy, "how true is what I was taught that the Book shall
be a shield of defence to the righteous. Now I understand why I was
moved to bring the thick old Bible that belonged to my mother in
heaven, and not the little thin one given to me by the Sunday school
teacher, through which the ball of the enemy would have passed."
Then he went off to cook the dinner.
Certainly it was a wonderful escape, though whether this was a direct
reward of his piety, as he thought, is another matter.
As soon as we had eaten, we set to work to consider our position, of
which the crux was what to do with the slaves. There they sat in
groups outside the fence, many of them showing traces of the recent
conflict, and stared at us stupidly. Then of a sudden, as though with
one voice, they began to clamour for food.
"How are we to feed several hundred people?" asked Stephen.
"The slavers must have done it somehow," I answered. "Let's go and
search their camp."
So we went, followed by our hungry clients, and, in addition to many
more things, to our delight found a great store of rice, mealies and
other grain, some of which was ground into meal. Of this we served out
an ample supply together with salt, and soon the cooking pots were
full of porridge. My word! how those poor creatures did eat, nor,
although it was necessary to be careful, could we find it in our
hearts to stint them of the first full meal that had passed their lips
after weeks of starvation. When at length they were satisfied we
addressed them, thanking them for their bravery, telling them that
they were free and asking what they meant to do.
Upon this point they seemed to have but one idea. They said that they
would come with us who were their protectors. Then followed a great
/indaba/, or consultation, which really I have not time to set out.
The end of it was that we agreed that so many of them as wished should
accompany us till they reached country that they knew, when they would
be at liberty to depart to their own homes. Meanwhile we divided up
the blankets and other stores of the Arabs, such as trade goods and
beads, among them, and then left them to their own devices, after
placing a guard over the foodstuffs. For my part I hoped devoutly that
in the morning we should find them gone.
After this we returned to our /boma/ just in time to assist at a sad
ceremony, that of the burial of my hunter who had been shot through
the head. His companions had dug a deep hole outside the fence and
within a few yards of where he fell. In this they placed him in a
sitting position with his face turned towards Zululand, setting by his
side two gourds that belonged to him, one filled with water and the
other with grain. Also they gave him a blanket and his two assegais,
tearing the blanket and breaking the handles of the spears, to "kill"
them as they said. Then quietly enough they threw in the earth about
him and filled the top of the hole with large stones to prevent the
hyenas from digging him up. This done, one by one, they walked past
the grave, each man stopping to bid him farewell by name. Mavovo, who
came last, made a little speech, telling the deceased to /namba
kachle/, that is, go comfortably to the land of ghosts, as, he added,
no doubt he would do who had died as a man should. He requested him,
moreover, if he returned as a spirit, to bring good and not ill-
fortune on us, since otherwise when he, Mavovo, became a spirit in his
turn, he would have words to say to him on the matter. In conclusion,
he remarked that as his, Mavovo's Snake, had foretold this event at
Durban, a fact with which the deceased would now be acquainted he, the
said deceased, could never complain of not having received value for
the shilling he had paid as a divining fee.
"Yes," exclaimed one of the hunters with a note of anxiety in his
voice, "but your Snake mentioned six of us to you, O doctor!"
"It did," replied Mavovo, drawing a pinch of snuff up his uninjured
nostril, "and our brother there was the first of the six. Be not
afraid, the other five will certainly join him in due course, for my
Snake must speak the truth. Still, if anyone is in a hurry," and he
glared round the little circle, "let him stop and talk with me alone.
Perhaps I could arrange that his turn----" here he stopped, for they
were all gone.
"Glad /I/ didn't pay a shilling to have my fortune told by Mavovo,"
said Stephen, when we were back in the /boma/, "but why did they bury
his pots and spears with him?"
"To be used by the spirit on its journey," I answered. "Although they
do not quite know it, these Zulus believe, like all the rest of the
world, that man lives on elsewhere."
Content of CHAPTER VII - THE RUSH OF THE SLAVES [H. Rider Haggard's novel: Allan and the Holy Flower]
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