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_ Within an hour of our finally deciding to start five litters were
brought up to the door of the cave, each accompanied by four regular
bearers and two spare hands, also a band of about fifty armed
Amahagger, who were to form the escort and carry the baggage. Three of
these litters, of course, were for us, and one for Billali, who, I was
immensely relieved to hear, was to be our companion, while the fifth I
presumed was for the use of Ustane.
"Does the lady go with us, my father?" I asked of Billali, as he stood
superintending things in general.
He shrugged his shoulders as he answered--
"If she wills. In this country the women do what they please. We
worship them, and give them their way, because without them the world
could not go on; they are the source of life."
"Ah," I said, the matter never having struck me quite in that light
before.
""We worship them," he went on, "up to a point, till at last they get
unbearable, which," he added, "they do about every second generation."
"And then what do you do?" I asked, with curiosity.
"Then," he answered, with a faint smile, "we rise, and kill the old
ones as an example to the young ones, and to show them that we are the
strongest. My poor wife was killed in that way three years ago. It was
very sad, but to tell thee the truth, my son, life has been happier
since, for my age protects me from the young ones."
"In short," I replied, quoting the saying of a great man whose wisdom
has not yet lightened the darkness of the Amahagger, "thou hast found
thy position one of greater freedom and less responsibility."
This phrase puzzled him a little at first from its vagueness, though I
think my translation hit off its sense very well, but at last he saw
it, and appreciated it.
"Yes, yes, my Baboon," he said, "I see it now, but all the
'responsibilities' are killed, at least some of them are, and that is
why there are so few old women about just now. Well, they brought it
on themselves. As for this girl," he went on, in a graver tone, "I
know not what to say. She is a brave girl, and she loves the Lion
(Leo); thou sawest how she clung to him, and saved his life. Also, she
is, according to our custom, wed to him, and has a right to go where
he goes, unless," he added significantly, "/She/ would say her no, for
her word overrides all rights."
"And if /She/ bade her leave him, and the girl refused? What then?"
"If," he said, with a shrug, "the hurricane bids the tree to bend, and
it will not; what happens?"
And then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked to his
litter, and in ten minutes from that time we were all well under way.
It took us an hour and more to cross the cup of the volcanic plain,
and another half-hour or so to climb the edge on the farther side.
Once there, however, the view was a very fine one. Before us was a
long steep slope of grassy plain, broken here and there by clumps of
trees mostly of the thorn tribe. At the bottom of this gentle slope,
some nine or ten miles away, we could make out a dim sea of marsh,
over which the foul vapours hung like smoke about a city. It was easy
going for the bearers down the slopes, and by midday we had reached
the borders of the dismal swamp. Here we halted to eat our midday
meal, and then, following a winding and devious path, plunged into the
morass. Presently the path, at any rate to our unaccustomed eyes, grew
so faint as to be almost indistinguishable from those made by the
aquatic beasts and birds, and it is to this day a mystery to me how
our bearers found their way across the marshes. Ahead of the cavalcade
marched two men with long poles, which they now and again plunged into
the ground before them, the reason of this being that the nature of
the soil frequently changed from causes with which I am not
acquainted, so that places which might be safe enough to cross one
month would certainly swallow the wayfarer the next. Never did I see a
more dreary and depressing scene. Miles on miles of quagmire, varied
only by bright green strips of comparatively solid ground, and by deep
and sullen pools fringed with tall rushes, in which the bitterns
boomed and the frogs croaked incessantly: miles on miles of it without
a break, unless the fever fog can be called a break. The only life in
this great morass was that of the aquatic birds, and the animals that
fed on them, of both of which there were vast numbers. Geese, cranes,
ducks, teal, coot, snipe, and plover swarmed all around us, many being
of varieties that were quite new to me, and all so tame that one could
almost have knocked them over with a stick. Among these birds I
especially noticed a very beautiful variety of painted snipe, almost
the size of a woodcock, and with a flight more resembling that bird's
than an English snipe's. In the pools, too, was a species of small
alligator or enormous iguana, I do not know which, that fed, Billali
told me, upon the waterfowl, also large quantities of a hideous black
water-snake, of which the bite is very dangerous, though not, I
gathered, so deadly as a cobra's or a puff adder's. The bull-frogs
were also very large, and with voices proportionate to their size; and
as for the mosquitoes--the "musqueteers," as Job called them--they
were, if possible, even worse than they had been on the river, and
tormented us greatly. Undoubtedly, however, the worst feature of the
swamp was the awful smell of rotting vegetation that hung about it,
which was at times positively overpowering, and the malarious
exhalations that accompanied it, which we were of course obliged to
breathe.
On we went through it all, till at last the sun sank in sullen
splendour just as we reached a spot of rising ground about two acres
in extent--a little oasis of dry in the midst of the miry wilderness--
where Billali announced that we were to camp. The camping, however,
turned out to be a very simple process, and consisted, in fact, in
sitting down on the ground round a scanty fire made of dry reeds and
some wood that had been brought with us. However, we made the best we
could of it, and smoked and ate with such appetite as the smell of
damp, stifling heat would allow, for it was very hot on this low land,
and yet, oddly enough, chilly at times. But, however hot it was, we
were glad enough to keep near the fire, because we found that the
mosquitoes did not like the smoke. Presently we rolled ourselves up in
our blankets and tried to go to sleep, but so far as I was concerned
the bull-frogs, and the extraordinary roaring and alarming sound
produced by hundreds of snipe hovering high in the air, made sleep an
impossibility, to say nothing of our other discomforts. I turned and
looked at Leo, who was next me; he was dozing, but his face had a
flushed appearance that I did not like, and by the flickering fire-
light I saw Ustane, who was lying on the other side of him, raise
herself from time to time upon her elbow, and look at him anxiously
enough.
However, I could do nothing for him, for we had all already taken a
good dose of quinine, which was the only preventive we had; so I lay
and watched the stars come out by thousands, till all the immense arch
of heaven was strewn with glittering points, and every point a world!
Here was a glorious sight by which man might well measure his own
insignificance! Soon I gave up thinking about it, for the mind wearies
easily when it strives to grapple with the Infinite, and to trace the
footsteps of the Almighty as he strides from sphere to sphere, or
deduce His purpose from His works. Such things are not for us to know.
Knowledge is to the strong, and we are weak. Too much wisdom would
perchance blind our imperfect sight, and too much strength would make
us drunk, and over-weight our feeble reason till it fell and we were
drowned in the depths of our own vanity. For what is the first result
of man's increased knowledge interpreted from Nature's book by the
persistent effort of his purblind observation? It is not but too often
to make him question the existence of his Maker, or indeed of any
intelligent purpose beyond his own? The truth is veiled, because we
could no more look upon her glory than we can upon the sun. It would
destroy us. Full knowledge is not for man as man is here, for his
capacities, which he is apt to think so great, are indeed but small.
The vessel is soon filled, and, were one-thousandth part of the
unutterable and silent wisdom that directs the rolling of those
shining spheres, and the Force which makes them roll, pressed into it,
it would be shattered into fragments. Perhaps in some other place and
time it may be otherwise, who can tell? Here the lot of man born of
the flesh is but to endure midst toil and tribulation, to catch at the
bubbles blown by Fate, which he calls pleasure, thankful if before
they burst they rest a moment in his hand, and when the tragedy is
played out, and his hour comes to perish, to pass humbly whither he
knows not.
Above me, as I lay, shone the eternal stars, and there at my feet the
impish marsh-born balls of fire rolled this way and that, vapour-
tossed and earth-desiring, and methought that in the two I saw a type
and image of what man is, and what perchance man may one day be, if
the living Force who ordained him and them should so ordain this also.
Oh, that it might be ours to rest year by year upon that high level of
the heart to which at times we momentarily attain! Oh, that we could
shake loose the prisoned pinions of the soul and soar to that superior
point, whence, like to some traveller looking out through space from
Darien's giddiest peak, we might gaze with spiritual eyes deep into
Infinity!
What would it be to cast off this earthy robe, to have done for ever
with these earthy thoughts and miserable desires; no longer, like
those corpse candles, to be tossed this way and that, by forces beyond
our control; or which, if we can theoretically control them, we are at
times driven by the exigencies of our nature to obey! Yes, to cast
them off, to have done with the foul and thorny places of the world;
and, like to those glittering points above me, to rest on high wrapped
for ever in the brightness of our better selves, that even now shines
in us as fire faintly shines within those lurid balls, and lay down
our littleness in that wide glory of our dreams, that invisible but
surrounding Good, from which all truth and beauty comes!
These and many such thoughts passed through my mind that night. They
come to torment us all at times. I say to torment, for, alas! thinking
can only serve to measure out the helplessness of thought. What is the
purpose of our feeble crying in the awful silences of space? Can our
dim intelligence read the secrets of that star-strewn sky? Does any
answer come out of it? Never any at all, nothing but echoes and
fantastic visions! And yet we believe that there is an answer, and
that upon a time a new Dawn will come blushing down the ways of our
enduring night. We believe it, for its reflected beauty even now
shines up continually in our hearts from beneath the horizon of the
grave, and we call it Hope. Without Hope we should suffer moral death,
and by the help of Hope we yet may climb to Heaven, or at the worst,
if she also prove but a kindly mockery given to hold us from despair,
be gently lowered into the abysses of eternal sleep.
Then I fell to reflecting upon the undertaking on which we were bent,
and what a wild one it was, and yet how strangely the story seemed to
fit in with what had been written centuries ago upon the sherd. Who
was this extraordinary woman, Queen over a people apparently as
extraordinary as herself, and reigning amidst the vestiges of a lost
civilisation? And what was the meaning of this story of the Fire that
gave unending life? Could it be possible that any fluid or essence
should exist which might so fortify these fleshy walls that they
should from age to age resist the mines and batterings of decay? It
was possible, though not probable. The infinite continuation of life
would not, as poor Vincey said, be so marvellous a thing as the
production of life and its temporary endurance. And if it were true,
what then? The person who found it could no doubt rule the world. He
could accumulate all the wealth in the world, and all the power, and
all the wisdom that is power. He might give a lifetime to the study of
each art or science. Well, if that were so, and this /She/ were
practically immortal, which I did not for one moment believe, how was
it that, with all these things at her feet, she preferred to remain in
a cave amongst a society of cannibals? This surely settled the
question. The whole story was monstrous, and only worthy of the
superstitious days in which it was written. At any rate I was very
sure that /I/ would not attempt to attain unending life. I had had far
too many worries and disappointments and secret bitternesses during my
forty odd years of existence to wish that this state of affairs should
be continued indefinitely. And yet I suppose that my life has been,
comparatively speaking, a happy one.
And then, reflecting that at the present moment there was far more
likelihood of our earthly careers being cut exceedingly short than of
their being unduly prolonged, I at last managed to get to sleep, a
fact for which anybody who reads this narrative, if anybody ever does,
may very probably be thankful.
When I woke again it was just dawning, and the guard and bearers were
moving about like ghosts through the dense morning mists, getting
ready for our start. The fire had died quite down, and I rose and
stretched myself, shivering in every limb from the damp cold of the
dawn. Then I looked at Leo. He was sitting up, holding his hands to
his head, and I saw that his face was flushed and his eye bright, and
yet yellow round the pupil.
"Well, Leo," I said, "how do you feel?"
"I feel as though I were going to die," he answered hoarsely. "My head
is splitting, my body is trembling, and I am as sick as a cat."
I whistled, or if I did not whistle I felt inclined to--Leo had got a
sharp attack of fever. I went to Job, and asked him for the quinine,
of which fortunately we had still a good supply, only to find that Job
himself was not much better. He complained of pains across the back,
and dizziness, and was almost incapable of helping himself. Then I did
the only thing it was possible to do under the circumstances--gave
them both about ten grains of quinine, and took a slightly smaller
dose myself as a matter of precaution. After that I found Billali, and
explained to him how matters stood, asking at the same time what he
thought had best be done. He came with me, and looked at Leo and Job
(whom, by the way, he had named the Pig on account of his fatness,
round face, and small eyes).
"Ah," he said, when we were out of earshot, "the fever! I thought so.
The Lion has it badly, but he is young, and he may live. As for the
Pig, his attack is not so bad; it is the 'little fever' which he has;
that always begins with pains across the back, it will spend itself
upon his fat."
"Can they go on, my father?" I asked.
"Nay, my son, they must go on. If they stop here they will certainly
die; also, they will be better in the litters than on the ground. By
to-night, if all goes well, we shall be across the marsh and in good
air. Come, let us lift them into the litters and start, for it is very
bad to stand still in this morning fog. We can eat our meal as we go."
This we accordingly did, and with a heavy heart I once more set out
upon our strange journey. For the first three hours all went as well
as could be expected, and then an accident happened that nearly lost
us the pleasure of the company of our venerable friend Billali, whose
litter was leading the cavalcade. We were going through a particularly
dangerous stretch of quagmire, in which the bearers sometimes sank up
to their knees. Indeed, it was a mystery to me how they contrived to
carry the heavy litters at all over such ground as that which we were
traversing, though the two spare hands, as well as the four regular
ones, had of course to put their shoulders to the pole.
Presently, as we blundered and floundered along, there was a sharp
cry, then a storm of exclamations, and, last of all, a most tremendous
splash, and the whole caravan halted.
I jumped out of my litter and ran forward. About twenty yards ahead
was the edge of one of those sullen peaty pools of which I have
spoken, the path we were following running along the top of its bank,
that, as it happened, was a steep one. Looking towards this pool, to
my horror I saw that Billali's litter was floating on it, and as for
Billali himself, he was nowhere to be seen. To make matters clear I
may as well explain at once what had happened. One of Billali's
bearers had unfortunately trodden on a basking snake, which had bitten
him in the leg, whereon he had, not unnaturally, let go of the pole,
and then, finding that he was tumbling down the bank, grasped at the
litter to save himself. The result of this was what might have been
expected. The litter was pulled over the edge of the bank, the bearers
let go, and the whole thing, including Billali and the man who had
been bitten, rolled into the slimy pool. When I got to the edge of the
water neither of them were to be seen; indeed, the unfortunate bearer
never was seen again. Either he struck his head against something, or
get wedged in the mud, or possibly the snake-bite paralyzed him. At
any rate he vanished. But though Billali was not to be seen, his
whereabouts was clear enough from the agitation of the floating
litter, in the bearing cloth and curtains of which he was entangled.
"He is there! Our father is there!" said one of the men, but he did
not stir a finger to help him, nor did any of the others. They simply
stood and stared at the water.
"Out of the way, you brutes!" I shouted in English, and throwing off
my hat I took a run and sprang well out into the horrid slimy-looking
pool. A couple of strokes took me to where Billali was struggling
beneath the cloth.
Somehow, I do not quite know how, I managed to push it free of him,
and his venerable head all covered with green slime, like that of a
yellowish Bacchus with ivy leaves, emerged upon the surface of the
water. The rest was easy, for Billali was an eminently practical
individual, and had the common sense not to grasp hold of me as
drowning people often do, so I got him by the arm, and towed him to
the bank, through the mud of which we were with difficulty dragged.
Such a filthy spectacle as we presented I have never seen before or
since, and it will perhaps give some idea of the almost superhuman
dignity of Billali's appearance when I say that, coughing, half-
drowned, and covered with mud and green slime as he was, with his
beautiful beard coming to a dripping point, like a Chinaman's freshly-
oiled pig-tail, he still looked venerable and imposing.
"Ye dogs," he said, addressing the bearers, as soon as he had
sufficiently recovered to speak, "ye left me, your father, to drown.
Had it not been for this stranger, my son the Baboon, assuredly I
should have drowned. Well, I will remember it," and he fixed them with
his gleaming though slightly watery eye, in a way I saw that they did
not like, though they tried to appear sulkily indifferent.
"As for thee, my son," the old man went on, turning towards me and
grasping my hand, "rest assured that I am thy friend through good and
evil. Thou hast saved my life: perchance a day may come when I shall
save thine."
After that we cleaned ourselves as best we could, fished out the
litter, and went on, /minus/ the man who had been drowned. I do not
know if it was owing to his being an unpopular character, or from
native indifference and selfishness of temperament, but I am bound to
say that nobody seemed to grieve much over his sudden and final
disappearance, unless, perhaps, it was the men who had to do his share
of the work. _
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