Finished

H >> H. Rider Haggard >> Finished


Rage filled me at the words. Seldom do I remember being so
angry.

"Yes," I said, "if you mean that Half-cast whom someone has
thrust upon me, she is in there. So if she is to come with us,
perhaps you will get her out."

Thus adjured the melancholy-looking captain, who was named
Indudu, perhaps because he or his father had longed to the Dudu
regiment, crawled into the hut, whence presently emerged sounds
not unlike those which once I heard when a ringhals cobra
followed a hare that I had wounded into a hole, a muffled sound
of struggling and terror. These ended in the sudden and violent
appearance of Kaatje's fat and dishevelled form, followed by that
of the snakelike Indudu.

Seeing me standing there before a bevy of armed Zulus, she
promptly fell upon my neck with a cry for help, for the silly
woman thought she was going to be killed by them. Gripping me as
an octopus grips its prey, she proceeded to faint, dragging me to
my knees beneath the weight of eleven stone of solid flesh.

"Ah!" said one of the Zulus not unkindly, "she is much afraid for
her husband whom she loves."

Well, I disentangled myself somehow, and seizing what I took to
be a gourd of water in that dim light, poured it over her head,
only to discover too late that it was not water but clotted milk.
However the result was the same, for presently she sat up, made a
dreadful-looking object by this liberal application of curds and
whey, whereon I explained matters to her to the best of my power.
The end of it was that after Indudu and Goza had wiped her down
with tufts of thatch dragged from the hut and I had collected her
gear with the rest of my own, we set her on the horse
straddlewise, and started, the objects of much interest among
such Zulus as were already abroad.

At the gate of the town there was a delay which made me nervous,
since in such a case as mine delay might always mean a
death-warrant. I knew that it was quite possible Cetewayo had
changed, or been persuaded to change his mind and issue a command
that I should be killed as one who had seen and knew too much.
Indeed this fear was my constant companion during all the long
journey to the Drift of the Tugela, causing me to look askance at
every man we met or who overtook us, lest he should prove to be a
messenger of doom.

Nor were these doubts groundless, for as I learned in the after
days, the Prime Minister, Umnyamana, and others had urged
Cetewayo strongly to kill me, and what we were waiting for at the
gate were his final orders on the subject. However, in this
matter, as in more that I could mention, the king played the part
of a man of honour, and although he seemed to hesitate for
reasons of policy, never had any intention of allowing me to be
harmed. On the contrary the command brought was that any one who
harmed Macumazahn, the king's guest and messenger, should die
with all his House.

Whilst we tarried a number of women gathered round us whose
conversation I could not help overhearing. One of them said to
another--

"Look at the white man, Watcher-by-Night, who can knock a fly off
an ox's horn with a bullet from further away than we could see
it. He it was who loved and was loved by the witch Mameena,
whose beauty is still famous in the land. They say she killed
herself for his sake, because she declared that she would never
live to grow old and ugly, so that he turned away from her. My
mother told me all about it only last night."

Then you have a liar for a mother, thought I to myself, for to
contradict such a one openly would have been undignified.

"Is it so?" asked one of her friends, deeply interested. "Then
the lady Mameena must have had a strange taste in men, for this
one is an ugly little fellow with hair like the grey ash of
stubble and a wrinkled face of the colour of a flayed skin that
has lain unstretched in the sun. However, I have been told that
witches always love those who look unnatural."

"Yes," said Number one, "but you see now that he is old he has to
be satisfied with a different sort of wife. She is not
beautiful, is she, although she has dipped her head in milk to
make herself look white?"

So it went on till at length a runner arrived and whispered
something to Indudu who saluted, showing me that it was a royal
message, and ordered us to move. Of this I was glad, for had I
stopped there much longer, I think I should have personally
assaulted those gossiping female idiots.


Of our journey through Zululand there is nothing particular to
say. We saw but few people, since most of the men had been
called up to the army, and many of the kraals seemed to be
deserted by the women and children who perhaps were hidden away
with the cattle. Once, however, we met an impi about five
thousand strong, that seemed to cover the hillside like a herd of
game. It consisted of the Nodwengu and the Nokenke regiments,
both of which afterwards fought at Isandhlwana. Some of their
captains with a small guard came to see who we were, fine,
fierce-looking men. They stared at me curiously, and with one of
them, whom I knew, I had a little talk. He said that I was the
last white man in Zululand and that I was lucky to be alive, for
soon these, and he pointed to the hordes of warriors who were
streaming past, would eat up the English to "the last bone." I
answered that this remained to be seen, as the English were also
great eaters, whereat he laughed, replying, that it was true that
the white men had already taken the first bite--a very little
one, from which I gathered that some small engagement had
happened.

"Well, farewell, Macumazahn," he said, as he turned to go, "I
hope that we shall meet in the battle, for I want to see if you
can run as well as you can shoot."

This roused my temper and I answered him--

"I hope for your sake that we shall not meet, for if we do I
promise that before I run I will show you what you never saw
before, the gateway of the world of Spirits."

I mention this conversation because by some strange chance it
happened at Isandhlwana that I killed this man, who was named
Simpofu.

During all those days of trudging through hot suns and
thunderstorms, for I had to give up the mare to Kaatje who was
too fat to walk, or said she was, I was literally haunted by
thoughts of my murdered friends. Heaven knows how bitterly I
reproached myself for having brought them into Zululand. It
seemed so terribly sad that these young people who loved each
other and had so bright a future before them, should have escaped
from a tragic past merely to be overwhelmed by such a fate.
Again and again I questioned that lump Kaatje as to the details
of their end and of all that went before and followed after the
murder.

But it was quite useless; indeed, as time went on she seemed to
become more nebulous on the point as though a picture were fading
from her mind. But as to one thing she was always quite clear,
that she had seen them dead and had seen their new-made grave.
This she swore "by God in Heaven," completing the oath with an
outburst of tears in a way that would have carried conviction to
any jury, as it did to me.

And after all, what was more likely in the circumstances? Zikali
had killed them, or caused them to be killed; or possibly they
were killed in spite of him in obedience to the express, or
general, order of the king, if the deed was not done by the
Basutos. And yet an idea occurred to me. How about the woman on
the rock that the Zulus thought was their Princess of the
Heavens? Obviously this must be nonsense, since no such deity
existed, therefore the person must either have been a white woman
or one painted up to resemble a white woman; seen from a distance
in moonlight it was impossible to say which. Now, if it were a
white woman, she might, from her shape and height and the colour
of her hair, be Heda herself. Yet it seemed incredible that
Heda, whom Kaatje had seen dead some days before, could be
masquerading in such a part and make no sign of recognition to
me, even when I covered her with my pistol, whereas that Nombe
would play it was likely enough.

Only then Nombe must be something of a quick-change artist since
but a little while before she was beyond doubt personating the
dead Mameena. If it were not so I must have been suffering from
illusions, for certainly I seemed to see some one who looked like
Mameena, and only Zikali, and through him Nombe, had sufficient
knowledge to enable her to fill that role with such success.
Perhaps the whole business was an illusion, though if so Zikali's
powers must be great indeed. But then how about the assegai that
Nomkubulwana, or rather her effigy, had seemed to hold and throw,
whereof the blade was at present in my saddle-bag. That at any
rate was tangible and real, though of course there was nothing to
prove that it had really been Chaka's famous weapon.

Another thing that tormented me was my failure to see Zikali. I
felt as though I had committed a crime in leaving Zululand
without doing this and hearing from his own lips--well, whatever
he chose to tell me. I forget if I said that while we were
waiting at the gate where those silly women talked so much
nonsense about Mameena and Kaatje, that I made another effort
through Goza to get into touch with the wizard, but quite without
avail. Goza only answered what he said before, that if I wished
to die at once I had better take ten steps towards the Valley of
Bones, whence, he added parenthetically, the Opener of Roads had
already departed on his homeward journey. This might or might
not be true; at any rate I could find no possible way of coming
face to face with him, or even of getting a message to his ear.
No, I was not to blame; I had done all I could, and yet in my
heart I felt guilty. But then, as cynics would, say, failure is
guilt.

At length we came to the ford of the Tugela, and as fortunately
the water was just low enough, bade farewell to our escort before
crossing to the Natal side. My parting with Goza was quite
touching, for we felt that it partook of the nature of a deathbed
adieu, which indeed it did. I told him and the others that I
hoped their ends be easy, and that whether they met them by
bullets or by bayonet thrusts, the wounds would prove quickly
mortal so that they might not linger in discomfort or pain.
Recognizing my kind thought for their true welfare they thanked
me for it, though with no enthusiasm. Indudu, however, filled
with the spirit of repartee, or rather of "tu quoque", said in
his melancholy fashion that if he and I came face to face in war,
he would be sure to remember my words and to cut me up in the
best style, since he could not bear to think of me languishing on
a bed of sickness without my wife Kaatje to nurse me (they knew I
was touchy about Kaatje). Then we shook hands and parted.
Kaatje, hung round with paraphernalia like the White Knight in
"Alice through the Looking-glass," clinging to a cooking-pot and
weeping tears of terror, faced the foaming flood upon the mare,
while I grasped its tail.

When we were as I judged out of assegai shot, I turned, with the
water up to my armpits, and shouted some valedictory words.

"Tell your king," I said, "that he is the greatest fool in the
world to fight the English, since it will bring his country to
destruction and himself to disgrace and death, as at last, in the
words of your proverb, 'the swimmer goes down with the stream.'"

Here, as it happened, I slipped off the stone on which I was
standing and nearly went down with the stream myself.

Emerging with my mouth full of muddy water I waited till they had
done laughing and continued--

"Tell that old rogue, Zikali, that I know he has murdered my
friends and that when we meet again he and all who were in the
plot shall pay for it with their lives."

Now an irritated Zulu flung an assegai, and as the range proved
to be shorter than I thought, for it went through Kaatje's dress,
causing her to scream with alarm, I ceased from eloquence, and we
struggled on to the further bank, where at length we were safe.

Thus ended this unlucky trip of mine to Zululand.



CHAPTER XVIII




ISANDHLWANA





We had crossed the Tugela by what is known as the Middle Drift.
A mile or so on the further side of it I was challenged by a
young fellow in charge of some mounted natives, and found that I
had stumbled into what was known as No. 2 Column, which consisted
of a rocket battery, three battalions of the Native Contingent
and some troops of mounted natives, all under the command of
Colonel Durnford, R.E.

After explanations I was taken to this officer's head-quarter
tent. He was a tall, nervous-looking man with a fair, handsome
face and long side-whiskers. One of his arms, I remember, was
supported by a sling, I think it had been injured in some Kaffir
fighting. When I was introduced to him he was very busy, having,
I understood from some one on his staff, just received orders to
"operate against Matshana."

Learning that I had come from Zululand and was acquainted with
the Zulus, he at once began to cross-examine me about Matshana, a
chief of whom he seemed to know very little indeed. I told him
what I could, which was not much, and before I could give him any
information of real importance, was shown out and most hospitably
entertained at luncheon, a meal of which I partook with gratitude
in some garments that I had borrowed from one of the officers,
while my own were set in the sun to dry. Well can I recall how
much I enjoyed the first whisky and soda that I had tasted since
I left "the Temple," and the good English food by which it was
accompanied.

Presently I remembered Kaatje, whom I had left outside with some
native women, and went to see what had happened to her. I found
her finishing a hearty meal and engaged in conversation with a
young gentleman who was writing in a notebook. Afterwards I
discovered that he was a newspaper correspondent. What she told
him and what he imagined, I do not know, but I may as well state
the results at once. Within a few days there appeared in one of
the Natal papers and, for aught I know, all over the earth, an
announcement that Mr. Allan Quatermain, a well-known hunter in
Zululand, after many adventures, had escaped from that country,
"together with his favourite native wife, the only survivor of
his extensive domestic establishment." Then followed some wild
details as to the murder of my other wives by a Zulu wizard
called "Road Mender, or Sick Ass" (i.e., Opener of Roads, or
Zikali), and so on.

I was furious and interviewed the editor, a mild and apologetic
little man, who assured me that the despatch was printed exactly
as it had been received, as though that bettered the case. After
this I commenced an action for libel, but as I was absent through
circumstances over which I had no control when it came on for
trial, the case was dismissed. I suppose the truth was that they
mixed me up with a certain well-known white man in Zululand, who
had a large "domestic establishment," but however this may be, it
was a long while before I heard the last of that "favourite
native wife."

Later in the day I and Kaatje, who stuck to me like a burr,
departed from the camp.

The rest of our journey was uneventful, except for more
misunderstandings about Kaatje, one of which, wherein a clergyman
was concerned, was too painful to relate. At last we reached
Maritzburg, where I deposited Kaatje in a boarding-house kept by
another half-cast, and with a sigh of relief betook myself to the
Plough Hotel, which was a long way off her.

Subsequently she obtained a place as a cook at Howick, and for a
while I saw her no more.

At Maritzburg, as in duty bound, I called upon various persons in
authority and delivered Cetewayo's message, leaving out all
Zikali's witchcraft which would have sounded absurd. It did not
produce much impression as, hostilities having already occurred,
it was superfluous. Also no one was inclined to pay attention to
the words of one who was neither an official nor a military
officer, but a mere hunter supposed to have brought a native wife
out of Zululand.

I did, however, report the murder of Anscombe and Heda, though in
such times this caused no excitement, especially as they were not
known to the officials concerned with such matters. Indeed the
occurrence never so much as got into the papers, any more than
did the deaths of Rodd and Marnham on the borders of Sekukuni's
country. When people are expecting to be massacred themselves,
they do not trouble about the past killing of others far away.
Lastly, I posted Marnham's will to the Pretoria bank, advising
them that they had better keep it safely until some claim arose,
and deposited Heda's jewels and valuables in another branch of
the same bank in Maritzburg with a sealed statement as to how
they came into my possession.

These things done, I found it necessary to turn myself to the
eternal problem of earning my living. I am a very rich man now
as I write these reminiscences here in Yorkshire--King Solomon's
mines made me that--but up to the time of my journey to Kukuana
Land with my friends, Curtis and Good, although plenty of money
passed through my hands on one occasion and another, little of it
ever seemed to stick. In this way or that it was lost or melted;
also I was not born one to make the best of his opportunities in
the way of acquiring wealth. Perhaps this was good for me, since
if I had gained the cash early I should not have met with the
experiences, and during our few transitory years, experience is
of more real value than cash. It may prepare us for other things
beyond, whereas the mere possession of a bank balance can prepare
us for nothing in a land where gold ceases to be an object of
worship as it is here. Yet wealth is our god, not knowledge or
wisdom, a fact which shows that the real essence of Christianity
has not yet permeated human morals. It just runs over their
surface, no more, and for every eye that is turned towards the
divine Vision, a thousand are fixed night and day upon Mammon's
glittering image.

Now I owned certain wagons and oxen, and just then the demand for
these was keen. So I hired them out to the military authorities
for service in the war, and incidentally myself with them. I
drove what I considered a splendid bargain with an officer who
wrote as many letters after his name as a Governor-General, but
was really something quite humble. At least I thought it
splendid until outside his tent I met a certain transport rider
of my acquaintance whom I had always looked upon as a perfect
fool, who told me that not half an hour before he had got twenty
per cent. more for unsalted oxen and very rickety wagons.
However, it did not matter much in the end as the whole outfit
was lost at Isandhlwana, and owing to the lack of some formality
which I had overlooked, I never recovered more than a tithe of
their value. I think it was that I neglected to claim within a
certain specified time.

At last my wagons were laden with ammunition and other Government
goods and I trekked over awful roads to Helpmakaar, a place on
the Highlands not far from Rorke's Drift where No. 3 Column was
stationed. Here we were delayed awhile, I and my wagons having
moved to a ford of the Buffalo, together with many others. It
was during this time that I ventured to make very urgent
representations to certain highly placed officers, I will not
mention which, as to the necessity of laagering, that is, forming
fortified camps, as soon as Zululand was entered, since from my
intimate knowledge of its people I was sure that they would
attack in force. These warnings of mine were received with the
most perfect politeness and offers of gin to drink, which all
transport riders were supposed to love, but in effect were
treated with the contempt that they were held to deserve. The
subject is painful and one on which I will not dwell. Why should
I complain when I know that cautions from notable persons such as
Sir Melmoth Osborn, and J. J. Uys, a member of one the old Dutch
fighting families, met with a like fate.

By the way it was while I was waiting on the banks of the river
that I came across an old friend of mine, a Zulu named Magepa,
with whom I had fought at the battle of the Tugela. A few days
later this man performed an extraordinary feat in saving his
grandchild from death by his great swiftness in running, whereof
I have preserved a note somewhere or other.

Ultimately on January 11 we received our marching orders and
crossed the river by the drift, the general scheme of the
campaign being that the various columns were to converge upon
Ulundi. The roads, if so they can be called, were in such a
fearful state that it took us ten days to cover as many miles.
At length we trekked over a stony nek about five hundred yards in
width. To the right of us was a stony eminence and to our left,
its sheer brown cliffs of rock rising like the walls of some
cyclopean fortress, the strange, abrupt mount of Isandhlwana,
which reminded me of a huge lion crouching above the
hill-encircled plain beyond. At the foot of this isolated mount,
whereof the aspect somehow filled me with alarm, we camped on the
night of January 21, taking no precautions against attack by way
of laagering the wagons. Indeed the last thing that seemed to
occur to those in command was that there would be serious
fighting; men marched forward to their deaths as though they were
going on a shooting-party, or to a picnic. I even saw cricketing
bats and wickets occupying some of the scanty space upon the
wagons.

Now I am not going to set out all the military details that
preceded the massacre of Isandhlwana, for these are written in
history. It is enough to say that on the night of January 21,
Major Dartnell, who was in command of the Natal Mounted Police
and had been sent out to reconnoitre the country beyond
Isandhlwana, reported a strong force of Zulus in front of us.
Thereon Lord Chelmsford, the General-in-Chief, moved out from the
camp at dawn to his support, taking with him six companies of the
24th regiment, together with four guns and the mounted infantry.
There were left in the camp two guns and about eight hundred
white and nine hundred native troops, also some transport riders
such as myself and a number of miscellaneous camp-followers. I
saw him go from between the curtains of one of my wagons where I
had made my bed on the top of a pile of baggage. Indeed I had
already dressed myself at the time, for that night I slept very
ill because I knew our danger, and my heart was heavy with fear.

About ten o'clock in the morning Colonel Durnford, whom I have
mentioned already, rode up with five hundred Natal Zulus, about
half of whom were mounted, and two rocket tubes which, of course,
were worked by white men. This was after a patrol had reported
that they had come into touch with some Zulus on the left front,
who retired before them. As a matter of fact these Zulus were
foraging in the mealie fields, since owing to the drought food
was very scarce in Zululand that year and the regiments were
hungry. I happened to see the meeting between Colonel Pulleine,
a short, stout man who was then in command of the camp, and
Colonel Durnford who, as his senior officer, took it over from
him, and heard Colonel Pulleine say that his orders were "to
defend the camp," but what else passed between them I do not
know.

Presently Colonel Durnford saw and recognized me.

"Do you think the Zulus will attack us, Mr. Quatermain?" he said.

"I don't think so, Sir," I answered, "as it is the day of the new
moon which they hold unlucky. But to-morrow it may be
different."

Then he gave certain orders, dispatching Captain George Shepstone
with a body of mounted natives along the ridge to the left, where
presently they came in contact with the Zulus about three miles
away, and making other dispositions. A little later he moved out
to the front with a strong escort, followed by the rocket
battery, which ultimately advanced to a small conical hill on the
left front, round which it passed, never to return again.

Just before he started Colonel Durnford, seeing me still standing
there, asked me if I would like to accompany him, adding that as
I knew the Zulus so well I might be useful. I answered,
Certainly, and called to my head driver, a man named Jan, to
bring me my mare, the same that I had ridden out of Zululand,
while I slipped into the wagon and, in addition to the beltful
that I wore, filled all my available pockets with cartridges for
my double-barrelled Express rifle.

As I mounted I gave Jan certain directions about the wagon and
oxen, to which he listened, and then to my astonishment held out
his hand to me, saying--

"Good-bye, Baas. You have been a kind master to me and I thank
you."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Because, Baas, all the Kaffirs declare that the great Zulu impi
will be on to us in an hour or two and eat up every man. I can't
tell how they know it, but so they swear."