Gorongoza.“I think,” said Hughes, as the two sat outside the small tent, pitched by the side of the stream, the morning after their return from Sofala,—“I think we had better remain here for a time.”“I agree with you; and as there is no one to say us No, let it be decided in the affirmative. There are large quantities of wild ducks, and our fellows are so expert in finding their eggs, that the great change to men who have lived so long on nothing but venison must be beneficial.”“We have plenty of fruit, too, and the ground-nuts are not to be despised. These cool streams, which seem to take their rise in yonder mountains, are another inducement. Our lines are at present cast in pleasant places, and what lies beyond seems uncertain. Let us profit by the present.”“I want to go over all our baggage, and put our fellows in light marching order. To look at our little camp now, without waggon or horses, without cattle, and our numbers so reduced, we seem to resemble one of the parties so well painted by Cooper in his Indian tales. Who are those fellows?”A party of natives were seen approaching, among whom was the Matabele chief. They were almost naked, but came on with a most assured air, squatting down in a half circle before the tent, and employing all their powers in staring stolidly at the strangers.“Here, Luji,” shouted Hughes, who was carefully loading his rifle, “just see what these fellows want, will you?”“Want calico, master,” said Luji, after a great amount of talk, “give gold.”The Macomb, for such they were, produced from their waist-belts quills closed at each end, which contained gold. Some of the grains were of large size, and one of the natives showed a small lump of the yellow metal. It was quite evident that they knew where to procure it.“Does not all this go to prove my theory, Hughes; and are we not approaching a gold country?”“Tell them we are not traders, Luji. That we have not any calico; but ask if there is any large game about.”The scantily-dressed natives squatted on, looking fixedly at the Europeans, and evidently not believing the assertion. At length one of their number, touching a large piece of canvas, which had been thrown on one side after fashioning the small tent, spoke volubly, often pointing to the mountain. “The Macomb show master caracal for this,” said Luji, laughing.“What’s a caracal, Wyzinski?” asked Hughes. “Oh, these people call the leopard by that name; but the real caracal is the lynx or wild cat,” answered the missionary.“Ask him where his caracal is, Luji?” said Hughes. The native pointed to a ledge of rock, high up the mountain-side.“Well, tell him he shall have it, Luji, if he shows me the leopard. I’ll leave you to the baggage department, Wyzinski, and see whether I can get the caracal’s skin. Take the canvas, Luji, and come along. Tell him you will give it him if I get a shot at the leopard.”Shouldering his rifle, Hughes moved on, beckoning to the native and Luji to follow him. The former rose and obeyed, while his comrades remained squatted before the tent, steadfastly gazing at Wyzinski, their eyes following his every movement, and so they remained stolidly staring for hours, before they took their departure.Wending his way among the men, who were busily employed plucking wild ducks, and preparing them for the mid-day dinner, pounding up the manioc flour to make cakes, or looking to the fires, Hughes took his way towards the mountain, the native guide and Luji following. Hardly had they left the outskirts of the camp, when the monkey came bounding after them.“Let him alone, Luji; you can’t drive him away,” said Hughes, as with a leap the mischievous brute ensconced himself on the man’s shoulders, the Macombé looking at the scene in great astonishment.Toiling up the face of the hill-side, they reached at last the ledge of rock. It would have been very hazardous to face the leopard with so small a footing; besides, the animal, of course, had a refuge there. Making a wide circuit, the party, accompanied by the monkey, gained a height immediately above the ledge. Posting Luji at a spot where he judged he might prove useful in case the leopard bolted and the Hottentot did not, Captain Hughes, lying flat on his face, leaned over the edge of the precipitous rock, and looked down on to the ledge. It was a very awkward position, and when far enough over to enable the hunter to fire, he found himself nearly overbalanced.The ledge was empty, but after watching for an hour, and when nearly wearied out, the leopard at last came out of his cave, and began walking up and down the narrow space.Just as the animal, in one of his turns, arrived under him, the hunter fired. The ball struck obliquely, where the spine joins with the head, and, slanting off, lodged in the brain, death being instantaneous, but the hunter was nearly overbalanced. Just as he struggled to his knees, the baboon, with a tremendous spring, lighted right on his shoulders. The sudden shock destroyed the balance, and clutching at the bushes, which gave way slowly, one by one, Hughes went over the precipice.They luckily saved him, but, bruised and shaken, he fell on the ledge, close to the dead leopard, the lock of the rifle being broken in the fall. Looking up, he saw the monkey, peering over, and grimacing, for so nimble was it, that it had not shared the fall. Shaking his fist, in return for which he received a shower of stones and dirt, Hughes moved cautiously along the ledge. The leopard was quite dead. A cave lay a little further on, and as he entered it, he was almost driven back by the close smell of decaying flesh. It was heaped with bones, and remains of deer, and must have been used for many years.The leopard was a male, and the female might be near. Advancing cautiously, his rifle, only one barrel of which was available, in his hand, Hughes was astonished by the great extent of the cavern. To the right, it soon became black as night, and the sound of falling water was to be heard. This might explain the extreme coldness and clearness of the streams of Gorongoza, for doubtless they took their rise in the heart of these mountains, flowing perhaps for miles in darkness among the caverns. The roof was covered with beautiful white stalactites, but the eye could not penetrate the thick darkness in this direction. To the left a kind of corridor led towards an opening giving on the mountain-side, and towards this Hughes turned, glad to get away from the fetid exhalations of the cavern. Two hedgehogs were travelling in the same direction, the quills of which were very curious, being differently coloured, some white, others black, and some brown, the body, where it could be seen, entirely black. The animals rolled themselves up securely, looking just like parti-coloured balls. Emerging into daylight, and stepping from ledge to ledge, Hughes gained the mountain-side, hearing from time to time Luji’s shouts, as the man searched for him, then crossing a deep cut, he gained another spur of the Nyamonga range, higher far than the hill of Gorongoza.Shading his eyes with his hand, Captain Hughes paused breathless on the mountain-height. The whole country lay spread like a map before him. Far away to the east lay the face of a friend, for the blue line of the ocean was distinctly visible. The mountain range on which he stood ran nearly north and south, while the beautifully wooded plain, across which the party had travelled, was mapped out before his gaze, with Quissanga, Madanda, and the country of the Batonga plainly visible, the rivers looking like silvery threads, and the vast forests like inky spots, on the sunlit plain. To the north, stretched at the foot of the mountains, lay the plains they were yet to traverse, the unknown land of promise. It looked one dense forest, broken at rare intervals with open, and intersected by two rivers, one appearing a considerable sheet of water, while in the far distance, a range of lofty mountains loomed, dim, blue, and ghostlike in their outline.A deep interest attached itself to the scene, for between him and those mountains the Zambesi must run, and somewhere among the forests must lie the ruined cities of Zulu land, if indeed they existed at all, save in the excited imagination of the missionary. An hour had gone by and still Hughes stood gazing over the scene, when a shout came ringing up the hill-side, and soon a dark speck was seen jumping from ledge to ledge. Recognising his comrade, Hughes answered the cry.“I was anxious about you,” said Wyzinski, as he stood breathless and panting on the summit. “The whole camp is out in search of you; Luji brought in a report that you had pitched over the cliff.”“And so I did, thanks to his demon of a monkey.”“Yes; we found the dead leopard, and when searching, I thought I saw something like a human outline on the mountain.”“Now, Wyzinski,” asked his comrade, as he leaned on his rifle, “where runs the Zambesi? for I suppose it is between us and yonder mountains.”“Follow the coast-line,” returned the other. “There lies Sofala, and some forty or fifty miles more to the north the Zambesi must empty itself into the sea at Quillimane.”“Livingstone came as far south as that, and as far north from the Cape as the Limpopo.”“He did: but instead of travelling further north as we have done, he turned to the westward, visiting the Bechuanas and Mozelkatse’s country; but see, what on earth can that be?”The missionary pointed to a kind of cairn on the mountain-side. Beside it lay six slabs of stone, and that they were the work of the white man was evident. Cracked, blackened, and defaced, there was no mistake, the stones were worked into flat slabs, but whose were the hands that fashioned them?“There seems to be an inscription,” said Wyzinski, as he stooped over them. “I feel deep marks in the stone, but the earth has given way beneath them, and creeping plants have grown over them. All these three are cracked and broken.”“Here are three out of the six in a better state,” said Hughes. “We can cut away the undergrowth.”“If we can get at one only that will be sufficient,” said Wyzinski, eagerly, as the two cut away at the masses of weed with their knives. “Should there be any inscription, we may gain some knowledge to guide our future course.”It took a long time and much labour to clear away the undergrowth, and then but to meet with disappointment.“The different wandering tribes who have camped here have used the slabs as fire-places,” observed Wyzinski, sighing. “We must have water, and how can we get it here.”“Oh, easily,” replied Hughes, whose experience of Indian life came to his aid. “With a buffalo hide we can make a bag which will hold water, and can be carried on a man’s back. We call them bheasties in Madras.”“The black grime and the dirt of ages seems encrusted on the slabs of Gorongoza,” remarked the missionary. “I can feel that there is an inscription, but I can’t make it out. The dirt has become like stone, and will want long softening, before we can scoop it out.”“It seems to me, as far as fingers can tell, that the cuttings are of European form. This would go against your theory, Wyzinski.”“We will see that to-morrow,” was the reply, as rising and shutting their knives the two took their way down to the plain, speculating moodily on the probable history of the slabs of Gorongoza.The night set in wild and stormy, the thunder echoing among the mountains, and the rain falling in torrents, but when morning dawned, waking up the wild ducks among the long reeds, and bringing them out on the clear waters of the Golden River, rousing up the parrots and the monkeys in the neighbouring groves, and hushing the cries of the jackals on the plains, the air was cool and pleasant.Clothes hung on the branches near, drying in the sunshine; rifles and guns were being cleaned, the fires were lighted, and the never ceasing process of cooking was going on. Luji and one of the Kaffirs were drawing the sides of a buffalo hide together by means of a string, so as to carry water, working under Hughes’s direction. The missionary was busy with a small tool-chest, carefully selecting the objects which would aid in the proposed search. The leopard’s skin, stretched on two sticks, was drying in the morning sunshine, and the baboon dodging here and there, doing all the mischief possible, and stealing everything it could lay its hands upon.Seizing on a wild duck, just ready for the fire, the incorrigible ape bounded off with it, pursued by one of the Kaffirs. The monkey gained the neighbouring grove, and plunged in, followed by its pursuer. The next moment the animal dashed back, having dropped the bird, evidently terribly alarmed, and chattering its teeth, took refuge with Luji.“There is something in the bush, Luji,” said Hughes, snatching up his rifle. “Wyzinski, look out, there is something wrong yonder.”The Kaffir, who had pursued the ape, had halted, and was staring fixedly in the direction of the wood.“There’s the solution of the mystery,” returned the missionary, calmly, continuing his work as though nothing had happened, while one by one in Indian file, some fifty men, fully armed, and evidently belonging to a tribe not yet met with, stepped out of the wood and advanced towards the little camp. Halting about thirty paces distant, the party squatted on the ground, holding their long assegais in their hands, and having their shields in readiness apparently for attack.“Do you observe,” remarked the missionary, raising his head from his work, “those men have none of the length of limb of the Zulu race, but are, on the contrary, small of stature and villainously ugly? There is the chief advancing towards us.”“Well, he is certainly a curious object,” replied the soldier, leaning on his rifle. “I never saw a man with so low a forehead, so prominent cheek-bones, or so flat a nose. For all covering a piece of hide round the loins, and what on earth has he on his face? They look like button mushrooms growing out of the flesh. Pah! it’s enough to make one sick.”Low of stature, very black, and having the peculiarities named by Hughes, the chief’s natural ugliness was greatly heightened by a row of gold buttons, let into the flesh, from the point of the nose to the roots of the hair.With a firm step and upright bearing, this hideous object advanced into the camp. Masheesh joined the group, and while the dusky braves, with their assegais and shields, remained calmly looking on, a long parley took place before the tent.The chief of this man’s tribe had his kraal near Manica, and was a dependant of the great Machin himself, a rival of Mozelkatse. To him the Arab, Achmet Ben Arif, had sent a runner, telling of what bad passed at Sofala, and also of the travellers’ objects in thus seeking the interior. The chief invited the whole party to his kraal at Busi, and under the circumstances, with fifty lance-heads glittering in the sunshine, to enforce the proffered hospitality, it was difficult to say No.“The direction, too,” said the missionary, “is exactly that we wish to take; and if even we could help ourselves, which we can’t, it will be better to go.”“Then we must leave the mysterious slabs on the top of yonder mountain, with their tales untold.”“Our first object,” replied the missionary, “is to discover the ruined cities of Zulu land; we can return any time to Gorongoza; and who so likely to aid our search as this chief of Manica.”“If he is anything like his envoy, I don’t care much to see him, for a more villainous lot I never met.”“Tell him we will break ground at daylight to-morrow, Matabele,” said Wyzinski, and the interview ended. The armed men lounged lazily about the camp, the baggage was put in order, the slabs of Gorongoza were left behind, and the next day, having followed a northerly direction, with some westing in it, the Mahongo river was passed. With so strong a party it was easy to drive the antelope, so hartebeest and eland meat was plentiful in the camp. The route sometimes led through thick forests, which the travellers would have had some difficulty in threading unguided, and it was only on the tenth day after quitting Gorongoza the party reached the kraal, to find the chief absent, having been called to Manica on a great hunting expedition. Wyzinski wished to proceed to Manica, but they found themselves virtually prisoners though their arms were left, and a hut was assigned to the white men, Luji remaining with them. The baboon gradually gained a great reputation, and the Hottentot was looked upon as the “charmer” of the party, a reputation which pleased his childish nature, and which he added to by teaching the monkey all kind of tricks, and never moving about without it. He was in consequence regarded with some awe, and the baboon, supposed also to possess the secret of “charms,” was always respected.The place itself was curious enough. Three conical hills rose in the plain, the top of one of them being as it were shaved off, most probably by the action of time. This flat and rather inaccessible ground was the residence of the chief, and here too was the usual stockade, where the councils of the tribe were held. At the foot of this hill lay the huts of the kraal, one of which, detached from the rest, was given to the white men. In form it resembled exactly the dome-shaped tent of a subaltern in India, a pole also running up the centre, the whole being made of wood, covered with bark, and having, instead of a door, a small opening constructed like a narrow passage. Skins served as a bed, and the furniture consisted of a large earthen vase made to contain the maize or manioc flour; the cowrie baskets and knapsacks having also been deposited inside. A large tree overshadowed the bark hut, and under it the greater part of the day was spent, and all cooking was carried on, the natives themselves evidently living almost wholly in the open air, and only retiring to their huts during bad weather. The women of this tribe were fully as repulsive as the men, and they too wore the curious buttons, sometimes of brass, sometimes of copper, but always in rows as high as the cheek bone, and occasionally one or two in the chin, the buttons being let into the flesh when young, and thus grown in. One strange peculiarity which struck the Europeans forcibly was that among the women, a slit was made in the skin on each side the hip. The youngest child is carried on the parent’s back, and this slit serves it as a stirrup, so that with one arm round the mother’s neck, the child is carried easily and safely, the mother having the free use of her hands. This is the more necessary, as much of the labour is done by the women, the maize or manioc being all ground up by them, the instruments used and the mode of using them being exactly that shown forth in the old Egyptian symbolical sculpture. Among the males the Jewish custom of circumcision prevailed, and these were two points which struck Wyzinski particularly. The tribe was not indigenous, but under the control of Machin, chief of Manica, and was made up of a mixed race, being partly of the blood of the Makoapa, who owned Knobneusen as their chief, partly of that of a fierce and treacherous race called Banyai.This native kraal of Busi is pleasantly situated. To the northward, far away in the distance, a lofty hill called “Morumbala,” near whose base flows the “Zambesi,” while to the southward the mountains of Nyamonga and Gorongoza stretch away into the horizon. Thick forests of trees, many of them of tropical growth, sweep around, while the plains are rich in luxuriant vegetation. The cedar, the ebony palmyra, mohonono, mashuka, acacia, mashanga, and the dwarf custard-apple, grow abundantly, while a bright red bean, called the mosika, together with maize, is much cultivated. Iron is found and worked on the hill-sides, after a very homely fashion, while coal actually crops up out of the ground, and is picked out by the women, who use only a hoe.The copper and brass ornaments are procured, in the way of trade, from the Portuguese of the Zambesi; but gold is plentiful and its value known, the women washing it out of the ground in quantities, sometimes even finding it in pure nuggets. All this seemed strongly to confirm the missionary’s firm belief that in this neighbourhood was once found and exported gold, cedar, and other riches. Elephants were numerous in the forests, and the ivory was sold to the Portuguese. It was to a grand elephant hunt the head of the tribe had been called, and, with the exception of the brave and his escort of fifty warriors who had accompanied the white men, none but the women remained in the kraal.A week passed by, and at its expiration the shouts of the men, and the shrill screams of the women, heralded the return of the head warrior Umhleswa, and told that the hunt had been a successful one.
“I think,” said Hughes, as the two sat outside the small tent, pitched by the side of the stream, the morning after their return from Sofala,—“I think we had better remain here for a time.”
“I agree with you; and as there is no one to say us No, let it be decided in the affirmative. There are large quantities of wild ducks, and our fellows are so expert in finding their eggs, that the great change to men who have lived so long on nothing but venison must be beneficial.”
“We have plenty of fruit, too, and the ground-nuts are not to be despised. These cool streams, which seem to take their rise in yonder mountains, are another inducement. Our lines are at present cast in pleasant places, and what lies beyond seems uncertain. Let us profit by the present.”
“I want to go over all our baggage, and put our fellows in light marching order. To look at our little camp now, without waggon or horses, without cattle, and our numbers so reduced, we seem to resemble one of the parties so well painted by Cooper in his Indian tales. Who are those fellows?”
A party of natives were seen approaching, among whom was the Matabele chief. They were almost naked, but came on with a most assured air, squatting down in a half circle before the tent, and employing all their powers in staring stolidly at the strangers.
“Here, Luji,” shouted Hughes, who was carefully loading his rifle, “just see what these fellows want, will you?”
“Want calico, master,” said Luji, after a great amount of talk, “give gold.”
The Macomb, for such they were, produced from their waist-belts quills closed at each end, which contained gold. Some of the grains were of large size, and one of the natives showed a small lump of the yellow metal. It was quite evident that they knew where to procure it.
“Does not all this go to prove my theory, Hughes; and are we not approaching a gold country?”
“Tell them we are not traders, Luji. That we have not any calico; but ask if there is any large game about.”
The scantily-dressed natives squatted on, looking fixedly at the Europeans, and evidently not believing the assertion. At length one of their number, touching a large piece of canvas, which had been thrown on one side after fashioning the small tent, spoke volubly, often pointing to the mountain. “The Macomb show master caracal for this,” said Luji, laughing.
“What’s a caracal, Wyzinski?” asked Hughes. “Oh, these people call the leopard by that name; but the real caracal is the lynx or wild cat,” answered the missionary.
“Ask him where his caracal is, Luji?” said Hughes. The native pointed to a ledge of rock, high up the mountain-side.
“Well, tell him he shall have it, Luji, if he shows me the leopard. I’ll leave you to the baggage department, Wyzinski, and see whether I can get the caracal’s skin. Take the canvas, Luji, and come along. Tell him you will give it him if I get a shot at the leopard.”
Shouldering his rifle, Hughes moved on, beckoning to the native and Luji to follow him. The former rose and obeyed, while his comrades remained squatted before the tent, steadfastly gazing at Wyzinski, their eyes following his every movement, and so they remained stolidly staring for hours, before they took their departure.
Wending his way among the men, who were busily employed plucking wild ducks, and preparing them for the mid-day dinner, pounding up the manioc flour to make cakes, or looking to the fires, Hughes took his way towards the mountain, the native guide and Luji following. Hardly had they left the outskirts of the camp, when the monkey came bounding after them.
“Let him alone, Luji; you can’t drive him away,” said Hughes, as with a leap the mischievous brute ensconced himself on the man’s shoulders, the Macombé looking at the scene in great astonishment.
Toiling up the face of the hill-side, they reached at last the ledge of rock. It would have been very hazardous to face the leopard with so small a footing; besides, the animal, of course, had a refuge there. Making a wide circuit, the party, accompanied by the monkey, gained a height immediately above the ledge. Posting Luji at a spot where he judged he might prove useful in case the leopard bolted and the Hottentot did not, Captain Hughes, lying flat on his face, leaned over the edge of the precipitous rock, and looked down on to the ledge. It was a very awkward position, and when far enough over to enable the hunter to fire, he found himself nearly overbalanced.
The ledge was empty, but after watching for an hour, and when nearly wearied out, the leopard at last came out of his cave, and began walking up and down the narrow space.
Just as the animal, in one of his turns, arrived under him, the hunter fired. The ball struck obliquely, where the spine joins with the head, and, slanting off, lodged in the brain, death being instantaneous, but the hunter was nearly overbalanced. Just as he struggled to his knees, the baboon, with a tremendous spring, lighted right on his shoulders. The sudden shock destroyed the balance, and clutching at the bushes, which gave way slowly, one by one, Hughes went over the precipice.
They luckily saved him, but, bruised and shaken, he fell on the ledge, close to the dead leopard, the lock of the rifle being broken in the fall. Looking up, he saw the monkey, peering over, and grimacing, for so nimble was it, that it had not shared the fall. Shaking his fist, in return for which he received a shower of stones and dirt, Hughes moved cautiously along the ledge. The leopard was quite dead. A cave lay a little further on, and as he entered it, he was almost driven back by the close smell of decaying flesh. It was heaped with bones, and remains of deer, and must have been used for many years.
The leopard was a male, and the female might be near. Advancing cautiously, his rifle, only one barrel of which was available, in his hand, Hughes was astonished by the great extent of the cavern. To the right, it soon became black as night, and the sound of falling water was to be heard. This might explain the extreme coldness and clearness of the streams of Gorongoza, for doubtless they took their rise in the heart of these mountains, flowing perhaps for miles in darkness among the caverns. The roof was covered with beautiful white stalactites, but the eye could not penetrate the thick darkness in this direction. To the left a kind of corridor led towards an opening giving on the mountain-side, and towards this Hughes turned, glad to get away from the fetid exhalations of the cavern. Two hedgehogs were travelling in the same direction, the quills of which were very curious, being differently coloured, some white, others black, and some brown, the body, where it could be seen, entirely black. The animals rolled themselves up securely, looking just like parti-coloured balls. Emerging into daylight, and stepping from ledge to ledge, Hughes gained the mountain-side, hearing from time to time Luji’s shouts, as the man searched for him, then crossing a deep cut, he gained another spur of the Nyamonga range, higher far than the hill of Gorongoza.
Shading his eyes with his hand, Captain Hughes paused breathless on the mountain-height. The whole country lay spread like a map before him. Far away to the east lay the face of a friend, for the blue line of the ocean was distinctly visible. The mountain range on which he stood ran nearly north and south, while the beautifully wooded plain, across which the party had travelled, was mapped out before his gaze, with Quissanga, Madanda, and the country of the Batonga plainly visible, the rivers looking like silvery threads, and the vast forests like inky spots, on the sunlit plain. To the north, stretched at the foot of the mountains, lay the plains they were yet to traverse, the unknown land of promise. It looked one dense forest, broken at rare intervals with open, and intersected by two rivers, one appearing a considerable sheet of water, while in the far distance, a range of lofty mountains loomed, dim, blue, and ghostlike in their outline.
A deep interest attached itself to the scene, for between him and those mountains the Zambesi must run, and somewhere among the forests must lie the ruined cities of Zulu land, if indeed they existed at all, save in the excited imagination of the missionary. An hour had gone by and still Hughes stood gazing over the scene, when a shout came ringing up the hill-side, and soon a dark speck was seen jumping from ledge to ledge. Recognising his comrade, Hughes answered the cry.
“I was anxious about you,” said Wyzinski, as he stood breathless and panting on the summit. “The whole camp is out in search of you; Luji brought in a report that you had pitched over the cliff.”
“And so I did, thanks to his demon of a monkey.”
“Yes; we found the dead leopard, and when searching, I thought I saw something like a human outline on the mountain.”
“Now, Wyzinski,” asked his comrade, as he leaned on his rifle, “where runs the Zambesi? for I suppose it is between us and yonder mountains.”
“Follow the coast-line,” returned the other. “There lies Sofala, and some forty or fifty miles more to the north the Zambesi must empty itself into the sea at Quillimane.”
“Livingstone came as far south as that, and as far north from the Cape as the Limpopo.”
“He did: but instead of travelling further north as we have done, he turned to the westward, visiting the Bechuanas and Mozelkatse’s country; but see, what on earth can that be?”
The missionary pointed to a kind of cairn on the mountain-side. Beside it lay six slabs of stone, and that they were the work of the white man was evident. Cracked, blackened, and defaced, there was no mistake, the stones were worked into flat slabs, but whose were the hands that fashioned them?
“There seems to be an inscription,” said Wyzinski, as he stooped over them. “I feel deep marks in the stone, but the earth has given way beneath them, and creeping plants have grown over them. All these three are cracked and broken.”
“Here are three out of the six in a better state,” said Hughes. “We can cut away the undergrowth.”
“If we can get at one only that will be sufficient,” said Wyzinski, eagerly, as the two cut away at the masses of weed with their knives. “Should there be any inscription, we may gain some knowledge to guide our future course.”
It took a long time and much labour to clear away the undergrowth, and then but to meet with disappointment.
“The different wandering tribes who have camped here have used the slabs as fire-places,” observed Wyzinski, sighing. “We must have water, and how can we get it here.”
“Oh, easily,” replied Hughes, whose experience of Indian life came to his aid. “With a buffalo hide we can make a bag which will hold water, and can be carried on a man’s back. We call them bheasties in Madras.”
“The black grime and the dirt of ages seems encrusted on the slabs of Gorongoza,” remarked the missionary. “I can feel that there is an inscription, but I can’t make it out. The dirt has become like stone, and will want long softening, before we can scoop it out.”
“It seems to me, as far as fingers can tell, that the cuttings are of European form. This would go against your theory, Wyzinski.”
“We will see that to-morrow,” was the reply, as rising and shutting their knives the two took their way down to the plain, speculating moodily on the probable history of the slabs of Gorongoza.
The night set in wild and stormy, the thunder echoing among the mountains, and the rain falling in torrents, but when morning dawned, waking up the wild ducks among the long reeds, and bringing them out on the clear waters of the Golden River, rousing up the parrots and the monkeys in the neighbouring groves, and hushing the cries of the jackals on the plains, the air was cool and pleasant.
Clothes hung on the branches near, drying in the sunshine; rifles and guns were being cleaned, the fires were lighted, and the never ceasing process of cooking was going on. Luji and one of the Kaffirs were drawing the sides of a buffalo hide together by means of a string, so as to carry water, working under Hughes’s direction. The missionary was busy with a small tool-chest, carefully selecting the objects which would aid in the proposed search. The leopard’s skin, stretched on two sticks, was drying in the morning sunshine, and the baboon dodging here and there, doing all the mischief possible, and stealing everything it could lay its hands upon.
Seizing on a wild duck, just ready for the fire, the incorrigible ape bounded off with it, pursued by one of the Kaffirs. The monkey gained the neighbouring grove, and plunged in, followed by its pursuer. The next moment the animal dashed back, having dropped the bird, evidently terribly alarmed, and chattering its teeth, took refuge with Luji.
“There is something in the bush, Luji,” said Hughes, snatching up his rifle. “Wyzinski, look out, there is something wrong yonder.”
The Kaffir, who had pursued the ape, had halted, and was staring fixedly in the direction of the wood.
“There’s the solution of the mystery,” returned the missionary, calmly, continuing his work as though nothing had happened, while one by one in Indian file, some fifty men, fully armed, and evidently belonging to a tribe not yet met with, stepped out of the wood and advanced towards the little camp. Halting about thirty paces distant, the party squatted on the ground, holding their long assegais in their hands, and having their shields in readiness apparently for attack.
“Do you observe,” remarked the missionary, raising his head from his work, “those men have none of the length of limb of the Zulu race, but are, on the contrary, small of stature and villainously ugly? There is the chief advancing towards us.”
“Well, he is certainly a curious object,” replied the soldier, leaning on his rifle. “I never saw a man with so low a forehead, so prominent cheek-bones, or so flat a nose. For all covering a piece of hide round the loins, and what on earth has he on his face? They look like button mushrooms growing out of the flesh. Pah! it’s enough to make one sick.”
Low of stature, very black, and having the peculiarities named by Hughes, the chief’s natural ugliness was greatly heightened by a row of gold buttons, let into the flesh, from the point of the nose to the roots of the hair.
With a firm step and upright bearing, this hideous object advanced into the camp. Masheesh joined the group, and while the dusky braves, with their assegais and shields, remained calmly looking on, a long parley took place before the tent.
The chief of this man’s tribe had his kraal near Manica, and was a dependant of the great Machin himself, a rival of Mozelkatse. To him the Arab, Achmet Ben Arif, had sent a runner, telling of what bad passed at Sofala, and also of the travellers’ objects in thus seeking the interior. The chief invited the whole party to his kraal at Busi, and under the circumstances, with fifty lance-heads glittering in the sunshine, to enforce the proffered hospitality, it was difficult to say No.
“The direction, too,” said the missionary, “is exactly that we wish to take; and if even we could help ourselves, which we can’t, it will be better to go.”
“Then we must leave the mysterious slabs on the top of yonder mountain, with their tales untold.”
“Our first object,” replied the missionary, “is to discover the ruined cities of Zulu land; we can return any time to Gorongoza; and who so likely to aid our search as this chief of Manica.”
“If he is anything like his envoy, I don’t care much to see him, for a more villainous lot I never met.”
“Tell him we will break ground at daylight to-morrow, Matabele,” said Wyzinski, and the interview ended. The armed men lounged lazily about the camp, the baggage was put in order, the slabs of Gorongoza were left behind, and the next day, having followed a northerly direction, with some westing in it, the Mahongo river was passed. With so strong a party it was easy to drive the antelope, so hartebeest and eland meat was plentiful in the camp. The route sometimes led through thick forests, which the travellers would have had some difficulty in threading unguided, and it was only on the tenth day after quitting Gorongoza the party reached the kraal, to find the chief absent, having been called to Manica on a great hunting expedition. Wyzinski wished to proceed to Manica, but they found themselves virtually prisoners though their arms were left, and a hut was assigned to the white men, Luji remaining with them. The baboon gradually gained a great reputation, and the Hottentot was looked upon as the “charmer” of the party, a reputation which pleased his childish nature, and which he added to by teaching the monkey all kind of tricks, and never moving about without it. He was in consequence regarded with some awe, and the baboon, supposed also to possess the secret of “charms,” was always respected.
The place itself was curious enough. Three conical hills rose in the plain, the top of one of them being as it were shaved off, most probably by the action of time. This flat and rather inaccessible ground was the residence of the chief, and here too was the usual stockade, where the councils of the tribe were held. At the foot of this hill lay the huts of the kraal, one of which, detached from the rest, was given to the white men. In form it resembled exactly the dome-shaped tent of a subaltern in India, a pole also running up the centre, the whole being made of wood, covered with bark, and having, instead of a door, a small opening constructed like a narrow passage. Skins served as a bed, and the furniture consisted of a large earthen vase made to contain the maize or manioc flour; the cowrie baskets and knapsacks having also been deposited inside. A large tree overshadowed the bark hut, and under it the greater part of the day was spent, and all cooking was carried on, the natives themselves evidently living almost wholly in the open air, and only retiring to their huts during bad weather. The women of this tribe were fully as repulsive as the men, and they too wore the curious buttons, sometimes of brass, sometimes of copper, but always in rows as high as the cheek bone, and occasionally one or two in the chin, the buttons being let into the flesh when young, and thus grown in. One strange peculiarity which struck the Europeans forcibly was that among the women, a slit was made in the skin on each side the hip. The youngest child is carried on the parent’s back, and this slit serves it as a stirrup, so that with one arm round the mother’s neck, the child is carried easily and safely, the mother having the free use of her hands. This is the more necessary, as much of the labour is done by the women, the maize or manioc being all ground up by them, the instruments used and the mode of using them being exactly that shown forth in the old Egyptian symbolical sculpture. Among the males the Jewish custom of circumcision prevailed, and these were two points which struck Wyzinski particularly. The tribe was not indigenous, but under the control of Machin, chief of Manica, and was made up of a mixed race, being partly of the blood of the Makoapa, who owned Knobneusen as their chief, partly of that of a fierce and treacherous race called Banyai.
This native kraal of Busi is pleasantly situated. To the northward, far away in the distance, a lofty hill called “Morumbala,” near whose base flows the “Zambesi,” while to the southward the mountains of Nyamonga and Gorongoza stretch away into the horizon. Thick forests of trees, many of them of tropical growth, sweep around, while the plains are rich in luxuriant vegetation. The cedar, the ebony palmyra, mohonono, mashuka, acacia, mashanga, and the dwarf custard-apple, grow abundantly, while a bright red bean, called the mosika, together with maize, is much cultivated. Iron is found and worked on the hill-sides, after a very homely fashion, while coal actually crops up out of the ground, and is picked out by the women, who use only a hoe.
The copper and brass ornaments are procured, in the way of trade, from the Portuguese of the Zambesi; but gold is plentiful and its value known, the women washing it out of the ground in quantities, sometimes even finding it in pure nuggets. All this seemed strongly to confirm the missionary’s firm belief that in this neighbourhood was once found and exported gold, cedar, and other riches. Elephants were numerous in the forests, and the ivory was sold to the Portuguese. It was to a grand elephant hunt the head of the tribe had been called, and, with the exception of the brave and his escort of fifty warriors who had accompanied the white men, none but the women remained in the kraal.
A week passed by, and at its expiration the shouts of the men, and the shrill screams of the women, heralded the return of the head warrior Umhleswa, and told that the hunt had been a successful one.
The Ruined Cities of Zulu Land.The morning after the chief’s arrival there was a great commotion in the kraal. Men ran to and fro, there was shouting and much talking, and at last, followed by his warriors, the chief Umhleswa came down from the council enclosure, and taking his way among the huts, halted at the entrance of that which had been assigned to the white men. Umhleswa found them seated under the tree which overshadowed their home, and, whatever he might think of them, his own appearance was in no way prepossessing. Under the middle height, his legs were curved, or bowed, his forehead low and retreating, the part of the head behind the ears being very massive. The ears themselves were enormous, and the mouth very large; the nose flattened, and the lips thick. He wore the usual set of small buttons let into the flesh, but they were of virgin gold; and a panther skin was attached by a golden clasp round the waist, falling like a Highland kilt. A number of small objects of glass, beads, and ivory hung down from his waist, making a rattle as he walked. Bound his ankles, wrists, and the fleshy part of the arm were circles of copper. He carried no arms, but held in his hand a stick, also of gold, about a foot long, and his teeth were filed, giving an appearance of savage ferocity to his repulsive face. The white men rose, and some additional skins being brought, the three chiefs, Umhleswa, the missionary, and the soldier, seated themselves, the warriors squatting in a circle around.“The white chiefs are not traders, but like gold,” said the savage, after a prolonged stare. “They seek some fallen huts, formerly made by their white fathers?” asked he, speaking in the Zulu tongue.“Achmet Ben Arif spoke truly when he told you so, Umhleswa,” was the reply.“The white chiefs saw the fallen house at Sofala. In the mountains at Gorongoza are caves; the traders of the Zambesi built the house, the worshippers of the white man’s God lived at Gorongoza. There are no other remains of them.”“And the stone tablets on the mountain?” eagerly asked the missionary.The lips of the savage parted, showing the sharp filed teeth. “They are the graves of those who served the white man’s god.”“And no other ruined huts are here?”“None. Let the white chiefs hunt with my warriors, they are welcome; the elephant and the rhinoceros are in plenty. The Zambesi is not far distant, when they are tired of the hunt.”The missionary was terribly disappointed, for the chief’s face bore on it a look of truthfulness. There was no reason for doubting him, and he did not do so.“Umhleswa would see the chiefs hunt himself. Cattle were carried away from his kraal last night. The robbers were three in number, and are panthers. My scouts are out on the spoor: will the white men join my braves this day?”“Willingly,” replied the missionary, who at once explained what had passed to the soldier. Tired of a week’s inactivity, the latter was enchanted at the chance. The rifles and ammunition were soon ready. One of the scouts came in with his report that the spoor had been followed into a neighbouring wood, and that the three panthers had not left it. The party consisted of the Europeans and the Matabele chief, together with Umhleswa and about thirty of his tribe. The men were armed with spears, some carrying bows and arrows, the chief alone having an old Spanish long-barrelled fowling piece, damascened with gold.About four miles of plain lay stretched between the Amatonga village and the forest line, and it was to this the whole troop of noisy savages, headed by their chief and the two white men, took their way in a body. The forest-land, broken at intervals by patches of plain watered by a small stream, stretched away to the mountains, and once it was reached, Umhleswa made his arrangements. All the men armed with assegais were told off as beaters, and advancing in a long line they carried the bush before them. The rest, armed with bows and arrows, were stationed in small groups at the further extremity of the thick cover. Several patches of bush had thus been beaten out, and no game was found.“What immense numbers of parrots these woods contain,” said Hughes.“And how slowly and well these savages beat. I should not like to face a panther with nothing but an assegai,” replied Wyzinski.The two were standing close to the chief as the missionary spoke, a strong party of the bowmen near, when a tremendous uproar took place among the spearmen, a shrill, piercing scream sounding high above the clamour.“The panther has struck down one of my braves,” exclaimed the Amatonga chief, listening eagerly.The clamour became louder and louder, seeming to recede.“Look out, Hughes, they are doubling back, and, if they don’t succeed, must break out.”Hardly had the words been uttered, when three panthers dashed out from the cover, about twenty paces only from where Umhleswa stood. They looked beautiful but dangerous, as they crouched for a few moments on their bellies in the sand, the bright sun streaming over their painted hides, the end of the tail moving slowly to and fro, and showing their white teeth; then rising, the three, evidently male and female, with their young one a little behind them, came slowly forward, ever crouching for the spring and snarling savagely.“Are you ready, Wyzinski?” said Hughes, in a low hoarse tone; “take the female—it is nearest to you.”The men with the bows had disappeared; not so Umhleswa, who stood his ground firmly.“Take the young one, chief,” whispered the missionary to the Amatonga.Both the rifles united in one common report, the Spanish piece ringing out a second later. The male panther sprang into the air and fell, nearly at the feet of the little party, quite dead. The female, badly wounded, broke away towards the mountains, while the young one made his spring, striking down the Amatonga chief, and, dashing through a party of the assegai men, again sought shelter in the bush. The fore-arm of the female panther was broken, but it ultimately gained the mountains, with a party of some dozen men after it, yelling, shouting, and discharging their arrows at impossible distances. The poor fellow who had been struck down in the bush was dead, and his body was laid beside the carcass of the leopard. Umhleswa was a good deal hurt; the blow having struck his head, but the animal being young, weak, and frightened, had inflicted only a scalp wound; nevertheless, the chief was stunned, and it was an hour before he recovered consciousness.For the first time since their arrival among the Amatongas the white men were left to their own device. The confusion was very great, and all assembled round their unconscious chief. A litter was constructed, and they started for the kraal, the whole party of savages accompanying it.The two Europeans, having once more loaded their rifles, stood watching the retiring and discomfited savages.“We ought to have that second tiger, Wyzinski; you fired too low,” at last observed Hughes.“I suppose I did, confused doubtless by the three leaping animals. I am sorry for it. Umhleswa missed his, and it is humiliating that I only wounded mine.”“Well, what say you, shall we follow the spoor; it will lead us to yonder mountains, where we shall in all probability find the wounded panther?”“What if we were to follow the young one?”“No, it would lead us into the forest, and besides it is unwounded. The Amatonga chief missed, and his braves ran away; let us bring in the female; and besides that, now that the hope of finding your cherished ruins has vanished, we have nothing to do but look for sport. The more reason we should not lose this chance.”The missionary stood leaning on his rifle, and he slowly shook his head as he answered—“My faith in the existence of those ruins is unshaken; but there was a look of truth in the face of the savage when he assured us none such existed here. Well, we will go to Manica, and perhaps Machin, who is represented as a powerful chief, may throw some light on that.”“Ay, but how will you get over the sacred nature of the ruins if they do exist?”“By bribery; depend upon it, nothing succeeds better with the virtuous Amatonga.”“Well, good-bye to the ruins at present; and whether Solomon knew the land or not, or whether Ophir be here of elsewhere, our object is the skin of the panther.”Their rifles at the trail, the two hunters moved forward towards the mountains, from which they were separated by several belts of forest, guided by the gouts of blood which the wounded animal had left. These tracks led at first across the open. Here there could be no mistake, for the bowmen had followed the animal for some distance, shouting and firing off their arrows, but the two hunters soon struck into the brush once more, and still guided by the spots of blood, pressed on cautiously but quickly. Hardly a word was spoken as they forced their way onward, the yells and shouts of the Amatongas dying away; and, with the exception of the breaking of the branches, and the sound of running water in the bed of the stream, all was still. After heavy rains this river must be a considerable one, but at that moment it was small, so the hunters followed, so far as was practicable, its course, the wounded panther having done the same. After having proceeded thus some two miles in the brush, sometimes stumbling over the boulders of stone, sometimes with difficulty forcing a pathway among the trees and bushes, the river turned suddenly to the right, and as suddenly the forest ceased.The missionary halted, and looked about him anxiously.“What’s the matter?” asked Hughes in a low tone, cocking his rifle as he spoke.“See,” answered the other, “the stream has been dammed up here, and there are evident traces of masonry. This is strange.”“We are close to the end of this belt of forest-land, and shall soon solve the mystery, if there be one.”“There is a considerable sheet of water here, and why should it exist? Can we be near some large kraal?”Slowly the two moved forward, and as they did so the trees became gradually further apart, the banks of the stream seemed quite clear, even from brushwood. A sharp bend led to the right, and there before them, tumbled here and there among the mighty trees, looking like masses of rock, lay scattered far as the eye could reach, following the bend of the river, fallen masonry.Both stopped dead in utter astonishment, looking like men at once frightened and bewildered, the missionary’s usually calm and impassive countenance growing one moment deadly, pale, the next flushing a deep crimson. So great was the shock, so totally unexpected the event—for he had perfectly believed in what the Amatonga had said—that the tears stood in his eyes.Here, then, was a confirmation of all his theories. Here the vast ruins among the gold fields of king Solomon; here the source of the Sabe, or Golden River, down whose stream the boats of bygone days floated gold, cedar-wood, and precious stones. An Englishman’s first impulse at once seized on Hughes, and, yielding to it, the two exchanged a vigorous shake of the hand.“What could induce Umhleswa to tell us such an untruth?” were the first words which broke from the missionary’s lips.“Because the ruins are sacred, and these people believe no rain will fall for three years if they be molested,” was the reply. A sense of the danger now stole upon the missionary’s mind as his comrade spoke.“Hughes, I shall go on; but I have no right and no wish to endanger your life. Leave the adventure to me; return to camp while there is yet time.”The soldier’s face flushed to the roots of his hair, and he made no reply, simply grasping his rifle and moving forward.“Stay,” urged the missionary, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder, “I meant no unkindness. As a matter of simple prudence you ought to return. If harm happened to one of us, it would not matter as far as the world is concerned; if to both, this secret would be lost with us.”“Don’t talk nonsense,” replied Hughes, firmly, “but come along. We are comrades in danger as in all else. What one shares, the other does too. This must have been once a vast pile.”“Gold, cedars, and now the ruins; we have found all,” muttered the missionary, as, yielding the point, he strode onward, once more sinking into reverie.There rose right in front of them two massive ruins of pyramidical form, which must at one time have been of great height. Even now, broken and fallen as they were, the solid bases only remaining, they were noble and imposing. Part had come tumbling down, in one jumbled mass, into the bed of the river, while the dwarf acacia and palm were shooting up among the stones, breaking and disjointing them. The two gazed long and silently at these vast mounds, the very memory of whose builders had passed away.Awe-struck and surprised, they sat down by the stream, and, without exchanging a word, drank of the clear water. Their clothes torn, hands and faces bleeding from the exertions made in forcing their way through the bush, their skin tanned to a deep mahogany colour, there they stood at last among the ruined cities of a lost race. By the banks of the stream the pomegranate, the plantain, and the mango, were growing in wild luxuriance—trees not known in the land, consequently imported.Overshadowing the fallen blocks of stone, the date-tree and palmyra waved their fan-like leaves. Dense masses of powerful creepers crept up the ruins, rending the solid masonry; and the seeds of the trees dropping year by year had produced a rapid undergrowth, those which had once been valuable fruit-trees having degenerated into wild ones. Chaos had, in a word, re-appeared where once trade and prosperity, order and regularity reigned.“Let us gather some of the custard-apples, and climb yonder ruin,” said the missionary, speaking for the first time.It was no easy task; for the accumulation of fallen masonry, and the dense growth of the brush, rendered it often necessary for the onward path to be cleared by the use of the knife. The whole mass appeared at one time to have been encircled by a wall, now fallen, the entrances to which could be distinctly traced, and this confirmed the report which, had been gathered by the missionaries of Santa Lucia Bay.Slowly the two forced their way towards the vast ruined mound they were striving to gain, often stumbling and falling among the loose stones and treacherous creepers.A crowd of half-fallen passages led away to right and left, terminating in what appeared to be a court-yard, in which were the remains of pillars of stone.“There has once been carved work on these pillars, Hughes,” said the missionary, as they paused, breathless with their exertions, before a mighty column. “The action of ages has worn it away.”“And what is more singular,” replied Hughes, who now seemed as much interested in the ruins as his comrade, “no mortar of any kind appears to have been used, the massive stones fitting into one another exactly.”“This temple or palace has stood upon a kind of platform of masonry,” remarked the missionary, “with broad steps leading up to it. What a commanding object it must then have been.”“The difficulty will be to climb what was once the flight of steps,” said Hughes. “I don’t see how we can manage it.”Slinging their rifles behind them, and after many failures, the two helping each other from time to time, and taking advantage of every projection, stood at last on the raised platform on which the building had rested. Below them ran a maze of crumbled galleries and court-yards: and wherever the eye could penetrate, mounds of fallen masonry cropped up amidst the dense forest growth.The vast ruin itself was now a shapeless mass, being utterly broken and defaced. The top of the mound was overgrown by bush, interlaced with creeping plants, and, as using their knives, the two cut their way onward, the light of day penetrated feebly into a ruined chamber of vast size. A dead silence reigned therein, and as they paused at the entrance and looked back on the scene which lay below, perhaps the first Europeans who had stood on that weird spot for many ages, the missionary could not but feel dispirited.“The day-dream of my life realised. I stand among the ruins of the cities of old; but where they begin, or where they end I know not. The forest has re-asserted her old rights, torn from her by the hand of civilisation,” he remarked.“Look where you will there is nothing to be seen but broken mounds and tottering walls; it would require a brigade of men and years of work to clear these ruins,” replied Hughes.“Yes, the extent of them is a mystery at present. We can but affirm their existence. What a deep dead silence hangs over the spot. Let us go on.”They penetrated the ruined chamber, but hardly had they put their feet across the threshold, when bats in vast numbers came sweeping along, raising, as they did so, a fine dust, which was nearly blinding. The ruins seemed their home, and there they lived, bred, and died in countless numbers. Some were of a sickly-looking greenish colour, and of heavy and lumbering flight, often striking against the two explorers as they came along.At one moment the missionary was surrounded by these tenants of the ruined palace, these winged things which had taken for themselves the abodes of the Pharaohs of old. He struck out in self-defence and killed several, measuring one for curiosity. Its length was only between five and six inches, but when the wings were spread it was at least nineteen from tip to tip. Their numbers seemed to increase, for troops of others, of a dull brownish-red colour, joined their loathsome companions, and then a third species of a chestnut brown, mingled with dingy white, came trooping along. What the building had been it was impossible to tell; but it must have once seemed a mighty pile standing on its platform of stonework, with a flight of broad steps leading to it. These steps had disappeared; but remains of them could be noticed, and from the elevation where the two stood the line which had once been the wall of the town could be traced here and there. There were not any remains of a purely Egyptian character, save a worn arabesque representing the process of maize-grinding; but this was to be seen daily practised among the tribes, and therefore proved nothing, for it remained an open question whether the natives had taken it from the sculptor, or whether he had imitated the natives. Here and there were remains of carvings representing serpents, birds, and beasts of uncouth form, leading to the belief that the building had once been a temple. Passing along, nearly blinded by the fine dust, their knives cut them a way out, and the breeze and sunshine seemed doubly welcome after the dank, confined air of the old ruin. Huge lizards glided away among the broken stones as they emerged from the corridor—for such it seemed—and monkeys were to be seen darting away among the trees as they let themselves down from the platform. These animals had not any tails, resembling those found among the Atlas mountains; while the jackal and hyena, surprised at the sight of human beings in this solitary spot, sneaked away among the masses of fallen masonry, snarling as they looked back. Near the stream the spoor of the elephant was distinctly visible, and it was evident this was one of their favourite feeding grounds, for the banks were strewed with the broken branches of the mashuka-trees, and the débris of the plantains. The tamarind-trees and palmyra grew luxuriantly, and for hours the two wandered among the ruins or, seated on the fallen heaps, lost themselves in conjectures on the past, “It is impossible,” at last said Wyzinski, seating himself, fairly wearied out, “for us to explore further these relics of the past. We can but tell of their existence, I repeat.”“The axe, or fire—perhaps both—would be necessary before even their extent could be known,” replied Hughes. “Look at that mass of masonry, thickly hedged round with date, camel thorn, and white mimosa. Mark the thick undergrowth and the strange creeping vine-like shrubs running along the ground, and festooning themselves to the trees, and the difficulty will be realised.”“There seem to me to be caves cut in yonder mountain-side: let us go there.”In rear of the ruins rose the slopes of the Malopopo hills, and leading in that direction was a kind of passage through a lower range, the river flowing in the middle. On each side rose the rocks, scarped down towards the bed of the stream, from which coal was cropping out. The summits of the hills were worn and rounded by the action of time, and here and there clumps of trees were growing on the river banks. It was up this cut the two advanced, Hughes leading. Stopping as he turned a shoulder of the rock, the missionary joined him. Seven rhinoceroses were sleeping quietly by the water side under the trees, the boughs of which were literally bending under the mass of nests made by the same bright yellow bird which had been seen so numerous on the Sofala river.The animals were totally different from any other that had been seen.“They have a perfectly smooth skin,” remarked Hughes.“Yes, and are of a pale yellow colour instead of brown, like the one which treated me so unceremoniously in the country of the Matabele. Both the horns too are pointed, and both long.”“We had better look out. See they have awoke, and are getting into line ready to charge us.”In fact the brutes seemed very savage, and so soon as they perceived the intruders on their solitude, they charged down the glen. Scrambling up a rock, the danger was easily avoided. The herd passed on except one old cow with its young one, who halted after having gone some twenty yards, and turning deliberately round returned, gazing with apparently great curiosity at the white men. It was impossible to pass; and there stood the great lumbering animal fairly mounting guard over the two who, perched on the rock, were only wishful to be left alone.There was nothing for it, however, but to get rid of the troublesome visitor; so, leaning the rifles on the flat rock on which they were lying, by agreement both aimed for the centre of the forehead. The two reports seemed as one, as for a moment the rhinoceros stood firmly, and then fell over into the river, dyeing the water with blood. It was a great size, measuring close upon twelve feet in length, and ten in girth, while the horns were so nearly matched that there was not a quarter of an inch difference between them. The openings of several caves were to be seen, and near one there appeared to have been some fight lately, for blood, evidently quite fresh, was lying about.To this cave the two climbed, entering very cautiously. Chance had again favoured them, for there lay the leopard quite dead. Bones of different kinds were heaped about, showing that for a time at least it had been the abode of wild animals. It was about twenty feet high, and there were some curious carvings on the walls, the entrance having evidently been scarped down by the hand of man. Close to the doorway were two colossal carvings, as if to guard the mouth of the cave. Each represented the figure of a nearly naked warrior, having a covering only round the loins; and each held in his hand two spears, and not having any shield—in this widely differing from the present race. The faces of these figures seemed of an Arab type. There was no trace of door, but some broken remains would seem to indicate that the entrance had once been walled up, while close by lay a slab of stone bearing a tracing on it of the figure of the African elephant. There were many similar caverns here and there in the mountain-side.“The sun is sinking, Wyzinski,” said Hughes, “It will be impossible to retrace our way in the darkness, and the moon does not rise until eleven o’clock; we had better stay where we are.”“I am tired out,” replied the missionary. “I don’t doubt but that these caverns have once been the graves of the dead belonging to yonder city. This may well serve for ours, only we must contrive a fire.”“Yes, or we may have the young leopard back, if Umhleswa’s Spanish rifle has not done for him. We have still half an hour of daylight: the branches dragged down by the elephants lie in heaps down yonder, and are dry.”The half hour sufficed, a fire was lit at the entrance of the cave on the ledge outside, and the missionary, lying down, was soon buried in sleep.The day had been very hot, and what with the excitement, fatigue, and want of nourishment, the two were tired out. Still Hughes determined to watch, as heaping wood on the fire, he placed his rifle on his knees, and leaned back in a sitting posture against the rock. Night came on; the cries of the animals began to be heard, and the jackals soon found out the carcass of the rhinoceros. The stars were very brilliant, and the soldier sat thinking of the past, and peopling in imagination those fantastic masses of fallen ruin which had once at that hour rang with bustle and merriment. The wind came in hot puffs, making the date and palmyra leaves rustle as they waved to and fro; the noise of the stream breaking over the fallen masonry was very monotonous, and soon the sentry found himself dozing. He rose, heaped fresh wood on the fire, looked out from the ledge into the night, listened to the cracking of the branches, which told him that elephants were not far off, and then again sat down.The moon rose, silvering with its beams the finely-cut leaves of the tall palmyra and the broken ruins, shining on the human figure at the entrance of the cave, and gleaming on the bright barrel and lock of the English rifle; but the soldier slept on his post; the jackals fought over the carrion, the fire burned lower and lower, and finally went out. Day was dawning, when a loud shout close to the mouth of the cavern woke both the soldier and the missionary, but only to find themselves surrounded by a band of the Amatonga warriors fully armed, while the savage eyes and filed teeth of their chief Umhleswa, seemed to give a more vindictive expression than ever to his repulsive face.
The morning after the chief’s arrival there was a great commotion in the kraal. Men ran to and fro, there was shouting and much talking, and at last, followed by his warriors, the chief Umhleswa came down from the council enclosure, and taking his way among the huts, halted at the entrance of that which had been assigned to the white men. Umhleswa found them seated under the tree which overshadowed their home, and, whatever he might think of them, his own appearance was in no way prepossessing. Under the middle height, his legs were curved, or bowed, his forehead low and retreating, the part of the head behind the ears being very massive. The ears themselves were enormous, and the mouth very large; the nose flattened, and the lips thick. He wore the usual set of small buttons let into the flesh, but they were of virgin gold; and a panther skin was attached by a golden clasp round the waist, falling like a Highland kilt. A number of small objects of glass, beads, and ivory hung down from his waist, making a rattle as he walked. Bound his ankles, wrists, and the fleshy part of the arm were circles of copper. He carried no arms, but held in his hand a stick, also of gold, about a foot long, and his teeth were filed, giving an appearance of savage ferocity to his repulsive face. The white men rose, and some additional skins being brought, the three chiefs, Umhleswa, the missionary, and the soldier, seated themselves, the warriors squatting in a circle around.
“The white chiefs are not traders, but like gold,” said the savage, after a prolonged stare. “They seek some fallen huts, formerly made by their white fathers?” asked he, speaking in the Zulu tongue.
“Achmet Ben Arif spoke truly when he told you so, Umhleswa,” was the reply.
“The white chiefs saw the fallen house at Sofala. In the mountains at Gorongoza are caves; the traders of the Zambesi built the house, the worshippers of the white man’s God lived at Gorongoza. There are no other remains of them.”
“And the stone tablets on the mountain?” eagerly asked the missionary.
The lips of the savage parted, showing the sharp filed teeth. “They are the graves of those who served the white man’s god.”
“And no other ruined huts are here?”
“None. Let the white chiefs hunt with my warriors, they are welcome; the elephant and the rhinoceros are in plenty. The Zambesi is not far distant, when they are tired of the hunt.”
The missionary was terribly disappointed, for the chief’s face bore on it a look of truthfulness. There was no reason for doubting him, and he did not do so.
“Umhleswa would see the chiefs hunt himself. Cattle were carried away from his kraal last night. The robbers were three in number, and are panthers. My scouts are out on the spoor: will the white men join my braves this day?”
“Willingly,” replied the missionary, who at once explained what had passed to the soldier. Tired of a week’s inactivity, the latter was enchanted at the chance. The rifles and ammunition were soon ready. One of the scouts came in with his report that the spoor had been followed into a neighbouring wood, and that the three panthers had not left it. The party consisted of the Europeans and the Matabele chief, together with Umhleswa and about thirty of his tribe. The men were armed with spears, some carrying bows and arrows, the chief alone having an old Spanish long-barrelled fowling piece, damascened with gold.
About four miles of plain lay stretched between the Amatonga village and the forest line, and it was to this the whole troop of noisy savages, headed by their chief and the two white men, took their way in a body. The forest-land, broken at intervals by patches of plain watered by a small stream, stretched away to the mountains, and once it was reached, Umhleswa made his arrangements. All the men armed with assegais were told off as beaters, and advancing in a long line they carried the bush before them. The rest, armed with bows and arrows, were stationed in small groups at the further extremity of the thick cover. Several patches of bush had thus been beaten out, and no game was found.
“What immense numbers of parrots these woods contain,” said Hughes.
“And how slowly and well these savages beat. I should not like to face a panther with nothing but an assegai,” replied Wyzinski.
The two were standing close to the chief as the missionary spoke, a strong party of the bowmen near, when a tremendous uproar took place among the spearmen, a shrill, piercing scream sounding high above the clamour.
“The panther has struck down one of my braves,” exclaimed the Amatonga chief, listening eagerly.
The clamour became louder and louder, seeming to recede.
“Look out, Hughes, they are doubling back, and, if they don’t succeed, must break out.”
Hardly had the words been uttered, when three panthers dashed out from the cover, about twenty paces only from where Umhleswa stood. They looked beautiful but dangerous, as they crouched for a few moments on their bellies in the sand, the bright sun streaming over their painted hides, the end of the tail moving slowly to and fro, and showing their white teeth; then rising, the three, evidently male and female, with their young one a little behind them, came slowly forward, ever crouching for the spring and snarling savagely.
“Are you ready, Wyzinski?” said Hughes, in a low hoarse tone; “take the female—it is nearest to you.”
The men with the bows had disappeared; not so Umhleswa, who stood his ground firmly.
“Take the young one, chief,” whispered the missionary to the Amatonga.
Both the rifles united in one common report, the Spanish piece ringing out a second later. The male panther sprang into the air and fell, nearly at the feet of the little party, quite dead. The female, badly wounded, broke away towards the mountains, while the young one made his spring, striking down the Amatonga chief, and, dashing through a party of the assegai men, again sought shelter in the bush. The fore-arm of the female panther was broken, but it ultimately gained the mountains, with a party of some dozen men after it, yelling, shouting, and discharging their arrows at impossible distances. The poor fellow who had been struck down in the bush was dead, and his body was laid beside the carcass of the leopard. Umhleswa was a good deal hurt; the blow having struck his head, but the animal being young, weak, and frightened, had inflicted only a scalp wound; nevertheless, the chief was stunned, and it was an hour before he recovered consciousness.
For the first time since their arrival among the Amatongas the white men were left to their own device. The confusion was very great, and all assembled round their unconscious chief. A litter was constructed, and they started for the kraal, the whole party of savages accompanying it.
The two Europeans, having once more loaded their rifles, stood watching the retiring and discomfited savages.
“We ought to have that second tiger, Wyzinski; you fired too low,” at last observed Hughes.
“I suppose I did, confused doubtless by the three leaping animals. I am sorry for it. Umhleswa missed his, and it is humiliating that I only wounded mine.”
“Well, what say you, shall we follow the spoor; it will lead us to yonder mountains, where we shall in all probability find the wounded panther?”
“What if we were to follow the young one?”
“No, it would lead us into the forest, and besides it is unwounded. The Amatonga chief missed, and his braves ran away; let us bring in the female; and besides that, now that the hope of finding your cherished ruins has vanished, we have nothing to do but look for sport. The more reason we should not lose this chance.”
The missionary stood leaning on his rifle, and he slowly shook his head as he answered—
“My faith in the existence of those ruins is unshaken; but there was a look of truth in the face of the savage when he assured us none such existed here. Well, we will go to Manica, and perhaps Machin, who is represented as a powerful chief, may throw some light on that.”
“Ay, but how will you get over the sacred nature of the ruins if they do exist?”
“By bribery; depend upon it, nothing succeeds better with the virtuous Amatonga.”
“Well, good-bye to the ruins at present; and whether Solomon knew the land or not, or whether Ophir be here of elsewhere, our object is the skin of the panther.”
Their rifles at the trail, the two hunters moved forward towards the mountains, from which they were separated by several belts of forest, guided by the gouts of blood which the wounded animal had left. These tracks led at first across the open. Here there could be no mistake, for the bowmen had followed the animal for some distance, shouting and firing off their arrows, but the two hunters soon struck into the brush once more, and still guided by the spots of blood, pressed on cautiously but quickly. Hardly a word was spoken as they forced their way onward, the yells and shouts of the Amatongas dying away; and, with the exception of the breaking of the branches, and the sound of running water in the bed of the stream, all was still. After heavy rains this river must be a considerable one, but at that moment it was small, so the hunters followed, so far as was practicable, its course, the wounded panther having done the same. After having proceeded thus some two miles in the brush, sometimes stumbling over the boulders of stone, sometimes with difficulty forcing a pathway among the trees and bushes, the river turned suddenly to the right, and as suddenly the forest ceased.
The missionary halted, and looked about him anxiously.
“What’s the matter?” asked Hughes in a low tone, cocking his rifle as he spoke.
“See,” answered the other, “the stream has been dammed up here, and there are evident traces of masonry. This is strange.”
“We are close to the end of this belt of forest-land, and shall soon solve the mystery, if there be one.”
“There is a considerable sheet of water here, and why should it exist? Can we be near some large kraal?”
Slowly the two moved forward, and as they did so the trees became gradually further apart, the banks of the stream seemed quite clear, even from brushwood. A sharp bend led to the right, and there before them, tumbled here and there among the mighty trees, looking like masses of rock, lay scattered far as the eye could reach, following the bend of the river, fallen masonry.
Both stopped dead in utter astonishment, looking like men at once frightened and bewildered, the missionary’s usually calm and impassive countenance growing one moment deadly, pale, the next flushing a deep crimson. So great was the shock, so totally unexpected the event—for he had perfectly believed in what the Amatonga had said—that the tears stood in his eyes.
Here, then, was a confirmation of all his theories. Here the vast ruins among the gold fields of king Solomon; here the source of the Sabe, or Golden River, down whose stream the boats of bygone days floated gold, cedar-wood, and precious stones. An Englishman’s first impulse at once seized on Hughes, and, yielding to it, the two exchanged a vigorous shake of the hand.
“What could induce Umhleswa to tell us such an untruth?” were the first words which broke from the missionary’s lips.
“Because the ruins are sacred, and these people believe no rain will fall for three years if they be molested,” was the reply. A sense of the danger now stole upon the missionary’s mind as his comrade spoke.
“Hughes, I shall go on; but I have no right and no wish to endanger your life. Leave the adventure to me; return to camp while there is yet time.”
The soldier’s face flushed to the roots of his hair, and he made no reply, simply grasping his rifle and moving forward.
“Stay,” urged the missionary, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder, “I meant no unkindness. As a matter of simple prudence you ought to return. If harm happened to one of us, it would not matter as far as the world is concerned; if to both, this secret would be lost with us.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” replied Hughes, firmly, “but come along. We are comrades in danger as in all else. What one shares, the other does too. This must have been once a vast pile.”
“Gold, cedars, and now the ruins; we have found all,” muttered the missionary, as, yielding the point, he strode onward, once more sinking into reverie.
There rose right in front of them two massive ruins of pyramidical form, which must at one time have been of great height. Even now, broken and fallen as they were, the solid bases only remaining, they were noble and imposing. Part had come tumbling down, in one jumbled mass, into the bed of the river, while the dwarf acacia and palm were shooting up among the stones, breaking and disjointing them. The two gazed long and silently at these vast mounds, the very memory of whose builders had passed away.
Awe-struck and surprised, they sat down by the stream, and, without exchanging a word, drank of the clear water. Their clothes torn, hands and faces bleeding from the exertions made in forcing their way through the bush, their skin tanned to a deep mahogany colour, there they stood at last among the ruined cities of a lost race. By the banks of the stream the pomegranate, the plantain, and the mango, were growing in wild luxuriance—trees not known in the land, consequently imported.
Overshadowing the fallen blocks of stone, the date-tree and palmyra waved their fan-like leaves. Dense masses of powerful creepers crept up the ruins, rending the solid masonry; and the seeds of the trees dropping year by year had produced a rapid undergrowth, those which had once been valuable fruit-trees having degenerated into wild ones. Chaos had, in a word, re-appeared where once trade and prosperity, order and regularity reigned.
“Let us gather some of the custard-apples, and climb yonder ruin,” said the missionary, speaking for the first time.
It was no easy task; for the accumulation of fallen masonry, and the dense growth of the brush, rendered it often necessary for the onward path to be cleared by the use of the knife. The whole mass appeared at one time to have been encircled by a wall, now fallen, the entrances to which could be distinctly traced, and this confirmed the report which, had been gathered by the missionaries of Santa Lucia Bay.
Slowly the two forced their way towards the vast ruined mound they were striving to gain, often stumbling and falling among the loose stones and treacherous creepers.
A crowd of half-fallen passages led away to right and left, terminating in what appeared to be a court-yard, in which were the remains of pillars of stone.
“There has once been carved work on these pillars, Hughes,” said the missionary, as they paused, breathless with their exertions, before a mighty column. “The action of ages has worn it away.”
“And what is more singular,” replied Hughes, who now seemed as much interested in the ruins as his comrade, “no mortar of any kind appears to have been used, the massive stones fitting into one another exactly.”
“This temple or palace has stood upon a kind of platform of masonry,” remarked the missionary, “with broad steps leading up to it. What a commanding object it must then have been.”
“The difficulty will be to climb what was once the flight of steps,” said Hughes. “I don’t see how we can manage it.”
Slinging their rifles behind them, and after many failures, the two helping each other from time to time, and taking advantage of every projection, stood at last on the raised platform on which the building had rested. Below them ran a maze of crumbled galleries and court-yards: and wherever the eye could penetrate, mounds of fallen masonry cropped up amidst the dense forest growth.
The vast ruin itself was now a shapeless mass, being utterly broken and defaced. The top of the mound was overgrown by bush, interlaced with creeping plants, and, as using their knives, the two cut their way onward, the light of day penetrated feebly into a ruined chamber of vast size. A dead silence reigned therein, and as they paused at the entrance and looked back on the scene which lay below, perhaps the first Europeans who had stood on that weird spot for many ages, the missionary could not but feel dispirited.
“The day-dream of my life realised. I stand among the ruins of the cities of old; but where they begin, or where they end I know not. The forest has re-asserted her old rights, torn from her by the hand of civilisation,” he remarked.
“Look where you will there is nothing to be seen but broken mounds and tottering walls; it would require a brigade of men and years of work to clear these ruins,” replied Hughes.
“Yes, the extent of them is a mystery at present. We can but affirm their existence. What a deep dead silence hangs over the spot. Let us go on.”
They penetrated the ruined chamber, but hardly had they put their feet across the threshold, when bats in vast numbers came sweeping along, raising, as they did so, a fine dust, which was nearly blinding. The ruins seemed their home, and there they lived, bred, and died in countless numbers. Some were of a sickly-looking greenish colour, and of heavy and lumbering flight, often striking against the two explorers as they came along.
At one moment the missionary was surrounded by these tenants of the ruined palace, these winged things which had taken for themselves the abodes of the Pharaohs of old. He struck out in self-defence and killed several, measuring one for curiosity. Its length was only between five and six inches, but when the wings were spread it was at least nineteen from tip to tip. Their numbers seemed to increase, for troops of others, of a dull brownish-red colour, joined their loathsome companions, and then a third species of a chestnut brown, mingled with dingy white, came trooping along. What the building had been it was impossible to tell; but it must have once seemed a mighty pile standing on its platform of stonework, with a flight of broad steps leading to it. These steps had disappeared; but remains of them could be noticed, and from the elevation where the two stood the line which had once been the wall of the town could be traced here and there. There were not any remains of a purely Egyptian character, save a worn arabesque representing the process of maize-grinding; but this was to be seen daily practised among the tribes, and therefore proved nothing, for it remained an open question whether the natives had taken it from the sculptor, or whether he had imitated the natives. Here and there were remains of carvings representing serpents, birds, and beasts of uncouth form, leading to the belief that the building had once been a temple. Passing along, nearly blinded by the fine dust, their knives cut them a way out, and the breeze and sunshine seemed doubly welcome after the dank, confined air of the old ruin. Huge lizards glided away among the broken stones as they emerged from the corridor—for such it seemed—and monkeys were to be seen darting away among the trees as they let themselves down from the platform. These animals had not any tails, resembling those found among the Atlas mountains; while the jackal and hyena, surprised at the sight of human beings in this solitary spot, sneaked away among the masses of fallen masonry, snarling as they looked back. Near the stream the spoor of the elephant was distinctly visible, and it was evident this was one of their favourite feeding grounds, for the banks were strewed with the broken branches of the mashuka-trees, and the débris of the plantains. The tamarind-trees and palmyra grew luxuriantly, and for hours the two wandered among the ruins or, seated on the fallen heaps, lost themselves in conjectures on the past, “It is impossible,” at last said Wyzinski, seating himself, fairly wearied out, “for us to explore further these relics of the past. We can but tell of their existence, I repeat.”
“The axe, or fire—perhaps both—would be necessary before even their extent could be known,” replied Hughes. “Look at that mass of masonry, thickly hedged round with date, camel thorn, and white mimosa. Mark the thick undergrowth and the strange creeping vine-like shrubs running along the ground, and festooning themselves to the trees, and the difficulty will be realised.”
“There seem to me to be caves cut in yonder mountain-side: let us go there.”
In rear of the ruins rose the slopes of the Malopopo hills, and leading in that direction was a kind of passage through a lower range, the river flowing in the middle. On each side rose the rocks, scarped down towards the bed of the stream, from which coal was cropping out. The summits of the hills were worn and rounded by the action of time, and here and there clumps of trees were growing on the river banks. It was up this cut the two advanced, Hughes leading. Stopping as he turned a shoulder of the rock, the missionary joined him. Seven rhinoceroses were sleeping quietly by the water side under the trees, the boughs of which were literally bending under the mass of nests made by the same bright yellow bird which had been seen so numerous on the Sofala river.
The animals were totally different from any other that had been seen.
“They have a perfectly smooth skin,” remarked Hughes.
“Yes, and are of a pale yellow colour instead of brown, like the one which treated me so unceremoniously in the country of the Matabele. Both the horns too are pointed, and both long.”
“We had better look out. See they have awoke, and are getting into line ready to charge us.”
In fact the brutes seemed very savage, and so soon as they perceived the intruders on their solitude, they charged down the glen. Scrambling up a rock, the danger was easily avoided. The herd passed on except one old cow with its young one, who halted after having gone some twenty yards, and turning deliberately round returned, gazing with apparently great curiosity at the white men. It was impossible to pass; and there stood the great lumbering animal fairly mounting guard over the two who, perched on the rock, were only wishful to be left alone.
There was nothing for it, however, but to get rid of the troublesome visitor; so, leaning the rifles on the flat rock on which they were lying, by agreement both aimed for the centre of the forehead. The two reports seemed as one, as for a moment the rhinoceros stood firmly, and then fell over into the river, dyeing the water with blood. It was a great size, measuring close upon twelve feet in length, and ten in girth, while the horns were so nearly matched that there was not a quarter of an inch difference between them. The openings of several caves were to be seen, and near one there appeared to have been some fight lately, for blood, evidently quite fresh, was lying about.
To this cave the two climbed, entering very cautiously. Chance had again favoured them, for there lay the leopard quite dead. Bones of different kinds were heaped about, showing that for a time at least it had been the abode of wild animals. It was about twenty feet high, and there were some curious carvings on the walls, the entrance having evidently been scarped down by the hand of man. Close to the doorway were two colossal carvings, as if to guard the mouth of the cave. Each represented the figure of a nearly naked warrior, having a covering only round the loins; and each held in his hand two spears, and not having any shield—in this widely differing from the present race. The faces of these figures seemed of an Arab type. There was no trace of door, but some broken remains would seem to indicate that the entrance had once been walled up, while close by lay a slab of stone bearing a tracing on it of the figure of the African elephant. There were many similar caverns here and there in the mountain-side.
“The sun is sinking, Wyzinski,” said Hughes, “It will be impossible to retrace our way in the darkness, and the moon does not rise until eleven o’clock; we had better stay where we are.”
“I am tired out,” replied the missionary. “I don’t doubt but that these caverns have once been the graves of the dead belonging to yonder city. This may well serve for ours, only we must contrive a fire.”
“Yes, or we may have the young leopard back, if Umhleswa’s Spanish rifle has not done for him. We have still half an hour of daylight: the branches dragged down by the elephants lie in heaps down yonder, and are dry.”
The half hour sufficed, a fire was lit at the entrance of the cave on the ledge outside, and the missionary, lying down, was soon buried in sleep.
The day had been very hot, and what with the excitement, fatigue, and want of nourishment, the two were tired out. Still Hughes determined to watch, as heaping wood on the fire, he placed his rifle on his knees, and leaned back in a sitting posture against the rock. Night came on; the cries of the animals began to be heard, and the jackals soon found out the carcass of the rhinoceros. The stars were very brilliant, and the soldier sat thinking of the past, and peopling in imagination those fantastic masses of fallen ruin which had once at that hour rang with bustle and merriment. The wind came in hot puffs, making the date and palmyra leaves rustle as they waved to and fro; the noise of the stream breaking over the fallen masonry was very monotonous, and soon the sentry found himself dozing. He rose, heaped fresh wood on the fire, looked out from the ledge into the night, listened to the cracking of the branches, which told him that elephants were not far off, and then again sat down.
The moon rose, silvering with its beams the finely-cut leaves of the tall palmyra and the broken ruins, shining on the human figure at the entrance of the cave, and gleaming on the bright barrel and lock of the English rifle; but the soldier slept on his post; the jackals fought over the carrion, the fire burned lower and lower, and finally went out. Day was dawning, when a loud shout close to the mouth of the cavern woke both the soldier and the missionary, but only to find themselves surrounded by a band of the Amatonga warriors fully armed, while the savage eyes and filed teeth of their chief Umhleswa, seemed to give a more vindictive expression than ever to his repulsive face.
Umhleswa’s Bargain.The following day the whole kraal was in commotion, Umhleswa summoning the braves of the tribe around him in council, the white men not being deprived of their arms, but very closely watched. The assembly was a noisy one. On the one hand the native superstitions invested the ruins with a sacred character, and the Amatonga chief had been placed where he was to prevent any access to them by Europeans. There could not be a doubt that the whole tribe had been guilty of negligence, their chief included, and that they were responsible to the king of Manica for what had happened. On the other, Masheesh, as the representative of his chief, loudly proclaimed the white men to be under Mozelkatse’s protection, and demanded their safety, threatening a dire revenge if anything happened to them. The anger of so powerful and fierce a chief as Mozelkatse was to be dreaded. Umhleswa, too, was an ambitious man, and was not contented with his position as chief of a petty tribe. He coveted firearms, and these he could only obtain from the whites. Without those arms he could do nothing, and the way to procure them was certainly not by putting to death the first white men who came among them. Umhleswa was cruel, vindictive, and unscrupulous, and he had, without hesitation, told the white men a deliberate untruth to hinder their seeking for the sacred ruins. His chance wound and subsequent insensibility upset his calculations; still he was very much averse to shedding their blood.There was, however, a warrior of the tribe second only to himself in power—a man of another stamp, and famed for personal courage and deeds of daring. Between Sgalam and Umhleswa there had always been rivalry, and, on this occasion, the Amatonga brave took an entirely different view of the whole matter, openly blaming Umhleswa’s conduct, and demanding the death of the white men as the only means of securing the safety of the tribe.The result was long doubtful, and what between the chief’s arguments and Masheesh’s threats, the balance seemed in favour of clemency. The council was noisy, and divided in opinion. Umhleswa had just been showing in eloquent words the injustice of dooming to death men who had acted from ignorance, pointing out that they could not have known the sacred nature of the place they had invaded; and he seemed to be carrying with him the feelings of the tribe as they all squatted round in the inclosure on the hill-top, when Sgalam, roused to a last effort, strode straight up to Luji, who was listening open-mouthed, and laying his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Here is one of their head-men,” he said, with violence; “ask him if the white chiefs were not warned, ay, even in Mozelkatse’s camp. Should they go free, Sgalam himself will denounce the folly in the council inclosure of Manica.”The baboon, seeing a hand laid on Luji, and doubtless thinking harm was meant him, at once flew at the orator, making his teeth meet in the man’s arm, and chattering wildly.The powerful savage, with one blow, dashed the animal to the ground, Luji, who was fairly roused, being in a great rage, threatening the chief with the white men’s vengeance. A scene of confusion ensued, but Sgalam’s eloquence decided the matter, and the verdict was death; the council breaking up without fixing when and in what manner the punishment was to be inflicted.In the interior of the hut assigned to the Europeans that night, all was quiet, and the two occupants were sound asleep. There was no door, but only a narrow entrance, across which a naked savage was sleeping, several others being thrown here and there outside, also fast asleep. Midnight was long passed, when a noise was heard near the opening, and the moonlight was for a moment obscured by two bodies passing. Calling to Wyzinski, the soldier, who slept lightly, seized his pistols, but the voice of Masheesh was heard, speaking in low tones, as he stepped over the body of the sleeping sentry, followed by the second figure. It was not dark, the moon shining brightly outside, and Umhleswa’s face and form was not one to be easily mistaken. He was naked save at the waist, his body smeared with oil, but wearing no distinctive mark of any kind, while his broad, flat nose, high cheek-bones, receding forehead, sharp filed teeth, and shining body, gave him even a more repulsive look than usual in the faint moonlight. Outside all was quiet save the usual cries of the jackals and hyenas hovering round the kraal, and the heavy breathing of the sleeping guard.Seating himself on some skins, while Masheesh squatted down near the entrance, Umhleswa spoke.“Have the white chiefs no fear of death,” he asked, “that they sleep soundly?”“No,” replied the missionary, using the Zulu dialect; “we do not believe in it at your hands. We were travelling through the land, our safety insured by Mozelkatse’s word. You sent for us and we came, consequently besides the safeguard of the king of the Matabele we have yours.”“If Mozelkatse’s word be scorned,” added the Matabele brave, “the land between the Suave and the Zambesi shall be dyed red with Amatonga blood, and the assegai of Masheesh shall find the heart of their chief. The country shall be desert, and the tribe live only in the remembrance of the past.”“I have not come to the dwelling of the white men to hear this,” replied Umhleswa, scornfully. “Will they promise, by their God, not to go near the fallen huts if set free?”Both hesitated, for the desire to explore those ruins was strong in their minds, and both were willing to risk life to do so.“We will make Umhleswa rich with presents, we will hunt for him the elephant and the rhinoceros, if he will not only allow us to see the ruined huts, but aid us with his men to lay them bare.”The dark eyes of the savage glistened at the thought of the presents, and he mused for several minutes, the silence being so deep that the breathing of the sleeping men could be distinctly heard outside. He spoke at last, but slowly—“It may not be; send Umhleswa arms for his tribe; make him powerful enough not to heed the anger of the chief of Manica, and the fallen huts are the white men’s. Do they know that death has been pronounced against them, and do they know the kind of death they must meet?”“It matters not what,” replied the missionary; “we have faced it too often to fear it in any form.”“Death!” hissed out the savage, his eyes gleaming, and his white teeth shown in the half light, “by fire,—slow, but sure death. Will the white chiefs promise?”“We promise,” replied the missionary.“Will they pay a ransom?” continued the savage.“We have nothing to give; but we will return with presents.”The chief pointed to the rifles and pistols.“Umhleswa would gladly have these, and when the white men return with more, he will take them also.”“They shall be yours, chief, when we cross the frontier, not before.”“Will the God of the white man send rain when his children ask for it?” he inquired.“If in his great power and infinite knowledge he thinks it is necessary,” replied the missionary, a little jesuitically.“Then,” continued Umhleswa, “it is agreed. The white men promise not to hanker after the fallen houses, but to cross the frontier near the Zambesi, to give each a rifle, also that when they return they will bring a rich present for Umhleswa, giving him the means to resist the chief of Manica, and to laugh at his anger.”“It is agreed,” replied the missionary.“The white man speaking our language answers for his brother?” asked the savage.“He shall answer for himself,” replied the missionary.Turning to the soldier, Wyzinski explained the terms of the bargain, pointing out that they were completely in the chief’s power, and that he himself was fully determined to organise a party, and return to the ruins, in which case the protection of the savage would be valuable.At the other end of the hut a violent discussion was going on between the Matabele brave and the Amatonga warrior, the former declaring that the white men must be brought back to Mozelkatse’s country, the other remaining quite unmoved.Hughes at once saw the truth of Wyzinski’s explanation, and though he did not like to part with an old friend, made up his mind to do so, the more readily because he saw that Umhleswa could equally be in possession of the rifles by killing the whole party. He therefore rose, crossed to where the chief sat, and gave his hand in token of ratification.“Good,” said Umhleswa, rising; “and now let the white men sleep in peace.” Stepping over the figures of his recumbent braves, the chief took his way in the moonlight, through the huts, even the dogs remaining silent as he passed.It was nearly dawn, and Masheesh having thrown himself down on the ground to sleep, the two white men, greatly relieved, sat discussing their future prospects. The freshness of the coming day had made itself felt already, the moonlight was growing more and more feeble, and still they sat talking of many things.“We shall have plenty left to send the Matabele back a rich man,” said the missionary.“And as for Luji, I left his full pay and a handsome ‘Bucksheesh’ with my relative on the Umvoti,” answered Hughes.“We shall be certain of a good reception from the Portuguese at Tête or Senna on the Zambesi, and are sure to find some coasting vessel at Quillimane, bound for Table Bay.”“And we shall have traversed Eastern Africa from the Limpopo northwards to the Zambesi; but, see, day is breaking; I long for the fresh air of morning after stilling all night here.”Taking up his rifle, Hughes walked to the entrance, stooped, and went out, stepping over the prostrate bodies of the guard. Day was just breaking, and with it the Amatonga kraal was waking into life. Luji was fast asleep under the tree, and on a branch above him, sat the baboon, looking upwards, and making hideous faces. It was evident there was something concealed in the tree, which wanted to pass the monkey, and which the latter would not allow. Watching them, Hughes soon saw a head, garnished with two great eyes, peeping out of the foliage. Waiting an opportunity, he fired, the village ringing with the report which sounded very loud on the quiet morning air. The guards at the entrance of the hut, startled out of all propriety, jumped to their feet, forgetting their duty, and scuttled off. A howl of terror from Luji rang out, the caracal, dropping from branch to branch, plumped heavily on the half-awakened Hottentot, while the baboon dashed after it, chattering with delight. The animal was a large one, and resembled a very big and beautifully marked cat, striped like a small tiger, the ears being black, pointed, and tipped with tufts of hair.Taking it by the tail, and laughing at the alarm he had caused, Hughes walked towards the entrance of the hut, where, attracted by the report, the missionary and Masheesh stood.Just as he reached it, a long, loud, wailing cry rang out from the very centre of the kraal. For a moment all was silent, and then once more it was heard. There was an unusual bustle, the savages, male and female, seeming much excited. Soon many other voices chimed in, and it became evident that something had happened to cause sorrow and lamentation in the tribe. Masheesh had already gone, and breakfast was to the two white men of more importance than anything that could affect their hosts, the Amatongas.
The following day the whole kraal was in commotion, Umhleswa summoning the braves of the tribe around him in council, the white men not being deprived of their arms, but very closely watched. The assembly was a noisy one. On the one hand the native superstitions invested the ruins with a sacred character, and the Amatonga chief had been placed where he was to prevent any access to them by Europeans. There could not be a doubt that the whole tribe had been guilty of negligence, their chief included, and that they were responsible to the king of Manica for what had happened. On the other, Masheesh, as the representative of his chief, loudly proclaimed the white men to be under Mozelkatse’s protection, and demanded their safety, threatening a dire revenge if anything happened to them. The anger of so powerful and fierce a chief as Mozelkatse was to be dreaded. Umhleswa, too, was an ambitious man, and was not contented with his position as chief of a petty tribe. He coveted firearms, and these he could only obtain from the whites. Without those arms he could do nothing, and the way to procure them was certainly not by putting to death the first white men who came among them. Umhleswa was cruel, vindictive, and unscrupulous, and he had, without hesitation, told the white men a deliberate untruth to hinder their seeking for the sacred ruins. His chance wound and subsequent insensibility upset his calculations; still he was very much averse to shedding their blood.
There was, however, a warrior of the tribe second only to himself in power—a man of another stamp, and famed for personal courage and deeds of daring. Between Sgalam and Umhleswa there had always been rivalry, and, on this occasion, the Amatonga brave took an entirely different view of the whole matter, openly blaming Umhleswa’s conduct, and demanding the death of the white men as the only means of securing the safety of the tribe.
The result was long doubtful, and what between the chief’s arguments and Masheesh’s threats, the balance seemed in favour of clemency. The council was noisy, and divided in opinion. Umhleswa had just been showing in eloquent words the injustice of dooming to death men who had acted from ignorance, pointing out that they could not have known the sacred nature of the place they had invaded; and he seemed to be carrying with him the feelings of the tribe as they all squatted round in the inclosure on the hill-top, when Sgalam, roused to a last effort, strode straight up to Luji, who was listening open-mouthed, and laying his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Here is one of their head-men,” he said, with violence; “ask him if the white chiefs were not warned, ay, even in Mozelkatse’s camp. Should they go free, Sgalam himself will denounce the folly in the council inclosure of Manica.”
The baboon, seeing a hand laid on Luji, and doubtless thinking harm was meant him, at once flew at the orator, making his teeth meet in the man’s arm, and chattering wildly.
The powerful savage, with one blow, dashed the animal to the ground, Luji, who was fairly roused, being in a great rage, threatening the chief with the white men’s vengeance. A scene of confusion ensued, but Sgalam’s eloquence decided the matter, and the verdict was death; the council breaking up without fixing when and in what manner the punishment was to be inflicted.
In the interior of the hut assigned to the Europeans that night, all was quiet, and the two occupants were sound asleep. There was no door, but only a narrow entrance, across which a naked savage was sleeping, several others being thrown here and there outside, also fast asleep. Midnight was long passed, when a noise was heard near the opening, and the moonlight was for a moment obscured by two bodies passing. Calling to Wyzinski, the soldier, who slept lightly, seized his pistols, but the voice of Masheesh was heard, speaking in low tones, as he stepped over the body of the sleeping sentry, followed by the second figure. It was not dark, the moon shining brightly outside, and Umhleswa’s face and form was not one to be easily mistaken. He was naked save at the waist, his body smeared with oil, but wearing no distinctive mark of any kind, while his broad, flat nose, high cheek-bones, receding forehead, sharp filed teeth, and shining body, gave him even a more repulsive look than usual in the faint moonlight. Outside all was quiet save the usual cries of the jackals and hyenas hovering round the kraal, and the heavy breathing of the sleeping guard.
Seating himself on some skins, while Masheesh squatted down near the entrance, Umhleswa spoke.
“Have the white chiefs no fear of death,” he asked, “that they sleep soundly?”
“No,” replied the missionary, using the Zulu dialect; “we do not believe in it at your hands. We were travelling through the land, our safety insured by Mozelkatse’s word. You sent for us and we came, consequently besides the safeguard of the king of the Matabele we have yours.”
“If Mozelkatse’s word be scorned,” added the Matabele brave, “the land between the Suave and the Zambesi shall be dyed red with Amatonga blood, and the assegai of Masheesh shall find the heart of their chief. The country shall be desert, and the tribe live only in the remembrance of the past.”
“I have not come to the dwelling of the white men to hear this,” replied Umhleswa, scornfully. “Will they promise, by their God, not to go near the fallen huts if set free?”
Both hesitated, for the desire to explore those ruins was strong in their minds, and both were willing to risk life to do so.
“We will make Umhleswa rich with presents, we will hunt for him the elephant and the rhinoceros, if he will not only allow us to see the ruined huts, but aid us with his men to lay them bare.”
The dark eyes of the savage glistened at the thought of the presents, and he mused for several minutes, the silence being so deep that the breathing of the sleeping men could be distinctly heard outside. He spoke at last, but slowly—
“It may not be; send Umhleswa arms for his tribe; make him powerful enough not to heed the anger of the chief of Manica, and the fallen huts are the white men’s. Do they know that death has been pronounced against them, and do they know the kind of death they must meet?”
“It matters not what,” replied the missionary; “we have faced it too often to fear it in any form.”
“Death!” hissed out the savage, his eyes gleaming, and his white teeth shown in the half light, “by fire,—slow, but sure death. Will the white chiefs promise?”
“We promise,” replied the missionary.
“Will they pay a ransom?” continued the savage.
“We have nothing to give; but we will return with presents.”
The chief pointed to the rifles and pistols.
“Umhleswa would gladly have these, and when the white men return with more, he will take them also.”
“They shall be yours, chief, when we cross the frontier, not before.”
“Will the God of the white man send rain when his children ask for it?” he inquired.
“If in his great power and infinite knowledge he thinks it is necessary,” replied the missionary, a little jesuitically.
“Then,” continued Umhleswa, “it is agreed. The white men promise not to hanker after the fallen houses, but to cross the frontier near the Zambesi, to give each a rifle, also that when they return they will bring a rich present for Umhleswa, giving him the means to resist the chief of Manica, and to laugh at his anger.”
“It is agreed,” replied the missionary.
“The white man speaking our language answers for his brother?” asked the savage.
“He shall answer for himself,” replied the missionary.
Turning to the soldier, Wyzinski explained the terms of the bargain, pointing out that they were completely in the chief’s power, and that he himself was fully determined to organise a party, and return to the ruins, in which case the protection of the savage would be valuable.
At the other end of the hut a violent discussion was going on between the Matabele brave and the Amatonga warrior, the former declaring that the white men must be brought back to Mozelkatse’s country, the other remaining quite unmoved.
Hughes at once saw the truth of Wyzinski’s explanation, and though he did not like to part with an old friend, made up his mind to do so, the more readily because he saw that Umhleswa could equally be in possession of the rifles by killing the whole party. He therefore rose, crossed to where the chief sat, and gave his hand in token of ratification.
“Good,” said Umhleswa, rising; “and now let the white men sleep in peace.” Stepping over the figures of his recumbent braves, the chief took his way in the moonlight, through the huts, even the dogs remaining silent as he passed.
It was nearly dawn, and Masheesh having thrown himself down on the ground to sleep, the two white men, greatly relieved, sat discussing their future prospects. The freshness of the coming day had made itself felt already, the moonlight was growing more and more feeble, and still they sat talking of many things.
“We shall have plenty left to send the Matabele back a rich man,” said the missionary.
“And as for Luji, I left his full pay and a handsome ‘Bucksheesh’ with my relative on the Umvoti,” answered Hughes.
“We shall be certain of a good reception from the Portuguese at Tête or Senna on the Zambesi, and are sure to find some coasting vessel at Quillimane, bound for Table Bay.”
“And we shall have traversed Eastern Africa from the Limpopo northwards to the Zambesi; but, see, day is breaking; I long for the fresh air of morning after stilling all night here.”
Taking up his rifle, Hughes walked to the entrance, stooped, and went out, stepping over the prostrate bodies of the guard. Day was just breaking, and with it the Amatonga kraal was waking into life. Luji was fast asleep under the tree, and on a branch above him, sat the baboon, looking upwards, and making hideous faces. It was evident there was something concealed in the tree, which wanted to pass the monkey, and which the latter would not allow. Watching them, Hughes soon saw a head, garnished with two great eyes, peeping out of the foliage. Waiting an opportunity, he fired, the village ringing with the report which sounded very loud on the quiet morning air. The guards at the entrance of the hut, startled out of all propriety, jumped to their feet, forgetting their duty, and scuttled off. A howl of terror from Luji rang out, the caracal, dropping from branch to branch, plumped heavily on the half-awakened Hottentot, while the baboon dashed after it, chattering with delight. The animal was a large one, and resembled a very big and beautifully marked cat, striped like a small tiger, the ears being black, pointed, and tipped with tufts of hair.
Taking it by the tail, and laughing at the alarm he had caused, Hughes walked towards the entrance of the hut, where, attracted by the report, the missionary and Masheesh stood.
Just as he reached it, a long, loud, wailing cry rang out from the very centre of the kraal. For a moment all was silent, and then once more it was heard. There was an unusual bustle, the savages, male and female, seeming much excited. Soon many other voices chimed in, and it became evident that something had happened to cause sorrow and lamentation in the tribe. Masheesh had already gone, and breakfast was to the two white men of more importance than anything that could affect their hosts, the Amatongas.