“I am grateful, Bougwan,” was Umbopa’s answer, when I had translated, “and I shall not forget. As for Infadoos, he will be here by-and-by. We must wait.”
So we lit our pipes and waited.
Chapter 11
We Give a Sign
FOR A LONG WHILE-two hours, I should think—we sat there in silence, for we were too overwhelmed by the recollection of the horrors we had seen to talk. At last, just as we were thinking of turning in—for already there were faint streaks of light in the eastern sky—we heard the sound of steps. Then came the challenge of the sentry, who was posted at the kraal gate, which was apparently answered, though not in an audible tone, for the steps came on; and in another second Infadoos had entered the hut, followed by some half-dozen stately-looking chiefs.
“My lords,” he said, “I have come according to my word. My lords and Ignosi, rightful King of the Kukuanas, I have brought with me these men,” pointing to the row of chiefs, “who are great men among us, having each one of them the command of three thousand soldiers, who live but to do their bidding, under the king’s. I have told them of what I have seen, and what my ears have heard. Now let them also see the sacred snake around thee, and hear thy story, Ignosi, that they may say whether or no they will make cause with thee against Twala, the king.”
For answer, Ignosi again stripped off his girdle, and exhibited the snake tattooed around him. Each chief in turn drew near and examined it by the dim light of the lamp, and without saying a word passed on to the other side.
Then Ignosi resumed his moocha, and addressing them, repeated the history he had detailed in the morning.
“Now ye have heard, chiefs,” said Infadoos, when he had done, “what say ye; will ye stand by this man and help him to his father’s throne, or will ye not? The land cries out against Twala, and the blood of the people flows like the waters in spring. Ye have seen to-night. Two other chiefs there were with whom I had it in my mind to speak, and where are they now? The hyaenas howl over their corpses. Soon will ye be as they are if ye strike not. Choose then, my brothers.”
The eldest of the six men, a short, thick-set warrior with white hair, stepped forward a pace and answered—
“Thy words are true, Infadoos; the land cries out. My own brother is among those who died to-night; but this is a great matter, and the thing is hard to believe. How know we that if we lift our spears it may not be for an impostor? It is a great matter, I say, and none may see the end of it. For of this be sure, blood will flow in rivers before the deed is done; many will still cleave to the king, for men worship the sun that still shines bright in the heavens, and not that which has not risen. These white men from the stars, their magic is great, and Ignosi is under the cover of their wing. If he be indeed the rightful king, let them give us a sign, and let the people have a sign, that all may see. So shall men cleave to us, knowing that the white man’s magic is with them.”
“Ye have the sign of the snake,” I answered.
“My lord, it is not enough. The snake may have been placed there since the man’s birth. Show us a sign. We will not move without a sIgn.”
The others gave a decided assent, and I turned in perplexity to Sir Henry and Good, and explained the situation.
“I think I have it,” said Good, exultingly; “ask them to give us a moment to think.”
I did so, and the chiefs withdrew. As soon as they were gone, Good went to the little box in which his medicines were, unlocked it, and took out a note-book, in the front of which was an almanack. “Now, look here, you fellows, isn’t to-morrow the fourth of June?”
We had kept a careful note of the days, so were able to answer that it was.
“Very good; then here we have it—‘4 June, total eclipse of the sun commences at 11 · 15 Greenwich time, visible in these Islands—Africa, &c.’ There’s a sign for you. Tell them that you will darken the sun to-morrow.”
The idea was a splendid one; indeed, the only fear about it was a fear lest Good’s almanack might be incorrect. If we made a false prophecy on such a subject, our prestige would be gone for ever, and so would Ignosi’s chance of the throne of the Kukuanas.
“Suppose the almanack is wrong,” suggested Sir Henry to Good, who was busily employed in working out something on the fly-leaf of the book.
“I don’t see any reason to suppose anything of the sort,” was his answer. “Eclipses always come up to time; at least, that is my experience of them, and it especially states that it will be visible in Africa. I have worked out the reckonings as well as I can, without knowing our exact position; and I make out that the eclipse should begin here about one o’clock to-morrow, and last till half-past two. For half an hour or more there should be total darkness.”
“Well,” said Sir Henry, “I suppose we had better risk it.”
I acquiesced, though doubtfully, for eclipses are queer cattle to deal with, and sent Umbopa to summon the chiefs back. Presently they came, and I addressed them thus—
“Great men of the Kukuanas, and thou, Infadoos, listen. We are not fond of showing our powers, since to do so is to interfere with the course of nature, and plunge the world into fear and confusion; but as this matter is a great one, and as we are angered against the king because of the slaughter we have seen, and because of the act of the Isanusi Gagool, who would have put our friend Ignosi to death, we have determined to do so, and to give such a sign as all men may see. Come hither,” and I led them to the door of the hut and pointed to the fiery ball of the rising sun; “what see ye there?”
“We see the rising sun,” answered the spokesman of the party.
“It is so. Now tell me, can any mortal man put out that sun, so that night comes down on the land at mid-day?”
The chief laughed a little. “No, my lord, that no man can do. The sun is stronger than man who looks on him.”
“Ye say so. Yet I tell you that this day, one hour after mid-day, will we put out that sun for a space of an hour, and darkness shall cover the earth, and it shall be for a sign that we are indeed men of honour, and that Ignosi is indeed King of the Kukuanas. If we do this thing, will it satisfy ye?”
“Yea, my lords,” answered the old chief with a smile, which was reflected on the faces of his companions;
“if ye
do this thing we will be satisfied indeed.”
“It shall be done; we three, Incubu the Elephant, Bougwan the clear-eyed, and Macumazahn, who watches in the night, have said it, and it shall be done. Dost thou hear, Infadoos?”
“I hear, my lord, but it is a wonderful thing that ye promise, to put out the sun, the father of all things, who shines for ever.”
“Yet shall we do it, Infadoos:”
“It is well, my lords. To-day, a little after mid-day, will Twala send for my lords to witness the girls dance, and one hour after the dance begins shall the girl whom Twala thinks the fairest be killed by Scragga, the king’s son, as a sacrifice to the silent stone ones, who sit and keep watch by the mountains yonder,” and he pointed to the three strange-looking peaks where Solomon’s road was supposed to end. “Then let my lords darken the sun, and save the maiden’s life, and the people will indeed believe.”
“Ay,” said the old chief, still smiling a little, “the people will believe indeed.”
“Two miles from Loo,” went on Infadoos, “there is a hill curved like the new moon, a stronghold, where my regiment, and three other regiments which these men command, are stationed. This morning we will make a plan whereby other regiments, two or three, may be moved there also. Then if my lords can indeed darken the sun, in the darkness I will take my lords by the hand and lead them out of Loo to this place, where they shall be safe, and thence can we make war upon Twala, the king.”
“It is good,” said I. “Now leave us to sleep awhile and make ready our magic.
»
Infadoos rose, and, having saluted us, departed with the chiefs.
“My friends,” said Ignosi, as soon as they were gone, “can ye indeed do this wonderful thing, or were ye speaking empty words to the men?”
“We believe that we can do it, Umbopa—Ignosi, I mean.”
“It is strange,” he answered, “and had ye not been Englishmen I would not have believed it; but English ‘gentlemen’ tell no lies. If we live through the matter, be sure I will repay ye!”
“Ignosi,” said Sir Henry, “promise me one thing.”
“I will promise, Incubu, my friend, even before I hear it,” answered the big man with a smile. “What is it?”
“This: that if you ever come to be king of this people you will do away with the smelling out of witches such as we have seen last night; and that the killing of men without trial shall not take place in the land.”
Ignosi thought for a moment, after I had translated this, and then answered—
“The ways of black people are not as the ways of white men, Incubu, nor do we hold life so high as ye. Yet will I promise it. If it be in my power to hold them back, the witch-finders shall hunt no more, nor shall any man die the death without judgment.”
“That’s a bargain, then,” said Sir Henry; “and now let us get a little rest.”
Thoroughly wearied out, we were soon sound asleep, and slept till Ignosi woke us about eleven o’clock. Then we got up, washed, and ate a hearty breakfast, not knowing when we should get any more food. After that we went outside the hut and stared at the sun, which we were distressed to observe presented a remarkably healthy appearance, without a sign of an eclipse anywhere about it.
“I hope it will come off,” said Sir Henry, doubtfully. “False prophets often find themselves in painful positions.”
“If it does not, it will soon be up with us,” I answered, mournfully ; “for so sure as we are living men, some of those chiefs will tell the whole story to the king, and then there will be another sort of eclipse, and one that we shall not like.”
Returning to the hut we dressed ourselves, putting on the mail shirts which the king had sent us as before. Scarcely had we done so when a messenger came from Twala to bid us to the great annual “dance of girls” which was about to be celebrated.
Taking our rifles and ammunition with us so as to have them handy in case we had to fly, as suggested by Infadoos, we started boldly enough, though with inward fear and trembling. The great space in front of the king’s kraal presented a very different appearance from what it had done on the previous evening. In the place of the grim ranks of serried warriors were company after company of Kukuana girls, not overdressed, so far as clothing went, but each crowned with a wreath of flowers, and holding a palm leaf in one hand and a tall white lily (the arum) in the other. In the centre of the open space sat Twala, the king, with old Gagool at his feet, attended by Infadoos, the boy Scragga, and about a dozen guards. There were also present about a score of chiefs, amongst whom I recongised most of our friends of the night before.
Twala greeted us with much apparent cordiality, though I saw him fix his one eye viciously on Umbopa.
“Welcome, white men from the stars,” he said; “this is a different sight from what your eyes gazed on by the light of last night’s moon, but it is not so good a sight. Girls are pleasant, and were it not for such as these” (and he pointed round him) “we should none of us be here to-day; but men are better. Kisses and the tender words of women are sweet, but the sound of the clashing of men’s spears, and the smell of men’s blood, are sweeter far! Would ye have wives from among our people, white men? If so, choose the fairest here, and ye shall have them, as many as ye will,” and he paused for an answer.
As the prospect did not seem to be without attractions to Good, who was, like most sailors, of a susceptible nature, I, being elderly and wise, and foreseeing the endless complications that anything of the sort would involve (for women bring trouble as surely as the night follows the day), put in a hasty answer—
“Thanks, O king, but we white men wed only with white women like ourselves. Your maidens are fair, but they are not for us!”
The king laughed. “It is well. In our land there is a proverb which says, ‘Woman’s eyes are always bright, whatever the colour,’ and another which says, ‘Love her who is present, for be sure she who is absent is false to thee;’ but perhaps these things are not so in the stars. In a land where men are white all things are possible. So be it, white men; the girls will not go begging! Welcome again; and welcome, too, thou black one; if Gagool here had had her way thou wouldst have been stiff and cold now. It is lucky that thou, too, camest from the stars; ha! ha!”
“I can kill thee before thou killest me, O king,” was Ignosi’s calm answer, “and thou shalt be stiff before my limbs cease to bend.”
Twala started. “Thou speakest boldly, boy,” he replied, angrily; “presume not too far.”
“He may well be bold in whose lips are truth. The truth is a sharp spear which flies home and fails not. It is a message from ‘the stars,’ O king!”
Twala scowled, and his one eye gleamed fiercely, but he said nothing more.
“Let the dance begin,” he cried, and next second the flower-crowned girls sprang forward in companies, singing a sweet song and waving the delicate palms and white flowers. On they danced, now whirling round and round, now meeting in mimic warfare, swaying, eddying here and there, coming forward, falling back in an ordered confusion delightful to witness. At last they paused, and a beautiful young woman sprang out of the ranks and began to pirouette in front of us with a grace and vigour which would have put most ballet girls to shame. At length she fell back exhausted, and another took her place, then another and another, but none of them, either in grace, skill, or personal attractions, came up to the first.
At length the king lifted his hand.
“Which think ye the fairest, white men?” he asked.
“The first,” said I, unthinkingly. Next second I regretted it, for I remembered that Infadoos had said that the fairest woman was offered as a sacrifice.