Part 69 (1/2)
The Kafirs debated rapidly for a moment in an undertone. Then Usivulele stepped forward, looking Claverton full in the face.
”We accept them,” he said. ”I am ready.”
”Very well. Now you two may return and carry my 'word' to Matanzima.
When he comes he will find his friends just as they fell. We do not harm wounded men.”
The two amba.s.sadors saluted again, and turning, strode away from the camp, escorted to the brow of the hill by a couple of sentries, while the hostage was placed under a strict guard. They gave him something to eat, and he was well treated though carefully watched. But not for a moment would he unbend from the grave, dignified reserve wherewith he had wrapped himself. Communicativeness was not in the bond, and to all their questions he returned laconic and evasive replies. It was evident that he was not to be ”drawn.” Once during their march Lumley, having just given him a pipe of tobacco, asked where Sandili was.
”Chief,” replied the Kafir, in a tone of quiet rebuke. ”If I were to ask you where your general and your _amasoja_ (soldiers) were at this moment--what should you say?”
”I should say, 'd.a.m.n your impudence,'” muttered Lumley, half angrily, as he turned away feeling very much snubbed; but Claverton, listening, thoroughly enjoyed the retort.
”Don't be unfair, Lumley,” he said. ”This fellow has his wits about him. He's no ordinary n.i.g.g.e.r, I can see.”
”No, he isn't, confound him,” growled the other, unmollified.
Meanwhile the hostage stalked along among his guards, and showed not the smallest concern as to his own fate. Evidently the conditions would be observed in good faith, and of that fact he was aware. In a trifle more than an hour, now, he would be set at liberty--when lo, cresting the brow of a hill, one of the saddest and most eloquent tokens of savage warfare burst upon the eyes of the party. Beneath, lay what had been a flouris.h.i.+ng homestead, now a heap of _debris_ and blackened ruins, from which, as they gazed, little lines of smoke still arose, showing that the work of destruction was but recent. The roof had fallen in but the walls still stood, with their gaping window-holes like the eyeless sockets of a skull, and fragments of charred rafters stood out overhead, the fleshless ribs of the frame of the once sheltering roof-tree. And in contrast to this sad work of desolation, a fine fruit-garden fronted the house, the trees weighed down beneath their luscious burdens--the fig and the pomegranate, blus.h.i.+ng peaches and yellow pears, golden apricots, and quinces ripening in the high, straight hedges which shut in the orchard. Extensive lands under cultivation lay along in the bottom, and these had not been interfered with.
”This can't have been done long,” observed Lumley, surveying the ruin.
”Shouldn't wonder if it was the same gang that attacked us.”
”Very likely. Stop. Here's a part of it not so smashed up. Let's have a look round,” said Claverton, dismounting.
One end of the building seemed to have partially escaped--a largish apartment, evidently a bedroom. A fall of rubbish across the narrow window had blocked it, and it was almost in darkness.
”Good heavens! look here,” cried Lumley, with a shudder, examining the ground. Their eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, and both made out a broad red stain, whose nature there was no mistaking. Upon that rude floor had been spilt the stream of life, and the greedy earth had absorbed it. ”I don't care for this sort of investigation,” continued he. ”It's one thing bowling fellows over in the open air, in fair, lively scrimmage; but, hang it all, nosing about in this infernal gloomy den is another. Let's get outside,” and again he shuddered, as if dreading what they might find.
”Wait a bit,” said Claverton, ”Look. Some one has come to grief here-- there's no doubt about it.”
Nor was there. Another great red patch and a few smaller ones were seen, and then, following a mark made by something heavy trailed along in the dust, they came to a doorway leading into the burnt part of the house, and here, among the dust, and bricks, and fallen _debris_, lying in the gloom cast by an overshadowing fragment of roof, which looked as if it was about to fall on them, they came upon the charred remains of three human beings--apparently two men and a woman, for portions of female attire still hung about one of them. Indeed, only presumably could their European nationality be p.r.o.nounced upon, for the ghastly relics were little more than a few calcined bones.
”Good G.o.d!” exclaimed Lumley, turning sick and faint at the horrid sight. ”They've been burnt alive.”
”No; I don't think that,” said Claverton. ”Poor wretches--they were killed first and then flung in here. The marks in the other room show that, if it's any comfort. They were probably surprised in their beds and murdered; this very morning, too, I should say. What's this?”
Something s.h.i.+ning, which lay on the floor in a dark corner, had caught his eye. He picked it up. It was a small crucifix, about eight inches in length, such as is constructed to stand on a bracket. The cross was broken and splintered in two or three places, but the figure, being of metal, was intact. It was exquisitely wrought, and Claverton stood gazing sadly down upon the holy symbol, which he held in his hand amid this gloomy scene of ashes, and tears, and blood; and it seemed to him that a wave of ineffable sorrow swept across the suffering, lifelike countenance as he gazed. Wrapping the relic in his handkerchief, he placed it carefully in his pocket. Lilian would certainly value it.
”By Jove, Lumley; but war isn't all fun, after all!” he said, with something like a sigh.
”No, it isn't. I'm glad now that we peppered those black devils this morning--cowardly, sneaking brutes. I wish we had done for a thousand of them.”
”Let's see if we can find anything more among this rubbish,” went on Claverton, not heeding his lieutenant's honest vehemence. But nothing was to be found. The savages had gutted the place, and how the holy relic had escaped them was incomprehensible, unless it were that, with superst.i.tious awe, they feared to touch it. A few battered bits of iron, the remains of a bedstead, and some broken crockery lay strewn about; but everything combustible--chairs, tables, curtains, etcetera-- had been given to the flames.
They went out into the air again. The sun shone placidly down from an unclouded sky upon this gloomy scene of desolation and death; around, a fair vision of hill and dale lay spread afar, and now and then the melodious call of the hoepoe would float upon the summer air as if no frightful tragedy had been enacted in that peaceful spot, where the torch and a.s.segai of the savage had been glutted in his l.u.s.t for blood.
”I suppose we must let this devil go, too,” said Lumley, with a fierce, vengeful glance at their hostage.
”Oh, yes,” said Claverton, decisively; ”no question about that.
Usivulele,” he went on, addressing the Kafir, ”is this the work of your band? It'll make no difference to you; I shall let you go all the same.”