The Settler and the Savage

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  SHOWS WHAT BEFELL A TRADER AND AN EMIGRANT BAND.

  Stephen Orpin, with the goods of earth in his waggon and the treasuresof heaven in his hand, chanced to be passing over a branch of theAmatola Mountains when the torch of war was kindled and sent its horridglare along the frontier. Vague news of the outbreak had reached him,and he was hastening back to the village of Salem, in which was hisbachelor home.

  Stephen, we may remark in passing, was not a bachelor from choice.Twice had he essayed to win the affections of Jessie McTavish, and twicehad he failed. Not being a man of extreme selfishness, he refused todie of a broken heart. He mourned indeed, deeply and silently, but hebowed his head, and continued, as far as in him lay, to fulfil the endfor which he seemed to have been created. He travelled with goods farand wide throughout the eastern districts of the colony, became awalking newspaper to the farmers of the frontier, and a guide to theBetter Land to whoever would grant him a hearing.

  But Stephen's mercantile course, like that of his affections, did notrun smooth. At the present time it became even more rugged than themountain road which almost dislocated his waggon and nearly maddened hisHottentot drivers, for, when involved in the intricacies of a pass, hewas suddenly attacked by a band of "wild" Bushman marauders. The spotchanced to be so far advantageous that a high precipice at his backrendered it impossible to attack him except in front, where the groundwas pretty open.

  Orpin was by no means a milksop, and, although a Christian man, did notunderstand Christianity to teach the absolute giving up of all one'spossessions to the first scoundrel who shall demand them. The moment,therefore, that the robbers showed themselves, he stopped the waggon atthe foot of the precipice, drew his ever-ready double-barrelledlarge-bore gun from under the tilt, and ran out in front, calling on hismen to support him. Kneeling down, he prepared to take a steady aim atthe Bushman in advance, a wild-looking savage in a sheepskin kaross andarmed with an assagai. The robbers were evidently aware of the natureof a gun, for they halted on seeing the decided action of the trader.

  "Come on!" shouted Orpin to his men, looking back over his shoulder; buthis men were nowhere to be seen: they had deserted him at the firstsight of the robbers, and scrambled away into the jungle like monkeys.

  To resist some dozens of savages single-handed Stephen knew would beuseless, and to shed blood unnecessarily was against his principles. Hetherefore made up his mind at once how to act. Rising and turninground, he discharged his gun at the precipice, to prevent the Bushmenfrom accidentally doing mischief with it; then, sitting down on a pieceof fallen rock, he quietly took out his pipe and began to light it.

  This was not meant as a piece of bravado, but Stephen was eccentric, andit occurred to him that there was a "touch of nature" in a pipe whichmight possibly induce the Bushmen to be less rude to him personally thanif he were to stand by and look aggrieved while his waggons were beingpillaged.

  In this conjecture he was right. The robbers rushed towards the waggonwithout doing him any harm. One of them, however, picked up the gun inpassing. Then the leader seized the long whip and drove the waggonaway, leaving its late owner to his meditations.

  Stephen would have been more than human if he could have stood the lossof all his earthly goods with perfect equanimity. He groaned when theoxen began to move, and then, feeling a desperate desire to relieve hisfeelings, and a strong tendency to fight, he suddenly shut his eyes, andbegan to pray that the robbers might be forgiven, and himself enabled tobear his trials in a becoming manner. Opening his eyes again, he behelda sturdy Bushman gazing at him in open-mouthed surprise, with anuplifted assagai in his hand. Stephen judged that this was the chief ofthe band, who had remained behind to kill him. At all events, when heceased to pray, and opened his eyes, the Bushman shut his mouth, andpoised his assagai in a threatening manner.

  Unarmed as he was, Stephen knew that he was at the man's mercy. In thisdilemma, and knowing nothing of the Bushman language, he put powerfulconstraint on himself, and looked placidly at his wallet, in which hesearched earnestly for something, quite regardless, to all appearances,of the deadly spear, whose point was within ten feet of his breast.

  The Bushman's curiosity was awakened. He waited until Stephen had drawna lump of tobacco from his pouch--which latter he took care to turninside out to show there was nothing else in it. Rising quietly, thetrader advanced with a peaceful air, holding the tobacco out to theBushman, who looked suspicious--and distrustfully shook his assagai; butStephen took no heed. Stopping within a couple of yards of him, he heldout the tobacco at the full length of his arm. The Bushman hesitated,but finally lowered his assegai and accepted the gift. Stephenimmediately resumed his pipe, and smiled pleasantly at his foe.

  The Bushman appeared to be unable to resist this. He grinned hideously;then, turning about, made off in the direction of his comrades as fastas his naked legs could carry him.

  It was Booby, the follower of Ruyter the Hottentot, who had thus robbedthe unfortunate trader, and, not two hours afterwards, Ruyter himselffell in with Stephen, wending his way slowly and sadly down the glen.

  Desiring his men to proceed in advance, the robber chief asked Orpin tosit down on a fallen tree beside him, and relate what had happened.When he had done so, Ruyter shook his head and said in his brokenEnglish--

  "You's bin my friend, Orpin, but I cannot help you dis time. Booby notunder me now, an' we's bof b'long to Dragoener's band. I's sorry, butnot can help you."

  "Never mind, Ruyter, I daresay you'd help me if you could," saidStephen, with a sigh; then, with an earnest look in the Hottentot'sface, he continued, "I'm not, however, much distressed about the goods.The Lord who gave them has taken them away, and can give them back againif He has a mind to; but tell me, Ruyter, why will you not think of thethings we once spoke of--that time when you were so roughly handled byJan Smit--about your soul and the Saviour?"

  "How you knows I not tink?" demanded the Hottentot sharply.

  "Because any man can know a tree by its fruit," returned Orpin. "If youhad become a Christian, I should not now have found you the leader of aband of thieves."

  "No, I not a Christian, but I _do_ tink," returned Ruyter, "only I no'can onderstan'. De black heathen--so you calls him--live in de land.White Christian--so you calls _him_--come and take de land; make slabeob black man, and kick 'im about like pair ob ole boots--I _not_onderstan' nohow."

  "Come, I will try to make you understand," returned Orpin, pulling outthe New Testament which he always carried in his pocket. "_Some_ whitemen who call themselves Christians are heathens, and _some_ black menare Christians. We are all,--black and white,--born bad, and God hassent us a Saviour, and a message, so that all who will, black or white,may become good." Orpin here commenced to expound the Word, and to tellthe story of the Cross, while the Hottentot listened with raptattention, or asked questions which showed that he had indeed beenthinking of these things since his last meeting with the trader, manyyears before. He was not very communicative, however, and when the twoparted he declined to make any more satisfactory promise than that hewould continue to "tink."

  Stephen Orpin spent the night alone in a tree, up which he had climbedto be more secure from wild beasts. Sitting there, he meditated much,and came to the conclusion that he ought in future to devote himselfentirely to missionary labours. In pursuance of that idea, he made hisway to one of the Wesleyan mission stations in Kafirland.

  On the road thither he came to a Kafir kraal, where the men seemed to beengaged in the performance of a war-dance.

  On being questioned by these Kafirs as to who he was, and where he camefrom, Orpin replied, in his best Kafir, that he was a trader and amissionary.

  The chief looked surprised, but, on hearing the whole of Orpin's story,a cunning look twinkled in his eyes, and he professed great friendshipfor the missionaries, stating at the same time that he was going to oneof the Wesleyan stations, and would be glad to escort Orpin t
hither.Thereafter he gave orders that the white man should be taken to one ofhis huts and supplied with a "basket" of milk.

  The white man gratefully acknowledged the kind offer, and, asking thename of the friendly chief, was informed that it was Hintza. Just thena court fool or jester stepped forward, and cried aloud hisannouncements of the events of the day, mixed with highly complimentarypraises of his master. Stephen did not understand all he said, but hegathered thus much,--that the warriors had been out to battle and hadreturned victorious; that Hintza was the greatest man and mostcourageous warrior who had ever appeared among the Kafirs, to gladdentheir hearts and enrich their bands; and that there was great work yetfor the warriors to do in the way of driving certain barbarians into thesea--to which desirable deed the heroic, the valiant, the wise, theunapproachable Hintza would lead them.

  Orpin feared that he understood the meaning of the last words too well,but, being aware that Hintza was regarded by the colonists as one of thefriendliest of the Kafir chiefs, he hoped that he might be mistaken.

  Hintza was as good as his word, and set out next day with a band ofwarriors, giving the white man a good horse that he might ride besidehim. On the way they came on a sight which filled Orpin with sadnessand anxiety. It was the ruins of a village, which from the appearanceof the remains had evidently been occupied in part by white men. Heobserved that a gleam of satisfaction lit up Hintza's swarthy visage fora moment as he passed the place.

  Dismounting, the party proceeded to examine the ruins, but foundnothing. The Kafirs were very taciturn, but the chief said, on beingpressed, that he believed it had been a mission station which wicked menof other tribes had burned.

  On the outbreak of this war some of the missionaries remained by theirpeople, others were compelled to leave them.

  The station just passed had been deserted. At the one to which Hintzawas now leading Orpin the missionaries had remained at their post.There he found them still holding out, but in deep dejection, for nearlyall their people had forsaken them, and gone to the war. Even while hewas talking with them, crowds of the bloodstained savages were returningfrom the colony, laden with the spoils of the white man, and drivingthousands of his sheep and cattle before them. In these circumstances,Stephen resolved to make the best of his way back to Salem. On tellingthis to Hintza, that chief from some cause that he could not understand,again offered to escort him. He would not accompany him personally, hesaid, but he would send with him a band of his warriors, and he trustedthat on his arrival in the colony he would tell to the great white chief(the Governor) that he, Hintza, did not aid the other Kafir tribes inthis war.

  Stephen's eyes were opened by the last speech, and from that moment hesuspected Hintza of treachery.

  He had no choice, however, but to accept the escort. On the very dayafter they had started, they came to a spot where a terrible fight hadobviously taken place. The ground was strewn with the mangled corpsesof a party of white men, while the remains of waggons and other signsshowed that they had formed one of the bands of Dutch emigrants whichhad already begun to quit the colony. The savages made ineffectualattempts to conceal their delight at what they saw, and Orpin now feltthat he was in the power of enemies who merely spared his life in thehope that he might afterwards be useful to them.

  The band which escorted him consisted of several hundred warriors, a fewof whom were mounted on splendid horses stolen from the settlers. Hehimself was also mounted on a good steed, but felt that it would bemadness to attempt to fly from them. On the second day they werejoined--whether by arrangement or not Orpin had no means of judging--bya band of over a thousand warriors belonging to a different tribe fromhis escort. As the trader rode along in a dejected state of mind, oneof the advance-guard or scouts came back with excited looks, saying thata large band of Dutch farmers was encamped down in a hollow just beyondthe rise in front of them. The chief of the Kafirs ordered the scoutsternly to be silent, at the same time glancing at Orpin. Then hewhispered to two men, who quietly took their assagais and stationedthemselves one on either side of their white prisoner--for such hereally was.

  Orpin now felt certain that the group of principal men who drew togethera little apart were concerting the best mode of attacking the emigrantfarmers, and his heart burned within him as he thought of them restingthere in fancied security, while these black scoundrels were plottingtheir destruction. But what could he do--alone and totally unarmed? Hethought of making a dash and giving the alarm, but the watchful savagesat his side seemed to divine his intentions, for they grasped theirassagais with significant action.

  "A desperate disease," thought Orpin, "requires a desperate remedy. Iwill try it, and may succeed--God helping me." A thought occurred justthen. Disengaging his right foot from the stirrup, he made as if hewere shortening it a little, but instead, he detached it from thesaddle, and taking one turn of the leather round his hand, leaped hishorse at the savage nearest him and struck him full on the forehead withthe stirrup-iron. Dashing on at full speed, he bent low, and, as he hadhoped, the spear of the other savage whizzed close over his back. Theact was so sudden that he had almost gained the ridge before the othermounted Kafirs could pursue. He heard a loud voice, however, commandthem to stop, and, looking back, saw that only one Kafir--the leader--gave chase, but that leader was a powerful man, armed, and on a fleeterhorse than his own. A glance showed him the camp of the emigrantfarmers in a hollow about a mile or so distant. He made straight forit. The action of the next few seconds was short, sharp, and decisive.

  The Dutchmen, having had a previous alarm from a small Kafir band, wereprepared. They had drawn their waggons into a compact circle, closingthe apertures between and beneath them with thorn-bushes, which theylashed firmly with leather thongs to the wheels and dissel-booms orwaggon-poles. Within this circle was a smaller one for the protectionof the women and children.

  Great was the surprise of the farmers when they heard a loud shout, andbeheld a white man flying for his life from a solitary savage. With thepromptitude of men born and bred in the midst of alarms, they seizedtheir guns and issued from their fortified enclosure to the rescue, butthe Kafir was already close to Orpin, and in the act of raising hisassagai to stab him.

  Seeing the urgency of the case, Conrad Marais, who was considered apretty good shot among his fellows, took steady aim, and, at the risk ofhitting the white man, fired. The right arm of the savage dropped byhis side and the assagai fell to the ground, but, plucking another fromhis bundle with his left hand, he made a furious thrust. Stephen Orpin,swaying aside, was only grazed by it. At the same time he whirled thestirrup once round his head, and, bringing the iron down with tremendousforce on the skull of his pursuer, hurled him to the ground.

  "Stephen Orpin!" exclaimed Conrad Marais in amazement, as the tradergalloped up.

  "You've got more pluck than I gave you credit for," growled Jan Smit.

  "You'll need all your own pluck presently," retorted Orpin, whothereupon told them that hundreds of Kafirs were on the other side ofthe ridge, and would be down on them in a few minutes. Indeed, he hadnot finished speaking when the ridge in question was crossed by theblack host, who came yelling on to the attack,--the few mounted menleading.

  "Come, boys, let's meet them as far as possible from the waggons," criedConrad.

  The whole band of farmers, each mounted and carrying his gun, dashedforward. When quite close to the foe they halted, and, every mandismounting, knelt and fired. Nearly all the horsemen among the enemyfell to the ground at the discharge, and the riderless steeds gallopedover the plain, while numbers of the footmen were also killed andwounded. But most of those savages belonged to a fierce and warliketribe. Though checked for a moment, they soon returned to the attackmore furiously than before. The Dutch farmers, remounting, gallopedback a short distance, loading as they went; halting again, theydismounted and fired as before, with deadly effect.

  There is no question that the white men, if sufficiently supplie
d withammunition, could have thus easily overcome any number of the savages,but the waggons stopped them. On reaching these, they were obliged tostand at bay, and, being greatly outnumbered, took shelter inside oftheir enclosure. Of course their flocks and herds, being most of themoutside, were at once driven away by a small party of the assailants,while the larger proportion, with savage yells and war-cries, made afurious attack on their position.

  Closing round the circle, they endeavoured again and again to breakthrough the line or to clamber over the waggon-tilts, and never didsavage warriors earn a better title to the name of braves than on thatoccasion. Even the bristling four and six-inch thorns of themimosa-bushes would not have been able to turn back their impetuousonset if behind these the stout Dutchmen, fighting for wives andchildren, had not stood manfully loading and firing volleys of slugs andbuckshot at arm's-length from them. The crowded ranks of the Kafirswere ploughed as if by cannon, while hundreds of assagais were hurledinto the enclosure, but happily with little effect, though a few of thedefenders--exposing themselves recklessly--were wounded.

  While Conrad Marais was standing close to the hind-wheels of one of thewaggons, watching for a good shot at a Kafir outside, who was dodgingabout for the double purpose of baulking Conrad's intention andthrusting an assagai into him, another active Kafir had clamberedunobserved on the tilt of the waggon and was in the very act of leaningover to thrust his spear into the back of the Dutchman's neck when hewas observed by Stephen Orpin, who chanced to be reloading his gun atthe moment.

  With a loud roar, very unlike his usual gentle tones, Orpin sprangforward, seized a thick piece of wood like a four-foot rolling-pin, andtherewith felled the savage, who tumbled headlong into the enclosure.

  "Oh, father!" exclaimed a terrified voice at that moment, while a lighttouch was laid on Conrad's shoulder.

  "What brings you here, Bertha?" said Conrad, with an impatient gesture."Don't you know--"

  "Come, quick, to mother!" cried the girl, interrupting.

  No more was needed. In a moment Conrad was in the central enclosure,where, crowded under a rude erection of planks and boxes, were the womenand children. An assagai had penetrated an unguarded crevice, and,passing under the arm of poor Mrs Marais, had pinned her to the familytrunk, against which she leaned.

  "Bertha could not pull it out," said Mrs Marais, with a faint smile onher pale face, "but I don't think I'm much hurt."

  In a moment her husband had pulled out the spear, found that it hadpenetrated her clothing, and only grazed her breast, took time merely tomake sure of this, and then, leaving her in Bertha's hands, returned tothe scene of combat.

  He was not an instant too soon. A yell was uttered by the savages asthey rushed at a weak point, where the thorn-bush defences had beenbroken down. The point appeared to be undefended. They were about toleap through in a dense mass when ten Dutchmen, who had reserved theirfire, discharged a volley simultaneously into the midst of them. It wasa ruse of the defenders to draw the savages to that point. Whilst theKafirs tumbled back over heaps of dead and dying, several other farmersthrust masses of impenetrable mimosa bush into the gap and refilled it.This discomfiture checked the assailants for a little; they drew off andretired behind the ridge to concert plans for a renewed and moresystematic attack.