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 w
omen 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.
“Then is my mind as your minds, and my eyes as your eyes. She is the fairest; and a sorry thing it is for her, for she must die!”
“Ay, must die!” piped out Gagool, casting a glance from her quick eyes in the direction of the poor girl, who, as yet ignorant of the awful fate in store for her, was standing some twenty yards off in front of a company of girls, engaged in nervously picking a flower from her wreath to pieces, petal by petal.
“Why, O king?” said I, restraining my indignation with difficulty; “the girl has danced well and pleased us; she is fair, too; it would be hard to reward her with death.”
Twala laughed as he answered—
“It is our custom, and the figures who sit in stone yonder” (and he pointed towards the three distant peaks) “must have their due. Did I fail to put the fairest girl to death to-day misfortune would fall upon me and my house. Thus runs the prophecy of my people: ‘If the king offer not a sacrifice of a fair girl on the day of the dance of maidens to the old ones who sit and watch on the mountains, then shall he fall and his house.’ Look ye, white men, my brother who reigned before me offered not the sacrifice, because of the tears of the woman, and he fell, and his house, and I reign in his stead. It is finished; she must die!” Then turning to the guards—“Bring her hither; Scragga, make sharp thy spear.”
Two of the men stepped forward, and as they did so, the girl, for the first time realising her impending fate, screamed aloud and turned to fly. But the strong hands caught her fast, and brought her, struggling and weeping, up before us.
“What is thy name, girl?” piped Gagool. “What! wilt thou not answer ; shall the king’s son do his work at once?”
At this hint Scragga, looking more evil than ever, advanced a step and lifted his great spear, and as he did so I saw Good’s hand creep to his revolver. The poor girl caught the glint of the cold steel through her tears, and it sobered her anguish. She ceased struggling, but merely clasped her hands convulsively, and stood shuddering from head to foot.
“See,” cried Scragga in high glee, “she shrinks from the sight of my little plaything even before she has tasted it,” and he tapped the broad blade of the spear.
“If ever I get the chance, you shall pay for that, you young hound!” I heard Good mutter beneath his breath.
“Now that thou art quiet, give us thy name, my dear. Come, speak up, and fear not,” said Gagool in mockery.
“Oh, mother,” answered the girl in trembling accents, “my name is Foulata, of the house of Suko. Oh, mother, why must I die? I have done no wrong!”
“Be comforted,” went on the old woman, in her hateful tone of mockery. “Thou must die indeed, as a sacrifice to the old ones who sit yonder” (and she pointed to the peaks); “but it is better to sleep in the night than to toil in the day-time; it is better to die than to live, and thou shalt die by the royal hand of the king’s own son.”
The girl Foulata wrung her hands in anguish, and cried out aloud: “Oh, cruel; and I so young! What have I done that I should never again see the sun rise out of the night, or the stars come following on his track in the evening: that I should no more gather the flowers when the dew is heavy, or listen to the laughing of the waters ! Woe is me, that I shall never see my father’s hut again, nor feel my mother’s kiss, nor tend the kid that is sick! Woe is me, that no lover shall put his arm around me and look into my eyes, nor shall men children be born of me! Oh, cruel, cruel!” and again she wrung her hands and turned her tear-stained, flower-crowned face to Heaven, looking so lovely in her despair—for she was indeed a beautiful woman—that it would assuredly have melted the hearts of any one less cruel than the three fiends before us. Prince Arthur’s appeal to the ruffians1 who came to blind him was not more touching than this savage girl’s.
But it did not move Gagool or Gagool’s master, though I saw signs of pity among the guard behind, and on the faces of the chiefs; and as for Good, he gave a sort of snort of indignation, and made a motion as though to go to her. With all a woman’s quickness, the doomed girl interpreted what was passing in his mind, and with a sudden movement flung herself before him, and clasped his “beautiful white legs” with her hands.
“Oh, white father from the stars!” she cried, “throw over me the mantle of thy protection; let me creep into the shadow of thy strength, that I may be saved. Oh, keep me from these cruel men and from the mercies of Gagool!”
“All right, my hearty, I’ll look after you,” sang out Good, in nervous Saxon.aj “Come, get up, there’s a good girl,” and he stooped and caught her hand.
Twala turned and motioned to his son, who advanced with his spear lifted.
“Now’s your time,” whispered Sir Henry to me; “what are you waiting for?”
“I am waiting for the eclipse,” I answered; “I have had my eye on the sun for the last half-hour, and I never saw it look healthier.”
“Well, you must risk it now, or the girl will be killed. Twala is losing patience.”
Recognising the force of the argument, having cast one more despairing look at the bright face of the sun, for never did the most ardent astronomer with a theory to prove await a celestial event with such anxiety, I stepped with all the dignity I could command between the prostrate girl and the advancing spear of Scragga.
“King,” I said, “this shall not be; we will not tolerate such a thing; let the girl go in safety.”
Twala rose from his seat in his wrath and astonishment, and from the chiefs and serried ranks of girls, who had slowly closed up upon us in anticipation of the tragedy, came a murmur of amazement.
“Shall not be, thou white dog, who yaps at the lion in his cave, shall not be! art thou mad? Be careful lest this chicken’s fate overtakes thee, and those with thee. How canst thou prevent it? Who art thou that thou standest between me and my will? Withdraw, I say. Scragga, kill her. Ho, guards! seize these men.”
At his cry armed men came running swiftly from behind the hut, where they had evidently b
een placed beforehand.
Sir Henry, Good, and Umbopa ranged themselves alongside of me, and lifted their rifles.
“Stop!” I shouted boldly, though at the moment my heart was in my boots. “Stop! we, the white men from the stars, say that it shall not be. Come but one pace nearer, and we will put out the sun and plunge the land in darkness. Ye shall taste of our magic.”
My threat produced an effect; the men halted, and Scragga stood still before us, his spear lifted.
“Hear him! hear him!” piped Gagool; “hear the liar who says he will put out the sun like a lamp. Let him do it, and the girl shall be spared. Yes, let him do it, or die with the girl, he and those with him.”
I glanced up at the sun, and to my intense joy and relief saw that we had made no mistake. On the edge of its brilliant surface was a faint rim of shadow.
I lifted my hand solemnly towards the sky, an example which Sir Henry and Good followed, and quoted a line or two of the “Ingoldsby Legends” at it in the most impressive tones I could command. Sir Henry followed suit with a verse out of the Old Testament, whilst Good addressed the King of Day in a volume of the most classical bad language that he could think of.
Slowly the dark rim crept on over the blazing surface, and as it did so I heard a deep gasp of fear rise from the multitude around.
“Look, O king! look, Gagool! Look, chiefs and people and women, and see if the white men from the stars keep their word, or if they be but empty liars!”
“The sun grows dark before your eyes; soon there will be night—ay, night in the noontime. Ye have asked for a sign; it is given to ye. Grow dark, O sun! withdraw thy light, thou bright one; bring the proud heart to the dust, and eat up the world with shadows.”
A groan of terror rose from the onlookers. Some stood petrified with fear, others threw themselves upon their knees, and cried out. As for the king, he sat still and turned pale beneath his dusky skin. Only Gagool kept her courage.
King Solomon's Mines (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 16
