CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
IN SAVAGE WILDS.
In the morning, peace, tranquillity, security; in the evening, violence,bloodshed, death--such is the sort of contrast that life seems to enjoyaffording, especially life in a barbarous land--and however it mayappeal to those at a distance from its tragedy, to a refined Englishgirl, brought up amid the comforts of an advanced civilisation, unused,alike, to scenes of violence or to the endurance of hardships, thematter is different. Which may be taken to mean that the position inwhich Nidia Commerell now found herself was simply appalling.
She was alone--alone in a strange wild land--surrounded by beings whowere devils in human shape; at their mercy, in fact; and, we repeat,what that "mercy" would be likely to mean, let those fearful remainswithin the ill-fated dwelling testify. Whither could she turn--whitherfly?
Night was falling fast. Where would she find shelter, let alone food?Not at the price of her life would she enter that awful room again. Shedared not. She felt that her reason would go. That sight repeatedwould turn her into a maniac, and indeed that this had not alreadyhappened was due to the saving diversion effected by the finding of poorlittle Jimmie, and his partial revival. Action. This alone had savedher.
She could not remain where she was. The murderers might return. LittleJimmie's last words came back to her--"Down below the river-bank. Theywon't look for you there." Yes; she would go.
But the dead boy? She could not leave him thus, in the open. Two hutswhich did duty for outhouses stood at the back of the house. One ofthese was locked. It was the store-room. The other was open. The poorlittle fellow was not heavy for his age, and Nidia was endowed with anaverage share of strength. She managed to get the body inside; then,shutting the door upon it, stood pondering as to what she should donext.
It was now quite dark, yet thanks to the myriad stars which had rushedforth in the heavens, not so blackly so but that outlines werediscernible. Standing thus she thought she heard a sound--the sound ofvoices. Hope--relief--gave way to terror, as she recognised the clear,yet deep-toned, drawl of native voices. It is probable they were agreat way off, for the sound of the human voice, especially the nativevoice, carries far in the stillness of night; but of this, whollyunnerved by the ghastly discoveries of the last hour, she did not pauseto think. In wild panic she fled.
By the light of the stars she could see her way dimly. She knew thepath leading to the river-bed, and down it she dashed. Somethingrustled in the bushes at her right. Her brain throbbed like asteam-hammer, and she pressed her hands to her breast to keep down thepiercing, panic-stricken scream which rose to her lips. The grasp ofmurderous hands put forth to seize her, the crash or stab of savageweapon, were what she expected. Her limbs gave way beneath her, and shesank to the earth.
Only for a moment, though. The instinct of self-preservation rosestrong within her. She must conquer her fears. The effort must bemade. Rising, she continued her flight, and soon had gained the bed ofthe river, and the hiding-place for which she was making. There, like ahunted hare, she crouched, striving to still the beatings of her heart,which to her terrified imagination seemed audible enough to reach anyears within hearing of anything.
The place she was in she knew well. It had been a favourite spot forthe Hollingworth children to use for their impromptu pic-nics, and morethan once she had helped them light their fire and grill the birds theyhad shot with their catapults--playing at camping out having been one oftheir favourite amusements. It was a hollow in the river-bank--whichhere was of stiff clay and perpendicular--and the front being entirelyhidden by brushwood, it formed a sort of cave. Here, if anywhere, shewould be safe from discovery.
That a great and imminent peril has the effect of nullifying lesser orimaginary ones is a wise provision of Nature. Had it been suggested toNidia Commerell, say that time the evening before, that she should passthe night all alone in a hole on the banks of the Umgwane River, herreply would have been as unhesitating as it was uncompromising. Not fora fortune--not for ten fortunes--would she have embarked on such anexperience, and that with the house and its inhabitants within half amile. Any one of the half-hundred ordinary terrors of the night, actualor shadowy, potential lions, snakes, leopards--even down to ghosts--would simply turn her into a lunatic before the hours of darkness werehalf through, she would have declared. Now, the house was there justthe same, but turned into a tomb for the awful remains of those withwhom last evening at that time she was in happy and social converse, yetshe welcomed the darkness of this hole as a very haven of refuge.
But as the night wore on the terrors which came upon the unhappy girlgrew more and more acute. Visions of the Hollingworth family, not asshe remembered it in life, but as she had seen it in the mutilation andagony of savage butchery, rose before her in the darkness, seeming topoint to and suggest her own fate, ghastly and revolting as that whichhad overtaken them. Each stealthy rustle in the brake--every weird cryof night bird or beast, near or for--carried with it a new terror. Atiger-wolf howled along the river-bank, and although she knew that thisbrute is the most skulking and cowardly of carnivora, yet it might bedifferent where there was only a frightened and defenceless woman todeal with. Lions, too, were not unknown in that part of the country;but their movements were sporadic, and there had been no sign of themanywhere in the neighbourhood for some time. Still, the horriblebloodshed which had taken place might attract all manner of wildanimals; and she shivered with renewed terror at every sound. Softfootfalls seemed to be stealing towards her under cover of the foliage,breathings as of some fierce carnivorum stalking its prey; and there shelay utterly helpless. And then, the appalling loneliness of those darkhours!
But she was destined to meet with a very real fright before they wereover. A clinking of stones struck upon her ear, as though somethingwere coming along the dry river-bed. With despair in her heart shepeered forth. Dawn was at hand, and in its gathering light she made outa shape--long, stealthy, sinuous--that of a beast. A leopard wascrossing obliquely to the side opposite her hiding-place, where underthe further bank lay a small water-hole. Not fifty yards distant, shecould make out the markings of its beautiful skin as the great catcrouched there, lapping. At length it rose, and, facing round upon herhiding-place, stood for a moment, the water dripping from its jaws, itsyellow eyes blinking. Then it walked back to the other side, uttering athroaty see-saw noise, taking a line which would bring it within twentyyards of where the terrified girl lay. Would it discover her presence?Surely. With fascinated gaze she stared at the beast. She could markits great fangs as it bared them, emitting its horrid plank-sawinggrowl, even each smooth and velvety footfall hardly rattling the loosestones as it passed--but--wholly unsuspicious of her proximity.
Then as the sun arose, and all the glad bird and insect life of thewilderness broke into voice, Nidia felt for the moment a gleam of hope.Whether it was that the strain of the last twelve hours had hardened herto peril, or that the shock had changed her, she seemed to herselfhardly the same personality, and was surprised at the calmness withwhich she could now map out the situation. For the first time it beganto strike her that the murder of the Hollingworths was part of apreconcerted rising. The latter eventuality she had heard now and againdiscussed during her brief stay in the country, but only to be dismissedwith contempt, as something outside the bounds of possibility. The onlyone who had not so treated it was John Ames; but even he had notreckoned it as an imminent or even probable danger.
And with the thought of John Ames came an inspiration. If she couldstrike across-country, surely at his place, if anywhere, she would findrefuge. As a Government official he would be provided with police; infact, she remembered hearing him say there was a strong police forcestationed at his headquarters. She had an idea of the direction inwhich lay Sikumbutana, and she was a good walker. Yet--twenty miles,Moseley had said it was. This was a long distance. If she had only herbicycle to help her over the half of it!
Thei
r nearest neighbour on the other side, she remembered, was Jekyll,who kept a store, for the supplying of prospectors and others withnecessaries and general "notions." She had passed it on her way out tothe Hollingworths. This was quite eighteen miles off, practically asfar as the Sikumbutana. Besides, a store was the first thing to beattacked and looted were the rising a general one. No; the first wasthe best plan.
But, as she began to contemplate its immediate carrying out, her heartsank. The wild vastness of the country filled her with dread. Sheremembered how impressed she had been with it during their journey outfrom Bulawayo, how every mile covered, as they drove through the hotsteamy atmosphere, seemed to be taking them further and further intoremote and mysterious regions; and now here she found herself, alone andthrown upon her own resources to accomplish what a man under likecircumstances might well recoil from.
Then she called to mind all the stories she had heard or read of whathad been done by persons--women especially--situated as she was, moreparticularly during the Indian Mutiny. They had escaped, and so far sohad she. And, she was determined, so _would she_.
But to travel a distance of twenty miles necessitates a food supply.The bare idea of returning to the homestead filled Nidia with ashuddering dread, and that quite apart from the possible peril of such acourse. It seemed to bring back all the terrors of the previous night.Yet it must be done. The store-hut was outside; she need not enter thehouse at all. Yet--the knowledge of what lay within!
It must be done, however. Already the pangs of hunger were taking holdof her, for she had eaten nothing since the middle of the previous day.Cautiously she stepped forth from her hiding-place, and climbing thesteep path down which she had dashed so panic-stricken in the darkness,was soon at the homestead.
How peaceful it looked in the morning sunlight--as though the wholepitiful tragedy had been but a dream--a nightmare. Her eyes filled asshe thought of it all; but no, she would not think, except as to themethods of accomplishing her own escape. And the first of these was toobtain the food she had come to seek.
Check Number 1.--The door of the store-hut was padlocked.
She looked round for a stone of convenient shape and size for smashingout the staples that held the lock, and soon found one. Then an ideaoccurred to her. What if the sound of hammering should reach hostileears? There was no help for it, however; and soon the pretty, taperingfingers were all sore and rubbed; but the abominable iron remainedobdurate. In despair she desisted, and stood panting with the exertion.
The key? To obtain it she would have to enter the house: No, that wasnot to be thought of--not for a moment. Then another idea struck her.The kitchen door was at the back of the house. No gruesome spectacle ofslaughter would meet her eyes if she entered that department, and it wasjust possible she might find something there, enough, at any rate, tosustain life for a day or two.
No sooner thought out than acted upon. With beating heart she stoodwithin the room. It was as it had been left--crockery in a semi-washedstate; utensils lying about; and--her pulses gave a throb of joy--thereon a table stood a pie-dish, containing about half of a cold pie.Beside it, too, were three boiled mealie-cobs. The latter she placed inthe empty half of the dish, and, laden with this most opportune spoil,she went outside, and having gently closed the door, took her way downthe river-path again.
But ere she was half way again the sound of voices was borne to herears. Standing still for a moment she listened intently. They werenative voices, and--they were drawing nearer. Swiftly she fled down theriver-path, and having regained her place of refuge, lay within it likea hunted animal, all inclination for food now gone.
No further sound arose to disturb her, and presently a drowsiness cameupon her, and she fell fast asleep, slumbering peacefully anddreamlessly. Hour after hour went by, and the sun mounted high in theheavens. When at length she did awaken, lo! the day was half gone. Butshe felt greatly refreshed, and attacked the viands she had soopportunely discovered with good appetite.
And now Nidia made her first and great mistake. She should haveremained where she was until the following day, starting with the veryfirst glimmer of dawn upon her long and weary pilgrimage. This wouldhave given her the advantage of several cool hours in which to travel.Instead, she decided to start at once.
She went over to one of the water-holes, of which there were several,and took a long deep drink. Then she made her way down the dry bed ofthe river. It was easier walking, for there was no bush or long grassto impede her way, and had the further advantage of screening her fromobservation. Two or three times, after peeping cautiously forth, shehad stolen across a neck of ground so as to shorten the way where theriver-bed made a long bend; but the coarse sawlike grass had cut herscantily protected ankles, and her skirt was ripped in several places bynumerous thorns, and by the time she had travelled for three hours, shebecame sadly alive to the certainty that she had effected very littleprogress indeed.
Worse still. She was beginning to feel utterly exhausted. Even a fairamount of bicycle training, and that in an equable climate, wasinadequate training for a twenty mile across-country walk through theburning enervating heat of sub-tropical Matabeleland, and, moreover, shewas tormented by a raging thirst; for no water had she found since firststarting, and now she had walked for three hours.
The river-bed here made a bend. Despairingly poor Nidia sent a glanceat the sun, to discover that the amount of daylight left to her wasdiminishing to an alarming degree. Then she climbed up the bank toascertain whether a short cut might not effect a considerable saving oftime.
She discovered it would. The country was dangerously open, though, andthere were cultivated lands she would have to pass. Summoning up allher strength and courage, she stole rapidly along, keeping within theshelter of a line of thorn-bushes. These came abruptly to an end, andaway, about a quarter of a mile off, stood three or four huts.
Quickly she drew back. Too late. She had been seen. Two natives werecrossing the patch of cultivated land--a big man and a small one--andboth were armed with guns. She turned instinctively to flee, but inloud and threatening tones they called on her to stop. At the same timea rush of gaunt curs, from the neighbourhood of the huts, howling andyelping, decided the situation. Poor Nidia, panting with exhaustion andfear, turned again, and, trying to summon all her courage, stoodawaiting the approach of the two barbarians, who were advancing towardsher with rapid strides.
John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising Page 15
