CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
WHAT WAS DISCLOSED.
When he awoke, John Ames found himself in the dark; not the ordinarydarkness of night, wherein objects are faintly outlined, but black,pitchy, impenetrable gloom--an outer darkness which weighed upon mindand spirits with a sense of living entombment.
Breathed there a mystic atmosphere in this weird place which affectedthe mind? This darkness seemed to unnerve him, to start him wide awakewith a feeling of chill fear. Light! That was the first requisite.But a hurried search in every pocket revealed that he was without themeans of procuring that requisite. He could find no matches. Had he bychance put them on the table, and left them there? He had norecollection of doing so, but in any case dared not get up and grope forthem, bearing in mind the shaft-like pit at one end of the room.Nothing would be easier than to fall into this in the bewilderingblackness. Equally nothing was there for it but to lie still and awaitthe course of events.
More and more did the walled-in blackness weigh him down. The airseemed full of whispering voices--indistinct, ghostly, rising andfalling in far-away flute-like wailings; and there came upon him avision. He saw again the great granite cone with the black hole, darkand forbidding, piercing its centre; but not as he had pointed it out tohis fellow-fugitive in the sunlight gold. No; it was night now, andthere, around its base, a mighty gathering occupied the open, and fromthis arose a roar of voices--voices in supplication, voices inquestionings, voices singing fierce songs of war. Then there would besilence, and from the cavern mouth would issue one voice--denunciatory,reproachful, prophetic, yet prophesying no good thing. And the voicewas as that of the strange being in whose power he lay.
Louder and louder boomed the roar of the war-song. It shook the air; itvibrated as in waves upon the dense opacity of the darkness, echoingfrom the walls of this mysterious vault, for he was conscious of a dualpersonality--one side of it without, a witness of the scene conjured upby the vision; the other still within himself, still entombed andhelpless within the heart of the earth. And then again the whole faded,into sleep or nirvana.
Once more came awakening. He was no longer in darkness. The rose-lightthrew quivering shadows from the objects about the place, and he was nolonger alone. His host--or gaoler stood contemplating him.
"You have had a long sleep, John Ames."
"And strange dreams, too," was the reply, made with a certainsignificance. "When I woke up in the dark--"
"Are you sure you did wake up in the dark? Are you sure you did notdream you woke up?"
"Upon my word, I can't tell. I sometimes think that in these days I canbe sure of nothing."
"Well, you shall hear what will give you something to rejoice over. The`friend' you were taking care of is safe."
"Safe?"
"Yes. I told you exactly what had happened. And now she will be inBulawayo as soon as yourself."
"As soon as myself?"
"Yes, for you will soon be there. You see, I have a use to turn you to.I have a message for the outside world, and you shall be the means oftransmitting it."
"That will I do, with the greatest of pleasure. But what if I do notget through? The Matabele seem to be taking to the hills in force, andit's a long few days to get through from where we are--or were, rather,should I say, for I'm not at all sure where I am now."
"Quite right, John Ames. You are not. Still you shall get through.And then, when you rejoin your `friend'--the girl with the very blueeyes, and the quick lift of the eyelids, and the animated countenancechanging vividly with every expression, and the brown-gold hair--Isuppose you will think life holds for you no greater good?"
"I say, but you seem to have studied her rather closely," was therejoinder, with a dry smile. "Anybody would think you knew her."
"I have watched her from far more closely than you dream of, John Ames.For instance, every step of your way since leaving Shiminya tied up inhis hut, has been known to me and to others too. Your life--both yourlives--have been in my hand throughout, what time you have pridedyourself upon your astuteness in evading pursuit and discovery. Thelives of others have been in my hand in like manner, and--the hand hasclosed on them. You will soon learn how few have escaped."
The grim relentlessness succeeding to the even, almost benevolent tonewhich had characterised the first part of this extraordinary statementimpressed John Ames. At the same time he felt correspondingly reduced.He had prided himself, too--in advance--upon bringing Nidia safely in,alone and unaided; now he was done out of this satisfaction, and otherswould take to themselves the credit. Then he felt smaller still becausethoroughly ashamed of himself. How could he harbour such a thought amidthe great glad joy of hearing that her safety was assured?
"Are you influencing these rebels, then?" he asked, all his oldrepulsion for the other returning, as he saw, as in a flash, the fellmeaning of the words. "It seems strange that you should aid in themurder of your own countrymen."
"My own countrymen!" and the expression of the speaker became absolutelyfiendish. "`My own countrymen' would have doomed me to a living death--a living hell--long years ago, for no crime; for that which injurednobody, but was a mere act of self-defence. Well, `my own countrymen'have yielded up hundreds of lives in satisfaction since then."
"But--great Heavens! you say `would have.' They _would_ have done this?Why, even if it had happened, such a revenge as yours would have beentoo monstrous. Now I begin to see. Yet, in aiding these murderers ofwomen and children, you are sacrificing those who never harmed you. Butsurely you can never have done this!"
"Ha, ha! Really, John Ames, I am beginning to feel I have made amistake--to feel disappointed in you, in thinking you were made of verydifferent clay to the swaggering, bullet-headed fool, the first articleof whose creed is that God made England and the devil the remainder ofthe world. Well, listen further. To escape from this doom I was forcedto flee--to hide myself. And with me went one other. We wandered dayafter day as you have wandered--we two alone."
In spite of his repulsion John Ames was interested, vividly interested.Verily here a fellow-feeling came in. A marvellous change had creptinto the face of the other. The hard steely expression, the eyesglittering with hate, had given way to such a look of wondrous softnessas seemed incredible that that countenance could take on.
"There is a lonely grave in the recesses of the Lebombo Mountains,unmarked, unknown to any but myself. I once had a heart, John Ames,strange to say, and it lies buried there. But every time I returnthence it is with the fire renewed within me; and the flames of thatfire are the hate of hell for those you were just now describing as `myown countrymen.'"
The hopeless pathos, the white-hot revenge running side by side,silenced the listener. There was a fury of passion and of pain herewhich admitted of no comment. To strive further to drive home hisoriginal protest struck him now as impertinent and commonplace. For awhile neither spoke.
"This is not the first time `my own countrymen' have felt my unseenhand," continued the narrator. "They felt it when three miles of plainwere watered with British blood, and a line of whitened bones, as theline of a paper-chase, marked out a broad way from Isandhlwana to theBuffalo drift. They felt it when British blood poured into the swollenwaters of the Intombi river, and when the `neck' on Hlobane mountain waschoked with struggling men and horses fleeing for dear life, and but fewescaping. That was for me. They have felt it often since. That wasfor _her_. They felt it when the hardest blow of all was dealt to theirillimitable self-righteousness a year later; and, in short, almostwhenever there has been opportunity for decimating them this side of theequator, my hand has been there. They would have felt it three yearsago, when they seized this country we are now in, but for a whollyunavoidable reason, and then even the strong laagers and parks of Maximswould have counted for nought. That was for _her_. The malice of thedevilish laws of `my country' drove me forth, and with me went that one.In the malarial valleys of the foothills of the Lebombo
she died. Istill live; but I live for a lifelong revenge upon `my countrymen'--andhers."
Listening with the most vivid interest, John Ames was awed. Thenarrative just then could not but appeal to him powerfully. What if hisown wanderings had ended thus, substituting Matopo for Lebombo? Heshuddered to think that but for their signal good fortune in beingblessed with fine dry weather, such might not inconceivably have beenthe case. The earlier and more tragic of the historical events referredto had taken place during the period of his English education, but nowthere recurred to his memory certain tales which he had heard on hisreturn to his native colony of Natal, relating to the disappearanceduring the Zulu war of a border outlaw under circumstances of romanticinterest. Could they have been authentic? Could this mysteriouspersonage be indeed the chief actor in them? But, then, what must havebeen the strength and power of such a passion as had been this man's,that he should cherish it full and strong after all these years; to thecompassing of illimitable bloodshed, prosecuting the fierce andrelentless hatred of his own countrymen to the extent of metamorphosingthe memory of its object into a very Kali, sacrificing to that memory inblood! Of a truth it could be nothing less than a mania--a grim andterrible monomania.
"You are already beginning to lose your horror at what I have told you,John Ames," went on the other, his keen, darting eyes reading hislistener's face like an open page. "Yet why should you ever haveentertained it? Is not this blue-eyed girl you were taking care of forso many days all the world to you--more than life itself?"
"She is. She is indeed, God knows," was the reply, emphaticallyfervent.
"Then what revenge could you wreak that would be too full, too sweet,upon whosoever should be instrumental in bereaving you of her for ever?You have not yet been tried, John Ames, and yours is a character outsidethe ordinary."
Was the speaker right, after all? thought John Ames. He looked at thedark face and silvery beard, and the glitter of the keen grey eyes, andwondered. Yet as he looked, he decided that the owner of that face mustbe considerably younger than his appearance. Was he himself capable ofsuch a hardening--of so gigantic and ruthless and lifelong a feud? Onething was incontestable. He certainly had lost the first feeling ofrepulsion and horror; indeed, he could not swear it had not beenreplaced by one of profound sympathy. The other continued.
"This is what you will do. First of all, you will give me your word tomake no attempt to seek out this place, though it would be futile evenif made. For remember I have saved your life, and the life of one whois more to you than life, not once, but many times, though unknown toyou. Others sought escape in the same way as yourselves. Ask, when youare safe again, how many found it? I did not spare them. I spared you,John Ames, because your wanderings reminded me of my own. I watched youboth frequently, unknown to yourselves, and doing so the past came backso vividly as to render me more merciless still towards others in thesame plight. But you two I spared."
"Then it was you I challenged that morning in the dark?"
"Even your vigilance was as nothing against me, John Ames, for did I notstep right over you while you slept?"
The other whistled. There could be no doubt about that.
"Then you will take these two packets. The one marked on the outside`A' you will open at once, and with every precaution will forward theenclosure it contains to the address that enclosure bears."
This John Ames promised to do. He would register it if the post lineswere still open. If not, he would take every precaution for its safetyuntil they were.
"But they will be still open," was the decided reply. "As for the nextpacket, marked `B,' you will not open it--not yet. Keep it with you.The time may come when you will see everything dark around you, andthere is no outlook, and life hardly worth prolonging. Then, and thenonly, open it. Do you promise to observe my instructions implicitly?"
"I pledge you my word of honour to do so," replied John Ames, gravely.
"Then our time for parting is very near. Remember that you owe yourlife--both your lives--to me. Don't interrupt. It is not unnecessaryto remind you again of this, for you will meet with every temptation toreveal that which I charge you to keep to yourself--viz. all relating tomy personality and what you have seen and heard."
"One moment. Pardon my asking," said John Ames, tentatively. "But haveyou ever told anybody else what you have told me?"
"Not one living soul. Why have I told you? Perhaps I had my reasons:perhaps the sight of you two wandering as I have wandered. It isimmaterial. My work here is nearly done. This rising which has been sodisastrous to your countrymen and mine--how disastrous you have yet tolearn--my hand has fostered and fed. I have foreseen the opportunity.I waited for it patiently, and when it came I seized it. But there willbe more work in other parts, and, mark me, John Ames, my unseen handwill again be there to strike."
"Tell me one thing more. If it was through your influence the peoplespared us, how is it they tried to kill me that time I was leavingMadula, when they drove me over the _dwala_, and I woke up to findmyself here? That was a narrow squeak, I can tell you."
"It was indeed, John Ames. But that was accidental, and was contrary tomy orders."
"Contrary to your orders? But,"--sitting up, with a stare of blankamazement--"but--who are you?"
"I am Umlimo."
"What! _You_ Umlimo? It cannot be. I have always held Umlimo to be asort of fraudulent abstraction, engineered by innyangas like Shiminyaand others. _You_ the Umlimo?"
But to the startled eyes of the questioner the form of the questionedseemed to grow larger, taller, like a presence filling the whole place.The old relentless look of implacable hate transformed the features, andthe deep eyes glowed, while from the scarcely opened lips boomed forthas in deep thunder-tones--
"I am Umlimo."
A mist filled the place. The figure with its background of rock-wallseemed to lose form. A sudden stupor seized upon the brain of JohnAmes, as though the whole atmosphere were pervaded by a strong narcotic.Then he knew no more.
John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising Page 24
